Author Games: Red Room

Task Two: Hunters of Artemis

Angela Belmont

Additions are built to houses the same as they are added to Angela's story, which surely wasn't over after her average weekend night out to town. A few hours after she'd ended her disastrous meeting she found herself on the other side of town, twisting her body to a beat she barely knew as the flickering lights drew her forward. A woman this time, older than she yet somehow ageless, brushed her body against Angela's, letting her voluptuous hips lead the way as the smaller girl caved like a soft marshmallow next to a raging fire.

Like all who get too close, Angela didn't feel the fire until she was already ablaze.

Green was the envy upon the faces of all those who could not join in--at least, in Angela's mind, all she could see was the green upon their faces as she danced too close and let the alcohol coursing through her system take control. The woman was someone she'd never seen before, yet something about her was familiar, like a taste of a story she'd heard whispered at the corners of her mind.

"I saw you earlier," she muttered, her voice as scarlet as the rogue on her cheeks.

"You saw me?"

"Are you always escorting men around, or do you take women too?" There was a hint of a laugh in her voice. A smooth, playful tone that screamed 'I'm experienced'. Angela shuddered, not wanting to let on that she was still a virgin.

Adjusting her hips as the song changed, Angela smiled at her, lips slyly tugging forward. "I'll take home anything you want me too. That is if you're interested."

"Oh? That's exactly what I thought." The woman spun her around, forcing Angela's perky breasts against her own large ones, their bodies much too close for the club. It was intense. It was everything. Red lips spilled their secrets into Angela's ears and she blushed, unrecognizable in the lights and closed space. "So you're just a horny little whore, huh? What, he couldn't get you off?"

"Nothing gets me off," she said, the only truthful utterance she'd say that night. "What about you? Just horny?"

She started to walk off, hips swaying, and a gravitational force drew Angela after her. She was a quiet seductress. Saying that she knew what she was doing would be a lie--no one knows what they're doing more so than that woman, who led Angela outside, and into the back of an unmarked black car, her arms extending forward to the vacant cab as though there was hidden treasure inside.

"Don't worry," she coaxed, "I won't hurt you." She licked her lips and smacked them. "That is until you beg me to."

There was a shiver that consumed her as she entered, and if she dared to have looked outside, maybe Angela would have had the courage to say 'No, I've never done this before, and I think I need to go home'. Or maybe just an 'Actually, I'm not in the mood'. Or even a quaint, 'Can I use the bathroom first?' Instead, Angela stared down at her shoes, wondering why she chose the most painful ones she owned, and the door closed. It locked. Then, the woman entered the driver's seat, smiled back at her, and purred, "I'm Melanie."

Melanie would be soon known to her as far more than Melanie. Perhaps it is true that people go by several names and that names are indicators of how they choose to present themselves. If that is so than Melanie would be the least exciting of all. She kept her maiden name and her first name, choosing to go by something she deemed to be feminine, soft, and beautiful. She wanted to be kept pure. She was pure.

A pure devil.

Purity, like the color green, comes in many shades.

"Undress yourself," Melanie said. Shivers coursed through again, but this time, they came lower, and a bubbling excitement was thicker than anything she'd ever felt before. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the fact that she truly was a little bit horny, or maybe just the stern look upon Melanie's face, but Angela began shrugging off her dress one shoulder at a time.