Succubus

I must not look, I must not look at any of them. The surge enveloped me again and my vision blurred. Not again. My knees weakened and almost buckled. Not here.

I glanced around, my eyes to the ground to avoid their faces. So many faces. The air smelled sweet with them, an intoxicating scent. The hour was late, but the sidewalk remained crowded. The streets were never quiet in New York. I leaned against the building next to me. The cool brick felt rough under my thin, pale fingers.

Did I have time? Could I make it home? Someone bumped into me and I felt his heat through his coat. Red flame surrounded me and I winced with the sweet, terrible pain of longing. I clenched my hand into a fist and squeezed my eyes shut. I could hear nothing but the breathing of the men around me, their footsteps, their heartbeats, their low and enticing voices. No.

They ignored me here, and better for them. I adored New York; its blessed offer of anonymity granted me a modicum of freedom.

A surge came again and forced me to my knees. I prayed to any god who would listen to save me for just two minutes. With two minutes of calm, I could run the three blocks to my apartment. If I could resist until dawn, if I could just... No, please no.

I smelled him before I heard his whisper. His was a sickly sweet smell. He hadn't bathed and the musky scent of man surrounded him in a cloud of temptation.

"Pssst," he taunted from the alley to my right. I did not dare open my eyes. No matter his past, he did not deserve the justice that I would render unto him.

"Hey, lady, come here." He sniffed. "I have something to show you." I could smell the drug on him. I could smell it in his breath and I could hear it in his rapid heartbeat. A dark part inside of me whispered that he would not be missed. No.

He thought I craved his drug. Fool. I was suffering a withdrawal, certainly, and I needed a fix that he could give me, but... I gritted my teeth. Waves of longing and pleasure and pain were swelling inside and around me. Perhaps I cried out, a guttural pain from my gut that surged through my throat. My whole body ached.

Someone paused beside me. I prayed he would leave. He did not know the danger. "Go away," I growled through clenched teeth. His footsteps continued on and I exhaled. My heart pounded in my throat and my whole body was shaking, but the surge had calmed. The sound of a million drums that had been thundering in my ears eased to a low, methodical hum.

"Pssst, hey," the man whispered again. His tone was bolder. "I know what you need." I smirked. Steadying my legs as best I could, I brought myself to my feet and opened my eyes. My hose were torn and my blouse was stained with sweat. I took a long, shaky breath and looked down the street. I was three blocks from my apartment, three blocks from salvation, such as it was.

I could run home. I could make it, I was sure. I could bar the door and writhe in agony alone in my dark room. No one in this neighborhood would bother me for my cries. I could scream and claw and gnash my teeth and my neighbors would simply turn up the volume on their TVs. The dawn would come and bring a peace with it. I would be safe until night fell again. In a week or so, the surge would pass. I would be safe until another one came in a few months' time. Unless... No.

"Oh laaaadyyy." The man was no longer whispering. I chanced a glance at him. He was ugly and the drug he worshiped had robbed his skin of its color. He wore a crooked, toothless grin. He thought he was the wicked one.

I knew to turn away, I knew that I could not stare upon him. I knew, but I did not care. Why should I agonize? Why did this creature of the night deserve my pity? My heartbeat steadied itself. I did not look away. The alley was dark, he had chosen it for a dark purpose. Fool. Fancying himself the spider, he had woven a web that would now be his own doom.

A dark part of me began to pulse, and I did not fight to stop it. I was lost to this night. My lips curled into a smile, but the man was blind to the cruelty in my eyes. His drug had robbed him of his senses.

Someone slowed behind me. Perhaps he smelled the perfumed pheromones I poured into the night, or perhaps he was concerned for my safety. I waved my hand at him to go away and did not take my eyes from the dealer in the alley. The man behind me cleared his throat. He was hesitating. Slowly, I could hear him turn to walk away. Walk faster.

I stepped into the alley. My body no longer shook, but it did ache with a sweet need. I welcomed the thick, burning passion. I was filled with a white-hot malice now. Another step.

"Something to show me?" My voice was honey and spice. The man swallowed. He was a fly lost in a Venus trap. He would not know his mistake until after he was lifeless and consumed.

"Back," he said, gesturing half-heartedly to the dark of the alley. His voice was failing him. I glanced behind him. The eyes of men could never adjust to such complete darkness, but mine did. I breathed in his scent and let it wash over me.

"Yes," I agreed. My voice was strong now. "Let's go back."

Then I led him into his web.