A HALLOWEEN TAIL

Feature Writer: Altissimus

Feature Title: A Halloween Tail

Published: 02.10.2023

Story Codes: Demonic, Lesbian

Synopsis: Demons, lust, and licking

A Halloween Tail

“Just say you’ll come.”

I internalised my sigh. “You know I hate Halloween.”

“Then come for the party!”

“You know what I hate more than Halloween?”

“Parties?” Julia’s laugh came through clearly, and I could perfectly picture her expression.

“Bingo, girlfriend.”

“Then come for me. Please?”

Dammit. That was playing dirty. This time I didn’t try to hide my sigh.

“That sounded like a ‘yes’, Abbs!” Julia’s excitement sounded so genuine, even across the phone line, that I could only shake my head in rueful capitulation.

“Fine. But you owe me for this.”

“Yay! And I promise you it’ll be worth it! I’ll save you a cute guy in a sexy vampire costume!”

“That’s an oxymoron.”

“Hah! Don’t be like that. See you by ten, then?”

I looked around my small flat at the preparations I’d already made. “Er… I’ll probably a bit later than that. Something I need to… take care of, first.”

“Just so long as you get here, ya hear?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there.” So I was a pushover. What was new?

“Awesome, babe. Loads to do! See you later then!” The line went dead.

I sighed again, tossing my phone onto the bed. I glanced at the clock – just after nine.

Time enough.

I knelt carefully inside the pentacle I’d painstakingly painted over the cheap, thin carpet of my living room. My copy of the Daemonia Revelata was already open to the correct page, propped against a bookstand that rested on the floor nearby. I picked up the long taper I’d been using before Julia called and relit it from one of the candles that was already burning.

It took several moments to light the rest of the candles. Sixty-one in total – hundreds of pounds’ worth – a reasonable chunk of my meagre disposable income. Five at each point of the pentacle. Eight large ones in the centre, at the points of the compass, then reducing in size but increasing in number for each subsequent circle. Evenly spaced, and precariously balanced on the carpet – that had taken a while. Who knew candles were as irritating as dominos?

Nothing screamed ‘fire hazard’ like enough candles to illuminate my small flat, naked flames in three concentric circles, the light reflecting off my bare skin. The landlord would have apoplexy, not least because earlier that afternoon I’d sabotaged his smoke alarm.

I took a steadying breath, letting it slip out slowly. It was now, or never. The culmination of months of effort. Years, if you counted how long I’d been searching for a copy of that book. Ever since an obscure reference briefly glimpsed… that fateful day, seven years previously, when I was an eager straight-A student rewarded with a behind-the-scenes insight into the treasures of the British Museum. Those fleeting moments spent gazing at a page from a manuscript hundreds of years old. The Daemonia Revelata.

Three years tracking down the book, four months researching in Ireland, and another eight studying Gaelic and Latin. I’d exhausted the bank of Dad, sold my car, and got a loan.

And tonight was the night that it would all come together. Samuin. Samain. Samhain. Lemuria. All Hallow’s Eve. Halloween. The night where the barrier to the dead and the supernatural was at its weakest. When kids got sticky, adults got drunk – and everyone agreed bobbing for apples was a bad idea.

Technically, it didn’t have to be tonight – but the book had made it clear that it would be easier. More potent.

If this was to work, I knew I’d need every edge I could get.

I ran my eyes over the page again, even though I didn’t need to. I was now so familiar with the Latin that I could read it at a glance. Oh, I was proficient enough to translate Saint Augustine’s ‘Confessions’ or enjoy Virgil’s ‘The Aeneid’ in the original text, but the Daemonia Revelata? I knew it by heart.

The first half was warnings, of course: we really don’t recommend you take this stuff lightly, because apparently, some demons are bad. Soul-sucking, malice-intending, chaos-bringing malevolent beings intent on destruction and out to really screw you over.

That was okay. I didn’t intend on getting anywhere near that stuff.

Most of the rest of the book focused on banishing demons. This had been the priority for the authors – originally, Irish Druids intent on controlling the Tuatha De Danann. But as the book evolved over the centuries with Roman and Christian influences, the remit grew even as the objectives remained the same. Everyone had demons.

