“Do you remember love?”

Craig Neilsen pulled a face as he reached the ground floor. That was the second time those words had drifted through his mind. From the office frontage, he could see the taxi waiting. His car was in the garage for service and now he was thinking that maybe he shouldn’t go home on this night.

October 31st could be considered an anniversary of sorts. To hell with that. He had never been that romantic. It was just another night. What happened a year ago to the very day was in the past. He was a free man, and already he knew exactly how he would spend the night.

Climbing into the taxi he gave the driver his home address. Outside the cab window he saw eerily dressed figures, in clown masks, wolf heads or screaming skeletal clothes all cloaked up, and early for just six p.m., all tanked up.

“I’m expecting a load of spooks on board tonight,” the taxi driver called back to him.

“Bloody Hallowe’en,” Craig groaned.

“Oh, I don’t mind it. Better than a Christmas or New Year’s Eve. Tonight, everybody will be in high spirits.”

“Spirits, yes. Good joke.”

Arriving outside the front door of his satisfyingly lavish home, he set the mood for the evening by giving the driver a generous tip. “Have a good night, sir.” The driver called before driving away.

I intend to, he said to himself as he turned the key in the lock and stepped inside, recalling how he had carried his virgin bride, Helen, over this threshold nearly four years earlier. Jesus, what was wrong with his thinking tonight? Why was his mind being troubled by times past? Why couldn’t he just forget the bloody date?

Before taking a shower, he went into the kitchen and brought a half-eaten pasta penne bake out of the fridge. That would do for tonight. A couple of bottles of red wine and the scene was practically set.

His shower was so refreshing, almost washing away any troublesome thoughts. But as he rubbed masses of suds into his genitals, it came again:

“Do you remember love?”

For just a moment he froze. That hadn’t been in his head. Had it been Helen’s voice? So plaintive, so pleading. He forced a laugh. How the hell would he hear anything with the water rushing around his head and over his ears?

In the bedroom, as he stepped into his blue cotton pants, he looked at the bed. If he cut away the first two days of the past three hundred and sixty-five, he maintained lurid memories of the luscious, lascivious evenings he had spent with an assortment of willing and, in the end, grateful, beauties.

He could never get through more than two days without dipping the solid concrete of his priapic organ into some appreciative female. Helen just never appreciated that, nor could she appreciate the fact that she was unable to satisfy his lustful needs.

Avoiding the shift in his mindset, in the kitchen, he heated the pasta in the microwave, poured himself a generous glass of Rioja, and sat there planning the rest of the evening.

“DO YOU REMEMBER LOVE?”

The voice, her voice, louder now, had the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He looked behind him, and once again wondered whether he should have come home on this night. Never mind. A good session with some voluptuous black-haired piece would settle his nerves, all right.

The kitchen clock showed ten minutes to seven. Traditionally the children in the street did their ‘trick-or-treating’ around seven. Immediately, he realised that Helen had always purchased the pack of goodies and managed the handing out to hot little hands. It was practically the last thing she had done before her final crazy action.

Hell, he would have nothing to give. He checked his pockets for small change. It could only be cash. But first, he would make his call to Cooney’s and fix himself with some evening entertainment.

The telephone table was in the hall but as soon as he reached it, his blood ran cold. So far, some daft thoughts had been in his head, but this was physical. There on the table next to the phone was the exact type of packet of sweet things that Helen used to get.

What the hell was going on here? Whose idea of a sick joke was this? He went through to the kitchen and checked the back door. In the lounge, the French windows that opened onto the patio were equally well locked and secure. It took him less than ten minutes to reassure himself that there was no evidence of anyone gaining illegal entry.

Despite that, the bag of sweets was still near the phone. He tore it open, and all it contained were the expected bars, lollipops and slabs of chocolate. Anxious to ease his puzzled state, he snatched up the phone and dialled Cooney’s, where he’d had a long-standing account. They knew his tastes

A seductive female voice answered, “Cooney’s Escort Service. How may we serve you?”

Without any preamble he had booked, the usual, a looker with a thirty-six-inch bust, firm, complimentary shape, unshaven bush. His outline for a perfect night’s screwing.

He paused at what time he wanted her. He needed to collect his thoughts on the packet that lay in front of him. Besides, there would be too many neighbours around with their kids. Eventually, he settled on no earlier than nine o’clock.

Oh, yes, he was going to give whoever came an evening she wouldn’t forget.

Another wine and in the living room, he switched on the television. Immediately, the air was filled with gurgles moans and groans and a panoply of images appeared on the screen. A deep, dreadfully accented voice was spouting, “Ghouls, witches, ghosts, goblins—” The usual patter but it went on, “—werewolves, gorilla men, incubi, succubi.”

Did they invent such characters? Craig recalled when Hallowe’en was all about witches and the casting of spells. Now, anything could be added to the stew.

