Pyrrhic Victory

Evelyn slunk forward in jerky movements.  Her eyes danced up and down me with a look I'd rather not put a name to.  Something smelled of sulfur and burning.  Somewhere, deep in some dusty shadow, something laughed.

Like a toy on a string, Evelyn straightened. The odd angles in her limbs succumbed to a seductive fluidity.  Parts of me rebeled, and reason fought instinct back into its primitive hole.  Her eyes, oh heavens, those eyes, they bore it to me fiercely, pointedly.

"Baby doll," she cooed, smooth as molten glass and soft as silk, "Can't you see how my body yearns for yours?  Can't you?  I know you can."  Her legs scissored around one another, inching her closer to me with a dancer's grace.

The spell broken, I close my eyes and let the fire come.  Deep seated controls and carefully constructed walls tumbled down within my mind.  The power came easily, and only at the last moment did I open my eyes to watch it engulf Evelyn, consume her while Brian broke his silence with a scream of the damned.

Poor Evelyn.  Not this Evelyn.  No, this Evelyn could rot in Hell.  My Evelyn, my radiant beauty with two left feet, she'd already been taken from me.  This was just taking out the trash.

The End

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