Succubus Ch. 04

Her tight butt was just a few feet away. He wasn't sure what he was going to do when he got there, he just knew that he wanted to touch her, to feel the gentle curve of that fine ass. Just as he was about to make contact, she suddenly moved and he heard someone say, "Thanks for shopping REI. Next customer, please."

He froze where he stood. Slowly, he swiveled his head toward the source of the voice. It was a cute little brunette working at the cash register. She was looking at him in the same way the blonde had. For all intents and purposes, he did, in fact, look insane. He looked around himself quickly to see if there was anyone else. There wasn't. Thank goodness for that.

He studied her for a moment. She was tall, thin, with long locks of dark hair spilling onto her shoulders and chest. She wore a tight fitting pair of designer jeans and an equally tight fitting blue t-shirt. The t-shirt barely covered her midriff and he could see the barest hint of skin underneath. She was nicely built, her breasts straining the tight fabric. A loose fitting green vest, sporting an REI logo, sat atop the shirt. The strange feeling, which had been slowly receding, resurfaced instantly.

"Hi," he said. He leaned in and looked directly at her chest, slowly, making sure she saw him. Her name tag was pinned to the vest, just above the swell of her breasts, partially obscured by her luscious long hair. Her name tag contained not only her name, but also indicated she was the store manager.

She watched him curiously with a cautious smile on her face. There was something off about him. He didn't seem dangerous, but definitely seemed either drunk or high. Possibly both. She cocked her head to one side as he continued to stare at her breasts and glowered at him.

He tossed the clothing he'd picked up onto the counter. "So, um," he began. He reached forward and, before the woman could object, brushed the hair away from her name tag. He propped his elbows up on the counter, cradling his head in his hands. He then continued. "So, Carrie, you have to do everything here yourself?" he said.

Carrie couldn't believe the audacity of this guy and couldn't hide the surprise on her face as he so blatantly violated her personal space. "He is definitely a cocky bastard," Carrie thought to herself. Physically, though, the response was a delayed look of shock and all she could get out was, "Excuse me?"

Scott lifted his head, off of his supporting hands, just long enough to reach out a second time and tap the hard plastic name tag. He could tell he was making the girl uncomfortable, but he couldn't help himself. He felt in control. "You're a manager, right?" he asked, his smile never wavering.

Carrie had, indeed, grown quite uncomfortable by this point and unconsciously taken a step away. She didn't know how to react. She looked down at her name tag, as if to reacquaint herself with who she was and what her job title might be. Then she merely answered his question. "Yes, I'm the store manager."

"And," Scott began, turning and gesturing to the entire store with a wave of his hand, "you have to do all the work here, apparently?" Scott asked, turning back, smiling at her. Clearly the woman had no idea what he was getting at.

Carrie still didn't understand what he was talking about. "I'm sorry?" She could feel her self relaxing the more she spoke to him. Her guard was dropping quickly.

Scott gave her a look of incredulity. "You're the store manager, but you're running the registers," he said smugly. Here, Scott stepped back, spread his arms wide to indicate the registers.

Carrie couldn't help herself and she smiled. He was a customer, after all, she needn't be rude. "Oh, yeah. Sorry," she said, laughing a little. "One girl called in sick and other was already off. This early in the morning there is hardly anyone here, so I am doing it all, like you said." A small part of her wondered why was she telling him all of this.

Scott was having a great time, himself. He could tell that he had made her uncomfortable, but now she seemed to be opening up. The urge to touch her skin was growing, but he kept himself at an even keel and kept smiling. He offered his hand. "I'm Scott," he announced. "Scott Birch."

"Hi, Scott," she said, amiably enough, tilting her head in a cute fashion. She took his hand and gave it a hearty shake. She felt a feeling of warmth wash over her. "My name is Carrie," she began, before stopping herself. She let his hand fall away. "Um, just Carrie." She felt herself flush and gave him a nervous little smile. In an attempt to hide it, she then busied herself with ringing up his items.

She found herself strangely attracted to him and she couldn't explain why. He was extremely cocky and, from all outward appearances, kind of an ass. He had no problem looking her in the eyes and he didn't feel the need to apologize. It was strange, he didn't strike her as the "bad boy" type, but he definitely seemed sure of himself. Correction, he seemed full of himself.

