She felt as if an electric shock coursed through her. Finally her memory flooded back to her and she tried to back away from the man. This can't be, she thought. It can't be him. I was about to have sex with him. This can't be happening. Then she felt a hand touching her, and one word screamed in her mind. NO!!! The Half-Lilin Chapter 5 by Shin Eris

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From last chapter:

 

 
Chapter 5
 

She soared high above the city. Looking down, she saw rows and rows of light, each formed from individual lights, moving from one rows of light to the other. She had always liked watching those lights, it was so pretty and from above, it looks like twinkling glass. She shook in amazement at how the human world never seemed to sleep and wondered how this would complicate her feeding.

Then she felt something pulling her. It was very gentle; it didn't even feel like a tug. It was as if she was being persuaded to move. Move she did, as she spread her wings as far as it can and swoop in towards the origin of the pull.

She came upon a neighbourhood near a tranquil lake. As sudden as it appeared, the pull suddenly vanished. She started to panic as the connection got severed and tried flying around low trying to catch the source. It didn't even cross her mind to cast an assimilation or camouflage spell to cover herself. She was simply too preoccupied with resuming the link.

After half an hour of searching, she caught on to a thin tendril of thought. After analyzing its composition, she decided that it was the same one as the one that pulled her there. Slowly following the link, she finally came upon an average-looking suburban house. The grass was neatly trimmed, but there were neither flowers nor any ornamental plants around the yard.

She walked up to the front door, put her index finger on the doorknob and smoothly turned her finger clockwise. The door emitted a soft 'click' sound as she turned the knob and entered the house. It was very dark in the house, though being a very capable demoness, the darkness had absolutely no effect on her sight.

She proceeded up the stairs to a particular room. This door was not locked. Slowly, she turned the knob and entered, heading straight to the sleeping man on the bed.

Mmm, he looks strong, he'll fill me up for sure, she thought.

She gently got onto the bed, dissolving any skimpy clothing she had on. Her large bat like wings furled behind her, her tail dancing madly with anticipation. She pushed her long blood-red hair back as she lowered her head and licked his neck.

Realising that she liked his taste, she pulled down the blanket rubbing his broad chest as it became exposed. She nuzzled on his chest, his neck and his face. She decided that he not only tasted nice, he smelled nice and he felt nice too. She wondered if his flesh and blood would taste just as nice.

As she kissed and licked his collarbone, enjoying his taste, she felt his manhood coming alive. She giggled as she rubbed her wet mound on his briefs-covered erection. Feeling like teasing him a bit, she dry humped his crotch, feeling it grew in the tight constrains. He groaned a bit, as they all did when she teased them.

Then she raised her head and kissed him on the lips. Her tongue busy exploring his mouth, licking all around his tongue, going all the way to the back. Suddenly his eyes opened and he became very much awake.

He pushed her up, releasing her liplock with his and his eyes got wide as he said. “Pat?”

She felt as if an electric shock coursed through her. Finally her memory flooded back to her and she tried to back away from the man.

This can't be, she thought. It can't be him. I was about to have sex with him. This can't be happening.

Then she felt a hand touching her, and one word screamed in her mind. NO!!!

-----

“Ouch! What the hell?”

My hands flew to my forehead as I opened my eyes quickly. I looked around, wondering just what the heck did my head hit. My eyes fell on the bedside cupboard to my right, and concluded that it was the culprit. Darn, I never knew that a plastic cupboard would hurt so bad.

It's time to get up though, I thought, it's workday today.

So with one hand on my forehead, I grabbed my towel, stripping myself with every step. It was another bad habit of mine to strip on the way to the bathroom. I never considered it a problem as I lived alone and I was able to restrain myself whenever guests were to come over. The fact that my late mom never found out about it simply proved that the habit was never a problem.

Soon as I entered the bathroom, I put the towel on the towel rack, turned on the water heater switch and turned the tap. It was also my habit to test the water first before I bathe. I really hate cold showers.

As I waited for the water to heat up, I brushed my teeth. I always considered brushing my teeth in the morning as a ritual and often took quite some time doing it. It was not that I enjoyed brushing the same spot over and over again, it was just that I felt fresher the longer I brush.

I glanced up to the wall clock, wondering how much time I'd have before it was time to go. I had put one up here the last time I overslept in my bathtub. That incident costed me a date and earnt me a slap when I met the girl the next day. Since then, I decided that I should always be able to see the time even while I was in the bathtub. As my eyes rested upon the hands of the clock, my eyes turned wide..

“Eight twenty! Damn, I'm already late!”

I jumped into the shower, not caring whether it was cold or hot. I was already late and cold shower was the least of my concern at the moment.

Boy, that was a really cold shower.

I rushed to my car at the basement parking lot, after having to go back to my apartment once because I forgot my wallet. My heart fell as I estimated the time it would take for me to navigate the traffic. It fell even lower as that the traffic didn't move much after 10 minutes.

This was going to be a very long morning, I thought.

