Where the Devil Sleeps

There she was, reclining on the bed wearing nothing but red, lacy undergarments. Her chestnut-brown hair fell around her shoulders, a few wisps of hair in her face, adding to this picture of relaxed perfection.

She patted the spot beside her, gesturing for Larry to sit down. He did and she sat up slowly, placing her hands on his shoulders. Alluringly, she whispered in his ear, “Would you like to start with a massage, or should we skip to the next part?”

Larry’s voice was hoarse as he replied. “The next part sounds…” he swallowed, “good.”

She smiled at him, a glint in her eye. “Then let’s begin.”

The devil is the face of evil. He tempts, he seduces, he harms, he kills, but does he love? Perhaps, but is love enough to change him?