On Friday, September 9th 2022, at 10 am, twenty-seven-year-old James Dunlean had just placed his espresso pot on the stove when he received a knock at his front door. Little did he know, when he answered the door, that his life was about to change forever.

He opened the door and peered through the security screen which he always kept securely locked. Standing there was a tall girl with her face in profile. He took in her figure in one glance. She was tall and slender, about the same age as he, with long, straight, dark brown hair reaching to just below her waist. She carried a laptop case and wore black and white trainers, black jeans and a black hoodie zipped all the way up.

“Can I help you?”

“Hi, I'm Ivy from NDIS.”

“What, the...national disability insurance scheme?... Sorry but I'm...”

“Oh no no, Non-Denominational International Satanists.”

“Sorry?”

“I just want to take a few minutes of your time today to tell you about the many benefits of pledging yourself to Hell and following the Prince of Darkness.”

She now turned to face the door. Because of the way the screen was designed, James knew that she couldn't see him but he could see her perfectly well. She had a fine-boned, olive-skinned, face with a sharp chin and large brown eyes, long arched brows, incredibly long lashes and full pink lips. The impression her face gave was of refined Mediterranean beauty. He drew a deep breath.

“Look, if this is some kind of joke...”

Before James could form the next part of his next sentence coherently, she said,

“You're a metalhead aren't you?”

“Wer...yes.”

“Good! Then we're halfway there.”

“Has this got something to do with that new ticket booking site I used last time? When I want to see Organectomy and Crypt Crawler?”

“Err, no, Mr Dunlean.”

“And how the hell do you know my name?”

She smiled slyly, displaying perfect white teeth.

“Ah, Hell hath ways and means.” Then her tone changed,

“Ok, I'm not here to annoy you but let me show you something that may interest you.”

She gripped the zip on her hoodie with one immaculately manicured hand and slowly drew it down. Underneath she wore a black tee shirt upon which, in a white retro typeface, were the words; I FUCK FOR SATAN. She swayed her hips to one side as the hoodie flew open, arched her back and smiled sweetly. James now found himself becoming increasingly intrigued and more than a little annoyed, but his inner voice told him that it was largely due to the undeniable fact that he was finding her distinctly arousing.

“Ok, now I know this is a joke. You aren't one of those stripper grams are you?”

She laughed dismissively and pointed a thumb at the tee shirt.

“It's all here in black and white, Mr Dunlean. Take it or leave it.”

“Ahhh..oh...”

Just then a loud gurgle was heard from the kitchen behind him, followed by the distinctly delicious aroma of freshly ground Arabica coffee beans.

“Mmmmm, that smells lovely!” Her chirpy, upbeat voice was simultaneously annoying and endearing; causing him, without thinking, to throw the tiny lever that unlocked the door.

“Ok, come in. I've certainly had weirder people than you at the door lately.”

She laughed again and this time James found himself imagining the chime of a bell, somewhere far off.

“May I sit down?”

“Sure...would you like some coffee?”

“I'd love some. Black with none please.”

“Are you always so polite?”

“Since I'm trying to sell you something it pays to be.”

“I appreciate your honesty. Ok, well, I'll be right back.”

He retreated into the kitchen and took far longer than he would ordinarily have to arrange a tray with two demitasse cups, milk and sugar for himself and the steaming pot. Through the doorway, he discreetly and repeatedly glanced at her sitting on the sofa. She certainly was tall and beautiful with distinctly Iberian or southern Italian features. As he picked up the tray he noticed that she was looking intently at the wall where he kept his extensive cd and metal merch collection.

“...And how did she know I was into metal..?”

As he entered the room she stood up, taking the tray from him and placing it in front of her on the coffee table.

“That's quite a compact disc collection you've got there, very impressive.”

“Thanks. I like my music.”

“Oh, cups and saucers. You are a man with taste and class.”

“I try.”

She turned one of the saucers over and drew in a loud breath,

“Oooh, Hutschenreuther, Bavarian porcelain.”

