Simon says

Simon awoke sprawled on his bed in his usually fashion, spread egale and bare assed. Smiling to himself about some half remembered dream, he slid out of bed. Giving himself a long standing stretch and scratch, he wondered what and who the evening would bring. He ambled over to his closet to find something to wear. Grimacing at the frilly nonsense that his recent ex-whore had bought for him, he pulled out a sensible looking black T-shirt and a pair of ragged jeans. He made a mental notation to burn the clothing that the Poet Shirt Princess had bought. They just didn’t fit his style. It was always what she wanted him to be, never him.

Out in world beyond his appartment, things seemed busy and alive. Small people with smaller problems surrounded him in the drone and groan of everyday life. Occasionally he came upon a deep soul, he was on his way to see such a one. Frankie wasn’t much in the way of looks, but 10 minutes and a quiet room were enough to make anyone fall for her. He knew where she would be. Every Wensday at 7:30p.m. she was at the Black Rose Cafe, with a cup of Earl Grey tea and a good book. The bell on the door tinkled as he walked in. She was there at her accustomed booth with a novel, pages deftly held apart ith practiced fingers. “Hello there” he felt the words escape from his lips in a soft, thick tone. “Sit down. You make me nervous when you tower over me like that” Her voice, as always, kind and playful. She was happy to see him, and he was happy to see her. After a long conversation and watching her down several cups of tea, he decided that it was time to leave. He stood and turned to go after goodbyes were said. That was when one of the windows shattered. The lights flickered out and gunfire could be heard as chaos and panic began to grip the cafe patrons. Simon made his way to the table where he knew that she had to be. Touching the place where she had been sitting sent panic and loss through out his soul. His fingers could feel the hole that the bullet had left. Before he could vocalize these feelings, a small hand grabbed his arm. “Don’t just stand there! This place has a back door!” Frankie’s voice growled from the darkness surrounding them. ****************************************** Simon awoke handcuffed to a four poster bed. The last thing he remembered was Frankie leading him through filthy alleyways to an apartment building. “Sleep well? I hope you aren’t mad about the cuffs. Wouldn’t make much difference if you were. I like you. I ant you to know something.” The voice undeniably belonged to Frankie, but something seemed wrong. The small woman approached the bed. Her hand raised slowly and pressed lightly on Simon’s chest. It felt as if the world had been dropped on him. Then he felt it, the sliding sensation deep within, as if some one were taking something from a place he never knew existed. “I’m sick, this is the only way I can live. It won’t hurt you. You will feel tired.” “What are you doing to me?” He barely managed to gasp out as the strange feeling continued. “Taking a bit of energy. You will get it all back in the long run. Oh don’t be such a wimp, stop wriggling. Simon says sleep.”