Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
For safety purposes, though, I should pleasure myself, he thought. Releasing the tension always kept him in the green zone.
Of course, he could only masturbate to images of women who were already dead. Once, and only once, his mind had wandered off to a once-famous actress who he’d believed was long gone, only to discover she was alive, well, and in her eighties.
Yes, yes. The scintillating memory had been from a movie she’d done while in her twenties. Nevertheless, the next morning, news of her death was all over the front pages. Heart attack. No, not a coincidence. His lust had killed her.
Since then, he was careful to ensure any women who entered his fantasies were free and clear.
Maybe I’ll go for a Marilyn Monroe session. Or that goddess, Colel. He couldn’t kill Colel either, since she was truly immortal. Deities lived on no matter what, and thank gods, because Colel’s long golden locks, curvy body, and pert breasts were a sight to behold.
I wonder who inherited her powers. Didn’t matter. She was still gorgeous.
As he picked the lock on Sky’s front door for a second time today, Damien willed himself to remember that fact—Sky wasn’t the only beautiful woman in the world.
He entered and flipped on the light, placing a different mental lens over the surroundings. Before, he’d seen pizza boxes and piles of books. Now he was looking for wads of tissue, globs of drying lube on the furniture, or tiny scratch marks on the walls.
Damien entered the bathroom, which smelled like vanilla and lavender. Mmmm… Sky’s shampoo. But there was no sign of sex fairy activity.
Next, he went through her bedroom, pushing himself to ignore the drawer of lacy panties left open. He would not imagine her in the pink pair at the top of the pile.
Aside from the unmade bed, nothing seemed sexed up, shredded, or marinated in glossy KY.
After inspecting the rest of the home, Damien felt satisfied. No sexy fairy here.
Satisfied? Not quite. His eyes toggled between the front door and the bathroom. His next stop was the hospital to check Sky’s purse and, well, for her own safety, he really should dial down the lustful urges, lest the curse mistake his physical needs for genuine desire.
“Fuck it.” He marched toward the bathroom and closed the door, removing his blazer. He found that bottle of shampoo, eyeing it for a moment. No. Too many suds.
He looked under the sink and found a bottle of unscented lotion. The good kind. Hypoallergenic. This will do.
He unbuttoned his pants, put the lid down on the toilet, grabbed a wad of toilet paper, and went to work massaging his length. Damien closed his eyes and tilted back his head as images of women in the “safe zone” filled his mind. Cleopatra. Hmmm…yeah. I love a good pageboy haircut on a strong woman.
Next came Colel. Yes. Soft curves and supple breasts. I love her buzzy lisp. So exotic.
His hand stroked his thickening shaft, firm and steady, as he imagined the two women kissing his chest, licking his cock, touching his balls.
“Yes. Like that. I’m going to take you—”
Suddenly, something flew up his nose and lodged in the back of his throat.
What the hell? He pushed his hand to his neck. What is that? He hacked. He snorted. He took that wad of toilet paper and tried to blow the object out. No luck.
Damien stood, bracing himself on the sink, coughing like mad. He could breathe through his mouth, but whatever was inside his nasal passage wasn’t moving.
“Jesus. What is that?” he groaned.
A high-pitched sound blared through his nostril. “You’ll never take me back!” it shrieked. “You can’t make me go!”
Damien froze. Why is my nose speaking?
“Hello?” He tilted back his head, looking in the mirror. Inside, he could see the tip of a lavender gossamer wing.
The fairy? “What are you doing? Get the fuck out of there,” he growled.
“No!”
“I promise nothing bad will happen. I just want to talk.”
“You’ll turn me in. You said so yourself.”
He’d been speaking to Cleopatra.
“I was talking to…myself. Not you,” he explained. “But you can’t stay in there forever. And, fuck, it really hurts.”
Nothing.
Damien opened the medicine cabinet and found a pair of tweezers. He gently inserted the prongs and pinched the tip of the creature’s wing.
“No! No. I won’t go back.” The thing dug in hard with its claws.
Sonofabitch, that hurts! He was going to have to flush it out with one of those nasal washers, or maybe a turkey baster and some scotch or alcohol. Anything that would burn the fairy’s eyes.
Damien put his cock away, washed his hands, and went into the kitchen. Sky didn’t have any spirits in the house. “How’s it possible?”
He’d have to drive to the store. While he was there, he’d have to find something to lock the fairy in once he extracted it.