1

"How much d'you wanna bet that Gordon will ask me out next week?" Liz said on our way to the club.

Liz was my new classmate who'd suggested we celebrate our arrival on campus.

"Whatever turns you on," I said. Gordon was the alpha male of our predominantly female faculty.

"Just don't tell me you don't like him!"

Did I detect the note of a challenge in her voice? "He's all right," I mumbled. Never a good idea to ruin your relationship with your roommate on your first day at school. "He's cute... I suppose."

"Cute? He's freakin' awesome!" Liz raised her voice. Other commuters turned their heads our way, forcing her to turn the sound down a bit. "You're just jealous because he's never even looked your way. He kept staring at me all day today in class. I thought he'd twist his neck!"

I decided not to argue. Pointless. When somebody like Liz got something into their head, you couldn't prize it out with a crowbar.

Gordon was quite attractive, I had to give him that. Tall and fit, equal doses of cute and empty-headed. A rich daddy's boy... nothing really for an intelligent self-respecting girl to sink her teeth into. As far as I was concerned, he didn't merit a second glance. I prided myself on being quite a good judge of character — which was exactly why I'd chosen psychology as my major — so our alpha male wasn't on my list of priorities.

Talking about which, I had soon discovered a much more interesting subject to pursue. Our developmental psychology lecturer. Now Mr. Wagner was a totally different animal. He was cute. And besides, he was also sophisticated and very intelligent. You could see at once he had no identity issues while all Gordon could do was prance about in front of doting girls. He had no substance, sorry. As far as I was concerned, Liz was more than welcome to him.

I had to admit I felt quite a bit out of place. This was my first club night in NYC. My home town didn't have much to offer as far as going out was concerned — even if I'd been interested in going out which I hadn't: I was too busy studying. So now that my dream had finally come true and I was a proud student at City College NY, it was time I had some well-deserved fun.

The first thing I noticed when I entered the club was the noise. The music assaulted my eardrums the moment I walked in.

Secondly, it was crowded. I mean, really. The dance floor was packed stiff with gyrating bodies. Virtually no place left by the bar. We forced our way through the crowd and grabbed the two remaining stools, one of which we wrestled away from some man in an old-fashioned fedora hat who looked admittedly out of place there. We ordered a couple of glasses of Sex on the Beach (not because we knew what it was but because we liked the name). Liz downed hers almost in one gulp while I sipped mine as I studied the crowd.

It was dark. Every so often, the strobe lights pierced the room which then submerged back into darkness sliced by laser beams. Amid them, shadows rushed about, obeying the heavy rhythm.

I still felt out of place. I'd never been to NYC before (well, almost), let alone to a night club. Neither of us dared to get up and dance so we just shared our observations, watching the dancers. Liz downed another cocktail — purely for Dutch courage. We soon ran out of whichever cute guys we could discuss and switched our attention to the girls.

I'd noticed this particular chick almost the moment I'd walked in. She was the center of everybody's attention — not just mine. Admittedly I felt a pang of jealousy studying her relaxed manner — loose even. She danced with abandon, surrounded by enthusiastic males. I could never pull off anything like that. She exuded some kind of power that just drew everyone's eyes to her. She wasn't particularly good-looking — but she was sex on two legs, pure and simple. I could imagine what men felt about her if I could sense her vibes from where I sat. And her eyes... the way she looked at you!

Just as I was thinking about it, she turned and stared directly at me. Her expression sent shivers down my spine. How's that for inner freedom? You could see that she literally knew no limits.

Still dancing, she sashayed toward the bar, shooting glances around. The men around me perked up, preparing to order her a drink the moment she came closer. What a girl. Give her a couple more years, and she'd be a right femme fatale!

How this creature somehow ended up next to me, I'd no idea. I was actually in the process of climbing down the bar stool intending to find the ladies' room when she shoved her generous bosom against mine. She had to be eighteen or nineteen — way below the legal limit. How on earth had she gotten in?

Her eyes glistened with a weird yellow and red flame. The locket on my chest — a gift from my late Gran — grew unbearably hot, burning my skin. With my back pressed against the stool, I had nowhere to escape to.

"Your blood smells familiar," she said, leaning close to me. "Hail, O daughter of Barbas!"

Liquid fire melted in her eyes. She was so irresistibly seductive that for a moment, I doubted my own sexual preferences. She was slim and wide-hipped with a gorgeous bosom, but the most incredible thing about her was that luring call in her eyes. What did she want from me?

"You're good enough," the temptress gasped. "I've never tasted a Princess before."

Her scarlet lips parted, exposing the tip of a ravenous tongue. Suddenly she clung to me, sinking her lips into mine. Oops.

The guys around us whistled and catcalled. Someone applauded; somebody else cussed wholeheartedly. Me, I felt as if I'd been struck by lightning. The girl shrank away and disappeared. I opened my eyes wide, sensing an unknown need in every cell of my body.

Everything had changed. The lights were now brighter, the shadows clearer, the sounds louder. I swept my hands along my body — it felt as if I'd never done so before. I was bursting with the desire to dance, to move, to work this crowd attracting male stares. So not typical of me. I could sense their eyes as all attention had switched over to me.

I cast a sideways glance at the temptress girl shrinking by the bar. How could I have been so deluded? This was an ordinary girl, looking lost and scared, casting confused glances around her — nothing special whatsoever. Never mind. Time to forget her and hit the dance floor, embracing the drive and welcoming its seductive energy.

Now it was me dancing in the center, all eyes on me. Why wouldn't they be? After all, I was so incredibly cool. All I needed was a guy who was worth it. I looked around, studying the men gathering like flies around me.

