Every. Last. Drop.

"You're insatiable" they always tell me just before the end.

It’s quieter now.

There was a time when these places pulsed with life. Crowded pubs that were as loud as the dawn chorus in a rainforest, clubs that vibrated with the bass of human heartbeats, filled with bodies brushing against each other like leaves in an autumnal breeze. The brief caress of a passing stranger filled with intent, trying to make their way through a crowd.

You could walk into a bar, and the noise, the laughter, the desperation, it was palpable. It was loud.

Delicious.

A vast menu, each body a unique vintage.

But now?

People hide behind screens, swiping through life as though they were just another commodity to be placed in someone else’s shopping cart. They're cautious, isolated, insulated, afraid.

Afraid of me?

You can sense their hunger, but it's sterile, digital, inaccessible.

A different kind of hunger.

Different from mine.

Still, the lucky ones who venture outside are met with the warmth of conversation, a connection that isn’t found at the end of an IP address, they wander into places like this where I wait for them, hesitant at first, eyes darting nervously across the room.

That's how I recognise them.

The hopeful yet lonely. I’m their connection. I’m whatever they need me to be; harmless, pleasant company, someone who listens and understands, a gentle smile, a knowing nod. Sometimes they want normal. Sometimes they want to be thrilled. I am utterly ordinary. I am an enigma. I give them what they secretly want me to be.

And when they're close enough, when they trust just enough, that's when the real conversation begins.

Tonight I am Emily. Tonight she is Katie.

Last night I was William.

Tomorrow?

Katie is plain. She is new and unsure. She is unsure of me. She is unsure of herself. She talks and I listen intently. I flirt with just enough confidence to let her know I don’t do this often. Her hair has a soft sheen, her features are sharp, and they are a contrasting aesthetic that isn’t lost on me but is of no real interest. They might be to the man standing three feet away who keeps staring at her, who will always be one drink away from true bravery to interject and save her.

But tonight is not his lucky night.

Or Katie’s.

It is mine.

The hunger grows. It’s insatiable. It needs to be fed.

I intently touch her arm by accident, her skin is smooth, warm, I can feel it goose under my fingers as they slide to her hand and rest there. She freezes, and I can almost taste every heartbeat as it drums faster. She doesn’t withdraw, and our eyes lock. She sees me, and I see her. There is no one else in the room with us now, not even the man three feet from us who is now one drink beyond true bravery.

She is no longer unsure of herself.

She is intoxicated but not by alcohol.

Tonight, I am both her bartender and her drink. Here to serve and be served. We leave together, one convinced of this evening’s serendipity, a chance encounter that will lead to her discovery and pleasure. A taxi arrives as we lock in an embrace, sharing our lips, and she is slow to pull away.

I have her.

The trips back to my nest are always the same. The flirting turns to frenzy. The drivers pretend not to notice, to look straight at the road ahead but I catch their eyes in the mirror every time. They want the spectacle. They want the show they never have to pay for.

When we arrive I lead Katie up to the door by hand. She has regressed, cooing the name I chose tonight for my attention, she wants to feed her own hunger before we step inside. I oblige. These acts are like an appetiser to me. Like the midnight air has triggered a primal need within her to take what she can, when she can, at every chance she can.

She doesn’t know primal hunger.

Not like mine.

She will.

We enter and head straight to the bedroom. There is never delay. The act is drawing to a close now. She removes her clothing, standing naked before me as I remove mine. Our eyes seek out all the familiar shapes, they are our hands to begin with, and I can feel her mentally caress me with them.

Her lust soaks the room in pheromones.

This is my alcohol.

She walks backwards towards the bed, her eyes are locked on me but they don’t meet with mine. She crawls onto the bed, her eyes never leaving the spot she’s eager for, waiting for me to join her.

To join her.

To join with her.

You humans have a curious expression - pressing the flesh - I always found it odd that you attribute it to the shaking of hands.

If only you knew.

Katie and I are pressing the flesh now. We’re entwined, there isn’t an inch I won’t explore soon, in my own way. I give her what she needs, what she came here for, what she thought she was unsure of when we first met. I give her what she wants at this moment. The connection. She wanted normal. She wanted to be thrilled. She wanted ordinary. She wanted the enigma.

“You’re insatiable”, she breathes.

I am all these things for her.

And now I am not.

They never notice until it’s too late.

I rise and kneel before her, surveying her body in full glory. She leans her head back and closes her eyes, expecting more from me that I can no longer give.

My chest splits. The pain is unbearable. The hunger within is desperate. I am insatiable, my dearest Katie. I can hear her screaming beyond the fog of agony, trying to pull herself away from me, from what I am becoming. The ragged tear spreads downwards like the line on a crumpled road map and I am no longer Emily.

I am a maw.

I collapse on her, my new mouth enveloping her in one go. Her flesh no longer tastes of the sweet cinnamon it did moments before. Her screams are muffled as she enters me in a way she did not expect tonight. Our flesh is more than pressed now. More than entwined.

We are becoming one as I slowly digest her.

Tonight I am Emily.

Tomorrow I will be someone else.

Who do you want me to be when we meet?

All those things you want from me, I take from you. That which lives within each of you. The secrets, fears, dreams, loneliness, and sadness that you all hide even from yourselves. I savour these, the essence of them flows through me as I consume, making me whole as all that you are becomes all that you were.

I take it all.

Every last drop.