Greta wasn't over being a jilted bride.
It was the wedding of her dreams. Her a blushing bride in a fabulous white dress. Forester a scared, crumpled mass in the corner of the executive bathroom, already marked as her property with a hundred lipstick kisses. He finally gave in to her. But the honeymoon was short lived. As soon as he was able to make his escape, Forester abandoned her completely.
She didn't understand why he was so eager to leave her. She had big eyes, full lips, long lashes, and perfect nails that even any woman his own species would be jealous of.
But Greta wasn't going to wallow in the pity of being dumped forever. There were plenty of fish in the sea.
Chris couldn't sleep. He was laying in his bed, tossing and turning, but his mind wouldn't quit racing. He looked over at his alarm clock again. 3 A.M. Just a few hours and he'd have to wake up for work, anyway.
He was all alone in his apartment. Or so he thought.
He could hear something moving around, just outside his door.
He closed his eyes and tried to ignore it. Just his imagination.
Then he heard the sounds of objects crashing and glass breaking. He had no choice but to get out of bed to investigate.
He silently tiptoed through his living room to the kitchen. He could see light shining from the wide open refrigerator door. The freezer was open, too, and containers of food were scattered all over the kitchen floor. Chris couldn't believe what he saw in the middle.
She was three feet tall, covered in lemon, lime, and emerald-colored scales that all sparkled. She had long, silky, soft green hair flowing to her waist. She had long, leathery ears like a bat, a mouth filled with sharp fangs, and three razor sharp talons on each hand, covered in crimson nail polish. She seemed to be wearing human clothes, a short, tight leopard print skirt and matching top that showed off a hard, scaly lemon-colored stomach, but also surprisingly soft and supple looking cleavage. She appeared to be wearing human make-up, too, Purplish-pink mascara and eye shadow gave her reptilian eyes a kind of softness, and her lips were absolutely dripping with crimson lipstick.
She was busy licking vanilla ice cream off her long fingers. Chris tried backing away, but he backed straight into the wall.
Then she turned her head and noticed him. She stood up straight, her eyes widening and her jaw dropping excitedly.
"Hubba, hubba," she said in a raspy voice, giving her approximation of a flirty wave. "Hi. I'm Greta."
Chris tried to scream, but no sound would come out. He managed to slide across the wall and through the doorway, but tripped and fell on his way out.
When he looked up, the monster that called herself Greta was nowhere to be seen. Chris pulled himself to his feet and ran as fast as he could into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.
She'd beat him there. She was standing on top of the toilet, batting her eye lashes at him, tilting her head coquettishly from side to side.
He reached back and tried to fumble with the lock, scared to take his eyes off her. She leaped through the air and caught him by the shoulders, pressing her face against his.
"Don't eat me!" Chris screamed.
"Muah!"
She mashed her lips up against his left cheek and then . . .
"Muah!"
Up against his right.
"Muah! Muah! Muah! Muah!
Her kisses were soft. And affectionate. And very, very sticky. He caught his reflection in the mirror and could see that his face was already almost completely covered in them, the shimmering imprints the exact shape of her plush, juicy lips. Still, she kept finding even more bare patches of his cheeks and forehead to mark. Her kisses were like her signature, branding him as her property.
She nibbled on his earlobe, and then her warm tongue lashes around and inside his ear.
"You're so gorgeous," she whispered, her hot breath and raspy voice making him tingle. "I think I'm falling in love."
He was trembling, and he wasn't sure it was all from fear. He finally managed to unlock the bathroom door, stumbling backwards through it.
Greta pressed her lips hard against his as one of her claws saucily undid the top buttons of his pajama shirt. He stumbled backwards into a living room lamp, knocking it to the carpet and shattering it. She tilted her head from side to side, smearing her lipstick all over his mouth. They thudded against the wall, knocking over some framed photos of Chris' family with the force of the impact, then stumbling into a side table, knocking it over and completely demolishing the vase that had been sitting on top.
"Mmm-mmm!"
The chaos and destruction seemed to excite Greta more. She wrapped one arm tighter around his neck and both legs tighter around his waist. Her claws made quick work of the rest of the buttons off his top and she began running one, ever so gently, in intimate patterns across his chest.
Just when he thought he was about to pass out from her mouth covering his, she gently sunk her teeth into his lower lip and then pulled away long enough for him to take a deep breath.
"What even are . . . yghrhghmhmmm?"
He was cut off by her lips pressing hard against his again. The way she wiggled against his body and pressed her face into his kept him off balance. They bumped into another end table, knocking a stack of magazines and a reading lamp to the floor.
What was this monster, and why was it so into him?"
She was working at his mouth with her lips, teeth, and tongue. His entire face and neck were sticky and moist from her lipstick and saliva.
He tried grabbing her to pry her off of him, but all of his efforts just made her hold on tighter. Chris and Greta continued stumbling around the living room, knocking over furniture and destroying decorations with their frenetic make-out sesh. Chris tripped over his coffee table, knocking it over as he fell into his favorite recliner. His head sunk into the leather as she pressed her lips down hard on his forehead, cheeks, chin, and neck, leaving more perfect red lip prints.
The way she writhed wildly on top of him caused the armchair to rock back and forth and then fall on its side, depositing them both on the floor. He managed to put a hand on the fallen chair to steady himself as he pulled himself back to his feet. The whole time, Greta kept one arm around his neck and both legs wrapped around his torso.
They slammed into Chris' TV, knocking it off its stand and completely wrecking it. But Chris wasn't worried about that now because his knees were getting weak and they were slowly tumbling down to the carpet to lay beside the debris from the television set and its stand. Chris felt his eyes rolling back as Greta alternated between kissing his neck, gently nibbling on it, and moaning erotically.
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