I could still feel a tiny part of the old me: an inner voice, quiet and distant, that was watching me in bewilderment. Could this little temptress have had some mind-altering substance on her lips? What was wrong with me all of a sudden? Never in my life had I behaved like a, let's put it straight, like a tramp.

Then a surge of new sensations drowned out the tiny voice of reason. I went with the flow, succumbing to this weird new impulse.

2

The buzzing of the phone woke me up. I opened one eye to the soft early-morning light seeping through the window. Sunrise still glowed red in the window panes of the house opposite. Whoever was dumb enough to text me at this hour?

Without turning my head, I reached for the cell on the floor by the bed. I didn't recognize the sender. Had to be a wrong number. I yawned and opened it, anyway. Then I froze.

Hi babe. Can't sleep. Keep thinking about you. Ready to be smothered with kisses... again.

The message ended with a scattering of weird characters that were supposed to testify either to the sender's lamentable state of mental health or to the extent of the emotions overpowering him. Or both. A normal stranger wouldn't write anything of that sort to me, would he? I never, ahem, dated strangers, and this... Wait a sec! Did it mean that last night I'd actually... gone on a date?

I was still mulling over the thought when my body stretched invitingly, almost on its own accord. I licked my lips — equally involuntarily. Immediately I knew that yes, I'd done it. And I'd done it with a vengeance.

But how was it possible that I'd actually, er, kissed someone and was none the wiser?

Still disbelieving, I jumped out of bed overflowing with the energy bursting within me. I couldn't have had more than a couple of hours' sleep. What time was it? Seven a.m.? What in God's name had forced me out of bed an hour before the alarm? And what on earth was I doing?

I had an eerie feeling of watching myself as I started doing things utterly out of character. There I was, awake at this ungodly hour, even though the snooze button was normally my best friend. And now I sat down at Liz's desk even though she was still asleep. For the moment, we were alone in our four-bed room: the other two students hadn't yet arrived. I took her mirror and her makeup purse and began applying her makeup. That's me, of all people. I'd never, ever had time for makeup, even less so getting out of bed spending precious morning time on something as pointless and vain as painting my face. What was wrong with me? I was good-looking enough as I was, wasn't I?

Admittedly, I liked the result. I'd no idea whatsoever of what had happened to me the night before but whatever it was, it had definitely improved my makeup skills. A beautiful woman — beautiful as in predatory — was staring back at me from the mirror. Very young. She could have even been the 'fox' that the stupid text message had alluded to. What if the guy was a makeup artist? And what if he'd actually spent the evening teaching me his professional skills? Yeah, right.

I smiled, looking at the result, then threw the mirror down and danced around the room, overwhelmed by the energy. My body felt weightless as if filled with some bubbly gas that made me want to fly, sing and dance — provided there were male eyes around to witness it. No, not so: I wanted them to admire me, their eyes searching my beautiful body; I wanted to feel their hands on me, hot and strong, feel my body respond and sing in unison, wanted myself to-

"What's wrong with you, woman?" Liz produced a heartrending yawn. "What time is it?"

"No idea," I waltzed across the room, feeling weird desires taking over my body. "I don't think you remember a guy called Jack, do you? He's just texted me. And I can't for the life of me-"

She opened her eyes wide and sat up in bed. "What, only one?" she asked sarcastically, then pushed the quilt aside, looking wide awake. "After what you did yesterday, Allison girl, I'm surprised you're not buried under six feet of texts and phone calls."

"What do you suggest?" I honestly didn't understand her. And still I felt so thoroughly pleased inside — like a cat who'd overdone it on the cream and was waiting for a second helping of roast mice.

"Don't tell me you can't remember," she didn't look as if she'd believed me. She lowered her feet onto the floor. "It's very true what they say that it's the quiet ones you gotta watch. Woman, last night you were dynamite! Men were literally falling all over you. There was very nearly a fight over you. Are you always like that when you have a drink?"

Never happened to me before, I was going to object. But instead, my voice said, "I can have any man I want with or without a drink."

Barefoot, Liz stumbled toward the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water and took a long drink. Her eyes narrowed into slits when she heard me. "Don't you dare go anywhere near Gordon," she hissed.

You're very welcome to him, I was about to say. Instead, I sniffed. "Now that's a thought!"

I opened the wardrobe. Two dresses and a skirt! How utterly miserable. Knee-length, too. No, that wasn't the way to live.

I reached in and ripped the floral ruffles off the hem of a sundress, then slid into it. Much better! It looked totally different: not a frilly mess my grandma wouldn't be seen dead wearing but something hugging and tantalizingly short. I checked myself in the mirror, thoroughly pleased with the result. I was going to remove the old locket, too — it definitely didn't match the new look — but reconsidered. It snuggled so well in my cleavage.

Liz watched me, dumbfounded. "Don't you dare, Allison," she began.

I reached into the wardrobe for a pair of heels I'd bought just in case of some super hot date. Not because I'd thought I might not have to study — but you know, just in case. Now this was the case and I admittedly looked hot in all that makeup and a dangerously short dress. The old me would never have dared to go out looking like that — at least not without an escort of chaperones. But today was different. I grabbed the purse that I'd borrowed from Liz last night, blew her a kiss and slid out of the room.

See you later!

3

Normally, I never enjoyed my morning bus ride to school. I hated the feeling of being stuck in a close space with other people, being watched first thing in the morning. But this time seeing other students excited me for some reason — especially the male ones. My gaze followed them, appraising, absorbing their vibes. I could feel their attention on my skin, I could sense their hunger — yes, they checked me out too. And the stares they gave me! Any other time I would have probably wished for the earth to swallow me whole, but strangely enough, now I was enjoying it.

