He had looked everywhere, high and low.  In those small nooks and crevices that eludes an adults vision.  Even getting down on his belly, to gain the needed perspective.
Still, nothing.

While on the floor, he peeked under his sofa where she lay sleeping.  Empty.

Sitting upright on his haunches he put his head in his hands and sighed,  careful not to wake her.

Another empty conquest.  Another shell to kiss and screw, and feel nothing in return.

Doing this, has just become a compulsion now.  There is no pleasure to take from this.  Short of watching the faces and making them cum.  Hearing the praises of prowess, and leaving sweat dripping on their bodies.

He looks up and recollects her telling him “I’m in love with you”.

Shit…

There is no magic here.  No wand.  No fucking Harry Potter story, to make all this feel right.  The last time it “felt” right, well…that was a fucking joke.  He’d just as well wipe that from the parchment of his memories.

He’ll keep looking, perhaps in the basement.

He knows he had a soul, but just can’t remember where he squirreled it away.

Looking down at her sleeping naked body, he thinks “Fuck…she needs to go home, I won’t be able to sleep”.

He can look later…he won’t need it for her.