I’d memorised the banishment spell as a precaution, and it was… well, easy. They’d mastered it over the centuries, it seemed. It was good to have that up my sleeve. Assuming it worked. I hoped I’d never need to find out. The pentacle was designed to protect me, anyway. According to the book, it should also keep the demon in the vicinity, tethering it here. I certainly didn’t want it wandering off.

As far as I could determine, Mephistopheles and Belial weren’t specific, named entities, but different shades of grey – though it might be more accurate to say different shades of black. The book didn’t differentiate care to give them names; that came later with cross-over influences from religion, biblical stories, and then modern pop culture. Instead, according to the book, demonology was organised by sin: Anger, Hate, Wrath, and so on. The list of sins was very extensive. Apparently, there was a Demon of Gossip.

And this is where it got really interesting, for the techniques to defend the world against the forces of evil could also be used to summon them. Allegedly. And bind them. Allegedly.

I was about to find out just how true that was.

Don’t get me wrong: I wasn’t interested in destroying the world; I just wanted to change it a bit. Not all of it, just the bit immediately in my sphere. Like my bank balance, for example. Perhaps some minor cosmetic tweaks… like never having to shave again, ever. A little bit of anti-ageing so I’d retain my youthful looks a while longer.

Nothing that really mattered.

The last few pages of the book talked about the powers demons had, their influence over man. Their ability to persuade, beguile and charm. Even the most minor of demons held enough sway to influence the minds of mortals. A suggestion here, an enticement there. Not enough to reduce a victim to a gibbering vegetable, but more than enough to make them… receptive.

It was all too easy to see how that could be used.

I reached out, brushing my fingertips over the page before me. The very same page that I had first seen, briefly, seven years ago in the British museum.

Et potestates colligere possunt. And the powers can be harnessed.

Powerful words on an impressionable mind.

It was a happy coincidence that my 18-year-old self had attended a school with a motto almost identical: Veritas, Virtus, et Potestates Colligere Possunt. Truth and virtue can be harnessed. Presumably, the school meant ‘through education’, but what was a little short cut here and there?

Of course, I’d recognised the words immediately.

Harnessing powers. Demon powers. It was enough to make anyone sit up and take notice.

Since then, my research had been extensive, consuming all my spare time and resources, but my knowledge of the book was now complete.

What had been of particular interest was the import the book gave to the various sins – and the relative powers of the demons. The greater the sin, the greater the demon. Obvious enough. I’d wanted something I could control easily. After all, releasing a Wrath Demon in the middle of the city sounded like a step too far – even if many of the people living here had earned that karma.

No, the major sins were most definitely out. But the book carefully ordered a full list of sins by the potency of the associated demon. There were 412 sins, and I knew the list by heart. Some held no appeal, such as Pride – very middle-of-the-road, but not obviously of use. Theft – more direct than I needed – there were other ways of getting what I wanted. Idolatry – very minor, as if even the demons didn’t really care. Perjury – which hardly registered in the power levels. Or Apostasy. Apparently, abandoning one’s religion was hardly a crime as far as demons were concerned.

Even Lying was towards the bottom. 398 of 412. That made me feel a lot better about many of my life choices.

Some were amusingly low down. Sloth, for example, was almost at the bottom at 404. I was pretty sure I could control a Sloth Demon, but what would be the point? I could just picture that conversation:

“Make me wealthy, foul demon!”

“Yeah sure, whatever. No rush, right?”

But Lust. Lust was a different matter altogether. Still incredibly far down the pecking order, relatively speaking – clearly, demons considered the expression of sexual urges to be barely a sin at all. Yet I knew what the demons, it seemed, did not: the world was now controlled by Lust.

With a Lust Demon in my power, the world would be open to me in ways I could only dream. Men and women would fall at my feet to give me what I wanted.

Obviously I wouldn’t go that far.

But… it was appealing, nevertheless.

So it was that I was naked, on the night of Samhain or All Hallow’s Eve, kneeling in a pentacle and in direct contravention of the flat’s fire regulations. The nudity was applicable for the demon type I wanted, of course. Another good reason why Lust was more accessible than, say, Procrastination (409).

How did one even summon a Procrastination Demon? By getting around to it tomorrow?

Okay. Enough dissembling. Either I was doing this, or I wasn’t.

My eyes pored over the page for the thousandth time. I knew what I had to do, what I had to say. I’d memorised it months ago. It was time.

