Her Halo Rests on Horns

Her name was Angel. So misleading in its audible inference to a celestial being.

Her lavender eyes were his downfall. Lavender; like the flower. With a speckle of red. Like... the red of the violin shape on a black widow spider's back.

Oh, so apropos...

*******

She had been sitting at the far end of the bar of the hotel's lounge; sipping on a drink when he first saw her and... those eyes.

Besides the bartender himself, they were the only two in the bar at mid afternoon that chilly, but sunny April Thursday, as all the rest of the seminar's attendees were still in the conference center across the avenue. She sat somewhat astride of the plush backed bar stool; her long, shapely legs hosed in sheer stockings and crossed at the knees; a hematite anklet adorning her left ankle. She was dressed in a black business suit; black heels. All business in attire; demeanor. She appeared to be about thirty or so, but the all- business appearance may have tacked on a few as yet unlived years. Her deep red hair was pulled up into a French twist; wisps of the cherry wood color drifting down to either side of her face in faint tendrils. Something that looked like a key hanging from a chain around her long, swan-like neck was the only other jewelry visible. No wedding ring; no rings at all on her red lacquered nails; the hue of red nearly matching the deep mahogany of her hair. She seemed deeply engrossed in some legal binder's content, and he thought she was too into her notes to look up and realize that he was taking mental notes of her.

But... the spider was aware.

He casually walked up to the bar and sat on the stool two seats away from her; ordered a beer on tap, and pulled out his pack of cigarettes and his silver lighter from his suit pocket. As he lit a cigarette and deeply drew in the first of the nicotine, he glanced toward the lady in black, and caught her now watching him; almost studying him as she had been but moments before studying her notes; her red lips upturned at the corners ever so slightly, and with eyes the color of which he described to himself as "libido lavender". Her eyes; an instant turn on to him, were also an instant hard on to his cock. That had never happened before in all of his thirty two years of bachelor life. But as he felt the erection maximizing, he also sensed something else that had never happened before. He felt definite recoil of his balls; almost as if they were frightened at the sudden reaction of their excited associate.

A reaction worth remembering.

*** SAID THE SPIDER TO THE FLY***

"I see you found the seminar's speaker to be very motivating too" Lavender Eyes softly said; a tinge of sarcasm lacing the words. As she brought the last of her drink's content to her full, red lips, she did not take those exotic and erotic eyes off of him.

"Yeah, if I found him any more stimulating, I would have fallen asleep in my seat" he replied; matching his tone of sarcasm to hers.

"Actually, I think you did," she laughed, as she put her empty glass down. "As I was making my own hasty retreat, I passed someone whose chin was resting on his lapels. I believe that someone was you. Do you suppose the rest of the group have done just that? Fallen asleep, I mean? After all, it's only you and I that are here. Yet, I can't imagine why we are the only two sharing that opinion – and this bar," she remarked; as she glanced around the lounge. She was still holding the binder she had been viewing, but now closed it and put it on the bar to the other side of her.

"Well, maybe it's just that neither of us find any real value in the seminar for our own professional needs, and just happen to have realized it quicker than the others" he surmised. "Christ! Those eyes are two wet dreams in the making!" he thought to himself, as he swiveled in his seat to face her; his brown eyes now transfixed onto those which sexual fantasies were made.

"Miss, I'll have to go downstairs to get another bottle of Firewater for your drink. It will take me just a few minutes," the bartender explained as he cleared her empty glass from the bar. She nodded in acknowledgement with that same little smile as had been on her lips a few minutes ago.

"Firewater, huh? Isn't that stuff lethal? I mean, a couple of bottles of dark Heineken would rock me off this stool; let alone something made with liquid flames!" he laughed; in total astonishment; and with a total erection bouncing in his jockeys like it was on a trampoline. And, like before, his balls continued to tighten; almost cringe; as if forewarned of impending danger.

A warning he well should have heeded.

Lavender Eyes just continued to smile; shifting slightly in her chair to face him now. And he just continued to talk.