Still, soon their interest began to bore me. Those were the wrong kinds of men. No, this was the wrong place to hunt. No big game here.

I sat down at my desk at the lecture hall, casting greedy glances around me. These were also students — but actually, not too bad. Some looked quite appetizing. But I couldn't really give them much thought. I knew very well whom I fancied. I was waiting for Mr. Wagner, my sweet developmental psychology lecturer. He was perfect for a start.

Start of what? I heard an indignant little voice deep inside. I didn't answer. I knew very well what I meant. No, not I: there was something else inside me and that something wasn't me any more... what was it?

All this mental confusion stayed somewhere in the back of my mind, distant and weak. It definitely didn't prevent me from stirring and moving around, watching everyone.

The lecture hall was nearly empty, my classmates still scurrying in and out, taking their places at the tiered desks and generally shooting the breeze. Gordon the Cute strode toward the room from the opposite end of the hallway. Talk of the devil. He swaggered toward me, escorted by two girls I didn't know very well. He was constantly surrounded by some heavily made up and equally unimpressive types. Now he was busy telling them something, the girls giggling in the background. Then he saw me walking in his direction.

He didn't stop dead in his tracks the way Liz had, no. The hallway was quite dark so he hadn't had a chance to appreciate my metamorphosis in its entirety. He looked confused — he'd long written me off as someone not worth paying any attention to.

I kept walking straight toward him. At this rate, we'd run into each other in the doorway. He wasn't ever going to give way to me. You're so not worth it, I could read in his eyes. The girls were the first to realize that something was wrong when I hadn't stopped, lowering my eyes as their king approached. Quite the contrary: my shoulders spread wide, my hips swayed a little harder.

As the 'king' came closer, I could see the confusion in his face. It wasn't just the fact that I refused to give way. There was something wrong with me overall: I had the wrong walk, the wrong clothes and the wrong attitude. He stepped into the doorway, then stumbled — exactly where I'd wanted him to, at the exact moment when I made my entrance into the room.

The girls rushed toward me. Most likely, they simply wanted to push me off my feet, removing the obstacle in their idol's path. Or did they want to hustle me away? Whatever it was, one glare in their direction was enough (why, or why had it never happened to me before?). They made themselves scarce double quick, leaving Gordon alone.

"Allison!" he exclaimed mechanically.

I gave him a poke in the stomach. "You should go easy on the beer, you know. Your belly just keeps growing."

Gordon doubled, bending over me. He had no abs worth mentioning — exactly as I'd thought.

It just so happened that all eyes were on us at that moment: Gordon, our unofficial but universally acknowledged alpha, stooping over me in a bow as I entered the room.

He grabbed my hand. "What do you think you're doing?"

Confusion was spelled all over his face. I could see that he was acting on auto pilot. Okay now, time to switch your brain back on. Or should I say, the organ that passes for brains in males?

Then I gave him this look — checking him out head to toe. "Catch!" I hurled my handbag at him.

Men usually have good reactions: first they catch, then they think. Gordon grabbed my bag. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Carry it for me, will you," stepping close, I laid my hand on his chest, my leg laced around his. The room gasped. "I think I need a foot massage."

Then I headed for my usual place in the fifth row, just opposite the lecturer's desk. Gordon stayed put, gasping for air. Whatever had happened to me, it hadn't made him any more attractive in my eyes. He just didn't belong in my new rating system. The likes of him are for an emergency feed only. The bulk of their energy goes into their peacock's feathers — that is, all show and no substance. He was probably a mediocre kisser, just going through the motions unwilling to put himself out.

Now he had to make up his mind whether he had to follow me or ignore my cues. In all honesty, I couldn't have cared less: I'd just seen Mr. Wagner, the psychology lecturer, enter the room.

The moment I saw him I knew why I'd chosen him. He was just too good. Like a ripe peach, he was begging for a bite — for a kiss. I imagined bringing my face close to his, drinking his sweet breath as my tongue caressed his upper lip... He was saying something but I didn't hear a word — I was deep in my own world, floating in a bubble bath of fantasy.

I didn't even notice Gordon take a place next to me. Only when he pressed his shoulder to mine and laid his hand on my hip, did I realize I wasn't alone.

I knew of course that I'd put him in a very awkward position. I'd treated our alpha male as if he were my boyfriend — I, who admittedly rated as one of the bottom feeders.

Still, my metamorphosis kept attracting stares. Gordon couldn't not have noticed that everybody's eyes were on me. Even after the lecture had begun, whichever few males we had in class twisted their heads to get an eyeful of me. Of me, not of him — and that included the girls. Even Mr. Wagner kept casting surprised glances my way. Either he couldn't recognize me or he just went with the flow.

So it looked as if Gordon lost nothing by seeking my attention. In a way, if he won me, it could only improve his doubtless royal status.

A note landed on the desk in front of me. Hi beautiful, fancy going clubbing tonight? No name, but judging by the way our uber athlete Neil was craning his neck — he and Gordon sort of competed in the fitness department — it had to be him.

Immediately Derek whispered dramatically from his desk above,

"Allison darling, what a welcome change! You've opened my eyes to the other side of your nature! Should we maybe discuss it tonight over a glass of wine?"

Derek was our nerd, quiet and unimpressive, but if you saw the car that came every day to school to collect him, you'd be green with envy.

Two of the rivals had already made their first step. Gordon couldn't suffer being outdone. His hand slid higher along my hip, approaching what you could just about confuse for a skirt. With a sweet smile, I moved away and placed my feet in his lap.