I cupped my bare breast and flicked my nipple with my thumb.

The book had been insistent on the effectiveness of alignment to the sin in question.

I tweaked, pulling slightly, trying to set aside my apprehension and the fear that this was all a fiction, that all my effort had been for nothing. That it wouldn’t work.

It definitely wouldn’t work if I couldn’t get in the mood.

My other hand stroked lightly down over my stomach and dipped between my thighs.

It was harder than I’d expected to make this sexy. My mind was in a different space. The candles helped – the gentle flames were sensuous, calming – but the pentacle was a distraction. As was the book.

Not my usual masturbatory aids.

I glanced toward the bedroom, thinking of the Hitachi Wand in my bedside table. I’d left it there on purpose, not wanting to risk the unpredictable mixture of technology and magic. Or the distraction of something that intense.

No, the intent was for feelings of lust, not helpless, toe-curling orgasms.

Yet the mere thought of my wand had edged up my arousal. I lifted my fingers to my mouth, wetting them with my tongue, and slipped them again between my legs.

Much better.

“Per spiritus mortuorum et per vitam circa,” By the spirits of the dead and the life around me.

The candles flickered as one. Maybe a draft. It was too early to allow for hope.

“Audi me, Daemon Luxuriae.” Hear me, Demon of Lust.

I slipped a finger between the lips of my vulva, flicking teasingly over my entrance, collecting some of the moisture that had already gathered.

“Te vocco, Daemon Luxuriae.” I call you, Demon of Lust.

My arousal was growing rapidly, and a shiver ran through my body. I flicked my thumb over my nipple again, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I pinched, twisting slightly. Better.

“Te impero, Daemon Luxuriae.” I command you, Demon of Lust.

A jolt of pleasure pulsed through me, making my breath catch. My finger slid up over my clit, my arousal surprisingly intense. This wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.

“Te invocco; tua es.” I invoke thee; you are mine.

A wave of arousal washed through me, and I gasped involuntarily. It was almost as strong as some orgasms I’d had. My body trembled within the pentacle, my pussy flooding with moisture.

Fuck, that wasn’t me.

It was both exciting and scary. My response was way too strong from merely my own gentle ministrations. My pulse was racing, my body perspiring, and my clit… my clit was throbbing. I moaned as I ran a fingertip over it.

But it was incontrovertible proof that the book was genuine, that what I was doing was real. I felt the thrill of power run through me, combining with the intensity of my arousal. God, it felt good.

Focus, Abby, focus. It was an effort to say the words, my body squirming with need. My hips wouldn’t keep still, and my thighs were damp. And still I’d hardly touched myself.

“Tua ad me venies, ego iubeo!” You will come to me, I command it.

I cried out as the orgasm crashed through me, my body trembling with the intensity of it. It was the strongest, most overwhelming sensual experience I’d ever had, and all from barely a touch on my own body. It was too much, more than I could cope with, and it didn’t seem to be lessening. I gasped as my body clenched again, a renewed wave of pleasure coming so swiftly on the back of the first.

God, I’m… going to pass out…

A third orgasm hit, my body jerking in response. I could barely manage a moan.

Hitachi has nothing on magic…

 

~

 

I became aware that I was lying on the carpet. I opened my eyes. The candles were still burning, though each sat in their own pools of melted wax. How long had I been out for?

I’m lying next to the candles. I sat up swiftly, then groaned as the movement was too fast. At least I didn’t set fire to my hair.

It took a moment to remember. The spell. The visceral, sensual reaction. Multiple orgasms in rapid succession, each stronger than any I’d ever had before. I could still feel the afterglow throughout my body.

That had been one amazing experience. Thank God I hadn’t tried to summon a Gluttony Demon (329 of 412); I would’ve probably eaten my sofa.

I took a deep, steadying breath, looking around myself. The book sat innocuously on its stand, still open on the page. Candlelight reflected around my living room, a pleasing orange glow that matched the one within me.

If nothing else I’m going to have to try that spell again sometime. That was… wow. Just wow.

I rose, my legs unsteady, and glanced down.

Shit.

The pentacle was disturbed where I’d fallen across it. I bent, examining it carefully. Was it broken? There wasn’t enough light to be sure.

