Before Alice could stumble through any more replies, Director H. waved his hand over her. The towel fell off. She wore a suit identical to his except in black. Alice’s hair slicked back into a pony-tail knotted high on her head.
“You look absolutely precious, Alice.” A gloved hand cupped the opposite elbow while the other hand tapped his chin in thought. “Precious but not quite right.”
Julian eyed her lacy black bra with matching panties, garters, and torn stockings. “I think you look like a delicious mess. I think your mind is even more of a mess. In other words, I think you’re insane, Lily, and I look forward to seeing what kind of a lover that will make you. Will I be able to trust you in my bed or will I have to chain you to make sure you don’t try to stake me?”
The temple stood before them like a husk. He climbed the marbled stairs with steps true. The obscene spoke to him. He liked what it had to say. He was going to fuck his slave in her own hall.
Director H. patted her head once. “Let that sit for a bit, dearest.” He moved to the stairs and made himself comfortable. The water entrenched him half-way to the knee. He crossed one over the other prettily. “Now, about your partner. He’s a prig, Alice, of the first order. He’s going to look down his well-bred nose and declare you inferior.”
I’m very happy to announce the re-release of my first book “Vicious Bliss: fallen” in PDF and Smashbook EPub formats. I have sharpened the prose, stripped out the adverb overkill, and made it a bit more dangerous.
She walked each step with precision. Left foot first followed by right directly in the middle of the stair. Pace easy, stride exactly as the one before it. Imperfection could not be allowed to exist. It had to be dissected, analyzed, and catalogued before a suitable solution could be formulated and applied.
The pictures in Lily’s mind singed. Never the same. Always damaged. Always incomplete. A falsity to being an honest representation of the past.
That’s what being next to Julian Douglas did to a person like Lily.
She swayed before the white demon. She watched him watch her. He was pristine, clean in the middle of all that precious death. His white hair, braided back high on his head, shimmered like dying starlight.
His gaze flicked away, scattering the confidence there and replacing it with somber dimness. “Everything changes and yet it doesn’t. I’m afraid that this will end before it begins. I don’t want that. I don’t that to happen at all.”
Cleansed of the hate but filled with regret, they are eager to try again. They believe the next life will be better, longer.
They are wrong.
Since this isn’t what you imagined, I advise you to flush the images right out...