Purely F****** Sinful

Chapter 4

Anthony quickly drew his service revolver and aimed at the lights.

"Who's there?"

The two beady lights began to move towards him. The sound of clopping heels could be heard against the hardwood floor. A womanly figure stepped from the shadows of the living room.

"Is that how you greet all your guests? By pointing a gun at them?"

It was her. The woman from the night club. The one that killed Chase. And now she had come for him.

Anthony walked backwards into the light of the kitchen, his pistol still aimed at her.

"Guests are people I invite into my home," Anthony retorted.

"There's no need to be snide," the woman said, and extended her arm. In a flash, Anthony's pistol flew from his hands and into hers.

"This wouldn't do you much good anyway."

She reached into her coat pocket and threw three slugs from a handgun at Anthony's feet. He realized these were the bullets he fired at her the night before. Anthony's heart raced in fear, his adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was defenseless and unsure of what the creature wanted with him.

"What are you?" Anthony asked, his voice trembling.

The woman stepped up to Anthony, standing in the light.

"Have a seat."

The woman twitched her index finger slightly. One of the dining room chairs slid from under the table on its own and stopped at his side. Anthony reluctantly sat. She scooted onto the table in front of him, leaning forward slightly, crossing her long legs.

Anthony's vision involuntarily wandered from her knee-high leather boots to those toned legs covered in black silk stockings that disappeared under a black cocktail dress -- a dress very similar to the red dress she had worn the night before. The jacket, also made of leather, was unzipped. Her abundant cleavage looked ready to spill from her dress.

"My name is Angel, and I am a succubus. You should feel honored. I haven't told anyone my name in centuries."

"Why tell me then?"

She grinned. "Well, most do not live long enough to say it, so why bother?"

Anthony gave her a puzzled look. "So you're not here to kill me?"

Angel smiled and ran her fingers lightly through Anthony's short dark hair. "I always did like the smart ones -- they get me so antsy in my panties," she smirked. Angel uncrossed her legs. "...if I were wearing any."

Anthony could not help but look. No panties were visible under her short dress, only a glistening sheen of her inviting p***y, beckoning him to touch it.

"S-s-so, what is a succubus, exactly?" Anthony asked, trying not to stutter.

Angel sighed in disappointment. "Perhaps I spoke too soon." She crossed her legs again. "A succubus is a demon, a unique demon who brings vast amounts of s****l pleasure to weak-willed men." She leaned forward, lightly rubbing her foot against Anthony's crotch and putting the deep valley of her cleavage inches from his eyes. "And consumes their souls in the process."

"A demon? Like, a demon from Hell? You can't be serious."

Lowering her jacket from her shoulders, two large wings spread out from behind Angel's back, stretching the width of the table. "I'm very serious," she smiled coyly.

Anthony felt a shiver down his spine. This was not a dream and he was not going insane. She claimed to not want to kill him, but her advances suggested she did. He was uncertain and anxious about his fate by the end of tonight

"What do you want with me, then?"

The wings folded behind Angel's back, disappearing inside her body. She slid fluidly off the table and walked around it to the wall covered in crime scene photos, police documents, and news articles. Everything piled throughout Anthony's apartment was related to a single case. She plucked a photo from the wall and stared at it intently.

"It's a shame what happened to your poor wife Bridget. You came home from a night of boring police work to find her bound to your bed where she had been r***d, then shot three times -- two in the stomach, and one in the head. Why, just that morning, she told you she was pregnant."

Anthony felt his blood boil as Angel retold those hideous events.

"How did you know all that? No one knew of her pregnancy but me!"

Angel turned to him. "I can read minds. I knew everything about you the moment your eyes met mine last night. Your name, your past, every secret and every kinky desire you ever had."

Anthony was mortified. He felt violated of his privacy, his most intimate thoughts.

"But I digress. Let's get to the point, shall we?"

Angel glided back around the table. She sat on Anthony's lap and wrapped her strong arms around his neck. He tried to hide his arousal, and then realized it was an exercise in futility if she could read minds.

"You see, I care about only one thing: survival. For centuries, I've been able to exist among you morals, feeding every now and then, all because I remain otherwise unknown. Your barging in on me last night before I could dispose of that poor man's body has resulted in my being in the news. This is quite an inconvenience for me because there are certain entities that would, to put it lightly, put my head on a pike if they found me."

Sounds like these 'entities' would be good to befriend, and soon.

Angel heard his mind working. She was slightly amused, and not at all worried.

"I'm assuming you want me to fix this somehow."

Angel smiled. "You catch on quick."

"How?"

"How about we make a deal? I could very easily skip town to dine elsewhere but I rather like it here in Chicago. This town is so full of fun and exciting things to do, so many corrupt souls to claim. But I dare not spend too much time outside my lair now. Scanning the minds of men until I find a corrupt soul for my exquisite tastes can be very time consuming. You, being an officer of the law, should be able to bring me plenty of bad guys for my needs."

"And if I refuse?"

Angel pouted her lips. "Then I will have to skip town, and that would make me very sad."

That doesn't sound too bad. Better than being an accessory to murder.

"On the other hand," Angel said, staring into Anthony's eyes, "if I were to skip town, you'd never find the person responsible for killing your wife. You know this case has gone cold; no leads, no witnesses, and no chance in hell you'll ever figure out what happened that night. It will forever be on your mind until you die an old man in an insane asylum. Sounds like a fate worse than death to me."

Anthony thought about what Angel said. It was true -- the case was cold. He wracked his mind over Bridget's death every night before passing out at this very table. It tore at his every waking thought. He wanted justice, but at what cost? Could she actually help him?

Angel climbed off his lap and walked toward the door. "You can take the night to think about it. Meet me at Buckingham Fountain in Grant Park tomorrow at midnight with your decision. Don't make me come find you."

She opened the door, and then turned back toward Anthony. "Oh,and Anthony. If you decide to try to disclose my existence to anyone, I will kill you, and not in a pleasant way like Chase."

Angel held the palm of her hand to her luscious mouth and blew Anthony a kiss. A pinkish mist floated through the air and landed on Anthony's lips like something straight from a Saturday morning cartoon. The mist felt exactly like a woman's lips and bore the taste of that sweet aroma. His body responded instantly -- and then the sensation quickly dissipated.

She winked at Aanthony and vanished into the night.