INTERLUDE 11.5: Opportunities
Solomon Church was a man with a simple motto: Choosing opportunity over passion leads to passionate opportunities.
“Master,” Chastity announced, opening the door into the office and leaning in, giving Church an appreciated eyeful of creamy cleavage pushed up with a black leather corset. Her horned head bowed and wings and tail submissively subdued behind her, framing naked hips and thighs but for a simple lacy bit of underwear, continuing submissively, “Councilman Franklin requests an urgent meeting with you.”
Church scowled, wondering what the John was complaining about. This is going to ruin my day, Church thought, setting his pen down and shifting his massive eight feet and seven hundred pounds of muscle in the large chair as he adjusted his tan vest over a tailored white shirt and motioned with a blue, clawed hand to let the idiot in. In a disjointed show between his size and the room, Church closed a tiny ledger and carefully set aside his classic fountain pen filigreed in gold and platinum. Solomon hated computers, too many ways information can leak through them, all his employees using handwritten ledgers he kept locked in his safe each day.
Avoid calling the Councilman an idiot, Church reminded himself, adjusting his mouth and tusks into a more neutral expression, or as dull as his incubus visage would allow for delicate human sensibilities. He might only be an incumbent on his way out next election but he has enough power to make my life miserable.
Chastity bowed her head, violet hair spilling over her shoulder and moved to the side as a dumpy, obese and bald man in a tailored suit scuttled in, small pig eyes darting left and right while the obedient succubus closed the door softly behind him. Vernon Franklin possessed the unfortunate genetics of flop sweat and a bad comb-over, but the naturally gifted bureaucrat usually played it off with a white handkerchief, which he used to good effect as his eyes locked on Solomon’s. He was unhappy, anyone could see it.
“Do I look like I'm some kind of lowbrow dock worker who would settle for any common whore laying around?,” the Councilman asked, coming forward and leaning his sweaty hands on Solomon’s desk, “I sure must look like one because I was just treated like one. Do we or do we not have an arrangement?”
Church quashed the urge to feed the fat man his own genitals; Solomon’s desk was oversized even for his large frame, hand-carved from a dungeon ghost oak and one of his few extravagances, the overly broad and ornately carved furniture more precious to Church than family.
Nevertheless, Solomon Church knew the power of silence, books lining every wall while quality carpet muffled the rest. It was dim, too, no windows and only a single vintage Tiffany lamp flickering a rainbow of light on his demonic face. Shadows played upon thick lips, many gleaming tusks jutting out from his full mouth and whorled skin of multiple light and dark blue hues making him more devil than person. His immaculate clothing at odds with the rest of his towering self, the incubus was an imposing paragon of his Race. Church calmly glared back into the man’s eyes, normal muddy brown wavering against the ice blue on black of Church’s own gaze. Nothing else but Vernon’s indignant breathing and the soft hiss of the oil lamp sounded in the room, but Church paid an ungodly sum to make sure of that.
“Well?” the fat official asked, loosening his blue tie a bit in nervousness, maybe catching onto the tone of the room, “What are you going to do to fix this?”
“About what are you referring to?” Church’s voice resonated deeply, lacking the lisp commonly associated with incubi.
“About Diane!”
“What specifically are your concerns over Diane?” Church asked, confused. “She’s one of my top earners. I have never heard of any…unsatisfied customers. She is a true professional.”
“Then where is she? She was scheduled to come over to City Hall for me last night. Instead, your man Benedict sends me some second rate hooker, telling me Diane isn't available?”
Solomon said nothing, yet there was a visible heat rising off of him, the incubus’ rage a physical force as the empathic power inherent in his Race radiated off of him without his normal impeccable constraint. Church wouldn’t get up from his chair, but he nearly did as red hazed over his vision for a handful of seconds and he desperately tried to regain control. Franklin stepped back a few paces, terrified of the loss of discipline from the usually austere man.
Should have kept her on a tighter leash, Solomon thought, unlocking a large drawer in his desk and pulling out a black book filled with his small and precise handwriting. “Chastity?”
“Yes, Master,” the dutiful succubus stepped in, head bowed and clawed feet soundlessly gliding over the carpet. Church’s eyes drifted for a moment over her alabaster skin and luscious violet hair, but he forced himself to prioritize.
“Escort Mr. Franklin to Elegance’s rooms, tell her Mr. Franklin is to be given special treatment.” The Councilman smiled a little in lust, Elegance well known in certain circles. “Then bring me Benedict. No need to be gentle.”
“Yes, Master.” The greater succubus spread her mouth in a grin far too ample, triangular shark teeth reflecting the light of the lamp before she placed a hand on Vernon and led him out of the office. Church’s gaze lingered on his property as she walked away, her black wings spread provocatively behind her to allow the hint of white to peek through the shadows, the allure of hidden treasures more erotic than outright nudity. It was enough to finish him off.