He looked away from her, his attention drawn by something random. "So, Just Carrie, what else do you do when you're not doing all the work at the local REI?" he asked, as she rang up his items.

She thought about this for a moment, as she bagged his items. "Well, I like to bicycle and I take a kickboxing..." she began, before Scott cut her off.

He nearly laughed as he responded. Gesticulating with his arms he clarified, "No, no, no. I mean, what do you do for FUN." With that last word, he turned his head to face her, a smile on his face, as he annunciated the word slowly. Fun, with a capital "F."

She felt herself flush again, but by this time she felt completely relaxed. She laughed loudly, this time. The guy was almost intoxicating to be around. She felt her defenses slipping away. She smiled and said, "Hey, those things ARE fun to me!"

Scott felt his manhood beginning to swell as they moved deeper into the conversation. He was incredibly attracted to this woman, but he'd only known her for a couple of minutes. He couldn't take it any longer. He wanted this woman. He turned toward her, his face suddenly serious, and asked point blank, "Do you want to go somewhere and do something fun with me today?"

Carrie wanted to, badly, but she couldn't explain why. Everything he said sounded like a great idea. An image of herself, riding him right there on the countertop, flickered through her mind. "Why do we need to go anywhere?" she asked. "We can have fun right here," she said, slipping out of her vest and walking around the counter.

She leaned in and kissed him hard. He instinctively put his arms around her, pulling her closer. He could feel the soft mounts of her breasts pressed against his chest and her soft lips pressed against his. The feeling of euphoria intensified. He let her go just enough to squeeze his hand between her and himself. The hand snaked its way down until it found her zipper.

Suddenly, the trance was broken as two tones of an electronic bell sounded loudly. A customer was entering the store. Scott let go of Carrie and she fell back against the counter, breathing hard. She recovered after a few moments. "What just happened?" she asked, confused.

Scott wasn't sure, himself. It was as if he had been awash in pure, animalistic lust. She looked back over her shoulder at the two customers that had entered the store. "I don't know what just happened, but..." she said, trailing off. "I'm sorry."

Scott shook himself, trying to clear his clouded mind, the fog slowly receding. Within moments, reality came rushing in again and the odd feeling dissipated completely. The spell was definitely broken. For the first time since he'd come into the store, he was at a loss for words.

"Um, yeah," was all he could muster.

Carrie quickly slipped back into her vest and resumed her post behind the counter. She smiled awkwardly at him and said, "Um, here's your stuff." She handed him his bag before adding, "Oh, it's eighty-three twelve."

"Yeah." Scott smiled wanly at her, almost embarrassed. He fished out his wallet, extracted his credit card and handed it to her.

She swiped the card through the reader and waited for it to authorize his transaction. It was an awkward silence, especially after the exchange they'd just had. He seemed almost shy now. It was truly bizarre and she was visibly relieved when the machine began to print out his receipt.

She tore the receipt off of the printer and placed it on the counter. After a moment of hesitation, she smiled and retrieved a pen from the cup beside the register. She scribbled on the receipt with it for a moment. She handed Scott the receipt and his credit card. As he took the items she said, "Thank you for shopping REI," with a curt smile.

Dejected, Scott left the building and shuffled back to his car. Flopping down behind the steering wheel, he stuffed his credit card and receipt into the bag and tossed the bag into the passenger seat. He felt so embarrassed about the way he'd acted in the store. What was happening to him? He thought about it for a moment. He'd felt libidinous, for lack of a better word. Actually, the more he thought about it, there was no better word. He would have taken Carrie right there in the store if the customers hadn't entered. He could feel it.

Scott started the car and put it into reverse, backing slowly out of the parking space. He took one look back at the store front, watching the girl ringing up one of the customers that had interrupted them. With a sigh, he put the car in drive and left the parking lot.

He drove slowly down the road, lost in his thoughts. Only when the car behind him blew its horn at him, did he shake himself out of the funk he was in and accelerate. After a few minutes, he pulled into his driveway and parked the car. He snatched his bag from the passenger seat and exited the car, slamming the door shut.