"My company paid a heavy chunk of change to send me here to listen to that guy. I didn't need to be here wasting their money - or my time. Instead of being at a worthless seminar for three days, I could have been working on one of our biggest accounts doing what I do best – selling an idea through illustrated presentation. But; no, the big guns at my agency decided that in order to put their best advertising artist on the cutting edge, I should come to this wimped out festival for overnight success hopefuls. What a joke! 'How to Sell Yourself through Innovative Advertising'. I don't need to sell myself – my talents as a commercial artist and the gift for gab sell it all. And to think there is yet one more day to deal with this boring drone! I couldn't even stick it out for the remainder of his presentation today, and obviously - neither could you."

He hadn't realized he had blurted so much about himself to this total stranger that had simply begun polite; but impersonal conversation with him. Not until he ground out his cigarette; now burned completely down to its filter. It was then that he realized he had only taken the first initial drag from it. And it was then he felt those eyes, once more, searching him; studying him.

"I guess I've just proven to you I wasn't exaggerating when I say I have the gift for gab," he confessed; somewhat apologetically, as the full impact of what, and just how much he babbled, hit him. "And I usually introduce myself before running off at the mouth, but hey; better late than never, right? My name is Doug- Doug Langley. I hail from California; born, raised and will most likely, die there too." He nodded his head once in confirmation with his belated formal introduction.

"My name is Angel", the sultry voice behind the red lips announced; also simply nodding her head of burgundy manes toward him.

Doug gathered she did not wish to offer her last name, and didn't think too much about it. She smiled that same; almost spellbinding smile as she had done twice before, and then continued her self introduction.

"I am here for the seminar, but chose to do so all of my very own accord" she began, as an afterthought of that little confession made both of them chuckle. "I am a freelance photographer and my business takes me to many places; for many clients and for many reasons. I live in Boston, but was actually born and schooled here in Chicago. I am not staying here in the hotel as are the rest of the people from the seminar, but at a friend's home on the outskirts of the city. She and her husband are in Spain for a month, and it conveniently coincided with both my registering for the seminar and working on a photo assignment for a new client. So, I house sit and get to use her car in exchange. Everything fell into place nice and neatly."

While Angel was telling him a little about her career and about her temporary living arrangements, Doug was telling himself that there was something behind the words; behind the full red lips and smile; behind the libido lavender eyes that she wasn't revealing. But then, why would he feel she was hiding something? After all, they were merely going through perfunctory introductions. He had neither reason nor right to feel she was concealing anything. He was more than interested; he was very intrigued and yes; very aroused by his new acquaintance. And although he didn't make it a habit to pick up a woman in a bar, this seemed different – she seemed different. He realized he had met her less than thirty minutes before, yet he found himself, strangely and uncontrollably, moving in very quickly on this mesmerizing vision; drawn to her much like a moth is to a flame.

Like a fly to a spider's web.

It was amazing to him that he didn't remember seeing this intoxicating woman in the seminar that day, but then again, the conference room was packed. And he had all to do to keep his eyes open when he fell out of interest {well, maybe he did nod off after all, as she said}; so he conceded it wouldn't have been too hard to have overlooked her. But now she was definitely noticed; very visible; sitting just two seats away from him; so close he could feel the inebriating sensuality emitting from her every pore.

"And thinking about amazed and hard... I'm amazed that my cock- as hard as it is- hasn't torn through the fly on these pants and taken a dive under her skirt! I wonder if she's the type that wears thongs... or maybe crotchless panties... or maybe... nothing at all beneath a black lace garter b... "

The bartender's return with the bottle of Firewater interrupted his undergarment guessing game fantasy and Doug's attention, for the first time since he walked into the hotel's lounge, was distracted from this seductive woman dressed in black {and maybe; just maybe, wearing a black lace garter belt, too} that called herself Angel. He lit another cigarette; intently watching the bartender concoct the potion; an infusion of Firewater, Tabasco, peppermint schnapps, and heaven only knows what else thrown in for good measure.

Heaven only knows? That cliché, in retrospect, would be a bad joke by the night's end.