I glanced around my flat. Nothing else seemed any different; no hot incubus (or whatever a lust demon might call itself) sat naked on my couch. Dammit. I thought it had worked.

I glanced at the clock: 9:52. Crap. How long had I been out for?

Quickly, I stepped to the light switch and flicked it on, the shadows instantly receding. Shower, clothes… but first…

I knelt beside the pentacle again, carefully examining where I had inadvertently disturbed it. A hairline of un-painted carpet sat smugly beneath the smudge.

Fuck. Was that the reason it hadn’t worked?

Despondently, I doused all the candles. All that work just for mind-blowing orgasms.

I supposed I could try again. Technically, it didn’t need to be Halloween… it was just supposed to be way more effective on this one night of the year. Can I wait another twelve months?

Right now, Julia was waiting. Dejected and suddenly tired, a party was the last thing I wanted to do. But I’d promised. And I was already late.

I’d showered already earlier in the day, but after that intense magically-inspired sexual workout, another was most definitely in order. I sluiced off quickly, grabbed the hair dryer and thought about what to wear. The little black dress? No. Too formal. Jeans? Too casual.

Walking naked through the flat to my bedroom, I opened my wardrobe and glumly perused the limited options. How cold was it outside? A glance out of the window showed a London sky that threatened rain. Julia’s flat was only a few minutes’ walk away, it wasn’t quite worth calling an Uber. Plus, a walk could save a bit of money. Wouldn’t have been a problem if the damn spell had worked. Now I’d have to keep being frugal – my loan repayments alone accounted for large chunks of my monthly income.

I pulled out my favourite Autumn coat: a long, black affair I’d brought from Hobbs some years previously when money hadn’t been such a problem. I laid it carefully on the bed and turned again to the wardrobe.

In the end, I settled on a favourite knee-length A-line skirt. It swished when I walked, the material a pleasing quality. Beneath, a pair of comfortable lacy panties; they were attractive enough, not that anyone else would ever get the chance to admire them. I paired the skirt with a strappy top that was tight enough to make a bra unnecessary. I hated wearing bras anyway. A buttoned cardigan for warmth, my knee-high boots to finish the ensemble. I examined the final look in the mirror. Not exactly chic, but it’ll have to do.

There were many reasons I didn’t go to parties, my lack of suitable wardrobe options being just one.

A glance at the clock: 10:25. Time to get a move on.

I skipped through the flat, picking up my purse, house keys, wallet. If I walked swiftly enough I could be at Julia’s by a quarter to eleven. That wasn’t too late, was it?

I rode the lift down to the foyer, stepping out with a resigned sigh. I’d much rather be sitting in bed with a book and a cup of hot chocolate. Friends were so much effort.

It wasn’t until I’d stepped out onto the street that I realised my coat was lying on the bed. Crap. But then, it wasn’t quite as cold as I’d feared. If I went back for it I’d be later still, and Julia wouldn’t be happy. Maybe, if I walked fast, I could keep warm. Julia always had her heating on, and perhaps she’d make me a warming cup of tea. Coz, yeah… that’s what people drink at parties.

Sighing again, I set off along the street. Just so long as it doesn’t rain later.

 

~

 

“Sweetheart! You made it!” You could just hear the exclamation marks. It was lucky Julia was such a good friend: her exuberance was often more than I could bear.

“Hi, Juls.”

“Come in, come in! You look freezing!”

Julia opened the door wider, showing her small flat. Halloween decorations abound in black and orange, spider webs festooned the ceiling and walls. Just inside the door was a full-size skeleton, looking about as convincing as my mother’s spray tan.

Her flat was crowded with people. And all of them were wearing a costume.

Fuck. I forgot about the costumes. But then, I didn’t have one anyway. Why had I even agreed to come?

“Er… Juls… I don’t have a costume. Perhaps it would be best if I… y’know… went back home?”

“Rubbish! You look lovely! And you’re my best friend. Please, Abbs, stay for me?”

“Oh… very well.”

“Come and meet Dave and Christie!”

I let her drag me along.

 

~

 

“Phil, come and meet Abby! She’s my very best friend and lives just a short walk from here!”

“Hi,” I held out my hand without enthusiasm. I was pretty sure Julia had introduced me to half the guests, and I was damned if I could remember any names. Who did she say this guy was? Phil?