At the front door, he gathered his mail from the postbox, affixed to the wall, next to the door. He struggled to unlock the wrought iron gate that barred access to the front door, eventually dropping the mail. Finally, wrenching the gate open, he then unlocked the front door. As soon as he had the door open, he picked up the mail and dumped it onto the small table that sat just inside the door. It immediately spilled back onto the floor. Now pissed off, he aimed for the couch and tossed his REI bag across the room. It landed at least a foot away from the couch, failing to travel far enough. Scott ignored it and picked up the mail a second time.

He slipped out of his worn sneakers and kicked them carelessly toward the living room. They tumbled a few feet before colliding with an end table. He stomped off to the kitchen in search of something to eat. In his sudden glee that morning, he'd failed to eat anything for breakfast and now he was incredibly hungry. Hopefully, he actually had something eat.

He walked down the short hallway from the foyer and entered the small dining area. Here, a few dry groceries, that he'd meant to put away, were piled on top of the small, round wooden table that adorned the center of the room. He spied an unopened bag of potato chips within the random assortment of goods. Without hesitation, he picked these up and headed through the far doorway into the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, he tore open the bag of chips. He absent-mindedly stuffed chips into his mouth as he purveyed the area for something to go with them. Not readily seeing anything, he crossed the room to the refrigerator and hefted it open. Since he'd missed breakfast, breakfast sounded fantastic, so he grabbed a couple of eggs, sausage, and some hash brown potatoes.

He bent and opened the cabinet to the right of the oven, pulling out two scuffed skillets. He placed one of these on a large, back burner and turned the burner to "high". He put the other pan on a small burner in the front. He twisted the knob for the smaller pan, turning it on about half way. He poured a quantity of oil into the pan in the back. He threw a couple of sausage patties into the smaller pan.

After a couple of minutes the back pan was sizzling. He reduced the heat slightly and tossed in the contents of the bag containing the hash brown potatoes. By this time the patties were also sizzling. So, he carved off a small pat of butter, which went into the pan with the sausage. He knew it wasn't healthy, but it tasted great. After a few seconds, the butter began to melt.

He picked up the pan and tilted it in various directions, running the small quantity of butter around inside the skillet, coating the bottom with yellow goodness. Once it had been well covered, he cracked the eggs open and poured them into the pan with the sausage. Retrieving a spatula from a drawer, he then began scrambling the eggs and breaking up the sausage into small pieces. The potatoes were then flipped and began to brown on the other side.

After a few more minutes of culinary artistry, breakfast was ready. He scooped the potatoes out of the pan and slid them onto a waiting plate. He picked up the pan containing the eggs and turned it up at an angle so that the contents slid neatly onto the plate, next to the potatoes. No sooner was the food on the plate before he dug in with a fork, completely forgetting about the chips.

He carried the plate out of the kitchen, into the living room, and he set it on the coffee table. He snatched the television remote from the arm of the old tan leather couch and plopped down. The TV came to life as he pushed the power button on the remote. He found an old rerun of the Twilight Zone, which seemed decent enough.

He picked up the plate and began to finish his meal. It only took a few short minutes for him to scarf everything down. He leaned back on the couch, relaxed now that he was in familiar surroundings and well fed. As he watched The Twilight Zone, he recognized the episode as "Where Is Everybody?" It was about a world where everyone began disappearing and only one man realized it. He couldn't help thinking that his last few days closely paralleled that of one of Rod Serling's episodes: everything starts off seemingly normal, but slowly things spiral into the bizarre.

As soon as the current episode ended, another started. Apparently there was a marathon going that Saturday. Scott decided his life was already strange enough, so far that day, so he turned the television off and tossed the remote onto the couch. It bounced around a bit before it fell onto the carpeted floor.

He leaned over the edge of the couch to pick it up and found that it had landed next to his REI bag. With a great strain, he reached further and tried to pick up the bag. He could only reach it with the tips of his fingers, but after a moment they began to gain a little traction and he was able to pull the bag toward him. He turned over and lay on his back, reclining against the arm of the sofa. He dumped the contents of the bag into his lap.

