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That gets her attention, and she bolts upright, jiggling her breasts in the process. “Oh, a CAO, then? Impressive. I’ve never had a CAO or CEO or anything like that in my store.”
“Yeah, but you just opened, right? So… you probably will,” I murmur, casting a quick glance towards my firm’s building. “I mean, once they hear that such a gorgeous woman is working across the street, they’ll flock to your shop.”
Her pretty eyes narrow for half a second, and she licks her bottom lip. Oh, God. Someone please put me out of my misery. I can’t take it anymore.
“Oh, I hope so. Because I do soadoremen in suits,” she purrs.
A chill runs up the nape of my neck, like she’s cast some sort of spell on me, and I’m completely entranced, ready to do anything for this woman I don’t even know. What the fuck has gotten into me? Yeah. I need to get her out of my system, fast, before she makes me lose sleep and distracts me during my back-to-back meetings.
“I’m sorry I’m not wearing mine right now, then,” I add.
She walks around the counter, and it’s then that I finally get to see her from the waist down. Her tight dress hugs her upper thighs like a dream, and then I see them: her fishnets and bright pink stiletto heels. Visions of her fishnet-clad thighs wrappedaround my head like earmuffs flash before my eyes. Her heels bouncing on my shoulders as I fuck her wet pussy until she’s gasping and moaning my name for everyone on the street to hear.
The woman brushes her hand across my chest, and my throat hitches.
“Why don’t you step into my back office?” she says in a low voice, almost a whisper. “If you’re into analytics, I wouldn’t mind showing you some of mine.”
Oh, I am definitely picking up what she’s throwing down. It doesn’t even matter that her line was terrible and didn’t even make sense. She glides to the front door, flips the “open” sign to “closed,” and then takes my hand into hers to guide me behind the counter. This is happening. This is finally happening. I can almost taste her cunt already. I bet she tastes as delicious as she looks.
She leads me into her back office, which is so tiny it’s barely big enough to count as a closet. And there’s a rickety old beige box sitting on a desk in the back. Her computer. It looks ancient, though. Is it even real? Does it even turn on? Whatever. After this encounter, I probably won’t be back here again or anywhere near her bakery, no matter how many complex feelings she’s giving me. My heart leaps into my throat as she drops to her knees in front of me.
“Do you want me to unbuckle my pants, or—” I start, but she looks up at me with a feral, almost predatory grin before shaking her head.
“That won’t be necessary,” she hisses, and then the entire room goes black.
“Hey—did you just turn off the lights?” I ask as I spin around. I didn’t see her flip a light switch, but maybe it’s automatic? A sudden WHOOSH interrupts my confusion, and below me, a swirling, red vortex appears beneath my feet. Fucking hell, whatis going on? I let out a panicked yell, and the woman’s cackling booms through the room as though it’s being piped in through a stereo system.
“What is going on?!” I cry out.
Her cackling stops, and after an excruciatingly long moment where I wonder if I’m actually dead, she yells, “Welcome to Hell, mortal! I’ve been expecting you.”
4
FAITH
From the moment the human male stepped into my shop, I could smell it: a dirty, disgusting soul rotting within his muscular meat vessel. Waiting to be plucked out, perhaps through his nostrils or maybe even his navel if I’m feeling so inclined. The warm, viscous fires of the Lake of Fire envelope the two of us completely. His delightful screams of terror carry throughout the air before we’re submerged. And then, with a snap of my finger, it’s all gone. Only pitch-black emptiness surrounds the two of us.
In my true form, I’m even more gorgeous than before. With velvety ruby skin, piercing violet eyes, and a pair of pointy horns on the top of my head, I know I look good. I’m still wearing the dress and the fishnets, of course, but they’re now a deep purple to mimic the night sky of Hell, devoid of the stars and moon humans are so accustomed to. Down here, there are no stars and certainly no moon. Only the deepness of the void.
My crimson tail, pronged thrice on the end, curls around his quaking form as he curls into the fetal position before me. He’s petrified. I love it when men like him get their just desserts. And they always do, in the end.
“Stand,” I demand, my voice deep and husky like before, only now more visceral and dangerous. He removes his trembling hands from his face and looks up at me, tears streaking his cheeks. Oh, poor baby. He’s so scared he’s crying. “Now. I will not tell you a second time.”
Finally, he does what I say and pushes himself to stand, his entire body shaking like a dying leaf on a branch in fall. He lets out a hoarse whimper as I walk around him slowly. My heel clicks echo in the nothingness, and when I pace around to his back, I lean in to whisper in his ear, “What’s your name, human?”
He swallows, then says, “B-Byron. I’m Byron Waits.”
“Byron,” I try the name out for myself and sneer. “What sort of name is that?”
Byron’s lips tremble before his words tumble out of them. “I… I don’t know. My mother gave me it to me.”
Right. Humans have parents and families and other folks who probably love them. People who care enough to name them. Even someone with a stained soul such as his has a mother who probably loves him. Demons name themselves when they come into existence, and I chose Faith the second I opened my eyes, cementing myself as a woman with a cruel sense of humor.
“Tell me, Byron,” I say as I pace around him again, then run my claws along his chest, relishing in the fact that his skin is growing paler and paler by the second. “Are you kind to your mother? Do you visit her regularly?”
Byron falls silent for a long, long moment. Until he finally hangs his head and lets out another sob. “N-No. I do not.”
Of course he doesn’t. Men like him don’t respect their mothers. And then they go on to disrespecting all women in a degrading cycle that never ends. It’s pathetic, really. But they do make such fun little playthings. I’m going to enjoy this, I decide.
