A little sci-fi Lovecraftian Horror
for today's Free Read
He’d first seen
her from the walkway connecting The MGM and Excalibur casinos: she was below,
in the milling flow of the sidewalk that ran the length of the strip. Her dark, wavy hair was held back from her
face by a pale blue headband; she wore a loose, short white blouse which had
slipped down on one shoulder, and a black vinyl mini-skirt. Her eyes, scanning the crowd, were the deep,
liquid color of fine green glass, shaded by long, feathery black lashes. But it was her lips he focused on: sensually
glossed, they parted slightly in patient anticipation. Perhaps she was only waiting, unaware of the
tantalizing shimmer of her pout—but he doubted it.
This woman was a
He took up a
position by the railing and kept watch, noting the slow, graceful movements of
her head as she surveyed the people passing by, and the subtle, somehow
instinctual sway of her slender hips. It
was obvious what she was looking for: a man to turn a trick for. He watched her for the better part of an
hour, but she never looked up. She
didn’t have any reason to; the kind of people interested in her services didn’t
linger on the walkways. They descended
to the street.
Soon enough, her
evening’s partner strayed from the flock: a young man, probably not even old
enough to sit at the tables and partake of the free beer, nervous and green but
fidgety in the way that said he was after exactly what she was selling. Her pout became a grin, those wet lips
turning up at the corners with secretly wicked delight. No words were exchanged; she sidled up under
the boy’s arm and led him away.
Now her observer
also grinned. He left his place at the
railing and turned back in the direction of the casino, to play a little
Over the next
few days, he saw the woman many times.
It was always in the shadow of one of the big hotels—she didn’t waste
her time with the action off the strip.
He caught her by the Paris
one night, and then the Mirage; later, by Treasure Island
and even by Circus Circus. That last one
surprised him; it was a family hotel,
for Christ’s sakes!
Each time it was
the same. She never let the men take her
to wherever they might have been staying.
Instead, she took each of them her
way, so he had to assume she had a place of her own where she conducted
On the third night,
he started to follow her. This time
she’d picked up a rather elderly old codger right away. Her observer kept pace with them across the
street. After two blocks, they turned
off the strip and headed towards a cluster of seedy motels. They disappeared into one called the Rest
The woman led
her client directly to the elevators, and he watched from across the lobby,
pretending to be interested in the maps and pamphlets by the front desk. The doors closed on the couple, and his eyes
went to the red blinking numbers above the cool silver.
They stopped at
He thought maybe
that was enough for one night.
The next evening,
he rode the elevator at the Rest Easy to the fifth floor, She showed up after eleven, this time with a
sexy power player, a tanned gent with unruly curls. Strolling casually past them, her observer
nodded amiably, and her client nodded back, an idiot’s arrogant smile plastered
across his face. She regarded him only
with cool disinterest.
He waited until
they’d gone some distance down the hall and then he turned around. She took the man into a room near the end;
after they’d ducked inside, he doubled back after them see which one it
He returned to
the lobby. It took him a moment to
locate the place he wanted on the hotel map, and then he went to ring in at the
front desk. Luckily enough, the room was
The window in
room 502 looked directly across the courtyard and, as he’d hoped, directly into
the window of 527.
And his mystery
woman hadn’t closed the curtains.
Maybe she likes the moonlight, he
thought with a grin.
He sat on the
edge of the queen-sized bed and turned off the lights. His eyesight was good; he could see her room
clearly, could see everything she and her corporate client were doing. The man evidently enjoyed a little light
bondage: he had her on all fours, her wrists tied with a scarf, and was
paddling her tight little bottom happily with his big, meaty hand. That smile was still on his face, only now it
was twisted into a lewd little snarl, looking stupider by the minute. He hadn’t undressed her yet, and every time
his hand came down, she swayed forward and rolled her eyes in over-acted
lust. In his room across the way, her
observer couldn’t hear her, but he thought she might be moaning for the man’s
benefit—it wouldn’t be real moaning,
of course… he obviously wasn’t hitting any of her buttons.
Then, the client
seized her by the shoulders and flipped her on her back, ducking his head under
her skirt. Her observer raised an
eyebrow in surprise—the idiot actually pulled off her lacy black panties with
Now they were getting somewhere.
The woman threw
her head back with a gasp as he buried his head between her thighs, and with
her wrists still tied together she tangled her finge The observer smiled… that woman was enjoying
rs in his curly hair,
pressing him down, as if she wanted to smother him in her.
seemed to realize this, too. He came up
from her with that goddamn stupid grin, then ducked in again for more.
In room 502, her
observer realized he had an erection.
There was a
moment where he thought the man might actually bring her to climax—he seemed so
into what he was doing—but then he
withdrew from her, sitting back on his haunches and struggling with his belt
observer muttered. “Finish her off, why don’t you?”
But of course,
like so many other single-minded men—this woman had surely met a share of
them—this polished professional prick had done all that was required, at least
in his mind. Hell, he probably thought
he’d done her a favor; he was paying for this, after all.
understood. Almost without pause she
rolled off her back and fumbled (wrists still tied) to help him. Together they managed to free his persistent cock,
and she took it—hungrily—into her mouth.
