The urge starts to build up in his blood. The need shakes him, wakes him. The hunger is overwhelming, but he knows how to fix it. He knows how to get his fix.
He knows just where to find his connection. He stumbles out of bed.
The urge builds to a siren call. He must get to his connection.
She will be at the all-night club, in a dark room at the end of a narrow hall. She will be lying there, twisted in sheets and propped on a pillow. He will have to get through her bodyguard–her lover–first.
But he knows the secret.
He was born knowing the secret. He knows the secret knock and the secret words. And if the bodyguard tries to stop him again, he is not above using force.
He is not above punching his eyes. Head-butting his nose. Kicking his groin. He’s done it before, and he’s prepared to do it again. He’s ferreted out all the vulnerable spots. The soft spots. The weaknesses.
He is no longer stumbling. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated. He needs it. He runs full speed. A full-volume wail erupts from his throat, his response to the siren call.
I want my fix! I need it!
He gets to the door, slams it open, takes the bodyguard unawares.
He won’t be able to keep him away this time.
His connection, groggy, in a stupor, startles awake.
“Oh baby,” she groans, “Haven’t you had enough? You’ve gotta stop sometime.”
“Noooooo!!!!!” He wails, “I want to nurse!!!!!!!”
Submitted to the Trifecta Writing Challenge: 33-333 words using the third definition of “club.”