***THE LURE***

"The drink our bartender, Carl, is creating for me is called a "Fireball". I would like it for just the name; if for nothing else. I like things that are out of the ordinary; fiery in connotation; element." She explained this all to Doug, as they both watched the seemingly combustible ingredients being stirred in the shimmering, wide mouthed glass. He watched as Carl added a martini olive pick inverted – with a sliver of lime on the wrong end which, in its reverse, looked just like a devil's pitchfork. Nice touch. Subliminal; yet impressive.

And as Carl, the bartender, presented Angel, the freelance photographer, his mixology masterpiece, she turned to Doug; slowly raising her glass with one hand to those full red lips, and leaning over the bar stool that stood between them with the other hand, said in a low, lusty breath,

"There is nothing I love more than something that starts out hot - and then only gets hotter... and hotter... and... hotter"

Doug's cock nearly ruptured in his suit pants, as she licked the rim of the glass all the way around its edge with her tongue; a tongue that took on the appearance of a cobra dancing to a snake charmer's melodic chant.

Then suddenly... she stopped; smiling that should be copyrighted smile; those lavender eyes still piercing his own; as she slid back and upright in her own seat again and took a sip of the liquid fire through her equally fiery lips.

Doug; his eyes now soldered to her inviting mouth, and his ears still echoing with the obviously seductive innuendo, was so enraptured with what his two senses of sight and hearing were experiencing, that he didn't realize another of his senses was crying out for attention.

His sense of danger.

He broke sexual eye contact with her just out of self preservation {and embarrassment; as his cock was a leaky faucet at this point} and ordered a second beer to quench his other thirst. Unlike his cockhead, his mouth was dry; so dry that he licked his lips with a tongue that was as equally devoid of moisture; dragging it across them as a frightened child is dragged into the doctor's office for a shot. He watched his second unsmoked cigarette burn down in the ashtray; the thin ribbon of grey film wafting upwards in wriggling and writhing movements. He imagined Angel as the smoke; curling in a voluptuous lapdance before him; then dissipating between his legs in an invisible; but very much felt; surreal blow job. The hot faucet began dripping again. "So, Doug... " his sensual fantasies just broken by his current fantasy's voice, "What do you plan to do with yourself this evening? The do- or -die crowd will be returning from today's session soon, and I have steaks and salad makings at the house; more than enough for two. Why don't we share the meal – and the evening together? Then, I will drop you off later tonight, so you can get a good night's sleep before getting a good day's siesta at the conclusion of the seminar tomorrow" she laughed, now sliding her entire self onto the empty barstool between them. That seductive smile – and those erotic eyes – fell upon him once more.

He thought he had overlapped his fantasy right onto the reality of the moment. But, the deliriously erotic thoughts were real; not imagined. Angel was actually sitting on the stool next to him, looking into his face with those incredible irises awaiting an answer.

"Whoa, steady there, boy! He warned his cock to himself, "It looks like you may get your chance to be ridden tonight. But you've got to stay corralled for a little while longer at least". Doug gulped half the glass of beer down as he gave his silent instructions to the rearing stallion in his pants and before he felt he could muster up a nonchalant response.

"I'm ready whenever you are" he finally said; forcing his tone to sound casual. "And if you're willing to stop at a liquor store on the way over to your friend's house, I'll pick up something for us to drink at dinner."

"That won't be necessary," she said, as she polished off her own drink and then reached over to get her binder and purse. "The house's bar is well stocked, and the fridge even has the brand beer you're drinking in it. All that is needed there to make the perfect night is you and me."

And with that last suggestive and hopeful remark; they both got up and left the hotel's bar.

*******

The traffic was still minimal at that time of day, and they were fortunate to be ahead of the usual mass exodus of workers as they left the city limits behind them. They spoke little at first; as Doug was feeling a little lightheaded from the second guzzled beer and was fantasizing, once again, about what tasty things - besides dinner - may lay ahead of them tonight. It was Angel that broke the silence; as she had done initially in the bar.

"Doug, I couldn't help but notice that you are wearing a very unusual tie. Is that a constellation printed on it? The constellation of Orion, I think? I have never seen anything like it before, but noticed it the moment you sat down at the bar. Any meaning behind it for you?"