The man’s eyes
rolled heavenwards. He seized her head
narrowed his eyes.
All around him,
the air seemed to grow a little colder.
That’s when the fun began.
She ate three of
them that night. Literally.
remained in his room. After the first
man died, she left and returned an hour later with another. He died with his cock in her mouth, too. Her observer imagined several of them fell
for that trap. The third man lasted
longer: he wanted her from behind, which made it difficult. She managed, though—she was, of course, experienced
at what she did. After he spent himself
in her and collapsed, she rolled over and pulled him into an embrace.
It was the kiss
that did him in.
As he came close
to her, shutting his eyes and pouting his lips in a ridiculously childish
expression, a sinuous bulge rose up beneath the flesh of her neck.
“At least your head’ll
go before your balls,” murmured the observer.
She opened her
mouth like a snake, wider and wider, unhinging her lower jaw so that if the man
had only just opened his eyes and looked,
he would have seen the eager, throbbing muscles of her esophagus beyond the red
and glistening maw. Her eyes bled,
filling with viscous black mucus, her pupils dilating until only a single
glittering ring of poison green was left.
As her victim leaned in a filthy, polluted tear of joy rolled down the
side of her twisted, nearly reptilian face.
From deep in her
craw snaked two winding, pulsing coils.
They stretched up and out, around the head of her victim, touching,
feeling, tasting him almost tenderly
before she struck.
Now the man
opened his eyes. And had a single instance
of confused, shocked terror, before her coils snared him by the back of the
skull and pulled him down her throat.
The next night,
she only took two. It took her some time
to devour them whole, and her observer suspected that by the second one, she
was too tired to go out again. The night
after that, three. After that, two more
men—and a woman.
She’s getting hungrier, he thought to
himself as he watched her gorge on the regrettably under-endowed breasts of her
evening’s final victim. A week ago, she was probably taking only
one. A week before that, maybe one every
other night. So what will happen next
He didn’t think
it would matter by then. He’d been
watching long enough in this dark, cold room—it grew colder every night, and
worse on the nights she took her time.
He’d nursed his arousal, ignored his own needs, all as he watched her
hunt and feed. He thought by tomorrow
night, he’d be ready for her.
Or, more aptly,
she’d be ready for him.
He waited by the
elevator. When she appeared, he gently
touched her shoulder. There were no
words. She understood.
She took him to
her room. He undressed her, and lay her
down on the bed; she tried to go for his member first—the easy kill—but he
stopped her. Kissed her breasts. Dragged his tongue across her skin, tasting
the warm bitterness of her pheromones.
Yes. She was ready.
He entered and
sunk himself into her; she gasped, a fake, practiced sound she used on all the
men. An attractive trick. She tried to moan, and he covered her mouth with
“Don’t play with
For the first
time, those green eyes looked surprised.
He worked in her
slowly, relishing the slick feel of her, the firm tensing of the muscles around
his organ. He savored her smell, spicy
and ripe underneath her cheap perfume.
It was like heavy drink, indulgent and intoxicating. He licked her neck from shoulder to earlobe,
driving a little deeper in her, holding a little longer, delaying the moment of
climax as long as he could. Fine beads
of sweat had risen upon her full, flushed breasts; she moaned against his hand,
really moaning, as she probably had
for no other lover before.
Finally, when he
could hold back no more, he bit down on her neck and drove himself to the limit
in her, exploding in her, spilling his seed deep, deep within her. At the same time she arched her back and he
felt her tighten around him, quivering and seizing as her orgasm rocked through
her like an electric shock.
When it was
done, they lay still for several moments.
He rested his head on her breasts and listened to her breathe. Then, he looked into her eyes.
She watched him
warily; his hand still covered her mouth.
“Want me to let
He took the hand
away. Almost immediately she split her
jaw to swallow him. He seized her by the
throat and wrenched her head to the side—there was a cruel SNAP!, and she went limp beneath him.
He waited in
silence. When he was sure she was dead,
he bent close to her neck and breathed in the scent of her again. Pungent, piquant… hot. Very, very hot.
He stood up and
lifted her body off the bed. He used a
belt to tie her wrists and ankles together, and hang her from the heavy wooden
rod in the room’s closet like a fruit from a vine. Her spine curved down, her womb safe and warm
in the cradle formed by her torso and pelvis.
Already, the flesh was starting to glisten, as though it were being
When the corpse
was secured in its suspended position, he stepped back to admire his work. Her head hung limply to the side. He lifted her chin to admire her fine, lovely
face once more.
Then he opened
his mouth, wide, like a serpent unhinging its jaws. Two long, sinuous tendrils snaked their way
out of his throat. They touched the
head, feeling it, tasting it.
Then they tore
it from the neck and pulled it down his throat.
satisfied, and left his new cocoon hanging decapitated in the dark.
He felt like a
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|She's not your typical Graveyard Ghost.|
|Even fallen angels|
Can have a Christmas Wish
|A courtesan's love...|
A vampire's curse.
|Ronnie meets a |
in "Rhythm and Blues",
Part of My Bloody Valentine
|Dreaming is a waking nightmare|
when an incubus makes you his prey.
|The angel Raschael is ready to hear your|
confession in The Wages of Sin,
part of Ravaged, Vol. 2