This past Halloween and October was the first writing challenge in the Succubi Realm… I’ve posted a story that I wrote a couple of weeks ago and this week is a story that James generously wrote for the contest…
Horns of Seduction
As soon as she stepped in the door, Chloe began scanning the room for available guys. After all, it had been a week since she and Brad had broken up; it was time to get into the game. And, besides, she looked pretty damn hot in this costume if she did say so herself.
Chloe had a way of collecting men. Most of them she threw back, of course—they would be much too much trouble to feed and paper train—though she kept a few on fairly short leashes . . . one literally, at least for that one long weekend.
Her girlfriends teased her that her birth certificate was wrong, that her name should really be Cleo, as in “patra.” Sometimes that was meant to nudge her, and more than a little; her friend Andi insisted she was “Queen of De-Nile” because all she thought about was boys and partying and not the real needs of real people around her.
But Andi was off at some boring charity event, entertaining poor inner-city kids with lame games and candy in some smelly old gym. Chloe was at this delicious party, waiting for some lucky hot person to be the first to put a drink in her hand, dressed like all those jokes. Actually her Cleopatra was more of a Cecil B. DeMille-ish wet dream version: a gold lame, floor length, sheath and spaghetti-strap sandals with three-inch spiked heels. Her wig of shoulder-length, jet-black hair left her looking like Elizabeth Taylor’s younger, slightly slimmer cousin, from those old movies where Liz was HOTT. She surveyed the room, knowing she was the queen.
Spying a rather hunky-looking centurion—how appropriate—across the room, she slinked toward him, ready to let him put those chiseled good looks to work. There was some sort of game going on, a set of fake devil horns being passed person to person. This was of no concern to her . . . until somebody popped the horns on her head.
“Hey, these don’t go with my . . .” But those words weren’t even out of Chloe’s mouth before the world around her wavered and shifted, leaving her in a stone room lit by lamps, quite alone. “. . . outfit!” Chloe looked down, and, while she was still wearing a sheath, decorated with various beads, it was hardly gold lame. The CFM sandals were replaced with a much simpler variety. Her skin was darker, as well.
“No they do not go with your outfit! Not at all!” Chloe turned to confirm that she was not alone. The sultry voice belonged to a shapely, leggy redhead with a tan even deeper than her own. The woman’s skin was almost red, and she had striking green eyes, and black horns coming out of her head, with a matching tail. “You have been sweet in your devotion to me, even if your scribes keep portraying me as a cat in the official record. But we have work to do, Your Majesty.”
“Your Majesty?” Chloe puzzled. “Just what are you talking about?”
“I know we have . . . enjoyed each other, Cleopatra,” the strange and alluring woman purred as she rubbed up behind Chloe, “but now we must work. You must be prepared for this Roman who is coming.”
“But Julius, he’s . . . so old, much older than I am!” How did she know that?
“It doesn’t matter, darling. You must do this for the sake of your people. We’ve practiced many things these past few weeks.” The titian woman bit into her young friend’s shoulder, while her long nails traced the opposite ear. “You have been paying very close attention, yes, Majesty?”
It was now Chloe . . . well, Cleo . . . who was constantly purring. “She thinks I am the Queen of ancient Egypt, and it looks like I am, so what the hell?” she reasoned. “All I know is this feels wonderful.” In her purrs was a simple “Yessssssssssssss.”
“You know that this is a subtle art, don’t you, my precious?” A hand was now reaching under Cleo’s dress and cupping a breast, rubbing the dark brown circle into a rock–hard and majestic peek before moving on to the other. Her subject’s quiet moans only seemed to grow more fervent and wanton. “There is very little that is forceful or blatant.” A tongue flicked the young queen’s earlobe between phrases. “All of your moves need to be sensual . . . delicate . . . tantalizing.” That tail of hers, with its piked end, was winding around Cleo’s leg, the arrowhead itself finding and probing her rapidly dampening slit.
“These are the ways of a succubi, darling,” the black-horned siren sighed. “It is not about sex—well, not sex alone—but seduction and sensuality, and it is never entirely about the self, but the other, and about our place in the collective.” The Egyptian’s juices were beginning to trickle along the tail that was releasing them. Cleopatra was entirely beguiled, and her otherworldly mentor continued: “The romantic ensnarement you will perform is for the sake of others, but you will feel these feelings you have had with me. And you won’t need these anymore.”
A hand snatched the horns out of Chloe’s costume wig, and she was back in the party, though feeling a bit damp. There was the centurion. She quickly chatted him up and had him ensorcelled. He was ready to find some beers and a room when she had a thought, and pulled out her cell: “Hey, Andi? How long is that party going on? Can you still use some help? Great!”
She turned to her hunk: “I’m going to a better party, sweets, one where I can make a difference. Of course, you can come along . . . and Imight make it worth your while later.”
In a corner, there was woman with black horns, green eyes, and a smile.