"Foot massage, please," I kicked off my sandals, simultaneously blowing a kiss to Neil and whispering to Derek, "You can drive, can't you? We don't need any Peeping Toms."

"I'll learn to, I promise," he assured me.

Liz who sat at the desk below kept turning round, casting threatening glares my way. I really should have stayed on my roommate's good side. This Gordon creature was the last person I needed! But today, the voice of reason apparently had no say. I just couldn't stop and there was no way I could do anything about it.

Some part of me realized, of course, that it wasn't the short dress or my provocative behavior that attracted my male classmates. There was something else too, something I now possessed that hadn't been there before. And that 'new something' didn't give a damn about Liz's glares and the fact that we were roommates. The new part of me demanded that all male stares were on me, and that was the end of it.

In the meantime, I exchanged saucy notes with Derek and made eyes at Neil while Gordon kneaded my feet thinking he was massaging them. I didn't even notice the class end.

"You wait outside," I told Gordon, then hurried to join the other girls who surrounded the teacher's desk. Or rather, I stood calmly at the back waiting for those useless creatures to finally leave him alone. How dare they distract the man I wanted for myself! Get away, all of you!

They must have heard my inner monologue. Casting hostile glances my way, they started to disperse until only one remained standing by the desk. Mr. Wagner was busy explaining something to her while she was slowly backing away toward the exit, turning paler every moment as I made furious faces at her from behind the teacher's back.

"What is it, Allison?" the man of my dreams was collecting his notes, placing them neatly in a yellow leather briefcase.

I'd have never, ever in a thousand years thought of something like that myself. I mean, how stupid was that, climbing a desk in order to seduce someone? What's so seductive about it? But the new part of me, the one that had made me wake up early, shorten my dress and walk out hunting men — the same creature had now forced me to silently and effortlessly jump onto the desk and crouch on it in a most inappropriate pose.

Mr. Wagner raised his eyebrows. His hand — which had just finished packing the last pencil — froze, clutching his briefcase.

Some distant part of my mind realized, of course, that I was doing something totally shameless and incredibly stupid. But when Mr. Wagner turned to me, looking at me with those deep dark velvety eyes, I forgot all about it. Those high university desks were actually a great invention: now our faces were at the same level. The surprise in his stare was gradually giving place to desire. I knew this kind of look only too well (now why would I? my inner voice asked skeptically from some unreachable depth of my mind).

He was mine. Everything in me rejoiced at the news. My head was a total mess: the desire for his kiss mixed with the fondness I felt for this man — tall and skinny which made him slightly awkward — plus the surprise at my own actions and the intoxication of the chemistry between us. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to enjoy it: somehow I knew that desire only grows when restrained, your body seething, boiling, your stare scorching.

Silently I clung to his lips. Our breathing blended. My tongue felt his tightly closed lips that succumbed quickly. I slid inside, then moved away, the tip of my tongue tracing his still-hard lips, his unmoving tongue. His breath quickened; his mouth softened, responding to my kiss even though not as passionately as I'd have liked him to.

Me, I was indeed boiling. I think I was fuming. I couldn't control myself any longer. How on earth was it possible? I slung my arms around his neck and lowered my legs from the desk, pressing my stomach against the, ahem-

Against his briefcase. Shit! Without stopping the passionate kiss — now both of us were fuming, I think — I snatched the wretched bag, trying to remove the last obstacle between us.

The briefcase didn't budge. What the hell? I sensed with my stomach my man's fingers tighten on the handle. Was it a protest? Resistance?

My indignation was such — no one had ever dared resist me before! — that I backed off in surprise. Mr. Wagner used his briefcase as a shield, pushing himself away from me, forcing himself away from my demanding mouth. He'd turned pale.

"Allison, I want you to stop," he managed. "I'm married."

"What difference does that make," I groaned, impatient.

I could see loyalty and desire fighting within him. Oh yes, I could well sense that he was dying to take me in his arms. Using that moment of weakness and hesitation, I jumped off the desk, walked around that wretched briefcase and clung to his side. My hands slid under his jacket, caressing his back and his chest through his shirt, moving lower. I shouldn't slow down! I needed him now, otherwise this thirst, this hunger for a man would devour me from the inside. I needed a man, now.

And still Mr. Wagner stood there like a lamppost, unresponsive. He was shuddering; I could sense that his entire being was answering my call... and still he wouldn't give in. He clutched the briefcase handle, almost crumpling it. Dammit! I reached for the bag again and yanked it toward myself.

I think he sensed that his bastion was about to collapse around his ears. Pale no more, he was red in the face, his fingers closing over the handle.

But I wasn't going to strip him of his shield. That had been a decoy, forcing him to lose his balance. Still clenching his briefcase as if it were a lifebuoy, he nearly collapsed on top of me. Gotcha! I reached for his lips again. As long as I didn't break eye contact with him, the rest would be easy.

My hands lay on his shoulders. I clung to him.

He shuddered as if electrocuted and pulled himself away, gasping.

"Allison, enough," he whispered, begging. "I love my wife and I don't want to-"

"Just kiss me," I commanded, not recognizing my own voice hoarse with passion. How much longer could he resist? I needed a man! I was hungry! Unable to restrain myself any longer, I draped my arms around his neck.

Mr. Wagner backed off toward the exit. I followed while he continued to press the briefcase to his body, shielding himself. Finally his back hit the closed door while I pressed myself against him, my chest rising, my tongue tracing his shaking lips. He wasn't going anywhere now. One last time I reached for his briefcase, gently pulling it toward me. It wasn't going to help him anymore.