"Oh, thanks, it's a new tie; first time I've worn it, actually. And yes; it is unusual because I have one weakness of fashion that I indulge myself. And it happens to be ties. Unusual, made to order; one –of- a - kind ties. I picked this one up from the designer right before heading to the airport to come here. Some men have themselves tattooed. I like to express myself through something a little more changeable – and a lot less painful," he explained, as he looked down at the topic of conversation adorning his shirt and continued. "You're right; it is a constellation of Orion; the giant hunter from Greek mythology. And the reason I chose to have it custom made for me is that the three stars that compose the belt represent strength, courage, and adeptness to me. And those three qualities are what, I believe, made me my agency's top man in my field. Strength as in, 'undaunted determination'; courage as in, 'to try anything once', and adeptness; as in, 'proficiency and expertise', and that last quality – adeptness - always follows the natural order if I have the other two. The sword symbolizes to me the willingness to attack and conquer any goal that I seek to achieve."

"A very fascinating concept, Doug, very fascinating. Although... " she trailed off; seemingly deep in thought over his beliefs of what the tie represented.

He looked up from the silk topic of discussion thinking she may not have quite grasped his meaning, and was about to explain further, but found they were just turning into a long, tree lined driveway. Doug realized they had reached their destination, and his attention was diverted momentarily from the subject at hand. As they entered the foot of the driveway, Angel abruptly stopped the car; startling Doug, as she turned to him; eyes boring into his and challenging,

"You say one of those stars on Orion's belt represents courage; 'as in, to try anything once', right? Are you really willing to try anything once, Doug? Can your strength; your undaunted determination as you say, drive you to try something new; something that demands blind faith?"

This sound in her voice was still alluring; yet with frightening undertones, and was one Doug had not yet before heard today. And he wasn't sure where this line of conversation was heading.

"What do you mean, exactly? 'Something that demands blind faith'? I've already told you that I'll try anything once – and it's because I have blind faith in myself. Completely. Why? Do you have something new in mind; never before tried; like - to make for dinner?" He joked to lighten the underlying drama of the current barrage of questions, but was leveled again to the chilling seriousness of them when she replied,

"No, nothing new in mind for dinner. Sometimes though, I like to have dessert and an after dinner drink. While sex is always a great dessert - blind faith in oneself sounds like a great new nightcap." This time, the upturned corners of her mouth belied an almost evil smile. And a deeper hue of lavender and those now prominent red flashes made her eyes overcast; stormy. He was witnessing both ominous transitions now, but... there would be yet another menacing; more sinister personality emerging soon.

Another type angel. A Dark Angel.

Doug sat frozen in his seat as Angel depressed the accelerator again and continued up the long, trellis-like appearance of the driveway. His cock was pulsing hard in its confinement, but his balls joined the rest of Doug in their fearful withdrawal.

They both rode in utter silence.

*** THE INVITATION ***

When they reached the house, Doug was surprised to see a sprawling hacienda style ranch before him. The long driveway had curved; leading them on the right side of the driveway to the front portico and where a circle of high foliage to the left of them obscured the house from the street entirely. He realized the home he was invited to by this mysterious creature seemed as mysterious as she; very secluded, in spite of the fact it was barely on the outskirts of the city. The large piece of property it sat on lent to Doug the feeling he was on an island; that he was hidden and away from all human contact - hidden and away from all - except Angel.

They alighted from the car, and entered the heavy, rough hewn wood double doors. The interior also carried the strong Spanish influence. Heavy, carved wood furniture in deep, rich stains with wrought iron fittings accented many of the pieces in the vast entry foyer. All stood upon earthen hued terra cotta tiles that spanned throughout. Stucco walls were enhanced by sconces and Moorish influenced artwork and tapestries also adorned the walls. Pottery was in prominent display in niches that formed little caves in the walls, as the Aztec accents of Mexico also were noticed intertwined. The bold and dramatic décor was evident throughout the home as the owners' obvious preference. Doug found it to be well appointed in these apparent authentic designs and tastefully done.