Loving the Succubus

Morning After

Picasso woke up the next day in feeling much better than he had ever been in his life. Then he saw that he was naked and there was a lump in the blanket, long black hair spilling out.

Oh. Now he remembered. Marfa was sleeping in the fetal position next to him.

Then he heard a yelp and what sounded like a curse in that lilting language, then saw his partner from the night before fall naked out of bed, frantically covering her bare legs.

"What's wrong with your legs?" he blurted out.

Marfa's pale skin flushed crimson. "A mere deformity, forgive me for-"

"Marfa, I work with *skin* for a living," Picasso interrupted. "I've seen burn scars, moles, pimples, you name it. I already know you're a Daemon. Try me."

"Have you ever tattooed serpent skin?" she asked softly. Picasso shook his head.

Marfa hesitated for a minute before getting up and dropping the sheet.

"Behold, if you dare," Marfa said, her face rigid, as if she was preparing for the worse.

Picasso gasped. 

"You're beautiful," he murmured.

Marfa could have been a pinup model, with her pale hourglass figure littered in Traditional tattoos, the most prominent being the black and grey biohazard tattoo on the right side of her neck and the *huge* black panther that took up half her right side, the other half untouched virgin skin.

The snakeskin pattern started on a V around her hips, an opaque color that reminded Picasso of the inside of an abalone shell, stopping only at the tops of her feet, the back of her thighs, and her pubic area.

"How I envy human women having hair to pluck and shave off!" Marfa laughed bitterly. "As you see, I have no body hair from the eyebrows down. Although," she added,"alas, such women might not envy my plight if they knew I molt!"

"Molt?" Picasso asks, intrigued. By this point, she had sat down on the bed and Picasso knelt down, stroking her left leg.

"Imagine the worse sunburn you shall ever get in your life, but only if one is much distressed or ill," Marfa said, her voice becoming a purr. Apparently he found an erogenous zone. 

"Round two?" he asked, his voice playful.

"Aye," she replied, and pulled Picasso onto the bed.