First from the bag came tumbling the pair of sunglasses, then followed immediately by everything else. The receipt floated down and landed on the floor next to him. He first examined the shirts. They looked so tiny, he couldn't believe that he would now be able to fit into them. He reached down and pulled his shirt up, exposing his abs. They looked even more chiseled than he'd remembered and the smile, somewhat subdued, returned to his face.

He stood and took off his shirt, then slipped one of the fitted tees over his head. It hugged his body as he pulled it down over him. He then slipped out of his shorts and tried on the new pair. He then padded off down the hall to the bathroom to check out his new look.

As he entered the bathroom, he flicked on the light. He stood in front of the mirror and checked himself out. He definitely looked more defined now, much more so than when wearing his frumpy t-shirt and fraying khaki shorts. He slid the shirt back up, revealing his abdominals.

The smile crept back onto his face as he examined them. It wasn't his imagination, he really did seem to be more cut than he was that morning. That was impossible, though. The mirror was still fogged a bit, earlier, maybe he had misinterpreted what he'd seen. Either way, he still looked fantastic. His vigor renewed, he snapped up his shirt and slung it over his shoulder before leaving the bathroom.

He walked back up the hall and into the living room. He plopped down onto the couch and picked up his old shirt and shorts from the floor, where they lay. As he did so, the receipt fell into his lap. He picked it up, with intent to shove it into the plastic REI bag. Just before he did so, he realized that something had been written near the top in pink ink.

He frowned for a moment, reading it. Suddenly his face lit up as he realized who had written it. It said, "Meet me. Soprano 10P." Soprano 10P? What the hell was that? Then it came to him. Soprano was the club on 12th Street, downtown. At 10:00 PM, he guessed. Wow, she wanted to see him tonight. His earlier good mood reasserted itself as he jumped up from the couch, almost cheering.

He trotted quickly down the hall to the bedroom and rummaged through his closet. He hadn't been to a club in a long while and he seriously doubted he actually had any clothes that would pass. Picking out several shirts from the closet, he placed them on the bed. He walked back and forth, looking at them all, but none of them seemed to be worthy of his impending date.

A quick glance at the clock told him it was nearly noon. There was plenty of time to go out and find something interesting. He walked back up to the living room and put his new shirt back on, snugged on his sneakers, and grabbed his keys.

---

Later that night, he found himself parked just down the street from the Soprano Club. He'd done a little research, thankfully, before leaving the house and he knew what he was in for. It'd taken him half the day to find what he was looking for and he was quite pleased with the result. He'd spent the rest of his time cleaning up the house. He checked himself out in the rearview mirror one last time. He let out a pent up sigh and then said, "Let's do this."

He opened the door to the car and stepped out onto the asphalt in a new pair of black loafers. A dark pair of straight legged jeans followed and then his crisp dark leather belt. Above the waist he wore a smart, button-down white shirt, with long sleeves, and a dark blazer. He left the blazer open and in the gulf of the blaring white hung a loose fitting thin black tie.

Now that he'd trimmed up the clothes fit great and he felt great. It was probably the best he'd ever looked. Casual, but not too casual. He'd shaved and everything. He adjusted his tie and made his way around the corner.

As soon as he rounded the corner, he was assaulted by sights and sounds. Pools of people were gathered everywhere, chatting, laughing, and smiling. He looked up at the neon lights announcing that this was, indeed, the Soprano Club. A pair neon red lips, parted as if it were singing, were paired next to the bold blue letters of SOPRANO. Bold yellow music symbols surrounded it all. He smiled. This was the first time he'd been there. Actually, the more he thought about it, he guessed it was the first time in a while he'd been out anywhere.

As he approached a throng of people, smiling and talking amongst themselves, one of the girls turned and smiled at him, before rejoining the conversation with her friends. She didn't freak out and she didn't look at him in an odd way. Scott smiled, his confidence boosted. He could feel the strange feeling of drunken lust ever so slightly emerging.

He kept a lookout for Carrie. She hadn't said where'd she be, only when she'd be there. Scott pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time: 10 o'clock on the dot. He bounded up the steps as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket. When he reached the top of the stairs, he wished he'd have arrived earlier.