“I got them for twelve dollars from an op-shop.”

“Still, very posh for a metal-head.”

“Ah...thanks.”

He handed her a steaming cup of black coffee then poured his own. She took a few tentative sips then placed her cup down.

“Now, Mr Dunlean..”

“Please call me James.”

“Ah, James, I want you to think for a minute and consider the real alternative that Satan offers you. We are about total freedom, choice and free will with unlimited...”

“Hang on, hang on, we are actually talking about Satan?”

She nodded, wide-eyed.

“Lucifer...the Devil?”

She nodded again.

“That's right James, Lucifer wants you.” Now her face was a study in sincerity. “But don't worry we don't expect you to sacrifice your first-born, if you had one, nothing like that.”

“No?”

“No, we only want your soul. You must, of course, give it to us willingly.”

“Of course, to expand his kingdom...Hell.”

“Now you're getting it!”

Her broad smile and sparkling doe eyes made him catch his breath as she thrust her shoulders back and laughed sweetly.

“So...what do I need to do.”

“Not a lot. Just sign a contract pledging your eternal soul to Satan upon the event of your death.”

“That's it?”

“Yeah, that's it. We go out of our way these days to make this as easy and as straightforward as possible.”

“And what's in it for me.”

“Well, The Prince of Darkness wants you to rest assured that nothing untoward will happen to you through his agency, in fact, he will guide you to worldly success, wealth and even power if you so desire. As a member of the NDIS, all you need to do is sign and then just go about your normal life and reap the rewards. It's that simple.”

He looked at her face and imagined meeting her on some warm November day, on a secluded beach, amongst dunes sighing in the breeze.

“James.”

“Sorry, you were saying.”

Now she lowered her voice teasingly.

“If you sign our contract James, you will soon see the wonderful benefits that follow. We guarantee that, in writing.”

Now his eyes wandered to her tee shirt where they lingered just long enough to make her smile again.

“I think I need some time to think about it. Do you have a brochure with T's & C's, that sort of thing?”

She was silent for a few seconds which made James think he had offended her in some way. Then she stood up and looked down at him.

“I can see that I'll have to give you a free sample.'

“Well...you...don..."

She grabbed his shoulders and pushed him onto the floor, taking him completely by surprise. Her smile remained and that was the only reassuring thing about her at that moment. She then threw her flowing brown hair back in one deft stroke. Rapidly she unfastened his belt and pulled his jeans down with remarkable strength and dexterity.

“Ren and Stimpy boxers, my how retro,” she whispered in a low, almost raspy voice.

Without another word she dragged the shorts down, exposing his already semi-erect cock.

“There, you see,” she whispered, “I knew I was getting through to you.”

James leant back on his elbows and fought the urge to fend her off. A part of him certainly wanted to but his libidinous nature was overwhelmingly stronger. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Now settle back and relax while I get your juices flowing.”

Her hands grasped his shaft and began to pump it. She fixed her grip at the base by his balls and looked into his eyes seductively as he hardened.

“Mmmm, yes, look at that thick, delicious cock!”

Her words were like an elixir and he felt his balls tingle as his shaft continued to grow in her hand. Pump after firm, hard pump and slowly she lowered her face towards his head, ensuring too that her hair was out of the way and that he could see her every move.

Her hands were supple and warm and for the first time, he noticed that she wore a heavy silver ring with a sigil upon it. While he didn't recognize the particular demon that it denoted, he had been in the metal subculture long enough to know what it represented.

“Maybe she is serious about all this Satanist bullshit...”

As though in answer, her eyes met his as her mouth engulfed the head of his cock. He immediately thrilled to the sensation of her lips, tongue and cheeks; rubbing, licking, sucking and teasing him while her head bobbed up and down rapidly, maintaining a firm vacuum the entire time. Again and again, he tensed and relaxed as her attentions shifted to his balls; licking each one in turn then lapping at their base, she slowly made her way up the lower side of his shaft. Gradually she returned to licking his head then proceeded to swallow more and more of his shaft until he saw it disappear totally into her mouth. Never once did she gag or choke and he felt sensations deep in that throat that he had experienced with no other woman.