The rest was so unexpectedly simple that I froze with indignation, feeling cheated. Red and disheveled, the teacher slid out of the classroom, leaving the offending briefcase in my hands. The door slammed shut before my nose.

No! Shit, shit, shit! I yanked the door open and darted out of the room. "Mr. Wagner, your briefcase!"

His tall figure had disappeared at the end of the narrow hallway. Busy and loud, the place engulfed me.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Gordon stepped in my way. "What took you so long?" he asked. "What were you two doing in there?"

"That's none of your business," I snapped. "Let me go."

I was so furious I thought I'd explode.

"It is my business," Gordon grinned. "I've been waiting here for you like a lapdog while you've locked yourself in with a teacher? He rushed out as if hell hounds were after him. Anyway, it's your problem. I need compensation. You've made me look like a jerk in front of everyone, so that's the least you can do for me."

He grabbed me and dragged me to the opposite end of the hallway toward the restrooms. I didn't resist that much — only a little, just to tease him a bit. The strange hunger still gnawed at me and I knew that I had to satiate it fast. Otherwise... Gordon was just as good a kisser as any of them. Nothing like Mr. Wagner, of course, but beggars can't be choosers. Another moment, and I'd attack any one of my classmates right there in the hallway. Jesus, what was wrong with me?

The area next to the restrooms was quieter but still busy. Not a good place, no. Just when I was about to tell him so, he turned off into an inconspicuous doorway to our left. That was the broom closet stinking of bleach, its shelves groaning with cleaning stuffs and rolls of toilet paper.

Gordon pressed my back against the wall, digging his fingers into my back, sinking his mouth into mine. Yes, yes! All I needed was for him to deliver me from this unbearable inhuman craving!

We kissed nonstop, our breath steaming up the closet which was almost pitch black save for some light seeping through a crack in the door. Then a thought forced its way to the surface through the fog of animal passion, What a slob.

I grasped at that tiny ray of reason, trying to fan a spark of consciousness inside me. What was wrong with me? I couldn't stand the guy! Was I really going to stoop so low, kissing someone I didn't even like?

My body kept going of its own accord. Gordon squeezed me in his arms as I groaned, writhing in his hands. All the while, the little voice kept going deep inside, growing stronger until it filled my head completely, That's not the right thing to do, Allison, and you know it. When all this is over, you're going to regret it. Normally, it's better to regret something you did than regret not doing it. But this isn't the case. You'd better stop it — now.

With a superhuman effort of willpower, I pressed my hands against his chest and forced him away, feeling my own hands resisting me. Shouldering him aside, I pushed him onto a stack of brooms and forced myself out of the closet.

It felt a bit better. I paused to catch my breath. I seemed to control my own body better now.

Through the still-open closet door I — and a group of students that were walking past — could see Gordon lying on top of a heap of brooms amid the avalanche of cleaning fluid bottles. Our alpha male turned crimson and tried to cover his face with his backpack. I just couldn't help it — I laughed. The students joined in, guffawing. I'd have loved to know what they were thinking seeing him in there. Did they think he was doing it to a broom?

"I'll remember that," he hissed at my back.

I headed outside. I had to leave the school — now. The unsated desire rumbled in my stomach, clawing at my insides. I was dying to go back and continue hunting males, which was why I kept fighting myself, forcing myself out. With every step it got easier. And the moment I walked outside and took in a few gulps of fresh air, I finally sensed for the first time that morning that I was in control of myself. I used that control to go back to campus as fast as my feet could carry me.

4

Back in my room, I gulped cold water straight from the tap until I couldn't drink any more. Then I jumped under the freezing cold shower to try to calm down the boiler engine still seething inside me. It sort of helped: the restless hungry beast grumbled a little, then curled up and fell asleep. It had left me alone for the time being, but for how long?

Good news: all carnal desire had left me. Bad news: it had been replaced by ravenous hunger. I had probably been hungry all along, only I'd been too busy with other things. As I started the coffee machine and made myself an enormous three-layer sandwich, I kept thinking. I didn't like it at all. What exactly had I done? The events of that morning felt hazy and unclear. Was I developing a split personality disorder?

I took a hearty bite of my sandwich, grabbed the coffee mug and sat down, leafing through a clinical psychology book. I perused it all the way to the end and then back to front, discovering that science had lots of answers to my question. No, I didn't like it at all. What had happened sounded very much like a multiple personality disorder and me, like a nymphomaniac in denial. The problem was that MPD sufferers don't remember the actions performed by their alternative identities and I admittedly remembered a thing or two.

I felt myself blush just with the memory. That couldn't have been me. No way.

Then who had it been?

Who had taken over my body or my mind, or both? Whatever had happened that night in the club? Now that was the part I admittedly couldn't remember. Liz and I, we'd gone to the club — actually, she probably hated me now. What was I supposed to tell her once she was back from school? Dammit. Now, now, I had to concentrate. I didn't want to become a nymphomaniac. I had to get rid of it somehow, otherwise I'd lose all respect for myself. And self-respect made up a large part of my identity... or had done.

So, where was I? We'd gone to the club... had a couple of drinks... then Liz had gone to dance and I... yes, I remembered that girl who looked totally cool and she... she'd kissed me. Why? I remembered myself thinking she must have been drunk. That was it! It was after that kiss that I'd felt this ravenous sexual hunger, sensed that kiss-crazy animal stir inside me. I'd love to know why? Could I be gay, maybe? What if that girl had sort of, what did they call it, enlightened me? Still it didn't add up. Had I been gay, I wouldn't have spent all morning chasing men at school, I'd have simply started making advances to Liz there and then.