I entered my cubicle slowly and silently. I guessed Mr Stuart probably already knew about me coming in late, but it was never my habit to flaunt my delinquency by apologizing every time I did something wrong. If Mr Stuart had a problem with my coming late, he could just call me to his office.

I booted up my computer and went to get myself a cup of coffee. I needed the caffein fix more than usual, since I didn't have time to make one at home this morning. Walking into the lounge, I came face to face with Roger Jinkle. He was one of the guys in charge of the company's servers. We got along fine normally. Sometimes I went to his office to check on system compatibility with my designs, sometimes he came to my desk to help me modify my designs to reduce load on the server. This morning though, he gave me this really curious look, as if he just saw a cat with three heads, three tails, twelve legs and sixteen wings. He walked past me and left through the door I came in from.

What was that about?

I filled my mug at the expresso machine. The taste was horrible, but that was the only way to get my daily caffein fix, so I couldn't really complain. It tasted even worse today though. I briefly wondered if coffee beans could go bad.

I was walking back to my cubicle when Carol Hurst, a lovely brunette from marketing commented on how she loved my hair and how it fitted me better than my previous hairstyle. I replied with a confused 'thank you'.

When did I changed my hairstyle?

The morning went by smoothly, I guessed Mr Stuart had too much things on his mind this morning that scolding me for coming in late was simply not something he decided on doing.

At eleven, a message popped up on my screen, “wana hav lunch together? sue”

I replied with, “Sure, but not too far, I got a lot of work today”.

“not far, just the cafe acros the street”.

“OK, see you there at 12?”

“yup, dont be late”.

“Patty! Over here,” came the voice of Sue Preston soon after I entered the cafe.

I turned around, spotting Sue sitting at the far corner of my right. She looked better than the last time I saw her, probably due to the fact that she appeared much sober this time.

“Geez, make it louder, would you? I don't think the people in Moscow heard you.”

She answered with a giggle.

“Well, you look giddy today. What's up?”

“Do I? Hehe, wanna try a guess?”

I had never been one who liked guessing games. I always thought that it was a silly pastime and a waste of time. Why couldn't people just tell it directly?

Unfortunately, Sue's giddiness was too infectious to ignore, “ OK, what will I get if I play the game?”

More giggles, “Play and I'll tell you”.

“Then I don't want to”.

Pouting and with a flutter of eyelashes, Sue pleaded, “Please, pretty please with cherry on top and whipped cream on the side?”

Darn, I'd need to track down her ex and find out how he managed to be immune from her charm. If my ex was this persuasive, I think I would've gotten two kids and a beautiful house in a friendly neighbourhood out in the suburbs by now.

“Fine, but lunch's on you,” I replied as I signalled the waitress.

“Oh poo! You're going to get half of it if you got it right.”

Half? This must be something monetary then.

“You got a promotion? Congratulations! Now how much do I get every month?”

“No, you ass! I'm not getting a promotion. Besides, you're not getting a cent of my wage even if the world ends.”

“Need I point out that if the world ends, your money would be worthless anyway?”

“Try again,” she said as she twirled her luxurious blonde locks around her finger.

“Black coffee and lunch special, please.”

“That's not a... oh!” she turned around, spotted the waitress and asked for cappucino and salad sandwich.

I'd never understood why women would torture themselves by only eating vegetables for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I suddenly had this image in my mind of women melting into slimes as they were fed beef stew and fried chicken.

Granted, Sue didn't always eat vegetables only, but still... anyway, it wasn't my problem in the first place. So I decided to do what I normally did, I kept my mouth shut.

“Your distant relative gave you a private jet as a christmas present?”

“Nooo, if they had a private jet, do you really think they'd give it to me?”

“What about a boat?”

“The only one who got a boat was my Uncle Robert, and he made it perfectly clear in one of our family reunions that he'd rather sink it himself than have anyone else touch the steering wheel of his beloved Santa Maria.”

“Aliens landed in your backyard.”

“No, silly.” Giggles.

At least I'm still funny.

“You won a year's supply of mackerel.”

“Would you be serious?”

“Why? Was it related to the death of a certain person?”

“No, but I think you would be thrilled to hear it.”

It was at this time that our orders arrived.

“Oh? What would I be thrilled about?” I asked as I sipped my coffee

“A vacation to Hawaii, of course,” she immediately covered her mouth with her dainty fingers, “Oops!”

“You're saying you want to take me to Hawaii?” I asked, incredulous.

“Yup! Won a trip for two to Honolulu. It's part of their Valentine's Day promotion.”

“Wow, I've always wanted to go to Hawaii, but my family never got the time and my ex was never really big on travelling. Since my mom passed away and since I broke up with my ex, a vacation had become the most distant thing in my mind.”

Her eyes soften, “You know, you've never talked about your mom.”

I looked at the black liquid in my cup, then raised my head and looked straight at her, “What's to talk about?” then I added with a venom, “The only person around here who knew about her was that jerk Chris in my department”.

