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Fantasticoe 1995

Marie Meyers

       Women were such dumb bitches, Brad thought, when the cops were finally forced to release him after yet another woman failed to pick him out of the lineup. Here ya grab 'em, beat the living shit outta 'em, then give 'em the fuck of a lifetime, and two days later, they can't even remember what ya fuckin' look like! Even the damned cops knew how easy it was to change the way you looked. "Goddamned stupid cunts--every one of them!" Brad exclaimed out loud.

      As he continued walking, with his fists clenched inside his pockets, Brad savored his latest encounter in his mind. Take that little bitch the other night. She actually thought she could sway me with her deceptive, lying little puppy-dog eyes--like a few tears and a little bit of begging, and I'm really supposed to fall for her act and feel sorry for the bitch. That's one less dumb bitch in the world who doesn't know who the man is. Give any woman a chance to, and she'll emotionally castrate you faster than a fly can land on shit. That cunt Tuesday night...Jesus, she was tight. Felt so damned good, I had to give it to her twice! That dumbass was with me for over two hours before I dumped her out of the van--and she still couldn't even remember what I look like! Dumb, fuckin' bitches--one and all! Brad felt himself grow hard again with the memory.

     Brad had made a ritual out of the precautions he took before the "hunt," as he called it. He showered, carefully scrubbing every inch of his skin with Vail Free. The soap stripped his skin of its natural odor, leaving no scent in its place. After showering, he donned an old pair of fruit-of-the-looms briefs. Brad hated the feel of the cotton next to his skin. He'd much rather wear his usual silk boxers. One more reason to hate women.

     He strolled back into the bathroom and flicked open the medicine cabinet. His fingers automatically closed around the Brylcreem. Brad put a small dab of it into his palm and massaged his hands together, before rubbing the Brylcreem into his blond hair. He stood back from the mirror, carefully studying his hair. As expected, his hair looked somewhat darker than its natural shade. Then Brad shook his head like a dog, letting his hair fall into place where it may, then giving it a pat. The effect was perfect. His hair looked dirty and unkempt, no one would ever suspect a hundred dollar cut was hiding under it.

     Brad picked up the bottle of vegetable oil and poured some into his hand, before dumping some cigarette ashes into it. He blended the mixture in his palms, carefully grinding the ashes in. Brad rubbed the mixture onto his face and neck. This was the hardest part of his preparations. Brad had to use just the right amount of oil and massage it in well. If done right, the combination made his skin look dirty and only slightly greasy; improperly done, it looked like he'd taken a bath in the oil. He always had to double-check to make sure. Satisfied, Brad proceeded to blend the homemade cosmetic into all the creases of his body.

     Brad then sauntered into the bedroom and picked up a rumpled pair of jeans and a tee-shirt off the closet floor. Before putting on the grubby clothing, he gave them a squirt of his "cologne," a meticulous mix of trapping lures in an alcohol base--"body-odor-in-a-bottle," he called it. After quickly throwing on the clothes, he gave the mirrored closet doors one last look. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

     Walking into the garage, he sidestepped his waiting Eclipse and jumped into a battered Chevy van.

     As the van rolled to a stop, its headlights blazed into the interior of the stalled Lexus. Stepping out of the van, Brad smiled as he slammed the door. "Somethin' I can help ya' with," Brad called out as he neared the car. Brad was stunned when he reached the driver's side door and the woman looked up at him--instant hard on, never reacted to a cunt like that before. She was wearing a low-cut red dress that looked like it was painted on her. The dress perfectly matched the glossy color of her lipstick. Looks like I found a regular bitch in heat. Full, sable-colored hair fell past her lean waistline. He could almost smell the sex on her, enticing him on.

     "Sure," she answered, "close the hood and get in." Brad had never heard a voice quite like hers before. Throaty, with an almost ghostly quality to it. He hesitated, he liked to be the one calling the shots. What the hell, I'll play the game her way for awhile. I can always teach the bitch a good lesson later. Brad smiled as he slammed the hood down and climbed into her car.

     She drove out of the city, heading towards the nearby mountains. Figures, another rich-bitch from the hills. Probably had some dumbassed husband out of town for the weekend, thinking he could trust her alone. If there was one thing worse than a stupid bitch it was a stupid rich-bitch with an attitude. She turned off the highway onto a narrow blacktop road, that wound its way up the side of the mountain. Every once in a while Brad saw her steal a glance at him with her cat-like green eyes. It irritated him.