“I’ll leave you to get to know each other!” Julia smiled at me with encouragement, taking her exclamation marks with her when she left.

Cute guy in a sexy vampire costume. Save for being cute, or sexy.

I expected him to take my hand, but clearly he had other ideas. He bowed over it and brushed my knuckles with his lips, in a cringe-worthy impression of old-fashioned gallantry.

“I lurve your costume,” he said as he straightened, affecting a truly awful Count Dracula accent.

“I’m not wearing one.” Obviously.

“You ‘av come dressed as ze beautiful woman, no?”

I smiled thinly, saying nothing. Perhaps, if he’d delivered his line with any sincerity, instead of that self-smug grin…

“Ze perfect prey for a vamp-i-rrrre such as myself.” The accent was getting worse. He seemed unperturbed by my lack of response and smiled, flashing his ridiculous false teeth. I was certain he was more in love with himself than he could ever be with someone else.

“Your costume is very convincing,” I said cooly. “And I love your accent. Is it the teeth giving you that lisp? Difficult to speak, I’m sure. At least you’re trying.”

“Er… yes.” He looked taken aback, but only momentarily. “Perhaps I can get you a drink…” he raised his hand, reaching to cup my cheek. Oh, hell no. “…and afterward take you into a corner and bite your neck?”

The last inch of my white wine splashed across his face, dribbling down into his ridiculously over-sized collar. He stepped back in reflex, “Fuck!” No accent, that time.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Completely my fault! You startled me. I find vampires ever so scary.” I blinked at him innocently, and beside us a couple laughed nervously.

I turned and walked away, leaving him dabbing at his costume with a handkerchief. I really hoped Julia hadn’t brought me all the way over here just for that.

 

~

 

I glanced at the clock again: 11:24. If I made it to midnight then surely I could make my excuses and leave? Julia couldn’t object, right?

I was sat on Julia’s love seat in the corner of the flat, trying to avoid any further engagement. After the vampire fiasco, Julia had tried to introduce me to a few more people. I’d politely done my best. Small talk was like parties: something other people did.

Sighing, I realised I didn’t even have a drink anymore. Fetching one risked losing the seat.

“Good evening. May I sit here?”

I glanced up in surprise, my eyes widening. I hadn’t even seen her approach. She was dressed – barely – in the most fantastic of costumes: a black leather corset and thigh-high boots over fishnet stockings, complete with devil horns and… was that a tail? In each hand she held a wine glass, both full.

She was stunningly beautiful, her figure straight out of a Victoria’s Secret catalogue, and her face was near-symmetrical perfection. Her raven hair was thick and lustrous as it cascaded far down her back, tied in a French braid so tight it gave me a headache just looking at it.

“Oh, um. Of course you can sit here. I’ll… leave you both to it.” The seat was supposed to be for two, after all.

I made as if to rise, but rather than step back to allow me space, the girl edged closer. “I brought you a drink,” she said, slightly proffering one glass. “Won’t you stay and talk to me?”

That wasn’t what I’d expected. “Um… okay.”

I accepted the glass and sat back in the seat. She had me on edge; coming up to me out of the blue, she was clearly used to playing in a completely different league. Dressed to kill… if Agathe Christie ever wrote ‘Murder in the Bordello’. She was intimidatingly gorgeous, and she wanted to sit and talk. With me.

What about? I ran through my available small-talk lines. It didn’t take me long.

The girl smiled, but rather than slip into the narrow space beside me, she chose instead to sit at my feet. She lowered gracefully, making the move seem natural and fluid, and I felt her body press in against my legs. It was as if she’d been sitting there all evening and left merely to fetch new drinks.

My breath caught in my throat. The position was surprisingly intimate, yet the girl seemed perfectly relaxed. As though sitting at a stranger’s feet wearing a devilish boudoir costume was something she did every day.

“Cheers,” she said, holding up her wine glass.

“Cheers,” I murmured, chinking my glass delicately in response. She took a sip, and I did the same, using the moment to try and catch up. A lot seemed to have happened very swiftly.

I looked away, trying to compose myself as I checked to see if anyone was staring at our cozy tableau. All seemed oblivious, engaged instead in their own worlds.

