He saw an old Victorian style house with a large porch that looked like it might wrap around the entire house. All of the houses on this street were probably over a hundred years old. He knew instinctively that this was his destination. Matt’s shoes turned left and stopped at the front door. Now, what? Before he could act, the door opened. Matt stood face to face with a beautiful woman.
She was thirty, maybe thirty-five. Long red hair cascaded across her shoulders and over breasts that were, to Matt’s young and ever horny mind, perfect. She was dressed in a see through, white negligee and despite his situation, despite his lingering fear, Matt felt himself becoming aroused.
He’d seen hundreds of women like this before in magazines, but never in the flesh. The cheerleader of his most recent fantasy was nothing in comparison. Older women make beautiful lovers. Where did that come from? Matt hadn’t a clue but he didn’t doubt it.
She lifted Matt’s chin; he felt guilty for looking lower than her eyes. Her inviting smile instantly relieved Matt’s anxiety and he felt himself smiling in return. Looking down she said, “I see you found the shoes. How lovely. Please, come in.”
Matt stepped forward only to be stopped by her hand, flat against his chest. “In the tradition of Japan where I spent many, many wonderful years; please remove the sneakers.”
Matt flushed and stammered, “I – I can’t take them off. I tried, but --.”
Her laugh caused his heart to pump faster. Without a word she bent down and quickly removed the black converse sneakers. She stood again and took him by the hand.
Matt followed her down a wide hallway adorned with expensive Asian antiques. The sweet aroma of cinnamon relaxed him more with every passing second. She turned into a bedroom, whirled and kissed Matt in a way he imagined only porno stars were capable. Her hand slid into his pocket and whispered, “My name is Na’ameh.”
Matt could only nod his head. Na’ameh removed her hand and un-crumpled the note. Put these on for the ride of your life. “Is this what you came for?”
If Matt noticed the difference in the words on the note, he gave no sign; so lost was he in this magical woman’s charms, he could only nod his head.
Na’ameh’s laugh was light and melodious. “I’m a woman in need.” She kissed Matt again before saying, “Do you know what I am in need of?”
Matt thought he did and took the initiative. He pulled Na’ameh to him in a kiss. Within minutes, Matt laid naked, spread-eagle on a king size bed as Na’ameh straddled his belly. She leaned forward and whispered against Matt’s lips, “I suppose, technically, I’ll be the one having the ride of my life. But we have to do things my way.” Matt nodded toward his jeans. “There’s a condom in my pocket.”
She giggled, “You’re so cute. Worried about protection?” She moved forward and sucked his eager tongue into her mouth. Without waiting for his verbal consent she moved up, took his right hand and secured it to the bedpost.
Her sex was right over Matt’s face; he couldn’t resist kissing and licking as she tied his hands. Na’ameh moaned her approval and Matt was far beyond rational thought as his little head took complete control of the larger one.
Na’ameh slid back down Matt’s body until her face was above his rampant penis. She licked. Matt shivered. She licked again and Matt thrust his hips up. She took him into her mouth and pushed until half of his manhood had disappeared. She released him and laughed. She took him in hand and stroked.
Matt moaned anew as Na’ameh took him again and voraciously sucked. His temples pulsed and dizziness fogged his thoughts. He’d never felt this way before.
But something was wrong. Matt suddenly felt sick to his stomach as ecstasy exploded into agony. He looked down and screamed.
Na’ameh’s red hair had turned gray and wispy, the liver spots on her scalp clearly visible as her head bobbed. Now an old, decrepit hag, she grinned, her decayed teeth holding his member in place.
Matt saw her lower back and buttocks - pale, dirty skin blotched with open, running sores. The bed felt soggy and stank of mold. He pulled at his constraints and kicked his legs, anything to get this monster off of him.
Matt felt himself getting weaker. He thought he could actually feel his life force being drained, sucked from his body through his penis. Darkness engulfed his consciousness.
Matt opened his eyes to see Na’ameh as beautiful as when he’d first seen her. Unable to move anything but his eyes, he watched her kiss him, though he didn’t feel it. As best he could see, his body looked skeletal with only a thin layer of skin. No muscle. No body fat; only skin and bones.
Na’ameh hummed a tune while she worked. She pushed his knees into his chest, pulled his arms across his shins, crossed his wrists and tied them together with a red ribbon. Then she bent and placed Matt into an oversized shoebox – Converse, if he wasn’t mistaken.
Matt blinked. She wiped a single tear from her eye and sadly smiled, “I am a succubus, my love. Thanks to you, I will live another hundred years and you will always be with me. Goodbye, my love.”
Matt watched the box lid descend and close.
Now, there was only darkness and the scrape of cardboard against wood as Na’ameh pushed his coffin under the bed to join ten identical boxes already there.