Now his gaze shifted to the ceiling then back to her face momentarily; she certainly was beautiful and the image of her lustfully devouring his cock and lapping at his balls was a perfect tableau taken straight from his dreams. She eventually settled down to long, slow, powerful strokes and James found himself instinctively thrusting his hips into her mouth. A smile played across her luminous brown eyes for a moment and she continued for a further few minutes then stopped.

A single rope of saliva joined her bottom lip with his head when she spoke.

“Liking this 'freebie' so far?” Then she giggled slyly, “I bet you fucking are! Now up against the wall with you.”

He didn't answer, kicking his jeans and trainers off instead and leaning upon the wall by the open door. Outside, the sky had grown strangely overcast and dark, but his mind at that moment was totally incapable of noticing it. Instead, he looked at Ivy's back; with her shapely ass; just obscured by a torrent of hair falling to below her butt cheeks. She pressed the play button on his cd player and waited until a track began to play. She turned up the volume then slowly turned back and caught his eye. There was something predatory and triumphant in her gaze as she began to shake her head in time with the heavy blast beats that were now flowing from the speakers.

“Racked by winds of desolation,

Dearth of calm and consolation...”

She walked towards him, smiling still, and raised an exquisite hand to push him hard back up against the wall. Then, falling fast onto her knees with a thump, her hands were immediately upon his shaft again. His cock was still erect, hard and glistening despite the hiatus, so the return of her mouth, tongue and lips immediately brought back the intense sensations that he had felt only moments before.

“...Five wounds pierce the Nazarene

Like laughter from the world unseen...”

She parted his legs and cupped his loose, heavy balls in her palm. She slowly and sensuously slid his shaft deep into the very back of her throat and settled down to the hard, regular rhythm she has treated him to earlier. This time though, the music also lent to the whole delicious scene before him an added level of sensual piquancy.

“...Time heals nothing, it feeds the Earth

With flesh and blood, both cursed from birth...”

“Fuck, this must be a dream,” he thought, “ yeah...some delirious dream...I must be hallucinating with a high fever.”

“...Though only death will cure the hurt.

No brass will rouse you from the dirt...”

With the harsh growls of the vocalist seemingly seeping into the walls, James registered vaguely that he knew the song, but hearing it now, with his cock experiencing such a riot of pleasure in Ivy's mouth, it took on an altogether sublime significance.

“...So relish those infernal nights,

Hunt down sweet flesh and dark delights,

Wander the deep abyss by day,

Fuck each and every night away!”

An extended and deliriously complex guitar solo followed these words, during which he felt Ivy utter a long, soft moan; as though the words had struck a chord with her.

“...Then demon beauty shall devour

A heart forsaken to her power...”

She worked his cock and balls with increasing intensity after that, periodically glancing up at him with haunting, lust-filled eyes; eyes the like of which he had never seen. The music reached another long intense guitar solo which found him thrusting his hips ever harder into her mouth. He imagined her voice in his mind,

“Face-fuck me James, thrust that hard fucker of a cock deep into my fucking mouth, I can take it all!”

“...Then demon beauty shall devour

a heart desiring of her power...”

With that mental impulse, he reached down and grabbed each side of her head. She didn't miss a beat but simply allowed him to direct the speed with which her mouth bore down on his cock. The vision of her below him was more than enough to make his balls tingle and contract. Unwillingly he shut his eyes and threw his head back with a loud bump against the wall. He imagined her voice again deep in his mind,

“Fuck my face James, turn it into your own little mouth-cunt and fill it with your cum baby.”

“...Then demon beauty shall devour

a heart enamored of her power...”

Now the tingling in his cock and balls spread to saturate his nerves and he felt every muscle from his lower back down, tense and bring pressure to bear on his balls. Ivy continued to suck him to the beat of the music, gripping his hips firmly with both hands. Her fingers pressed into his flesh as she rocked back and forth on her knees.