I glanced down as I felt her intertwine her hands across my knee, in time to see her prop her chin on top. She’d put her wine glass somewhere and I hadn’t seen.

She let her head fall gracefully ever so slightly to one side and looked up at me, and the effect was touchingly endearing.

Who was this girl? Julia certainly hadn’t introduced us.

I could feel her body pressed full-length against my legs, the leather of her corset against the leather of my boots. While she watched me struggle to get a handle on the situation, she amused herself by drawing little circles with one fingertip on the top of my bare knee, the movement so slight she didn’t even need to remove her chin.

Silence lingered, and it was as if the girl with the horns seemed content to sit quietly, pressed against me. I, on the other hand, was feeling increasingly awkward. I should say something.

“I love your costume,” I blurted, then glanced away as my cheeks heated in embarrassment. Oh, that was real smooth.

The girl smiled slowly, evidently finding something entertaining. Me, probably. “Thank you. Truth be told, I didn’t have much choice in what I wore tonight.”

Such a graceful answer. And such a stunningly charming smile.

“Oh, me too! I… I don’t have a costume.” I didn’t know why I kept pointing that out.

“I think you look quite lovely as you are,” came the girl’s reply, and one hand disengaged from under her chin and slipped gently along my leg, her fingers playing lightly with the delicate skin of my inner thigh. My breath caught in my throat. Was this merely her way? Casual intimacy? Did it mean something… or nothing?

“Thank you,” I whispered, not sure how else to respond.

So, I wasn’t the most worldly in the area of sex. I mean, I wasn’t a virgin – there’d been a couple of men during my travels – but when you’re socially awkward and your wardrobe contains more hoodies than bikinis, most of your erotic experience came from the reading material you chose.

I hadn’t even been with a girl. Kissed one, once. At university. The way everyone does.

And now this gorgeous creature had settled at my feet, making herself quite at home. Her unruffled, gracious composure only served to emphasise my lack of the same. She may have placed herself at my feet in the more submissive position, but she was in total control.

I gripped my wine glass with both hands, trying not to tremble and spill it on her.

All the while I was incredibly conscious of her fingers idly playing with my leg, just beneath the hem of my skirt. It was as if she were challenging me to call her on it… or perhaps to spread my knees and blatantly give her more access.

I felt my stomach squirm, and knew she was turning me on. I didn’t even know I was into girls – but, to be fair, anyone with eyes would be into this one. She’d done nothing more than be friendly, and her touches were innocent enough to be explained away as idle play – though the way they burned across my skin felt anything but innocent.

If she hadn’t been dressed like a cross between a Boudoir Mistress and a kitten girl, I could perhaps have given her the benefit of the doubt.

But she had horns. No one who chose to wear horns could ever be completely innocent… could they?

She just sat and watched me, a small smile on her lips, as though she were perfectly aware of the confusion she’d garnered and was enjoying her effect. She was walking the line perfectly between plausible deniability and sexual intrigue, and the little minx knew it.

We couldn’t just sit here like this all evening. Well, she looked like she could… but I’d be a trembling mess in minutes. She was affecting me deeply.

Desperately, I sought something intelligent to say. “I love your horns. What a nice touch. And your tail. It’s so realistic.” Okay, so not all that intelligent. The best I could do, given the circumstances.

She seemed to bathe in the praise. “Oh, this old thing?” she asked, her hand leaving my knee to pick up her tail. It seemed to rise to meet her hand, but it could’ve been a trick of the light. “I’ve had it for years. But it suits the look, don’t you think?”

She raised the hand holding her tail, and I could see it more clearly. It looked almost feline in nature, like a panther’s. Soft, and sleek. A dense coating of fine, black hair. But unlike a cat’s tail, hers ended in a triangle, and it looked sharp and pointed.

She let it fall to rest across my skirt, and I could feel the weight of it. To my surprise the tip seemed to lash gently back and forth, exactly like the cat’s tail it resembled – save for the wicked-looking spear on the end.

How the hell was she making it do that? Some prop.

“It’s mesmerising,” I said, because it truly was. “So lifelike. Er… how… how do you… er… keep it on?”

Wow, I was all kinds of smooth tonight.

“Keep it on?” She grinned impishly. The emphasis on the preposition hung in the air, the implication clear that it wasn’t quite correct. I swallowed nervously.