Without a sound, with barely a twitch of his legs, the incubus came into the mouth of the succubus who was giving him head for the last twenty minutes. An orgasm, for him, remained a matter of control while it barely registered outwardly, a bodily function as his seed filled her mouth. The whore eagerly gulped as she continued to move her head back and forth along his meat. No, what brought the incubus satisfaction was the rush of power as he tore away at the stored Hunger of the succubus, devouring lust and pleasure of dozens of encounters, feeding his thaumatic vessel which was encompassed into a sea of passions with no end on the horizon of his soul. He trembled, tasting the depth of himself, and pushed his chair back, allowing the cramped succubus woman to crawl out.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Master?” The girl maintained her brown hair in a pixie cut, her red horns and wings bigger than was typical for her Race. She wore a tasseled bikini that emphasized a modest bust with bits of sheer red cloth hanging off her curved hips, the succubus probably taken from the Arabian Nights room earlier. Solomon tried to remember her name but forgot amid the hundreds of others at his call.
“Bring in the next one,” he said, running his hand against her cheek as if to show he cared for her.
She trembled at his touch, skipping out the door. In minutes, a kitsune walked in wearing a pink kimono, large fox ears bent downward as if to appear demure. Her two tails trailed behind and left a faint glow in their wake, tiny yellow motes floating around her. She was well trained and crawled under his desk without a word. By the time Chastity returned, it was as if nothing was any different.
Benedict was having a bad day. Generally, he was a man with a penchant to appear the gentleman while letting his inner need for dominance out in the back rooms. The shirtless man was currently blue in the face while he hung in the air from the tail of Chastity, deep claw marks oozing blood over his shirtless chest. The succubus whipped her tail around and slammed him to the ground, releasing her hold to allow him some gasping breaths as she placed her three-toed taloned foot on his chest, piercing his skin again and causing him to scream.
“Would you like a healing potion for those wounds, Benedict?” Solomon asked kindly, flipping through the pages of his ledger. “I'm sure Diane has a few in stock. If not, I'm sure she can brew one or two for you in no time.”
“I was going to tell you,” the man gasped, his throat raw, “but I wanted to get her back first. How hard is it to find a succubus? My boys are searching the city now.”
“Try again, but begin with why your tracking spell isn't working.”
“It just stopped, sometime Thursday night. When I realized it dissipated, I checked up on her. She finished a Jane and then she saw you right after. I got my stuff ready and prepared to recast the tracker in the morning, but as I finished, some cops came in and wanted to ask me questions. Nothing to it, it didn't take long and looks like I didn't know anything about their case. I finished the spell and went to Diane’s room but it was cleaned out. I immediately made some calls and all the buses, airports, car dealerships and rental places are looking for a redhead succubus. It hasn't been two days. Even if she walked, how far would she get?”
“Never mind for now you forgetting to bring this to me earlier.” Solomon turned another page, studying his notes. “Also, never mind you should know that before she joined my house, Diane lived with a Sergeant in the Boston PD. He obviously helped her depart and you should have found him first.” Motioning with a flick of his finger, Chastity nodded and hauled Benedict off the floor and propped him up. “Tell me, do you know what it costs to grind an alchemist to level ten?”
Benedict wasn't entirely lucid because of the pain, but he shook his head.
“Roughly four million dollars. Alchemy isn't a rare Class, the last census estimated there are over fifty million alchemists in the world. But it is one of the most cost-prohibitive to level, there are less than half a million of them over level ten and only six are over level twenty. Do you know how many of those fifty million alchemists possess the Specialization (Sex) Class Feature?”
Once again, Benedict shook his head, though he was beginning to perspire.
“Eleven. None of them except for Diane are as high as level eight, either. I've spent almost three million dollars on Diane to lift her from a level two to eight in two years. My investment paid off, Diane’s potions have saved me an estimated,” the incubus found the total in his ledger and read it, “$1,542,990.” Solomon closed the ledger and leaned forward, his eyes boring into the terrified Wizard and the heat of his emotions rising in the air behind him. “Last question. What do you think my projections are for the next five years on Diane alone?”
Benedict was frightened out of his mind, shivering and unable to speak.
“Over a billion dollars, maybe two billion. Five years after that she’ll make me more money than the GDP annually.” Solomon folded his hands as his his tone gained granite hardness. “So believe me when I say that Diane’s opportunity is greater than my passion for killing you.”
Flicking his eyes, Chastity nodded and picked the poor wizard up and dragged him out. When she returned, she still smiled her toothy grin while licking some blood off her fingers.
“See what you can find out about this Jane Diane serviced when the spell broke,” Solomon Church said as he pushed his chair back to let the kitsune out. “And send in the next girl.”