It’s Halloween, and I thought I’d write a bit of short, sharp erotica to freak you out and turn you on at the same time.
“Tegan… can you hear me?”
Her eyes are a flickering amber bonfire. Silk’s is a blur of shadows because of it. Nothing happening yet, so she’s relying on her instincts. Her instincts, and the woman whose voice now lives in her head.
“Nod if you can hear me.”
Tegan nods her head, sips her drink. The burn of the alcohol is piss-weak compared to the building fever embers in her body. Slowly the flames lick their way outward from her core. She’s learned to control the fever. But still, the power which has nestled inside her terrifies her as much as it arouses her.
Or maybe terrified and aroused have entwined. Maybe her emotions are as much of a blur as the shadows in front of her.
It started with the voice. Her voice – her Guardian, although Tegan couldn’t possibly know that at the time. The only thing she did know was that her body was betraying her in a way no medical textbook would have ever deemed possible.
Except it wasn’t a betrayal.
It was something much, much more complicated…
Her cunt throbs. It always does. Her body is wetness and heat. Need is what drives her survival. Need is what helps her see tonight, and all the other nights and days of her new life.
She is anchored to her corner spot. The throbbing bass and sound waves of voices vivid as they always are when her eyes glow and people become shadows. Temporary loss of one sense, constant amplification of the other four.
“Breathe deeply. I can sense your heart quickening. Breathe. Let the energy flow – don’t let it tangle. And look again. Deeper.”
Shadows flit around, the sound of drunken stumbles and sloshes like a concerto of white noise. She’s patient. She’s waiting for the shadows to clear. And they will. She might still be new to this, but she’s just about figured out how to channel the energy in a way that isn’t as frantic and unfocused as it was when this all began. All she could see was shadows and lights then.
But now, it’s light – singular. And light singular is sitting at the bar, tall, dark and handsomely looking her up and down. His features are clear, almost luminescent against the shadows of Silk’s other revelers.
She feels herself moving, lifted away from her little corner and directly into the path of the Light Singular. Who introduces himself to the good Dr. Tegan Byrne, asks her if she’d like a top-up of whatever it is she’s drinking. He’s polite, which is good. Asks her if she wants to sit with him, is kind to her…
Good. Very good. For him more for her.
Because Succubi don’t take too kindly to the rude. And as much as the first touch of his hand on her thigh makes the fire inside her just a little less fierce, it would be less enjoyable fucking him with the knowledge she may have to do something very, very bad to him afterwards…
This is a short companion piece to my story Becoming, which you can read in Dirty Flash Fiction (a Sexy Little Pages anthology of dirty flash fiction).