Time after time over the next few minutes he fought the urge to blow but it was inevitable; Ivy's inexorable mouth saw to that. With blinding waves of pleasure and incandescent pulses of pure lust radiating from his spine, he groaned deeply and fired rope after rope of cum into her mouth. He threw his head back as the muscles in his hips and abdominals tensed and relaxed over and over. Ivy's sucking was instantly replaced with swallowing as she drank his every spurt. He came harder and longer than he had ever come before. Ivy began sucking again, hard and seemingly determined to suck every single drop out of him.

Vaguely he reflected that this must be what a hit of heroin must feel like. He then imagined he heard giggles and faint chimes of dark laughter as though some hidden person was watching them. But both of these impressions quickly faded as he finally became conscious of his rapid, hard breathing. He felt beads of perspiration trickle down his chest and only then did he open his eyes to look down at her smiling face.

She stood up. There was no cum, that he could see on her lips but he had clearly blown an incredible load into her mouth. Again she read his mind,

“Well, you obviously haven't jerked off in a while!” The perky bright voice was back.

“Er...no,” he croaked.

“Hmmm, I could tell.” And now the low seductive whisper returned, “But your cum was certainly delicious James. Mmmm, I can still feel all that sperm swimming around in my tummy.”

Without waiting for him to answer, she picked up her case and opened it.

“Oh, I almost forgot.”

She pulled out a black plastic water sipper bottle from the case and set it down on the coffee table. James scarcely glanced at it and he had quite forgotten that he was still standing against the wall, naked from the waist down.

“That's a free gift with our compliments and here's my card. I've got to go now but you have a good old think about what we've...ah ...chatted about today, ok ?”

He nodded his head as he accepted the card; black of course, with a replica of the sigil from her ring on the front of it. He cleared his throat as she smiled and slung the case from her shoulder.

“Can I... see you again…you know, would you like to go out sometime, as friends I mean ?”

She giggled, “My number's on the card. Bye now.”

Unexpectedly, she gave him a peck on the lips, opened the screen door and strode out. He watched her march down the driveway like a cat-walk model and turn onto the footpath without looking back. With that, she was gone.

As he turned from the door, in the adjoining garden, he caught a glimpse of his elderly Italian neighbour, eighty-two-year-old Mrs Occhiodro, watering her flowers. Little happened in the quiet beach-side suburb of Tamarind Cove without this formidable old Sicilian noticing. Luckily the old lady was very friendly and quite fond of him; having made him a delicious batch of arancini for his birthday only the month before. It would be nice to say hello to her, he thought. But first, he had to locate his pants.

The rest of that day and the weekend that followed were uneventful and saw him attempting to catch up on his online customer service work. Working from home certainly had its advantages but the social interaction with friends and co-workers was definitely something he missed.

He had placed the sipper bottle that Ivy had given him on top of his refrigerator and thought little more about it. Her card however posed something of a mystery. He had wanted to look at it on Friday evening after she had left but it was nowhere to be found. He began to think that maybe she had forgotten to put it down after all. Then, totally unexpectedly, he found it on his bathroom shelf propped up against the mirror.

“What the?... I don't remember her coming in here. How the fuck did this get in here…?”

Shaking his head, he picked up the card and examined it. It was black on one side with almost the entire surface covered by her sigil. The other side carried an e-mail address;

ivy @ nondenominationalinternationalsatanists . com . au

“This must be a fucking joke,” he said aloud, chuckling as he looked at the ridiculous address. Below it however there was a perfectly ordinary-looking mobile number. Scanning each of the digits in turn, he began to feel a deep tingle in his loins and saliva gathering in his mouth so that he licked his upper lip. He shut his eyes and imagined her voice echoing in his mind,

“I know you want to fuck me James, who wouldn't, but what you don't know yet is, I'm going to be the absolute fuck of your life. Just call and fuck me...fuck me...fuck me...fuuuuk meeee.”