No, it couldn't have been that.

I yawned. It was only midday. I couldn't believe how tired I was. The incredible energy that had filled me that morning was now gone. My body felt heavy and unyielding. Should I take a nap, maybe? You never know, I might wake up, forget all about it and finally be able to concentrate on the reason for my being here: my studies. Liz would be back by then, I'd borrow her notes and apologize, we'd kiss and make up... and no more clubs, at least till the end of the year! Nothing at all but quiet campus evenings poring over books!

My cell rang. I startled. What now?

I didn't recognize the number. I didn't want to take the call at first but then I thought, it might throw some light on my weird behavior. Or even explain something? So I picked it up.

"Is that you, babe?" the voice was soft and velvety, very imposing.

"And you are..." I answered carefully. I'd never in my life heard that voice before.

"My angel! My goddess!"

I took the phone from my ear, away from all the ridiculous compliments. Dammit. So Jack, whoever he was, hadn't been the only one.

"My precious, my only one, do tell me when I can see you again," the stranger intoned as if reciting a theater part. "You promised me the world, remember? You left me this number so now I'm calling you as promised, my angel. I'm on fire."

Whew. Finally some good news. Apparently, I'd somehow managed to confine my appetites to Jack, whoever he was, leaving this one on the back burner.

"And?" the phone demanded. "When? Where?"

"Sorry, you've got the wrong number," I said.

"No, no, no, babe, this is your voice and no mistake!"

Very well, then. He asked for it.

"Young man," I said in a stern voice, "what kind of conversation is this? I'm fifty-nine years old and forced to listen to your solicitations! Now excuse me, I need to put my grandson to bed. You can come if you wish; in fact, I'd appreciate if you could pick up a pack of diapers on your way in size three. Oh, and two pots of baby formula. And would it be too much to ask you to also get him a new bib?"

The phone fell silent. After a hesitant pause, the speaker hung up. Joylessly I stared at the cell in my hand. What could this all mean? What was causing my sexual appetite to go off the scale? I'd never been like this! I couldn't remember myself ever running after men like a cat on heat! Who else had I given my number to? Only the number, hopefully — not the actual address...

I couldn't think straight any more. I switched the cell off — no more phone calls for me! — and crawled into bed. It was hard and creaky but I drifted off without even noticing it.

The awakening was horrible. The hungry beast had returned. My lower belly was on fire.

It was already late, the yellow lamplights dispelling the dark outside. Liz sat at her desk, busy writing in her notebook. Had it been me, I would have apologized to her straight away, the moment was perfect. But the problem was, I didn't decide anything anymore! My place in my body had already been taken by the same weird force that had been controlling me that morning and the night before. I could only watch, helplessly, from the outskirts of my mind as the other me, horny and needy, jumped off the bed and began retouching her makeup, ignoring my roommate who was casting bloodthirsty glances at me, making it perfectly clear she might consider forgiving me if I took the trouble of explaining my behavior.

Problem was, I — the other I — couldn't have cared less about her feelings, be they anger or otherwise. I couldn't have cared less about any possible repercussions of what had happened earlier. I was driven by my craving. I had only one need — the need of a man. Preferably strong and juicy.

The 'other me' took my best skirt out of the wardrobe — a demure knee-length pencil piece that Mom had wanted me to wear for special academic occasions. I pinched the fabric and ripped through the hem, tearing the lower half off.

Liz — who watched my every move — gasped. I tried the resulting scrap of fabric on. Perfect. The hem fringed, barely covering my backside. Now a clinging T-shirt with a deep cleavage and a nice pair of heels. Time to go hunting some more game — which was running toward me only too impatient to get caught.

5

The other me was hungry. And she wasn't going for second best. She wasn't interested in what I (or her?) mentally called 'male junk': all those young students and other slobs: henpecked husbands, alcoholics and junkies, all sorts of nerds and miscellaneous losers poor on energy. You needed at least several of those to make a good meal which meant one night might not be enough. What the other me needed was a mature man: decisive and confident, generous and strong. So this 'other me' kept wriggling my body, surrounded by a crowd of drooling youngsters in the center of the dance floor while her eye scanned the club. If she didn't find anyone, I'd have to go somewhere else — and I only knew two or three clubs in the whole of Manhattan. Actually, "knew' was an overstatement: I had simply noticed their neon signs on my way to school.

I was in luck, though. A man wearing an Indiana Jones-type fedora hat was standing at the bar drinking whiskey on the rocks. The energy coming from him was just too powerful.

The next moment I found myself standing next to him. "Hi. What's a nice guy like you doing with a body like that?"

He turned his head in my direction, casting me an appraising look. I heaved my breasts, sensing his stare.

He gave me an unhurried smile. "Do you really want to know?"

He was good. In the flickering lights I could just make out his large symmetrical face — and a cunning glint in his eye. His smile was mind-boggling, sexy and charismatic, very attractive.

"Dance?" he asked. Reaching out to touch the locket on my chest, he brushed, as if accidentally, the skin of my low cleavage.

He had to be here seeking the same thing as I was. Looking for a partner. All inhibitions flew out of the window — there we were in the middle of the dance floor, our bodies so close as the lights kept strobing, revealing in snapshots his amazing half-smile, his warm eyes, his cheekbones. I was dying to cling to his lips but even with my heels he was way too tall. And whenever he bent down to brush my face with his lips or trace my neck with his tongue, I tried to reach for his lips but every time his sensual mouth evaded mine. He laughed in my ear, his tongue tickling my skin; I was on fire, I couldn't care less about all those people around us.

I was about to jump on top of him there and then when he said, "Let's go to my place."

