Incubus

Giorgio, professional incubus and part-time vampire, looked at his prey with revulsion - she was just so horribly pretty! As if that weren't bad enough she was a nun, and although he suspected she wasn't quite as devout and virtuous as nuns are supposed to be she was still pious enough to leave a nauseous after-taste, a bit like garlic chicken.

`Have another glass,' he cajoled, fixing her with his most seductive eyes and pouring the Beaujolais. When it came to flavouring blood with wine, Giorgio - `Gorgeous' to his foul-weather friends - was accounted an expert.

Eyes twinkling like the crystal glass in her hand, Sister Anne giggled. `I really shouldn't.' Giorgio shuddered, wishing that at least she didn't have so many freckles.

He smiled at her. `There's only a little left and it would be such a pity to waste it. I'd join you but I have to drive...' And that wasn't all he had to do yet - it would be hard enough getting it up as it was. He was really beginning to regret the ten percent discount he had offered his client.

Giorgio had not been very astute, dazzled as he had been by his client's brutish demeanor, the way he oozed menace, the purple Paisley T-shirt, and the ugly red scar that demanded attention. It had taken all Giorgio's strength of mind not to kneel before this god of intimidation and beg to be whipped - though he was beginning now to regret that stubbornness as well. Sometimes dignity had too high a price.

`Oh, Darkness! Darkness!' Giorgio had cried, `How may I serve thee? What lustful misdeeds do you desire of me?'

With masterful clumsiness, the client toppled into a chair and intensified the threatening glare that Giorgio felt even through the mirrored sunglasses. For a good ten minutes the client sat glowering at Giorgio, picking occasionally at his large, broken nose, until Giorgio was ready to weep tears of admiration.

Then at last the client spoke, and it was a hissing, gurgling voice that simply thrilled Giorgio. `I have decided to have a child,' he said.

`Let me say, sir,' Giorgio interrupted, `that no woman could bear to touch you. Ugly though you are - and may I say, sir, that you are truly the ugliest man I have had the honour to meet - women have no sense and no taste when it comes to such matters.'

The client grunted and scowled with what could only be satisfaction, and Giorgio glowed with happiness.

`Let me say also that I would be proud to offer you my services in this matter at a specially reduced rate. Just let me know who the mother is and, provided of course she is not already pregnant, I shall impregnate her within one month.'

The client grinned toothlessly and grasped Giorgio's out-stretched hand in a vice-like grip. `Excellent,' he sneered. `Here are her details,' and he handed over a crumpled manilla folder.

Giorgio smiled in delight, unaware of the unpleasant surprise contained within. `One last thing, sir. I will of course need some sperm, so if you could arrange something with my secretary on the way out. She's the one in the blue miniskirt.'

So that was how it started.

Giorgio stared sullenly at Sister Anne's back as he followed her into her apartment. The pristine condition of the flat further disheartened him, dispelling his last hope that at least she would be wearing fish-net stockings under her habit.

Some incubi took the expedient approach of knocking their victims out. Giorgio preferred the consentual approach, partly because it avoided all sorts of problems with the law but mainly because he liked to drink their blood and that was stupid if the victim's blood was full of Rohypnol, or whatever, and although he was not averse to a bit of violence now and then Giorgio preferred to be the recipient. Pain excited him. Besides, he liked to corrupt his prey a little - the more corrupt the soul, the tastier the blood; in Giorgio's experience there was nothing quite so good as a wealthy banker whose rich blood stewed in the juice of avarice.

The drunken nun tripped over her habit and broke into hysterical laughter. Giorgio lifted her to her feet and she fell against him, gave him a big, slurping kiss. `Oh, Giorgio, Giorgio! How handsome you are!' She reached down to unbutton her clothing, and Giorgio began to panic. How was he supposed to perform? He had no desire for the nun. She was far too pretty and sweet. It was impossible. Was this the end of his career?

But when her habit fell to the floor he smiled. She wasn't wearing fish-net stockings, no. In fact, she wasn't wearing any underwear at all.

How delightful, thought Giorgio.