Hours chase the warmth of a fading sun into early evening. The sun sets in the west as the moon rises in the east . . . longing lovers that will never meet. There's a woman leaving her home. Most nights she is alone, and this night is no exception. The click clack of heels beat a hurried pace on concrete with a slightly discernible scrape when her right hip dips in mild discomfort. Without wincing, she convinces herself and anyone watching that the dip is a sultry sway and she means to draw the world into the power of her hips. She's in the mood to be seen, though not committed to the idea of talking to others. Her dress wraps around her waist, with a heavy coat cinched tight enough to alter her breathing. She remembered the soft breathless voice of a curvy Marilyn Monroe, and imagined her grace and her flair as something she could possess or even borrow. She slips into the driver's seat of her luxury sedan and drives to a neighborhood that won't have small children or older adults.

The flow of traffic eases as the day fades into night. She's slipping between cars and feeling empowered by the ponies beneath her. She has the career she wants and the financial security to choose how she spends her time. In this moment she's content in the knowledge that dating is simply not a priority to her. She has more fun watching bad choices happen with total strangers from the space of her table for one. She knew she was attractive and had no problem turning heads with a smile, but it didn't interest her to take it further than friendly conversation that she would sometimes use to bait unsuspecting men into a verbal beat down. She enjoyed the idea that she wasn't always nice and she loved the shock it created in others.

She found herself at a bar where she could nurse her Vodka Martini and watch a life she didn't feel part of. She chose a table for two and nudged the chair she didn't sit at close enough for no one to sit with her.

She watched strangers become lovers on the crowded dance floor as drinks clinked and splashed. She watched hands on hips and tasting lips with an ass grab and upskirted hands snapping salacious cell phone memories. The hum of lust was in the air and it fascinated her and scared her all at once. In the flow of her curiosity, she wasn't able to experience what was approaching her.

It started innocently enough. He stood close enough that she had to lift her head up, straining her neck to see his face. She could smell the amber drink sweating through his pores. His slur was slight when he asked if he could buy her a drink. She tilted her head and offered a sardonic grin as she lifted up her full drink in a toast to his ignorance. He began to sit when she smiled and said, "you should walk away." She saw the challenge in his liquid courage and figured he would earn this one.

She rolled her neck and appreciated the pop of release in the stiffness she planned to sip away. He pulled the chair out as a brunette with soft curls took the seat and said, "You were supposed to wait for me, my love." She lifted a graceful hand toward the server across the room and he nearly tripped in rushing to take her order. Anna was grateful for the distraction of the stolen seat and her smile at her rescuer was genuine.

Brielle nodded to the lumbering man without a seat as if giving him permission to push her in and walk away. He was imagining two for the price of one and wanted to know what their tonsils felt like. He was so easy to read but she wasn't hungry. She touched the bare skin of his hand, slowly draining just enough of his energy to make him sway. Brielle smiled at the taste of him and said, "you should get home and get some rest." She forced just enough control on him that he nodded and believed it was his idea to turn in alone before midnight. The server arrived in his wake to take Brielle's white wine order on the house.

With the flow to the table slowing to just her and her welcome company, Anna sighed in relief. She slouched in her seat and said, "thank you," before popping a Spanish olive into her mouth. In her gratitude, she lost the careful look she cultivated and seemed to have lost a decade. Her tension slipped away as she fed quietly off of Brielle's energy.

Saying, "my pleasure, love," Brielle reached over to the pick holding a line of Anna's olives drowning in vermouth and vodka and bit one right off. The heat that flared in Anna's belly made her clench and release in ways she had never experienced before. She felt the flush up to the roots of her hair. She was so caught off guard that she gasped, not knowing a woman could affect her like that.

Brielle's smile was knowing as she sat back in her seat, breathing in Anna's energy but not taking it. She could feel the lonely nights and ebbing libido. She could feel the power and the boredom with life. She heard the call of Anna's soul from miles away and knew she needed to help her. She could sense the raw power that got her far in her career and her life. She could sense the blockage that forced her powers to cry for release. This poor woman probably had no idea who she was. Brielle knew the risk in freeing a power that could kill , . . a power that could take more than you want it to.

Brielle crossed her legs, exposing her calf and thigh through the slit in her minidress. She leaned forward and said, "I'm Brielle, who are you?" The compulsion was strong, but the lies blinding Anna was stronger. Somehow she was convinced she couldn't be a sexual being and the succubus across from her was starving.

Anna shifted uncomfortably, shifting her appreciative gaze from Brielle's legs, pulling her up short as she stammered out, "Anne, uh Anna. I'm Anna."

"Go on," said Brielle.

Anna couldn't help herself. She just started blathering on, starting with her favorite color and moving on to education, work ethic, favorite book and what she had for lunch while her boss was banging his assistant against their shared wall. As she winded down into talking about feeling cold thinking she had a tapeworm because she couldn't gain any weight . . . She was always hungry no matter how much she ate . . . Brielle sat up.

"Now Anna, who are you?" Brielle added more power to the command.

For the first time in years, Anna felt uncertainty. She felt that maybe she didn't know much of anything. She just explained so much of who she is and hearing it out loud suddenly made no sense to her. She looked at Brielle, hoping for an answer. When one failed to materialize, she said, "I have no idea who I am. I don't know my birth parents. I don't have siblings. I'm what I have done and right now that doesn't sound like much."

Brielle smiled like she just stumbled upon an orgy in the making. She leaned in to kiss Anna, first breathing in her essence, then tasting her lips. She liked the feel of her lips, so supple and so out of practice. For Brielle, kissing Anna was like teaching, something she had sworn off decades before. She deepened the kiss and as she reached out to touch her thigh, she began feeding Anna.

The lust that sparked in Anna surprised her until every ounce of control was lost to the pleasure she felt. Her body was humming with excitement and she didn't care that she was in the middle of a bar with a woman's hands all over her body. She didn't know a woman could feel so soft or that hairless legs on someone else could feel so smooth. She throws her head back as the pleasure coils and sparks within her. Anna's hands are roaming all over Brielle's body and the hunger she feels begins to swell and crest as they stand together, kissing and exploring. The two women grind their hips in unison with the pounding bass on the shitty sound system. They blended with the other bodies only they were giving off a soft glow. In the right light, it could look like the sheen of sweat but this was supernatural.

Anna broke away because the heat of what she felt was too much. Too hot. Too intense. Too beautiful. She had never felt so satisfied, but she also wanted more. The last time she felt any kind of passion was decades ago when she first fell in love. She was a teenager so broken by love, or what it felt like when that love went away. The tears started in her throat and she had to go. Suddenly the vodka was making each step take more concentration and she grabbed her coat off the back of her chair without looking at Brielle. She couldn't.

Brielle grabbed her wrist, pulled her sharply around. Painfully.

"Taste it again Anna. Taste the power of a succubus. I have a world of power to teach you," she said. This close in the dark, no one could see Brielle's hand snaking up Anna's dress, to take the prize they created on the dance floor. With a moan, Anna knew she'd follow Brielle anywhere.