He steadied himself on the computer desk then slowly and laboriously opened his eyes. The card was set down on the desk in front of him but his hand had found its way under his track pants to grip his eagerly responsive cock. He gave his foreskin a couple of flicks back and forth then proceeded to the bathroom to wash his hands.

Later that evening, after a pasta and pesto dinner and a few glasses of red, he returned to his study and sat with his head back in his comfortable work chair. He picked up his phone and gathered up the card. “Well, here goes...”

He typed in the number, fully expecting to get an answering machine, but was mildly surprised, and more than a little anxious, when a very businesslike voice answered,

“Hello, this is Ivy.”

“Ivy, hi, it's James Dunlean. How are you?”

“James! Hi, I'm fine thank you, and you.”

“Oh, I'm good.”

“Good? I bet you're not! In fact I know you're not. Ha, ha.”

“Listen, you know how I suggested we get together for a drink maybe. Would you like to? I thought maybe we could go down to the beach...I know a nice cafe near here.”

Reassuringly, there was a couple of seconds silence as she considered his request. He used the time, short though it was, to listen for background sounds; a cat, a TV, a baby, a partner. He had worked in call centers and in customer service long enough to know how much you could tell about a person from the background noise in their location. Disappointingly, behind Ivy there was nothing but silence.

“Hmm, you know what, I've had a much better idea… I did some research after I saw you on Friday.”

“Research?”

“Yes, I found out that Blasphemikkon, Slitkiss and Kronokrator are playing upstairs at the Enigma Bar this Saturday! Isn't that totally awesome !?”

“Yeah, I do remember hearing about that months ago...but wasn't that gig cancelled?”

“Nope, according to the website it's still on.”

“Oh, right, great.”

“So what do you say, shall we go?”

“Oh, yesss, I love Slitkiss!”

“Cool! I'll buy the tickets and I'll e-mail yours to you. I have your number.”

“Great, would you like me to pick you up?”

She hesitated.

“No, thanks, but it's ok, I'll meet you there at nine.”

“Sure.”

“What's your e-mail?”

“DunnyJ at bigpond dot com dot au.”

“Dunny...ha, ha, charming! Ok, got it.”

“Would you like to have dinner too perhaps?”

“Mmmm, I wouldn't mind getting a kebab afterwards with lots of garlic sauce.”

“That's nice, at least now I know you're not a vampire.”

“Ha, haaa haaaa !”

“Ok.”

“Great, well, I have to go now. See you Saturday Metal-head.”

“Ok, fantastic, bye now.”

Just before she hung up, and only for an instant, he did catch a faint sound behind her; it was a deep, low moan like the sound of the breeze on a hilltop; a hollow empty sound, the sound of loneliness.

The week passed uneventfully. Mrs Occhiodoro had not noticed Ivy's visit, or if she had, she stayed uncharacteristically silent about it. On Thursday she brought him a saucepan of delicious puttanesca sauce, delivered with her usual compliments about how “han-da-som and bootiful” he was, nor did she neglect her elaborate gesticulations and pinches of his cheek. He smiled now as he shaved, recalling the old lady's sparkling eyes.

He left a three-day stubbled moustache and a strip of similar length stubble running down his slightly bifurcated chin. His face was angular and square-jawed, with large, piercing light blue eyes and a moderately aquiline nose. Wavy, shoulder-length, dark blond hair and a permanent tan completed the image not so much of a metal-head, which he always professed to be, but of a rugged outdoor type, which he definitely was not.

It had been six months since his last relationship had evaporated, ending on more or less good terms but leaving him feeling like there was a distinct gap in his life that ought not be there. At 5'10, slim and fit, with well-defined muscles, he considered himself in the prime of his youth and at the peak of his confidence and power to attract the attentions of the right woman.

“Hmmm, fuck, I'm falling for her, here we fucking go again…”

The one fear that he now had as evening rapidly approached, was that she was going to ring and cancel, leaving him to go to the gig on his own.

“Nothing wrong with that,” he thought, “I'll enjoy it, but to have her there.. that will be beyond awesome.”