“DO YOU REMEMBER LOVE?”

“Get the hell out of my head!” He heard his own voice echo around the house. But the voice had sounded so real, so close.

That was when the doorbell sounded. He heard giggles outside, and calls of, “Trick or treat.”

Almost glad of the intrusion, Craig grabbed the bag of sweet things and opened the door. A host of mini-witches, werewolves and skeletons waved glittering-eyed pumpkins towards him, and eager hands held out bags for him to drop in the treat.

Beyond them, at the end of his drive a group of fond parents, ever watchful, waited for their darlings. In the dim streetlight, he could not distinguish anyone he knew, but he could see their smiles.

As each child was served, he or she, moved back to the parental group, and they slowly moved on to the next house. In the end, there was only one adult figure left standing alone. Had she lost her child?

She was wearing what appeared to be a bright red coat or cloak, and she was looking directly at him. In the gloom, Craig could not make out any other detail.

“Have you lost someone?” he called.

Immediately she began to move towards him, more a glide than a walk, Craig thought. “I think I’ve found him,” her voice was low but very sensuous. “I was given this address. I go where I am told.”

“That’s quick service. You’re early.”

“I’m never too early.”

She had drifted up the drive and as she came into the light, Craig felt himself immediately harden. My God, he had never seen a female face that almost screamed such sheer sexuality.

Masses of coal-black hair framed a delicate skin in which dark eyes flared with lust in a way that dark eyes should find impossible. And the mouth, oh, he wanted that mouth on him, so pouting, so full of promise, and as she licked her pink tongue along her lips the very sheen of them was exciting.

Craig gave a breathless glance along the bare street before gasping, “You’d better come in.”

“I fully intend to,” she said, coming up close to him so that he caught a waft of the aroma she exuded. Such a mix. There was lilac, mint, turmeric, other spices, and even the odour of open feminine thighs, which he knew so well.

As she drifted in ahead of him, he saw that the red cape she wore was matched by some kind of red gown that flowed down to her ankles. Closing the door behind him he gestured to the living room, and asked, “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Colour?” How could a voice, say only one word and sound so sensuous?

“Red.”

“Red is all I drink.” Her eyes were moving up and down his body as she unfastened her cloak and dropped it over a chair.

Craig had started to pour the wine and some slopped onto the table as his hand shook at the sight of the perfect figure in what looked like a painted-on red gown. The neckline was deep, and the skin of the twin curves partly revealed caught his breath. With a shaking hand, he offered her the glass of wine.

She took a swift mouthful, half emptying the glass before putting it down, and running her hands seductively down over her breasts and onto her hips. “You like what you see?”

Craig nodded, “Your name?”

“Call me Lilith, and you are Craig.”

“They told you that?”

Her eyes seduced him as she said, “Someone did. Did somebody die here?”

The question stunned him, increased his trembling, but the fact that he could just accept, it disturbed him more.

“Did you kill her?”

Take offence. Tell her to mind her own fucking business. “She killed herself,” he said, blandly, feeling suddenly out of control of the situation.

“How?”

Her questions were opening all the doors he wanted to keep closed. He recalled Helen’s glance in his direction after she had plied the needs of the kids at the door. A cold, unworried look as she mounted the stairs. He’d had no other plans for that evening, so he had poured a couple of glasses of wine. A drink could occasionally make Helen frisky enough to give him a blowjob.

After nearly an hour, when she hadn’t come down, he strode up the stairs and into their bedroom. She was lying completely naked on the bed, thighs slightly parted, eyes closed. Wow, this was a change. She was way ahead of him. Would that she was always so willing.

Then he saw the small bottle on the bedside table. He snatched it up. Empty. Cautiously, he touched her shoulder. She was so, so cold. Gone, and he turned away, knowing he had to phone somewhere.

He had chanced a final glance at her body on the bed, just as her eyes suddenly came wide open, and pure hate poured at him, her pale lips fluttered. Then she was forever still. The shiver that ran down his spine, he would never forget.

The note she had left on the bedside table should have made him weep as it read simply:

“DO YOU REMEMBER LOVE?”

In Helen’s neat hand, complete with capital letters and even the question mark. She was always so correct. Too correct. But they were the words she had often challenged him with when she questioned his sexual activities.

He hadn’t wept. Even in that tragic situation, his mind was telling him of the freedom his sex life had in prospect.

“Are we doing it down here?” Lilith’s seductive voice brought him back to the present.

God, she was so alluring. Why was he hesitating?

“Bed would be better, I think.”

“Lead the way.” How hot was she going to be? Craig climbed the stairs with indecent haste, but as he entered the bedroom, tearing his shirt off, the smell struck him.

Once, a long time ago, a fox had entered his parent’s garage, had been locked in without anyone being aware. It had died there, and when Craig had entered days later, it was that kind of odour he had smelled.

