EXTRACT FOR
Fantasy Fire
(Sirrocco)

Not With a Bang But A Whimper

                                                   

	GLENDA'S DEMON LOVER WAS beautiful.  He was tempting, tantalizing, and everything a woman should never want.  Most women, even most very needy women, saw this underlying spider web within him and avoided it.  Glenda was not so fortunate.



	Perhaps it was the Gods who stepped in, or maybe the machinations of the embodiment of evil.  It didn't matter.  Bit by bit, one small incursion at a time, Glenda inched forward toward this lover.  Inch by inch, bit by bit, his being slithered into hers to become more than part of her.



	He entered her life through her dreams, first, and that neither often nor strongly.  In those beginning times Glenda felt only a vague searching within her, a reaching toward---what?  She readily admitted the searching had sexual overtones, but only this.  When the overtones became urges she began to ask herself why.  When they became an ever increasing desire, she began to seriously seek an outlet for the heat.  Andre appeared in one of her more frequent gathering places soon after.



	Glenda never knew why she noticed him in particular.   The room was full of good looking men and beautiful women.  She knew some of them, perhaps most of them, and was not impressed by any of them.  She had a beauty of her own, a beauty which belonged among these beautiful people.  So did Andre, although he did not stand out any more than the dozen or so others dressed like him.

	Women gathered around him, but this did not impress Glenda either.  Truth told, she would have been impressed if they had not.   The bees around the drones and the queens, this was what such parties were all about.



	When she tried to analyze the first attraction she often thought it was the way his body looked in a tuxedo.  The tux was proper and appropriate for the time and place.  His body was not.  There was something about the way it leaned against the ornate pillar, something which was a casual but insistent invitation to come and enjoy it.  Glenda remembered this spoke to her so loudly that she let her eyes drop to the package below his belt for conformation.   The bulge there confirmed her assessment.



	The erection was bold.  The jacket drawn back away from it by his stance made it blatant.  The slight thrust of his hips made it defiant.   Glenda was mesmerized by it from the moment her eyesight framed it beneath the loose, much too proper pants.  



	The rest of him?  Glenda had no real desire to peruse the rest of him.  She did so only to mark the surrounding area, to fix the map of his features in her mind.  In appearance, 

then, Andre looked like the proverbial tall, dark, and brooding bad boy.  His hair was mid length; a full, luxuriously wavy mid length.  His almost pointed ears lay close to his head; his strong jaw line accented them.  His high cheekbones and full, sensuous lips coloured in more of the picture.  So did his elegant looking nose.



     The nose did have a small crook in the middle of it, almost as though it had once been broken.  The crook challenged the perfection of his face, but it did not mar it.  It seemed to add to it, instead; to give warning of the dangerous territory ahead; and there was danger there. 



	Glenda had never seen eyes like Andre's.  One look into those provocative brown orbs assured her he would dare anything.  A second look dared her to join him in the wildness.  A third look was not necessary.  His eyes, like his erection, were a blatant, sexual call to her; so much so they almost seemed like extensions of one another.  Then, that first time she stared at him, she did not know where to look.  Too many weeks later, she still didn't.



	This, like so many other things between them, did not matter.  The desire mattered.  

The desire, and the tingling, and the effort it took to breathe when she was around him all mattered very much.  So did the incredible urge to tear off her clothes and pull him into her then, there, and frantically.



	She didn't, but she wanted to.  The knowing smile he gave her at the time, the amused arch of his eye brow told her he wanted to as well.  Later, when they finally shrugged off the annoying party, they did.



	This was how the relationship began: hot, frenzied, and physically exhausting.  At least it was this way for Glenda.  For Andre, who knew?  The dark lover seemed tireless.  

His erection seemed to be always ready and always able.  So did every other part of him.

Glenda never went unsatisfied when he took her, never.  She was only unsatisfied when he was not taking her. 