“Wow, that’s… kinda hot.” I couldn’t imagine walking around with something like that inside my ass all evening. Let alone sitting. At someone’s feet, no less.

So definitely not innocent, then.

I momentarily looked away, resisting the urge to fan my face. The party seemed to be in full swing, but strangely we were being ignored. I wasn’t going to argue with that, but I was surprised she wasn’t fetching more glances. She was easily the sexiest creature in the room, even without knowing how the tail stayed… in.

Something brushed against my knee, high enough to be beneath the hem of my skirt, and I jumped, almost spilling my wine. I glanced down. She was caressing me with the point of her tail, her hand lightly holding it some few inches back from the tip.

Her gaze met mine, her expression playful. “Do you like that?”

It was far softer than I’d anticipated. She stroked my inner thigh, and a shiver ran through me.

“Yes,” I whispered.

She smiled, then leant forward and placed her lips on my knee, kissing. Her tongue flicked out as she did so, and I felt it wet and warm against my skin.

Fuck. My arousal skipped several steps as it spiked violently upwards.

She inched her tail up along my thigh and I twitched, pressing my legs together, trapping it. “People will see,” I objected. Why had I said that? What I’d meant to say was… stop. Wasn’t it?

“No they won’t,” she smiled as if amused, and her other hand squeezed my calf over the supple leather of my boot.

There were so many people in here, how could our little display not be observed? I looked up, but wherever I peeked, people were focused on each other, not even glancing our way.

Between my thighs her tail wriggled. I had no idea how she’d even done that. It wasn’t just the tip that felt soft; the whole length of it was so silky. And warm, like… skin. Like it was real. One seriously impressive costume.

It was a costume, right?

She wore a dark lipstick, almost black, with matching eyeliner and a vivid purple eyeshadow, all lightly and artistically applied. But it was her features that were striking. I looked at her again, closely, drinking in the high cheekbones, the delicate lips, her almond eyes. Such intelligent eyes. Her irises were dark, as dark as I could remember seeing. Contacts? It matched the costume, I supposed.

She’d really gone to some lengths.

Why the hell was she interested in me?

My eyes lifted to the horns on her head: two little pointed nubs, no larger than my thumb. They nestled in her hair, toward the front of her head. Slightly wider-spaced than her eyes. They looked hard, shiny, like obsidian reflecting the light.

I couldn’t see how she held them on. There was no obvious headgear, no ties.

Between my legs her tail lightly caressed my skin. She was very, very good with it, hardly moving her hand at all as she controlled it. It was a sensuous, pleasant, sensation. It reminded me of a massage I’d once had with a mink glove.

My arousal was increasing. It seemed natural to part my thighs, to give her more access. It wasn’t even a subconscious decision. She slid the tail gently forward. I gasped softly; one more inch and it would be brushing up against my underwear.

Reflexively, I grasped her hand, pinning it, then looked up to see her watching me, her eyes dancing with amusement and a playful smile on her lips.

“Having fun?” I asked, dryly. She was toying with me, and she knew it. She was arousing me, and she knew that too.

“Just beginning to.”

The tip of her tail edged forward again, and now I couldn’t help but squirm. I gripped her hand in mine, pulling it off her tail. “People will see!” I whispered. One glance our way and it would be obvious what we were doing.

What were we doing?

It was ironic that it would be obvious to the casual onlooker, but I didn’t have a clue. Story of my life.

She pouted but allowed me to take her hand, releasing her tail. Without her hand guiding it, I’d expected it to slip from between my legs. It didn’t.

“Why did you stop me?”

I glanced up, guilty, expecting to see people staring at us. No one appeared to have noticed. It didn’t make me feel much better.

“People will see,” I said again. Did she not understand?

“Oh. Why don’t you want anyone to see?”

“Because… because it’s embarrassing!” I was an introvert. Attention of any kind made me quail inside, and if anyone saw what she was doing between my legs… I’d just die.

I squirmed again, but this time with mortification, glancing about me. This girl – whose name I didn’t even know – was beguiling me, confusing me. It had all happened so quickly – in mere moments since she had come up to me, she’d sat herself at my feet and worked her tail between my legs as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Someone was bound to notice. And Julia was around here, somewhere. What would she think of this?

