Short Story
                          Femme  Fatale
                                                 By Sarah Lipton

 Seagulls wailed.  The ocean boomed towards the shore.  A  naked  body,  
faced exposed to the charcoal sky,  lay on the sand.  The  body, that of a
man, was  lacerated.  He had ginger hair.  He did not breathe.

 Nightfall  arrived  again.  Wolves   howled.   A  woman awoke from her
slumber.  Her black  hair cascaded  to her shoulders and her brown eyes
were luminous.   She floated outside.   The forest was her  destination.   She
saw wolves tearing at chicken flesh and she ate a morsel of  the meat then  
hid behind  a tree.

 She glared at a lodge about two hundred yards before her.  The small
window had no curtain.  A candle flickered on  the windowsill.  A  figure
appeared  at the window;  he was tall and muscular.

 She approached the lodge and knocked on the door.  The tall, muscular
man opened the door.

 “I’m sorry to disturb you,”  she said.  “I’ve lost my way.”

 “Come in,”  he replied.

 She entered the lodge.  His eyes inspected her, starting with her shoes,
three inch black, leather stilettos.  Then he looked at her black, fishnet
tights.  However, his eyes  were transfixed by her black dress which clung to
every curve of her body.  Large bosoms were partially exposed as the dress
was low cut.

 “There won’t be any more buses now.  The next one’s not  ‘til  nine in the
morning, so stay the night,”

 “That’s very kind of you.  I hope I’m not imposing.”

 “Not at all.  Would  you like something to eat?  I’m  just going to put on some
chicken broth.  If you don’t want that, I can do you something else.”

 “Chicken  broth is fine,”  she answered.

 While he was in the kitchen,  she removed her dress and fishnet tights.  
When he returned with the soup,  he almost dropped the tray.  She stood up
and walked towards the dining table.  Her bosoms were firm melons,  her legs
were long and shapely;  they supported an hourglass figure.

 “I have to go to the bathroom,”  he said.

 “Is it really necessary?”

 He blushed.

 “Sit down,”   she  said.

 He obeyed.  She stood behind him and massaged his head, pressing her
breasts into the nape of his neck.  He groaned.  Next, his broad shoulders
received her soft hands.

 “Lie on your back.”

 He obeyed.  She massaged his chest, shoulders, arms and strong legs.  
Suddenly, she stopped.

 “Please continue,”  he pleaded.

 She looked at her watch, timing every minute.  Five minutes later, she
performed a seductive dance.   The candlelight made her hair glimmer.  Her
gold jewellery sparkled in the semi-darkness.  He felt flattered to have met
such a lady.  He played  a cassette of love songs and they danced for a short
while.  Then they lay down on the rug.  He put his arms around  her waist.  
She kissed his neck.  He moaned and cuddled her.

 “Ow, ow!”  he shrieked.

 He felt her teeth enter the side of his neck like daggers.


 She howled.  Her nails tore at his skin until it was sore.  Blood gushed from
the wounds.  She tasted his blood which flowed like a river.

 It was approaching dawn.  She spun round and was transformed into a huge
raven.  The bird took the man between its beak and fluttered from the lodge,
above the woods, to the sea.  It opened its beak.  A naked man with ginger
hair fell into the ocean.

 When she arrived home, she transformed to human form.  She felt
satisfied.  She opened the coffin.  When nightfall arrives again she will awake
from her slumber.

Sarah Lipton is an upcoming author looking to get her work out to as
many people as possible.  To read more about her, her author website
is: and her author page is amazon.
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