	Glenda threw herself into all of this without conscience, without reservation, and without thinking.  She did so even after she knew---not guessed, or supposed, but knew---no human lover could make a body feel the things Andre made hers feel.  When she faced the truth on this matter, she admitted she participated in, even initiated these wildings long after she knew that truth.  When her body was so addicted to these pleasures it was too late to walk away from them, Andre finally told her what he was and what he had been sent to do.  The `incubus' part was not a surprise.  His mission was.



	"This world belonged to my race.  You humans and your breeding, breeding, breeding took it over.  I was created to take it back.  You will be the egg carrier who produces the half ones necessary to help me do it."   



	Glenda wanted the words to be the crazy, unbelievable ravings of a mad man.  She knew they weren't.  This incubus, this demon forerunner of billions of demons to come, could not lie to her.  He was too much a part of her by then, too intimately in thoughts and her being.  She understood how intimately when he smirked at her and said,



	"You're right.  You're not pregnant now.  You could get pregnant if I forced myself on you, but not if you take birth control.  Two things:  First of all, there is no birth control against a demon's seed.  Point for me.  Second thing.  For some damn reason demon seed sown through rape will not take.  Point for you.  So.  Point, counter point.  I can seduce you.  You can stop me.  Go ahead, Glenda.  Stop me.  All you have to do is say `no'."

	

	Stop him.  Just tell him no and stop him from doing the thing her body now wanted morning, noon, and night.  Stop him so his seed would not take life within her and spread what he was across her world.  Weighing the one idea against the other found the desire to stop him lacking in substance.   How many `monsters taking over the world' movies had she seen?  How many conspiracy theories had she read about?  Those boogey men had lost their power over her---over the world in general---a long time ago.



	His nude, sensual body leaning against the door jamb of the bedroom, there was power.  The potency in the call of his erection, the memory of that call being answered, there was power!  There was all of the power Glenda cared to recognize; there was a truth she had no problem admitting to.   She vacillated a long time between the dichotomies.  



	He became a nebulous horror only after she used him, after she was sated from using him.  Then she thought a vague `someone' should do an equally vague `something' about the situation.    His threat to her world moved back into the abstract, though, as soon as her lust moved to the forefront.  Glenda soon learned Andre was very good at keeping her lust where he wanted it.  More, she realized far too late how intimately this demon knew her and why he was able to manipulate her so easily. 



	He was in her sense of smell, gathering scents and the way they affected her by using her own olfactory powers.  This showed him exactly the kind of cologne to wear to keep his sexual attraction on her mind.  He was in her visionary sense, seeing himself and how much the sight of him naked, erect, and waiting for her jarred her hunger.  He heard through her ears and knew all he had to do to twang against that hunger was utter a low moan of need.  He felt his own touch on her body and knew just where to brush against her to break down her defences.



	In all of these things he knew, it was perhaps his sense of taste which was the so nearly overwhelming.  Glenda had always found the feel of his tongue the most provocative of his many forms of touching.  In her eventual time of torment she learned his tongue, like that of a snake's, responded to far different stimuli than a human's.  This tongue, this miracle of sensations, could actually taste the quivers running through her nervous system.  He told her, to her dismay, that the flavour was exquisite to him.  He told her the flavour became even more superb when her reactions became more intense.  He told her he could taste of her all day.  In her time of self imposed blindness, he often did.  



	The blindness finally ended when the dreaming began again.  His power--- his beautiful, sexual, siren call---had started with dreaming.  His truth began with dreaming as well, but this time the dreams were neither subtle nor subversive.  This time the dreams were vivid as they ripped from her mind the things he had told her and bled them all over her subconscious.  This time the dreams fairly smashed into her, demanding she recognize what this thing and his truths were.



	`Demon', then, was not just a vague, intangible `something not nice'.  Demon, in the context of her dreams, became the embodiment of terror and the viscera of nightmares.  

Demons in control of the world---her mind still could not absorb the enormity of this, nor did her body wish to.  Then, as before, her body won its battles.  This time it used excuses to obtain the victory.



	"It's not my fertile time.  What can it hurt to enjoy him when I'm not going to get pregnant?"



	"If he is involved with me during my barren times he will not be out trying to plant seed in more productive grounds."