This wasn't an invitation — it was a command. No doubt in my mind: yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

We left. Later, I couldn't remember either his car nor the address: the place seemed vaguely familiar which was the only reason I noticed it at all. In the car, my arms were around him while he laughed, driving with one hand while using the other to force my hands away, simultaneously stroking my hair, my shoulders, my neck. Faster!

In the elevator we fell into each other's arms and didn't let go on the landing as he fumbled for the keys and unlocked the door. Intertwined like a multi-armed Indian god, we stumbled into his dark apartment.

A screaming cat burst from under our feet. With a startle, we broke apart. He turned on the light. I saw an enormous fat cat sitting on the cap stand, indignation in his squinted stare. We looked at each other and laughed.

"Tea, coffee? Or something stronger?" he asked when we finally caught our breath.

"Just you," the hungry beast inside me said firmly.

He smiled. Groaning with desire, I jumped onto him. His strong hands grasped me, raising me in the air. I straddled him, drinking his warm, soft, promising lips, the inner fire consuming me, enveloping me, drowning out the voice of reason. The other me saw nothing but him, smelled nothing but the heady scent of his skin that tasted salty on my tongue. Blood pulsated in my temples; my heart thundered inside me. The other me was oblivious to everything around her — so neither did I notice us sinking our lips into each other's flesh, biting rather than kissing. Our groans and heavy breathing echoed like celestial music in our ears, a symphony of passion, the background theme to the story of our arousal.

Miaow, the cat watched us from the doorway. The other me didn't see him, too busy drinking the man's breath. It was the real me — some distant corner of my consciousness — that had noticed the cat and his strange behavior. Arching his back, the animal tensed up, watching me with those shiny eyes of his. It was probably this weird little detail that drew my attention to all the others: the smotheringly heavy odor of frankincense and some strange-looking antique bronze braziers positioned on the carpet around the bed, smoldering with herbs. The heavy perfume surrounded us, shielding us from the world, enveloping the other me and her man.

My head went round with the aroma that sent me deeper into the sea of passion spreading over my entire body. The other me groaned louder, clinging harder to the man who kept evading her clutches, laughing, while I struggled to stay focused on his strange lodgings. What were those bunches of herbs drying under the ceiling? I'd seen something similar in Gran's house, but that was different: she used to be a herbal doctor who knew a lot about folk medicine. But why here? And why the candles next to the braziers?

I was desperate. Hunger had taken the better of me. In one smooth motion, I ripped his T-shirt in two. He stood before me, bare-chested and perfect like a Greek god: his muscles, his six-pack, his wonderfully fit body. My mouth filled with saliva.

Looking me straight in the eye, he cupped my face, bringing his mouth close. I couldn't wait, clinging to his yielding lips. He answered my kiss energetically, his tongue parting my lips and entwining with mine. Then he jerked it back hard.

Something jumped off the tip of my tongue, exiting me like a cannonball. It felt like being shoved in the chest. I collapsed onto my backside — or rather, onto my hands I'd stuck out just in time to soften my fall. The chain on my neck broke, the locket clanging onto the floor next to me.

The cat hissed, the hackles on his neck rising, his tail bristling like a toilet brush. I saw a naked creature hovering in the air at eyes' level. Shamelessly naked she was, translucent and so bodyliciously beautiful you could die of envy on the spot. I could see the room right through her which spoiled the impression a little.

Her transparency was of a rather liquid nature — not like an airy fog or something. Also, she was almost concealed by the thick fumes coming from the braziers. The creature thrashed about between them — and then I realized that all those antique objects and candles weren't placed in disarray — on the contrary, they formed a pattern — a pentagram. A protective circuit.

The creature soared to the ceiling where the frankincense fumes were even thicker. She turned her face to us, her beautiful features distorted by fury. Her upper lip rose, revealing sharp fangs. She flashed, becoming thicker and more material, even though still translucent. Lashing out with the dangerous-looking claws on her crooked fingers, she went for us.

We stood by the bed — or rather, he did while I was still sitting on my backside on the floor. He reached under the quilt and produced what looked like a noose woven with some unknown fibers. A noose? What's he gonna do with that?

A loud snapping sound battered my eardrums. The creature shrank back. Then she turned round and, grinning predatorily, went for me.

Mechanically, I raised my hand still clenching the torn locket chain. The locket landed on the ethereal girl's head and broke in two, showering her with the herbal dust that had been contained inside it all those years.

Where the locket had touched the creature's translucent head, reality parted, sending circles of shimmering waves around the room. They went through the walls, dying in the depths of space.

I cried out in surprise. The man gasped as the waves died away. The transparent woman screamed out in rage and confusion and disappeared in a spray of droplets.

She was gone.

Like, totally.

As if she'd never existed.

I felt something deep inside of me answering an unknown call; some part of me that I'd never sensed before — no, not so. I'd had a similar feeling several years ago when Grandma had hung the locket around my neck. It felt as if my blood was boiling, filling my entire body with liquid fire, about to pour out and destroy everything around me.

Then the feeling was gone.

"So!" I heard the man's voice, rich and deep. He helped me to my feet. "You've just exorcised a demon!"

I shook my head, trying to come round. It didn't help much. I felt intoxicated with all the frankincense, and the strong male arms around me were so warm, hugging me so tight. A spasm ran over my body.

"I just can't believe it!" he went on. "Does that mean that you really are... I could have expected anything but that! And what's that locket you were wearing?"

I didn't answer. I felt embarrassed. "I don't even know your name," I mumbled.

Nothing like that had ever, ever happened to me before!

