A Hope in Hell
Copyright 2013 by Jeremy Sterling
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The characters are figments of the author’s imagination and wish to remain so.
Tasha’s day went from bad to worse when she opened the apartment door and saw a demon fucking John on the sofa.
She had spent the last two hours staring into the wintry abyss of the Chicago River — seeking resolution but discovering nothing but the well-recognized features of her own cowardice — and now she returned to find this — a voluptuous, naked she-demon pistoning vertically on John’s cock, having the time of its unnatural life.
It was as if the universe saw Tasha clinging desperately to the remaining shreds of her sanity, and decided to whack her fingers with a rock.
Before she could suppress it, a mad giggle escaped her mouth, but the demon didn’t react, continuing to work itself into a sexual frenzy at the expense of her friend.
Tasha slumped against the wall to prevent herself from collapsing, trying to wrap her mind around the impossibility that confronted her eyes.
It seemed a pleasant enough demon. If her scant months with the Wiccans hadn’t trained her to recognize the crimson halo of the demon’s aura, she would have believed John had somehow scored an exceptionally curvy and libidinous Vogue model. The demon was a classic beauty — one with a face rapt with lust and sheened with sweat. Tasha envied the size and firm sway of its breasts as they moved in time with hips that flared and curved with sinuous perfection. Those hips were now straddling the closest thing to a friend she had left in the world, writhing and undulating as they prepared to consume John’s life to a bossa nova beat.