	"What can one more time hurt?" 



	Then she let herself go to enjoy him, to drop her hand to his flaming erection and caress him there.  She let herself walk past him through the bedroom door, let herself take off her clothes, and they lay down on the bed to wait for him.   His sensual, erotic caresses over her then made certain she would continue to go to him in the future.



	"For tomorrow," he would murmur into her ear, "For tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow until we are certain the seed has taken!"

	Glenda's body didn't care about tomorrow.  It cared about now, when he would reach out with his tongue, with the long, wet, sinuous tongue that could lick half of her neckline at the same time.  It cared about how that tongue would slide it down over the spots that made her shiver, down over her shoulder and the underside of her breasts, over and around her breast until the nipple ached for the touch of it, and then the way he would flicker the coarse, sand like end of it over the very tip.



	Sometimes he toyed with her breasts for a long time.  Sometimes he would bring her to the point of climax playing with her like that, but he never let her cum.  



	"I want to be inside of you," he would whisper to her, "I want your body reaching for my seed---dragging it to your womb, screaming for it!"



	Her body always did.  When her state of euphoria stopped her body from screaming, the dreams took up a howl of a different sort.  This roar moved from the echo of billions of souls in the terror of hell down to the piteous, frightened cries of a lone, tormented child.  This ungodly sound exposed all of what had been in the past and projected all of what was and could be.  `Demons controlling the world' then became an image as concrete as the earlier knowing of `demon' alone.  Glenda could find no more excuses to hide behind when it did.



	In those times she no longer looked for any.  She looked, instead, for ways to stop herself from wanting him.  



	She began this search by working with her body, by trying to supersede one hunger with another.  The starvation diet did not work.  Neither did the prolonged periods of thirst or the exhausting exercises.   She still found herself in his arms rubbing her body against him when he gasped with desire.  She still found her nose buried against his neck drinking in the scent of him as he parted her legs to enter her.



	Her next line of offence stood within her mind.  This she tried to force into thinking of something---anything!---besides sex and Andre.  This she ran through everything she could find in psychology which would help her understand herself and her obsession. 

This she drove into religion to try to find the ways of demons and how to resist them.  



	This she slammed into philosophy to try to make a union of the two.   Nothing she found in any of those disciplines really helped.   



	The only surcease she ever found from the battle was in prayer.  Church did not bother Andre, nor did sermons, or holy water, or any of the other usual suspects.  Prayer, though; the intimate touching of spirit to spirit, this gave the demon an unexpected and terrible reaction.   He could not stand to touch her while she was in this state.  Many times he could not even bear to be in the same room with her.   

	The extreme reaction gave Glenda some hope, but not much.  There was hope in knowing there was somewhere Andre could not get to her.  The hope was limited because no one, not even a saint, could live in that world between worlds.  It was extremely limited because for however long she stayed in that place it was never long enough to drive him away completely.  



	She still learned many things during those stays.  She learned to hide in them during her fertile times----to fast and pray constantly, to surround herself as tightly as she could bear with positive, powerful spirits.  It was from these spirits she learned demons like Andre were extremely rare, coming into existence perhaps only once in a thousand years.  

She also learned they could be enticed into a fixation with one human, and the fixation was generally the source of their destruction.



	These things did not matter much to her in the beginning of the true battle.  They became more important as the fight continued for four long, unrelenting months; months during which her body both capitulated to him and had victory over him.  She surrendered to him by mating with him again and again and again.  She triumphed by remaining barren. 



	The continued stalemate forced her to shine light on the darkest shadow in her.  She saw, when she did, nothing she hadn't seen and known before:   She did not want to win this war.  She wanted to feel the sensations Andre ran over and through her body.  She wanted to cum so hard it left her senseless, and then rally to do it again---and again, and again for as long as her physical system could endure it.  She knew no man would ever be able to do that for her.  She also knew she did not want to live without it.  If Andre was destroyed she would have to try to live and never know joining at such an intense level again.  This left only one, desperate thought.