Still clad only in boxers and socks, he scooped up his phone. Reassuringly, the e-mail with his ticket attached was there. Ivy was as good as her word. She had sent it days ago but it somehow made him feel better to check it in all its digital glory.

At 8 pm he caught the train into town and forty minutes later he strode down the quiet, narrow lane where the Enigma Bar was located. Along the way he passed the entrances to many other, much newer bars and nightclubs; most of which already had lines of teens assembling to enter. He noticed several girls glance at him as he walked past, the eyes of some lingering on his black-clad form perhaps a little longer than their dates would have liked. He always considered himself a shadow to such girls, a phantom from some musical / sub-cultural netherworld; as far removed from EDM, or whatever the fuck they listened to, as it was possible to be. The night was warm for September, overcast and dark but the weather crossed his mind only momentarily, only until he sighted the club's open doors.

“Ivy. Find Ivy and the night will be a success.”

The club had begun to fill; he spotted several of the regulars, already at the bar and chatting over beers. A couple of them nodded to him as he presented his phone at the desk. QR code scanned and ticket verified, he climbed the steep, rickety stairs to the upper level. The club was housed in a Victorian-era factory that still retained many features from the 1890s. Black painted and hugely eclectic in its decoration and furniture, it was considered a 'dive' by most people who knew of it but regarded with quiet affection by all the regulars, himself foremost amongst them. The upper level had been the factory proper, now converted into a generous concert space with many alcoves, and cozy crannies in which to chill and unwind between sets. He was heading towards the balcony which looked out onto the alley adjacent to the lane where the club's entrance as located, when,

“Oh, Ja-ames !”

He drew a breath and turned around. Before him, stood an impossibly perfect vision taken straight from his dreams.

He had thought her tall and slender but now realized that she was reasonably muscular as well, with broader shoulders and slimmer hips than he had imagined. She wore a black and dark purple leather vest, tasseled and ornamented profusely with metal studs. It reached to just beneath her breasts and was loosely laced at the front and at the sides with black leather cord. Alternating silver conchos of skulls and roses decorated the cords on the sides of the vest and it was quite plain, to even the most casual observer, that she wore absolutely nothing underneath it. A full thirty centimeters of deliciously smooth midriff followed above a pair of matching leather pants. The pants fitted her hips and long legs like a second skin, accentuating her tight, pert ass and slender thighs and calves.

She turned to the side and stood with her legs apart, bending slightly to show off a ten-centimeter wide gap in the leather which ran down the full length of the pants; from the Navajo-style belt to below her boots. The gap was laced like the vest, with silver eyelets and long lengths of black leather cord; leaving her fine olive skin tantalizingly visible beneath. His eyes lingered on her hips and once again, he detected no obvious sign of underwear. Armbands of leather decorated with silver and a few discreet items of jewelry completed a picture of epic beauty.

He looked her up and down several times while she smiled and shook her masses of dark, lustrous hair.

“Fuck...”

“Well do you like it? Do you think I'll fit in here?”

These impossibly naive-sounding questions had him shaking his head and struggling to reply. Batting eyelids rimmed with khol and shaded delicately with purple and gold, she let out an endearingly childlike laugh.

“Hmmm, maybe I will. It looks like a pretty cool place.”

“Ok, lovely to see you..” She kissed him on the lips abruptly and turned towards the bar.

“No, let me buy you a drink. What would you like?”

“Er, thanks, Corona Extra with lime.”

“Nice, me too!”

His eyes followed her to the bar. Her stride was confident, showy and assertive; like a catwalk model. It was one of several lasting impressions that she had made on him since their first meeting two weeks ago. He felt a slight pressure on his elbow now and turned. It was Kisha, one of the Enigma regulars whose second home the bar virtually was. Kisha was in her early sixties and she now grinned at James broadly with spry Asian features.

“James, who's the babe?”

“Oh, you see her too?”

“What?”

“I still think I'm dreaming, that's all.”

