Thomas shook his head. "it's a perfectly natural conclusion. And there was a time, yeah. If i arranged to meet someone, it would be for a meal. But," he shrugged, words sort of trailing off as he struggled to find words to continue. "I can't help it, you know. I touch you, it feels like pleasure, like a mounting orgasm. The longer I touch, the more pleasureable it gets. I'm a hair dresser, and I swear, the girls that come to my salon are addicted, but they have no idea why. They just know it feels good, and I think about it, I think about taking advantage of each and every one of them. I haven't had a proper feed for years, because I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't give in. So I take a little here, a little there. I put my hands in people's hair to get a fix. How sad is that? But I'm not looking to chow down on your energy and emotions. I was sort of hoping to find a friend, something about you. I can't explain it."