	"I could die.  I could give up this damning fight and just die!   He needs my body and hates my spirit. If I died....."   

 

	Andre's answer ripped an unrelenting hole through those thoughts and the hope within them.



	"I won't let you."



	It took five different kinds of suicide attempts for Glenda to find out he wouldn't.  It took two more months of violent upheavals before her exhausted spirit finally accepted the only alternatives left:  become pregnant, or do what it would take to destroy him.



	Andre, as always, knew her thoughts about him as she was thinking.  As always, he laughed at them.



	"You might as well give it up and let my seed grow in you.  You really don't have the guts to destroy me, you know?  Probably got no idea on how the hell to do it, either.  Forget about it.  You're not in your fertile time, you're not going to destroy me, and I've got better things we can be doing than pissing about either of `em!"

	He did.  Glenda could feel this in the long, hard instrument he pressed against her leg when he swung her into his arms.  Her nipples responded immediately to his deliberate stimulation, and their dance of desire began yet one, more time. 



	Glenda found the steps to this dance, though, were new ones.  This did not surprise her.  He often coaxed her into shuddering reactions by touching places she had never thought of as sexual.  She well knew it was the way he touched them which made her respond so, but the knowing never diminished the intensity of the experience.  That night, like many other nights, she was fighting to keep the wonder from turning into delight.  It was a one sided battle from the moment they dropped their clothes.



	He was always beautiful.  That night, with the moonlight playing over his lean, well muscled body, he almost looked like the spirit of beauty itself.  His cock epitomized the image, framing all that was virile and masculine within twelve inches of hardened hunger.  His firm thighs and buttocks underlined the picture.  His large, swollen sac completed it.  He was a male, with every meaning that word ever had trumpeting through his powerful body.



	Glenda had never been able to keep her hands off of him when he looked like this.  

She could not keep from touching him, yet she never knew where she wanted to touch him first.  She usually began with his shoulder, teasing herself and him by avoiding the obvious.  He teased back, flicking her lips with only the tip of his tongue when she leaned in for a kiss.  Both trembled from the teases, their libidos already stoked from hungering for the known and anticipating the touch not yet felt.  Both allowed the teases to make the foray toward the ultimate goal a little bolder.



	This was the way it was between them, this slow back and forth.  This was the pace they always set, the challenge they always put forward to one another:  how long can the hunger build and how high?  How much feeling can there be in a touch?  How much tension in a breath?  How much expression in a moan?  Then, finally, how much excruciating pleasure can be found in a release?



	Glenda found the answer to the last question changed every time Andre led her into a climax.  Just when she absolutely knew she could not possibly explode any more violently or last any longer in the heat of it, Andre showed her how very wrong she was.  Then he began to teach her the lesson all over again.



	She always suspected a part of the intensity in her experiencing was a harmonic.  That is, she felt her own desire heated by his, then returned both to him.  When he received the mounting pleasure he also doubled it in return.  But slowly; so slowly the crescendo seemed to reach upward for hours.



	It was like this that night; like there was a reverberation over each kiss, each caress, each long, sensual stroke of the tongue over juice moistened genitals.  It was like eternity was straining forward, stretching itself until the enormous tension reached its peak; like the entire Universe hung suspended, waiting for the snap to set it free.

	Both were caught up within the eternity, each in near agony from the need to release.  Both were held there in an unendurable `almost' when Glenda chanted the four, irrevocable words which would hold the two of them in that space forever.



	Andre shrieked when she did, his terrible howl rending the air for miles around and for generations to come.  His nails dug into her arms and his teeth gnashed at her throat, but neither of them felt any of those things.  They were both too caught up in the violent need to cum, in the wild point before the release that would forever hold them and never,  never end.  



nm

	IN A TIME THAT WAS not time, in a space that was not space or place, the screams of hate and the wild yowls of frustration did finally ease down to soft, hoarse, whimpers.   A world ended then; a world of demons who would never again control what they had once owned and a world of humans who would never learn they shouldn't.



	A world ended, but two bodies locked in hell went on, and only the heavens knew the sacrifice they had both made.