“Is that your only objection?” she asked, her hand turning in mine, her fingertips laying against the pulse on my wrist. It was distracting.

“What?” I felt I was missing something.

“Is your only objection that you don’t want people to see?”

I frowned, confused. “Yes,” I said.

“Then they won’t,” she said, as if the matter was settled.

Her tail squirmed forward again, pushing between my thighs. I felt the pointed tip of it slip beneath my underwear, tucking itself around one edge of the thin, lacy material. The warm, silky-soft touch of it brushed against my vulva.

I jumped at the touch, staring at her. Her tail had far too much dexterity, and her hand was in mine. Her other was still squeezing my lower leg. How the hell…?

Oh fuck. O-kay then.

“What are you?” I’d finally worked it out.

She smiled at me. “You already know.”

Her tail pulled the material of my panties away, then lightly brushed down across my labia. I shivered.

“Please don’t!” I begged, “I don’t want people to see!”

“They won’t. Can you see anyone looking?”

I glanced up again. No one was even aware we were here. Here was a beautiful girl, half naked in a leather corset, sitting at my feet while she played with me. Half the room should’ve been watching her, and yet I hadn’t seen a single peek come our way.

She lowered her lips to my knee and kissed me again. It was a strangely gentle thing; the sensation of her soft lips pressing to my kneecap. She must’ve known it wasn’t an erogenous zone, and yet she did it almost lovingly.

From a Lust Demon I’d expected pure carnality, not this sophisticated seduction.

I was suddenly curious. “Can you… can you feel anything with your tail?”

Somehow she turned the end of her tail, running the tip of the point along the cleft of my lips. If she hadn’t demonstrated such perfect control I’d have been worried to have something so… sharp… in such an intimate place. But though it had looked sharp it had never felt sharp.

She looked up at me, smiling against my knee, not lifting her face. It was cute. “I feel everything.”

Uh huh. Did she know how wet I was?

“Everything?” my voice sounded high.

She licked my skin again, even as she teased me with her tail. “Everything.” There was no room for doubt in her tone.

I shivered.

She tugged at my panties as though they were in the way. I supposed they were. I felt her pull the material away from my pussy; it pulled across my hips and wedged between my bottom cheeks. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, yet it was another reminder of the intimacy of what she was doing.

“This clothing you wear… is it of any importance?”

“Huh?” She had me so distracted, and I hadn’t really followed the question.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

There was a faint snip sound and abruptly the pull on my hips relaxed. The gusset came loose, as though it had been… cut.

I stared down at her, my eyes wide. “How did you do that?”

“How do you think?”

So much for not being sharp.

Her tail flicked across my labia again, but the trust had gone.

“Stop,” I said, reaching between my knees and grasping her tail there. I pulled firmly, but she didn’t fight me. It was easy to move it, and then she curled it back on itself and rubbed it gently against my knee.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and there was confusion in her eyes. It was the first expression I’d seen from her that showed any doubt. Until that moment, she’d exuded confidence and control.

“I… I’m sorry. I’m just not comfortable with having something so… sharp… near my…” I trailed off, blushing. Why did I have to explain myself? It was like she had a blade on the end of her tail, and who would be happy with… such a thing… in such an intimate place?

I was still trying to get my head around the fact that it was her tail.

She pouted. It was the only word for it. Her bottom lip came out in a very definite sulk, her eyebrows knitted together, and her eyes were downcast. It would’ve been comical if it hadn’t been so pathetic.

I hadn’t meant to upset her. I’d responded instinctively.

“You… you don’t like my tail?” There was a quiver in her voice. A noticeable tremor.

Ah crap. I’d upset the Lust Demon. Could this evening get any weirder?

For the moment, I only had to deal with puppy-dog eyes. But now that I’d upset her, how quickly would that change? ‘Emotionally stable’ wasn’t a notion one commonly associated with a demon.

I felt a thrill of fear run through me. Was she… safe? Could I risk pissing her off?

“No… no, not at all! Your tail is amazing!” and it was easy to inject enthusiasm into my voice. She really did have the most incredible appendage. The feel of it, the dexterity of it, the fact that one moment it could tease so gently, and the next cut through material like a… well, like a very, very sharp knife. A very, very sharp knife that had been in extremely close proximity to things I didn’t want anywhere near a very, very sharp knife.