Page 36 of The Howl
I hit the light switch and stared at the brownie sprawled out naked on my pillow. The six-inch youth twitched as he frantically tugged on his little stick, his toes curling as he lifted his head to greet me with a smile.
“Hi, I’m Piepen. Thank you for inviting me.”
His knees bent a little with a particularly vigorous tug, and his eyes rolled back in his head. His current activity explained why the sour lust taste from my dream still clogged the air.
“Please stop touching yourself.”
“Can’t. I’m so close. Just a few more—”
“Get off my pillow!”
The scent intensified.
Gagging, I covered my eyes with my hand and felt my way to the bathroom just as he squealed in rapture.
The taste lingered in my mouth, no matter how many times I rinsed. It reminded me of the stuff Dad had put on my nails when I was little in an attempt to get me to stop biting them. I gagged, rinsed again, then brushed my teeth thoroughly. It didn’t help. The air was tainted with the smell, which recoated the back of my tongue every time I breathed in.
I turned on the bathroom fan then opened every window in my room before looking at the brownie. He lay stomach down now, thankfully. Still on my pillow, though, stroking the material gently.
“You smell so good,” he said, his little voice muffled.
“There’s been a misunderstanding,” I said. “When I told you to let me know you’d arrived, I should have specified during the day. You need to go back to Megan’s house. Now.”
His little head jerked up from my pillow, and I stared into his tiny, sad brown eyes.
“Please don’t make me stay with Elbner.”
“It’s too dangerous for you to stay here. Especially after what just happened.”
He jumped up from the pillow, his iridescent wings fluttering rapidly as he zoomed toward my face, all six millimeters of his tiny, hard staff aimed right at my eye.
I squealed and ducked only to feel him clinging to my hair.
“I can’t go back. Please don’t make me. I’ll do anything.”
Each statement was punctuated by a hip thrust to my head. Without thinking, I swatted him from my hair.
He squealed and flew across the room to land on the carpet where he lay without moving. Fear and guilt speared me.
“Please don’t be dead,” I said, rushing to him.
“Not dead,” he rasped. “In ecstasy. That was the fastest I’ve milked my acorns yet. Your hand is so soft.”
I lifted my hand, gagged at the pale white smear on my skin, and rushed to the bathroom.
After I finished washing, I tried to once more reason with the little creature, who’d relocated to my bed again.
“I don’t think you understand the danger you’re in here,” I said. “I’m a succubus.”
He sat up, mid-roll on my pillow.
“Really? Does that mean we can have sex?”
“What? No, it means I’m a danger to you.”
His hand was already sliding down between his legs.
“Stop touching yourself.”
