What would I do? What would I say? Question after question coursed through my mind, I found myself astray. I was lost in thoughts of Riccardo’s hands, violent on in my mind and tender on my body. I wanted nothing more than to turn around and give myself to him. But thoughts like those were ludicrous, and immature. I was nothing more than a bit of amusement and arousal for a night. Wanting more was a precarious desire. What seemed like hours was actually a quick fifteen minute drive. Not even locking the door on my car, I fled to my apartment and up the stairs. Vincent would probably be late I realized, he always was. Busting through my apartment door I made way for my bedroom. Changing rapidly into shorts and a t-shirt. I put my now unruly sex hair into a bun and stuffed my dress of infidelity in the bottom of my laundry hamper. Moments later, I heard Vince call me from the living room. Damn me for giving his stupid ass a key. “Hey, be there in one minute!” I called back to him.. He still felt that he was uncomfortably close to Quince's smuggling base, but he couldn't risk taking the car any further. He left the keys in the ignition and the doors unlocked. The car would probably be gone inside of an hour. He took the suitcase and made his way into a deserted back alley. Carefully, he took the vial of DNA virus from the suitcase and drank its contents.The one good result from all this was that he would lose nearly twenty years in age. He hated to give up his life and appearance, but unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life on the run, there was no choice. The body he had chosen was that of an eighteen-year-old athletically-built white man.He could feel his stomach start to churn as the virus made its way through his internal organs, remaking them as it went. Simonds pulled open his shirt to feel his new more muscled torso.He felt his skin ripple and change under his hands, but somehow it didn't feel right. The skin was firmer, but there was none of the.
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