It’s all that she can think about; the memories of that night after the carnival are redolent, like spider webs and herb. Nothing had tasted so good
His name was Eliott White and he won her a black unicorn that she promptly christened Stabbty and kissed him soundly in thanks. He was giddy afterwards, when she walked home in the dark with him, stopping here and there to kiss and let their hands roam.
Remembering his touch keeps her awake reliving the experience of him warm at her side, inside her, over and over. Her hand tingles with a needly sting and it is almost the same warmth as holding his. She knew that he was thinking the same thing; she felt it when he held her tight against him, and then pulled her into the tall grass beside the path.
His, her, hands. Lips, skin raised, warm, then warmer. The verdure hid their rendezvous and the scattering night birds frightened calls hid her peals of pleasure, not that she made any effort to conceal them. Eliott joined his grunts to her softening coos and they filled the air while he filled her emptness with him until she could bear it no more THEN bore him further into her convulsing and shivering wetness.
Groaning and speaking in tongues, Eliott jittered as she sighed. She really did mourn when he died; his sweetness gone when she rolled him aside, giggling while she sobbed. The demon inside her spat the mangled tissue away with a muffled moan and a lustful smacking noise that turned her stomach. Bit the fragrance of his barely scratched soul was more than she could bear
Later, after her meal, after a joint and in the shower, she thought as she rinsed, “every night is a one-night-stand.” The soap made her lady bits slick and the demon swirled its nail studded tongue around her soapy fingers as thought to ask for more. Shrugging, she let the pink tinged suds drains away with a smile, “I guess I can’t complain – At least I’m getting laid.”