She wasn't in bed with him at the moment but a quick survey of the cheap motel room he'd rented revealed that she hadn't entirely fled. She was sitting across the room in front of the make-up mirror applying some lipstick. Good, he thought, she's getting ready to leave. Hate it when they get all clingy and stuff.

Mac looked at the woman's reflection in the mirror. Skinny, with raven black hair and alabaster skin, she wasn't the type he usually went for. He usually preferred a little more meat on his ribs. But he was drinking tequila last night and he likes 'em exotic when he drinks tequila.

"Hey, babe," he said as he rolled over onto his back. "How you doin?" His smile left no doubt as to what he was asking.

The brunette's eyes flicked over to him for just a second before returning to their task. "Adequate," she said. "And you?"

Mac stretched and made sure to flex his pecs. "I'm doing just fine. We had quite a show last night, didn't we?"

The brunette paused and stared at his image in the mirror. "Show? I was not aware there was an audience." She had an accent he couldn't place. He thought it might be Norwegian.

"Nah, babe, I ain't no freak. I mean, we," he indicated the two of them, "we had quite a show."

The brunette thought about it for a second before resuming her primping. "Show, yes, I understand now. Our encounter was . . . adequate."

Mac frowned. "Adequate. Honey, I had my mojo on. I was in the grove!" He thrust his hips meaningfully. "In fact, if you're not in too much of a hurry, I could be convinced to provide a repeat performance."

The brunette shook her head without even thinking about it. "No, thank you, once was enough."

But Mac was not a man to take a 'no' on the first try. "You sure? You know what they say: Once you've had a Big Mac, you can never go back."

The brunette stopped applying make up. She stared at his reflection and for the first time he noticed that her eyes were disturbingly large – almost freakish. "I'm curious," she said in a flat tone that would have seemed to indicate she wasn't, "why you say that. Among my kind, if a male is found to be extraordinary, you can never go back."

Mac frowned. "Among your kind? What are you, some sort of Unitarian?"

"No, I'm a –" The brunette mumbled something he didn't quite make out and resumed her grooming.

Mac was starting to feel unwanted. He didn't like being dismissed so quickly. "Big freakin' deal," he muttered, "I've got a library card. Hey, you wanna do it or what?"

The brunette, without moving her torso, turned her head a full 180 degrees so as to look at him. It was like a scene out of the Exorcist. Mac literally jumped when he saw her do it.

"No," she answered firmly, "your genetic material was found . . . lacking. There would be no point in repeating the show." Her right arm came up and began to brush the hair on the back of her head. It was such an unnatural sight that it was almost painful to watch. "To be truthful," she continued, "I should have suspected that you were sub-standard. You see, among my kind, we prize good genetic material so much that we strive to ensure that only our offspring get them. That your genetic material was still available should have told me all that I needed to know."

While she was talking, Mac checked the location of the door. It was on his side of the room. "Yeah, that so?" He began inching his way off the bed. Double-jointed is fun but not the way this chick is constructed. "And how exactly does your kind do that?" His leather jacket was hanging on the doorknob. It was the only thing he needed. It had his keys in it. Everything else he could leave behind.

The brunette smiled and Mac froze. She had a mouth like a shark's – full of teeth. "The only way a sensible species can," she said with the first hint of emotion all morning. She was relishing her words. "We decapitate the male and eat him. It ensures . . . exclusivity."

Mac had heard of monogamous relationships but that was ridiculous. And he made himself a promise as he ran for the door; last night would be the last time he'd drink tequila – at least, it would be the last time he'd drink tequila in a bar. No point going crazy over these things.