"My parents thought that Cesar was a cute name," he tilted his head to one side, studying me. "I'm sure you'd like to know what has just happened."

My conscious mind had finally raised its confused head. "Like? I'm dying to finally receive some explanation."

Cesar smiled. He was too handsome — and he knew it, too — and still he didn't have any of those cool airs and graces. He was open and friendly which immediately won me over.

"You were possessed by a succubus. Ever heard of them?"

I felt I was blushing. "Suck-a-what?"

"Think it's funny?"

"Why?"

He chuckled and ran his fingers through my hair. "If you knew a bit more about them, you wouldn't be so nonchalant. They are well and truly dangerous. That one was a succubus, a female demon. An incubus is a male and it hunts men in order to possess them. Both suck their prey dry. But the host suffers too. If a succubus uses you long enough, you can become a cripple, both mentally and emotionally. If you think about it, the demon suppresses your personality. So when he or she finally leaves your body, you're not there anymore — a mere shadow of what you once were."

"Please don't," I shuddered. "Are there many of them around?"

"Depends on the era. Hey listen, are you sure you've never... I mean, it's all a bit weird. And your eyes..."

"What now? What's wrong with my eyes?"

"Nothing, it's just when you hit her with that locket of yours, I thought I saw a glint in your eye, very unusual. But if you say-" he took me by the chin and turned my face to him, looking into my eyes. Squinting, he turned my head slightly this way and that.

"Enough," I removed his hand and crawled away. "What's wrong?"

"Had to be my imagination," he murmured. "There's nothing wrong with you, don't worry. On the contrary," he paused, considering something. "I'll only be a moment."

He walked out. I remembered the strange phrase the girl had said in the bar before she'd kissed me. Actually, it hadn't been the girl speaking but the demoness whom I'd disembodied by striking her with my locket. I should really pick up the pieces and try to glue it back together later. What had that succubus bitch meant when she spoke? She'd said something about blood. But demons weren't the same as vampires, were they? If I understood Cesar's explanations correctly, none of it had to do with blood. She also mentioned a funny word... was it Barbados? No, that's an island or something, isn't it? Babas? Sounded a bit like it. Could be a city. Or a name.

I crouched next to the broken locket. It had split in two from the impact with the demoness' ethereal head. So much for it being metal! Or could it be that demons' atomic structure allowed certain objects to affect them? When that succubus bitch had become furious, it looked as if she'd moved to a new, more material level. Could it be that these moments made her more vulnerable to physical exposure?

Cesar came back. He'd changed his clothes. "Have you thought of some more questions? Would you like to know who I am and how come I know all this stuff?"

"Er, well, you seem to know a lot about demons. And you managed to trap this succubus creature and free me of her. All these candles and pentagrams... you must be a demon hunter."

He made a helpless gesture. "Exactly."

"What?" I jumped up, the sheet sliding off me. "I was only joking! I... I simply ventured a guess."

"A good guess, then," he grinned.

"But... how did you find me?"

He shrugged. "I didn't. You did."

"But I've never-"

He raised his hand, motioning me to stop. "You didn't. But the demon within you was drawn to me. A hunter's aura has a distinctive footprint, allowing demons to track us. They consider us a better meal than normal people," he suppressed a smirk. "So they seek us out instinctively, without even knowing it. Now I'm going to ask you something that's very important. What was there in that locket of yours? How exactly did you disembody her? You can't have been doing it for long. I could see how surprised you were when the demon had left you."

"Surprised? I'm still in shock from it all. That's probably why I'm so calm talking to you now, otherwise I'd be screaming and bashing my head against the wall."

My knees were shaking. I perched myself up on the edge of the bed. "I don't even know how it all happened. I've no idea what I've done. The locket was a gift from my Grandma. She gave it to me before her death. I didn't even know there was something inside it. Just some dry herbs..."

Cesar shook his head in disbelief. "Tell me about yourself. I need to understand. Where are you from?"

I gave him the name of the town where I used to live with my mom and stepdad. That is, before I'd moved to NYC.

"How about your biological father?" Cesar asked.

"He died a long time ago," I said. "I was seven."

"Okay. And the locket?"

"As I said, Gran gave it to me before she died. Mom used to send me to stay with her a lot while she was busy sorting out her life... I mean when she'd met my stepdad."

"Your grandma was a witch," Cesar announced.

"No, she wasn't! She was a herbal doctor, sort of. You know, the kind that treat people in villages."

"If she wanted you to have the locket, in principle it could mean only one thing: she knew of your ability. She sensed it and wanted to protect you from the succubus. Which means she knew all about them, too."

"But she never told me about-"

"I'm not even sure she'd ever heard the words — succubus and incubus. But I don't doubt that she knew about the existence of beings of the Dark and knew what they could do to humans. What a shame that she died. I'd have loved to have had a word with her about this locket and the herbs she put in it."

"Beings of the Dark," I repeated, feeling tired of it all.

"Exactly. Some call them Beings of the Many Colored Auras."

"Why?"

"Well," he paused, thinking, "an experienced hunter can always tell the nature of a demon by the hue of its aura. The lower demons have very basic block-colored auras but the higher ones all have their own hue or shade, about fifty in total. Each element, each branch of magic has its own color. They're all listed in the Spectrum."

I placed the broken chain on the bed. "I've got to be on my way."

"Suit yourself. What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a psychology student... freshman."

"Do you have a name, freshman?"

We exchanged glances and laughed.

"I'm Allison."

"Nice meeting you, Allison. Oh, and one more thing. I don't think you were meant to be a psychology student. You may not believe me now, but I have no doubt in my mind you are meant to be a demon hunter."

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