But there was nothing dead here. He hesitated, looked back at Lilith as she came up behind him. “I don’t know what that is?”

“What?”

“The smell.”

“Your aftershave?”

“You don’t smell anything strange?”

“Not really.” Her gown slid to the floor and Craig forgot everything else except the sheer earthiness of her naked body. Her breasts thrust at him with nipples taut. The curvaceous flow from breast to waist to hip was a delightful rollercoaster of promised joy. All this added to the lust in her eyes, lifted him as none of his other women, ever had.

She just stood there legs slightly parted so that through the blackness of her bush, he saw just a hint of the start of her pink slit.

Craig hastily dropped his pants, longing to have that body against his. His cock was iron hard under her gaze, and he asked, “You fancy some of that?”

The eyes that came up to him had suddenly chilled as she asked, “Does it work?”

“You’re going to find out.”

“You on top,” she hissed, a sound that he assumed was eagerness, as she lay back on the bed with thighs spread wide.

Eager as he was, as he moved to be alongside her, he could see that her juices were already sparkling among her pussy hairs. He moved one hand to feel there and leaned to press his face into her left breast, quickly taking the hardened nipple into his mouth. God, the nipple seemed to be pulsing, while his fingers roamed through such hot liquidity, that her readiness could not be ignored.

Craig began to move his hips over her and as he did, he looked into her face. Despite the passion that was overwhelming him, despite the carnality of her gaping mouth waggling her long tongue at him, her eyes had lost all lustre and bore a look of—Oh, Jesus, the way Helen’s eyes had opened at the end. The chill that passed through his body did nothing to decrease his erection.

But Lilith wrapped her arms around him and drew him forcefully onto and into her voluptuous body. Craig felt his hardness being gripped in a wet steaminess as her inner muscles pulled him deep. God, he was going to enjoy this. This was a woman sent from the gods of depravity. Craig thrust into her and her hips fought back at him with equal savagery.

He raised his head to try to kiss her, longing to have that tongue tangled with his, but her head shook from side to side, her long black hair trailed over her face, as she continued to buck and heave with a pressure that surpassed his own salacious thrusts.

Jesus, Craig could ride a woman until she begged for mercy. He had always been strong, but this rapacious woman under him now was going to make him cum. He fought against it, but the power of her inner muscles was just too much. The orgasm that hit him was like nothing he’d known. For minutes he pulsing load after load into her.

“DO YOU REMEMBER LOVE?”

Where the hell was that coming from? Yet despite that, Lilith was continuing to squeeze, nip and heave as he awaited the usual detumescence. Yet, she did not relax. Her flexing hips continued to heave at him. But what was happening? Rather, what was not happening? By now, he should be trailing out of her. But locked in her heated passage his hardness remained.

He looked into that exquisitely sensuous face and saw only wild-eyed hunger in her deep dark eyes.

“God, I’ve never—”

“But you’re going to,” she growled. “I want much more than that.”

Craig’s first reaction to that was to be really offended, but that was followed by just a touch of shame. He had never had a woman say she was dissatisfied. That did hurt his pride. And he recalled, there had been no show of her having had a climax. No orgasmic squealing that he was so used to.

A new experience then. He tested his thrusts into her. Maybe he was a little less vigorous, but, hell, he didn’t need to be. This Lilith was grinding her body so ferociously on his hardness that he was even more determined and eager to match her stroke for stroke.

Dissatisfied, was she? He’d give her something to think about. So, he plunged right up into the very core of her, withdrew, and struck again, while he buried his face in those succulent breasts. And she continued to screw her body up to him.

Suddenly, he realised that his balls were set to burst. That couldn’t be. He’d shed such a load first time around. Again, he raised his head to look at her face. Her blazing eyes stared back at him, and she growled, “Well?”

Next second he was spurting deep inside her, and once again it was pulse after pulse. He had never realised he could do this much. God, although the delight of orgasm was there, alongside it was a wave of exhaustion. But this time, as things subsided, so did his erection, and within seconds it was sliding limply out of her.

“Off me,” she hissed, pushing him onto his back. He lay there believing this to be recovery time, which, he definitely needed.

But what was this? She was leaning over him and she was fondling his limp, dripping member, so flaccid it might have been a roll of wet paper. Jesus, he caught the weird glint in her eye as she opened her mouth wide, those luscious lips and taunting tongue were about to engulf his rancid cock.

“DO YOU REMEMBER LOVE?”

That seemed to be close to his ear. But Craig was in a wonderland of having that mouth, oh, god, eagerly tasting their mixed juices. The tongue was an anaconda that wrapped itself around his weak member, tugged at it, caressed it, coaxed it, while the lips slid up and down. Until soon, Craig became aware that they were sliding along something much more solid.