She touched my hands with hers, then said in a soft voice, “I would like to be another person who knew about her. What was she like?”

I stared at her, wondering if she was just being friendly or if she really wanted to know, “She was a great mom. She was a wonderful cook and she was great with housework. When she was alive, she taught my sister the fine arts of 'seducing your man through housework'. She included me in one of those lessons once and I'd swore never to do that ever again. I'm sure it would be sexy if it was my mother or little sister doing it, but me, it would be too gay.”

The memories of that particular time made me shiver.

She looked visibly more interested, “Really? Would you by any chance teach me how to do that?”

“No friggin' way.”

Pouting, “Fine! What else was she good at?”

“She was good with sewing. When we were kids, mom used to make all kinds of costumes for us. If not because we donated most of those costumes, my closet would've been filled with costumes alone.”

I thought mentioning that particular time when she mixed up me and my sister's measurements and ended up making a male costume for her and female costume for me would be overkill. I ended up as Tinkerbell while my sister became Captain Hook. Shivers. Good thing there wasn't that much difference between boys and girls at that time.

“What about her cooking? What was her specialty?”

“She was good with Mediterranean cuisines, and her meals were often laced with spices. Me and my sister used to make a game out of guessing what meals she was cooking by the smell wafting through the corridor.”

“Was she an Italian or something?”

I laughed, “Nope, she was British. People could normally tell when she spoke. As far as I know, she had no Mediterranean blood at all”.

“You know, this reminds me. One of my cousins once went to France for the summer vacation. She came back sounding very French. She got quite a few boyfriends with that accent. When she went to college, she made this story about how she was raised in France and only recently returned. I guess men really dig foreigners.”

“Seriously? Haha, what a fake.”

“Yup, so how did she looked like?”

“How would I know? She's your cousin.”

“I mean your mom, dummy.”

“Oh, her. Well, she was a brunnette. She always appear neat and tidy and clean. She was very big on cleanliness and tidiness that I lost count how many times I got scolded per week for not tidying up my room.”

“Was she pretty?”

“I think the word to describe her would be beautiful. When I was growing up, my friends used to say that she ought to be a model or an actress. She seemed to have this inner glow that made her appear cheerful and approachable. Even on her last days at 46, her beauty could still rival most women ten or even fifteen years younger than her. She refused any treatment and had this really silly idea that no treatment in the world would be able to save her. We didn't mind though as we got to spend her last remaining days with her, doing the things we used to enjoy doing. For a while, everyone ignored work and school, living only for the moment.”

She handed me a tissue as I gratefully took it.

“Even dad became more friendly. We could see that she was visibly weaker, and we had to help her with everything. Dad even held her close to him as if he didn't want to let her go, and I suppose that might have been true. That was about the most intimacy that I've seen from dad since I went to college and the last act of intimacy since then.”

I paused, rubbing my eyes with the tissue. I seriously hoped that no one from my office saw me in this state. Chris would just love to make fun of this when he heard about it.

“At night, my sister would sit close to her as she watched TV and when they were alone, she would pour her heart out to her, telling mom about her life, her fears and what she wanted to do in the future. At first, my mom would reply, telling her not to worry and that she'd be fine. As her final days grew nearer, she couldn't even nod and her eyes glazed over. I half suspected that my sister was only talking to herself by that time. She died peacefully on her bed while my sister told her about her dream house and how much she would love to have mom in it. When my sister found out mom had died that night, she held on to mom and wouldn't let go. Only when I told her that she was hurting mom did she finally let go.”

It took quite some time for me to calm down and dry my eyes.

“So how are you feeling?”

Sniffling, I replied, “I guess at that time I was still in denial. I hoped that she wouldn't be gone forever, that she was just taking a vacation and will return one day,” I paused, “Thanks, Sue. This is the first time I actually cried since her death”.

She squeezed my hands, “It's okay to cry, you know. You've always held it in. When you're sad, cry. When you're happy, laugh. When you're angry, just beat the person up. The idea that men shouldn't cry is stupid. Using your own words, the person who made that rule should be caught, tied up, flogged, marched in front of a firing squad, shot with high calibre guns, and had the carcass dumped as dog food”.

I laughed at that.

We finished breakfast in silence.

When it was time to pay, she looked at me, and said, “That Chris Reynolds is quite a stud”.

“Oh God, Sue! I don't need to hear this!”

-----

As we entered the office, she turned to me and said, “I love the new look”.

I turned around, shouting, “What new look?”

Of course, she was no longer there.

The rest of the day was dull to say the least. I went to the washroom after Sue's remark and had a good look at myself.

It did look like my hair was longer than yesterday. More peculiar, it looked much healthier and more reddish than I had ever remembered. I wondered if someone made a prank of putting hair dye into my bottle of shampoo.

I sure looked better than usual though.

When I arrived home, I felt something nagging at me. It was the kind of feeling I got if I forgot something or something was missing. I wondered what it was.