     "Didn't your mother every tell you it was dangerous to pick up strange men?" Brad asked, to kill time.

     "Didn't yours every tell you it was dangerous to hitchhike?" She countered. "By the way, what's your name?"

     "Ted." Yeah, Ted Bundy to you bitch--he knew how to show a woman a real good time. And what did he get for it? Fried.

     "I'm Lilith...Ted...I guess that means we're not strangers after all." She said his name like she saw right through his lie, and smiled slyly at him.

     Brad hated her attitude. I can't wait to give it to her. She inflamed him more than any other woman ever had and he wanted to cause her more pain than he'd ever caused a woman before. Brad wanted to control her, see the naked lust in her eyes turn into terror. He slid across the car seat as he looked around. No houses, isolated road--cars not likely to pass by. It was still somewhat risky, but was it worth the wait? Brad's hands balled into tight fists. Hell no! Nobody's gonna come by and save her ass! He grabbed a handful of black hair and jerked her head back. "Listen, Lilith," he whispered in her ear through clenched teeth, "we both know what we're after so why don't you just pull over here and we'll get on with it." Brad expected to see the first traces of fear creeping into her eyes with his demand but he could swear he saw something else instead. Pleasure?

     "Sure...Ted.....isn't it....why don't we?" Lilith answered, with a grin. Fuckin' goddamned bitch can't even remember my name! She's gotta fuckin' ask! Lilith nosed the car halfway off the road as it came to a stop. She threw the gearshift into park before killing the engine and lights. Lilith opened her door and swung her long legs out of the car. She stood up, crossing her arms over her head as she arched her back in a lazy stretch. She drifted to the front of the car as Brad got out to join her.

     She flashed Brad a smile as he reached the hood. Fuckin' bitch still thinks we're playing it her way! Brad swung his fist out, catching her by the chin and knocking her onto the hood. Lilith wiped the blood from the side of her mouth and glanced down at her hand. She smiled up at Brad, then she licked the blood from her fingers before opening her arms for him.

     Rage surged through Brad. Still no fear, a goddamn bitch with balls. He reached down and grabbed the front of her dress, half lifting her from the hood as he tore it off her. The sound of her laughter filled the night air. Underneath her dress she wore only a garter to hold up her silk stockings. Brad pinned Lilith's neck to the hood of the car with his forearm as he leaned over and sunk his teeth into one of her exposed breasts. He bit so hard he felt a piece of the nipple fall into his mouth. He swallowed it with a smile. Savoring the metallic taste of her blood as he sucked her breast, he unzipped his jeans.

     Sweet Jesus, I can't let go, can't stop. Brad had ridden her hard--harder than any other woman--and kept it up for over twenty-five minutes. He began to feel the strength of his anger slipping away from him. Scattered memories flickered across the screen of his mind, memories of the abuse and humiliation he'd suffered at the hands of the women in his life. Suddenly, for the first time in his life, none of it mattered any more. The only thing that mattered was his control over this bitch, not letting her win the game. The sound of their rhythmic mating filled the night. He was gasping for breath. Even after the anger that had driven him for so long was gone and was replaced by pain, he couldn't give up or stop himself from thrusting deeper into Lilith. Sweet agony, I never knew there could be so much pain. Eyes still tightly closed, Brad finally began to feel the release building up throughout his whole body. Feeling his triumph over Lilith at last, he opened his eyes and looked down at Lilith. For the first time he saw the shadowy form of the succubus with her flaming red eyes glowing in the darkness. His heart exploded in his chest as he came.

     Lilith shoved his body off of her and stood up. As she glanced down at Brad's body, she disgustedly shook her head. Though the passion of his anger had driven him harder than most, he'd given her no challenge. Having damned himself long ago, he was hardly worth her effort or time. After all, there is nothing a demoness likes better than a righteous man to corrupt.

Masello, Robert. Fallen Angels: And Spirits of the Dark. New York: Perigee Book, 1994.

For their guidance and the high quality of thier responses, I would like to thank the following people: Joe White, Pam Mann, Manuel Lara, Lynn Morton, Li Wang, And Jamie Pilgrim. Special thanks to: Terry Heller, Joi Bergman, and to the staff of Fantasticoe.

Dedicated To
Chad Tamez and Jamie Pilgrim, and to any other kindred spirit who shares our twisted imagination.

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Fantasticoe 1995