Yeah, she was a succubus but she didn’t have to like
it. In fact, she hated it. What if
her human victim woke up? Sex with someone you loved was one thing, but sex
with someone you didn’t know would be downright embarrassing. So she fought it. Long and hard she’d
fought off the desire that was now hers to fill.
She was not a natural born succubi, had fallen to it like
the victims she was doomed to seduce. That fight left her wasted to a shaky,
thin shadow of a woman who was more corpse than sexy lover.
She fought it at the laundromat where her jeans and t-shirts
fluffed in the dryer while her mouth watered over the underwear model in the
old magazine on the folding table. She fought it at the grocery when the
checker grinned his stupid happy-to-meet you grin and her loins almost crawled
over the conveyor belt to do him right there between check-out six and the
express lane. She fought it when
the delivery boy she’d hired to take flowers all over town gave her a
braces-filled smile that almost cracked his acne open and she’d had to run to
the alley out back and slam her hand into the brickwork over and over until she
had calmed enough to go back into the sanctuary of her flower filled shop. Not even her begging for mercy prayers
kept the wanting at bay. It was
eating her alive. And she was
afraid. Hell, if she was honest she knew she would finally, eventually, give
in. Or die.
And she didn’t want to die.
But her momma had taught her better. She was no loose woman.
Sex was not fun and games to her. It was lifetime, a commitment, a true-blue
locking yourself to that person for good.
So she held out. For six months she held out. Until she was
a walking skeleton. Friday her staff suggested she see a specialist. Saturday
her landlord asked her if she was on meth. Sunday she was cornered by the
priest at church who then added her to his prayer chain and tried to convince
her to take part in the weekly several-step program sessions in the basement
classroom. Monday she staggered into work and her assistant told her she would
schedule the funeral. Then came Tuesday.
And she knew her time was up.
The cover for the anthology!