Purely F****** Sinful

Chapter 8

Here we are!" Angel said.

"Here? But there's nothing here." Anthony was puzzled. A concrete wall?

They were under one of Chicago's many overpasses. The traffic roar was deafening. The fetid space showed no sign that anyone had been down here for quite some time. Moldy piles of litter and debris lay scattered across the uneven ground. This looked like home-sweet-home for a troll.

Angel gave Anthony a sultry smile. "Looks can be deceiving. You should know that by now."

She placed her hand to the concrete wall. It responded vividly to her touch. Purple glyphs glowed like bright street signs and spun on the wall in a psychedelic clockwise whirl. The glyphs became a portal, a gateway, which opened to reveal a hidden room.

Without a word, Angel stepped through the portal.

"Hey! Wait!" Anthony shouted after her. He had better follow her before it closed, he thought.

Anthony took a running start and jumped into the glowing wall. On the other side, he fell flat on his face. He looked up and saw he was in a large room. The roar of traffic was gone, replaced by a soft string quartet melody from an unknown source.

Anthony stood and surveyed his surroundings. It was not what he had expected to see in a demon's lair. The room was clean and elegant. It was like an upscale studio apartment, aside from the lack of windows. A dignified leather couch faced a glowing fireplace. Two leather armchairs stood nearby.

Across the room he saw a modern kitchen with a high quality brushed-steel appliance set: French-door refrigerator; gas range with oven and microwave; over-sized dishwasher. Shiny kitchen utensils hung over a clean granite countertop. He wondered why a demon needed a kitchen.

In the corner to his right he saw a large glassed-in shower stall with multiple shower heads. The space was large enough for a group of friendly people. In the far corner was a king-plus-size canopy bed with pink mosquito netting, perfectly made-up with a red comforter on top and large fluffy pillows.

Angel stood on one foot in front of him. She shucked off her knee-high black boots, one at a time, and then peeled away her sheer black stockings. She slipped out of her designer leather jacket and little black cocktail dress without any regard for Anthony viewing her impossibly beautiful naked body. The wings on her back folded outward and stretched the length of her couch, then relaxed behind her. Her horns were fully extended. Her tail dangled to the floor.

"Ah!" she sighed, stretching her exquisite limbs. "It's good to be home. I don't have to worry about keeping up appearances here."

Even though this was not the first time Anthony had seen her naked, or even the second, he was still in awe of her. She would be the perfect model for any high-fashion magazine -- if not for her large blood-dark wings, curved rigid horns, and long black slinky tail.

"Make yourself at home," Angel said, relaxing on the couch. She stretched her legs comfortably.

Anthony decided to inspect her dwelling. He approached the refrigerator but hesitated about opening it. "What do succubi drink or snack on?" Anthony asked himself. He pulled the French doors open -- to find absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. It was well-stocked with fresh fruit and vegetables, cases of soda in the bottom, various condiments, and even ice cream in the freezer.

"Were you expecting several severed heads and leech extract in there?" Angel asked, giggling to herself.

"Something like that," Anthony admitted. He realized she was watching him.

Anthony grabbed a soda from the fridge, cracked it open and continued to walk around. On most of the walls were paintings revealing a variety of lewd s*x. Some paintings featured succubi while others showcased massive all-encompassing orgies. Lust, it would seem, was the general theme. One painting, however, was suspiciously out of place. It depicted a young blonde girl in a long blue dress looking over a cliff at a burning village.

"Do you like them?" Angel asked. "I painted them myself."

"You paint?" Anthony asked, visibly surprised.

"I do have hobbies, you know. I don't spend all of my time having s*x and consuming souls. Just mostof my time."

Turning his head towards the room, Anthony saw a small easel with a half finished painting that looked more abstract in its current form. Various brushes and several jars of paint were neatly arranged around it.

Anthony did notice a few things that seemed out of place for a 'normal' living space. One wall was devoid of paintings. Instead, it was hung with all manner of cuffs, clamps, straps and a few whips. Something told Anthony those were for more than decoration. He also noticed a shelf on the headboard of the bed that held a dozen or so skulls. Human skulls, to be precise. They were all clean and pristine, without any blemishes.

"Trophies," Angel said. "Some men I couldn't bring myself to part with completely."

"Former love interests?" Anthony sarcastically asked.

Angel laughed, "Of course not! Some were celebrities. Most were important historical figures."

Anthony thought about asking who exactly these skulls belonged to, but then thought it would be better not to know.

Something caught Anthony's eyes toward the center of her dwelling -- some kind of pyramid-like rack made from rods of solid gold, which stood as tall as Anthony's chest. Each rod bore a glowing purple glyph similar to the ones that appeared when Angel opened the portal to her lair. A peculiar sword lay atop the rack. The blade curved like a snake slithering through grass and was made of some kind of crimson metal like frozen blood. Blue eyes glowed from the small dragon skull on its hilt. Anthony walked toward the rack, curious of the sword and its strange holster.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you," Angel warned, "unless you want your soul ripped from your body."