Carl had stopped off to buy some new clothes, lube, and condoms before finding this shithole and signing in using another of Paul's credit cards. He switched on the light and gazed around, disgusted by the squalor. It reminded him of where he'd just been and everything he strove to get away from. He wanted things clean, orderly, right. He laughed, the sound dry and without feeling. Fucking irony. Gotta love it. Okay, so he liked things clean, yet he risked getting sullied by blood every time he gave in to that all-consuming urge inside him. If he thought about it, he'd formed a pattern with that. Getting dirty then getting clean afterward. Yeah, he liked that analogy.He dumped his bags beside the double bed. Shit, doesn't this place have a maid? Yeah, it'd been given a cursory clean, but it wasn't to his standards. Still, beggars can't be choosers and all that crap. He needed to sleep awhile before heading out to find a giving asshole who'd help assuage the raging need throbbing in his balls.
