He laid her across the bed and ran to the bathroom for a wet towel. There was a strange roaring in his head, as visions so erotic they startled him began playing against the forces of good that reared up within him. Pictures of Nydia with her naked legs spread wide, her lushness open, waiting to receive him. Her hands worked at her erect nipples, pinching them, with her begging him to hurt her, bite her, fuck her.
Sam slammed a hard fist against the bathroom wall as the eroticism grew stronger, battling in his mind. A technicolor picture of him with his face pressed against her mons veneris, tonguing her into incredible wetness, while her hands wormed over his naked body. And then an invisible force slammed him against the wall, holding him immobile as the scenes of carnality grew wilder: Nydia with her long black hair fanned out over his belly, his penis in her mouth, her fingers caressing him as her tongue worked at his stiffness.
"Sam!" Nydia called from the bed, and he forced his head to turn and his eyes to open at her cries. "Oh, God, Sam—help me!"
She lay with her jeans wadded around one ankle, her panties ripped from her. Her fingers were busy between her legs, working in and out of the dark wetness.
Summoning all his strength, Sam pushed away from the wall and staggered into the bedroom, a wet towel in his hand. He washed Nydia with the cold, dripping towel, one hand forcing her fingers from her womanhood.
Her eyes were wild as she fought him, and she was strong in her fury, lashing out at him. When she found he was winning physically, she changed tactics, under the commands of a Master over which she had no control. She softened under him, her hands at her side, letting Sam gently bathe her nakedness with the cold, wet towel. She lifted one hand, placing the palm against his cheek.
"I'm sorry, Sam. I don't know what came over me."
"The Devil was tempting you. It's all right, now. It's over."
She slipped her hand from his face to his neck, gently drawing his mouth to hers, finding no resistance as their lips touched. Slyly, she slipped her tongue between his lips, working hotly into his mouth, and finding him responding to her.
Sam's hands found her breasts, caressing them. His hand slipped downward, to part her legs, to enter the wetness of woman ready.
Then, from the deep well within her, good burst forth, for the moment overpowering evil. She harshly pushed him away. "No, Sam. Get away. It's not over—can't you see?"
Almost violently, he pulled away from her nakedness. She covered herself with a sheet. "Read to me from the Bible, Sam," she hissed the request through clenched teeth. "Read to me."
Fighting back passions suddenly unleashed within him, emotions so wild and hot Sam was filled with fear, he grabbed for the Bible and flung it open.
"Read to me!" she screamed.
The book had opened to the General Epistle of James, and it seemed at first to be an odd place to begin. But as Sam read, a smile came to his lips as the text began unfolding on the source of temptation. Gradually, Nydia's breathing slowed and she rose from the bed and dressed, asking Sam to reread that passage about temptation. He did, and felt the room suddenly clear of all that is dark and foul and evil.
"It's over," Nydia said. "I can feel it, can't you?"
"Yes." Sam closed the Bible.
"I suppose we can expect more of the same?"
"Until Thursday night, at least."
She looked at him.
"That's when it'll really get rough," he explained.
She glanced at the still ajar bedroom door. "Linda didn't wake up, and we got pretty loud."
Sam shrugged it off. "She's probably a sound sleeper."
Nydia chose not to reply.
The young screaming began in the dark, evil depths of the mansion.
With the lighting in the room reduced to several flickering candles, and the fireplace popping and crackling, Lana held out her glass for a refill. Her third. "I've never tasted brandy like this. It's so good and smooth."
"It's rather expensive," Falcon admitted, tilting the decanter, filling her snifter past the point a brandy connoisseur would go.
"I like expensive things," she said, licking her lips.
"Oh?" Falcon arched an eyebrow expressively, the roguish gesture speaking volumes of understanding garnered through centuries of inamorata.
"Yes. I think I'll look for a rich man."
"I wish you success in your quest. You're speaking in terms of marriage, of course?"
She shrugged. "Not necessarily. I have a lot to offer the right man."
"Your beauty, of course. And your intelligence."
"And my virginity."
Falcon chuckled unbelievingly.
"You don't believe me?"
"I didn't mean that, my dear. It's just that in this day of sexual promiscuity, a virgin would be a priceless item."
"Well … I am," she said, pouting playfully.
The brandy was taking its toll on the young woman, loosening her tongue, lessening any inhibitions she may have had. "I like older men," she said flatly. "Guys my own age are so dumb. All they want to talk about is how fast their stupid cars will run, or how bad they are. I think guys my own age are really gross."
Falcon sat beside her on the leather couch. "Well, I am certainly glad I am beyond that adolescent silliness of having to prove how macho I am to young ladies who really don't care."
"Oh, lots of girls like that shit."
Falcon winced.
"Did I say something?"
He made his move. "Well … if I am to keep you in pretty clothes, expensive automobiles, and a purse full of money, I think I'd better work on your grammar, as well."
"You're going to do all that for me?"
"Would you like that?"
"What do I have to do to earn it?"
He looked at her with his unreadable eyes, dark and hooded. "Only that which is usually required in any arrangement of that type."
"And that is?"
"You tell me, dear."
The gold digger in her sprang to the surface. "I don't mean to be crude, I really don't, but I'd want it in writing."
"Then you shall certainly have it, darling."
"Just like that?"
"Oui."
"I don't speak much French. You'll have to teach me."
"I shall teach you many things, darling. Be assured of that."
"Why me, Falcon? You could have your choice of half the women in the world. I'm just a nineteen-year-old kid."
"You appeal to me. In many ways."
"Will I have to worship the Devil, too?"
That set him back. A grin creased his mouth, then he was roaring with laughter. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed a handkerchief made of the finest linen, wiping his eyes. "So, Lana, dear, Black badly misjudged you, eh?"
"Black is an idiot, and you know it."
"Only too well, my dear. I thought I had you convinced the other evening."
"You were wrong. A lot of people usually are about me. But that doesn't answer my question."
"I was under the impression you were a devout Christian."
"I still have my virginity, Falcon, but as far as me being a Christian … I used to jack-off the preacher back home."
That startled Falcon, and the warlock was not easily jarred. "I beg your pardon?"
"Yeah, his wife didn't like sex, and he'd had the hots for me since I was about eleven. So we made a deal. I'd give him a hand job several times a week and he'd give me money. More money for a blow job."
"You might have difficulty doing that with me."
"Sucking you off, you mean?"
"Crudely put, but correct."
"Nobody's that big."
His smile told her she was wrong.
"May I see?"
"By all means."
She opened his trousers and hissed at the sight, wrapping her soft fingers around the organ. "You'd make some of those porn stars look like babies. You really expect to stick all that into me?"
"That I do, my dear." He reached into an inside pocket and removed a medallion and gold chain. "This one is a bit different from the others. Much more intricate in detail. If you'll be so kind as to release your grip from my penis, dear, I'll get a magnifying glass and you can see for yourself."