She had restored his erection! This was so amazing. Even knowing he should have taken a rest, he was delighted when her mouth left his hardened cock and moved up his body to invade his own mouth with their accrued sweetly bitter, acrid taste.

“DO YOU REMEMBER LOVE?”

Why in God’s name was that repeating and sounding like Helen’s voice? Now, his breath held in his throat as Lilith straddled him, leaned back and slowly lowered her thighs to take, once more, his now aching hardness. I’m never going to forget this night he was telling himself as he tried to find the strength to respond to her frenzied beating along his length.

Now, that odour, that stench he had noticed when entering the bedroom returned to his senses. Only now it was more powerful, more intense.

Lilith was riding him so furiously, so wildly, her hair swung over her face, on which Craig could read only an insatiable greed. He so wanted to enjoy this, but a fragment of fear was assailing him. There was something predatory about her actions, as his cock was pummelled along her hard, wet, feverish channel.

He began gasping for breath. Her pressure increased. Craig knew that he should have the strength to throw her off, but strength was something that he no longer possessed.

And, yet again, he was cumming. Not as much, but now there was no pleasure in it. It was as though each pulse reduced him. Very quickly he went limp, and Lilith began to slither down his body so that his flaccid cock flopped out of her and her face stopped alongside it.

“DO YOU REMEMBER LOVE?”

Oh, God, so clear now, so close. Shocked, he became aware of Lilith’s mouth taking his limpness in again. No, it can’t be. But he couldn’t move. All the strength had seeped from his body. He was just able to turn his head. And his heart stalled.

There on a chair sat a human figure, becoming clearer by the minute. It was human, wasn’t it? Craig had a ghastly realisation that it was grotesquely unrecognisable, like something long dead. Yet the head was turned in his direction, and if there were eyes, they were fixed on him, watching him being sucked by Lilith.

“DO YOU REMEMBER LOVE?”

No doubt about the voice. Craig screamed out or tried to. Nothing came out as the figure, the shape stood up from the chair. Lilith was sucking like fury on him. It couldn’t be hardening, it couldn’t. He was too wasted.

“DO YOU REMEMBER LOVE?”

Craig in his anguish could see that the figure was female. A female of Helen’s size, curved at waist and hip, and now, oh, Jesus, moving, with stiff-legged steps, towards him. The stench of death filled his nostrils.

Lilith’s sucking with greater malice, as Helen’s voice said, “You have my friend Lilith tending your needs. Lilith is a succubus. Quite a pertinent name, don’t you think? She knows how to treat a man.”

Craig was.so weak. Too weak to cry out. He closed his eyes, and in doing that saw only ghoulish figures, grimly gruesome snarling at him. When he opened his eyes, Helen’s naked complete body was standing over him. Just as woefully pallid as she had been in this very room exactly one year ago.

Her face looked grimly down at him, her voice now seemed to be coming down a long hollow tube as she said, “Do you remember love? Our first months here. Where you so gently took my virginity, so lovingly fulfilled my dreams, before, after four months, sharing me with your many, many conquests.”

Helen’s face twisted horrifyingly as her deep tones continued, “Conquests? Yes. But women were only ‘things’ to you. Playthings. They received your grossly underwhelming hardness, but never your respect. You treated me, all your women, with a contempt that cannot be allowed to go on.”

“Finished, Lilith, and thank you. Would you return if his disrespect continues?” Somehow, Craig managed to strain to see Lilith’s head nod, before she bent out of sight and he was aware of her snake-like tongue trailing for one last time along his dead snail manhood.

Helen’s body began to turn away, but her hate-filled eyes regarded him, as she mouthed, “One last thought about your misbegotten life, Craig Neilsen,” Her voice deep and unnatural rose to a bellow, “DO YOU REMEMBER LOVE?”

She turned away, the stench of death returned, and Craig closed his eyes, tight, not wanting to see what she might become.

He kept them closed for, only God knew, how long. No Helen, no Lilith, only her final words sounded in his ears. And that odour was telling him it couldn’t have been a dream. His aching member, looking so shrivelled, was also testament.

Getting out of bed was painful. Such a weakness as he had never known. Breathing heavily, he slipped on his dressing-gown and left the room. As he stumbled down the stairs his senses began to organise into some normality. A dream? Surely, that was it?

But as he entered the living room, he saw two drained wine glasses on the table, and alongside them that damning packet of treats. But last night had been no trick. And he was thinking about the threat of Lilith’s return.

‘I knew I shouldn’t have come home tonight.’

That was when the doorbell sounded like a death knell in Craig’s troubled mind.

Tentatively he opened the door a black-haired, bonny young woman standing there, all smiles, “Cooney’s Quick Service,” she cooed.

“Oh, fuck off!” Craig yelled and slammed the door.

With extra thought, he yelled through the door, “And cancel my fucking account.”