“New friend of yours huh?”

“Yeah, I certainly hope so.”

“Fuuuuck she's gorgeous! And where did she get that fucking bad-ass gear?”

“I haven't a clue, and don't get any ideas, I saw her first.”

“Well, that outfit looks easy to put on and even easier for me to peel off.”

“Fuck off and die and give my regards to Belinda.”

Kisha laughed salaciously and wandered back to the couch where she had left her beer. Ivy returned holding two icy cold Coronas and wearing her usual smile. They had a few sips while James again marveled at the beautiful way that she was made up and dressed. He gave her a brief tour of the club, pausing by the open door to the balcony.

“Great view of the city from here!” Her enthusiasm as obvious, prompting him to want to ask her where she was from, what else she enjoyed doing and several other 'normal' questions that anyone might ask on a first date, if indeed that's what this was. But he hesitated, thinking that for some reason such questions were too cliched and commonplace. He then glanced towards the stage where the first band was now setting up their gear.

This was Kronokrator, a five-piece band from Melbourne with their beautiful young frontwoman, Rosie Swann. He passed on these and a few more facts about them to Ivy while the room continued to fill with people. Soon they stood side by side; the honeysuckle aroma of Ivy's perfume filling his nostrils with an indescribable sweetness. Then Rosie stepped up to the microphone.

“Hi Enigma, we're Kronokrator from Melbourne. It's great to be back, now let's hear you make some fucking noooooooooo - ise!”

The crowd eagerly responded with applause, whistles and cheers and James was surprised to see Ivy also throw her fist up powerfully. He wanted to ask her if she had ever been to a metal gig before but again, thought it best to refrain and enjoy her company without too many questions. Once the band began to play she leant closer to him and asked,

“We're not supposed to dance are we?”

“Er, no just head-bang. Here watch me.”

He banged his head in time with the beat for a minute as she watched him; another endearing smile on her face.

“Right, got it.”

She settled down to move her head in time to the beat, using her beautiful long hair to great effect. James quickly became aware that several of the male patrons nearby were watching her; glancing casually at her superb form as she moved now to the crushing beat of the band and the powerful, growling vocals of Rosie Swann. He settled down to enjoy the music himself, attempting to ride the flood of energy that the band were now producing. Several minutes in and Kronokrator's guitarist launched into the first of three solos; a feature of their song, A Soul's Lament. Ivy reacted to this by swaying her hips slowly and rhythmically from side to side while continuing to head-bang and shake her shimmering dark hair. To James, standing right beside her, she was all fluid beauty and grace, torment and desire, captivity and liberation and much, much more.

“Intoxicated after only one beer”, he thought… “Or do I just want to fuck her so hard right now."

Rosie now sang the lines,

"My pleasure is your pain. Your pleasure is my gain. For I will have your soul."

And he felt a subtle, snakelike presence moving slowly across his belt. Her hand settled at his hip and she pulled him closer, but it was with the delicacy of a vine encircling a pillar of stone. He caressed her hand with his own, feeling the warmth of the heavy silver sigil ring on her finger. Now his own arm brushed past the cleft of her ass and he hooked his fingers under her belt; feeling cool, smooth flesh beneath his touch. She reacted by bumping his hip with her own then turning to glance at him with hooded languid eyes; eyes full of mystery, meaning and world-weary wisdom. Or so he imagined.

Then she smiled sweetly and kissed his lips.

“Mmmm. Thanks for bringing me along. This is awesome.”

He was about to remind her that the whole evening had been her idea but all he could manage was a smile and a good-natured nod.

As the evening wore on, they shared a couple more beers while James did his best to dissuade Ivy from entering the circle pit which had formed, despite the limited amount of floor space, and where lots of chaotic bumping, pushing and benign shoving was already going on. He also had to fend off the casual and mostly good-natured attentions of several of the bar's regulars. Ivy seemed to be amused by all the attention she was getting, especially between the sets, while doing nothing to provoke or encourage any of several of James' friends who gave the impression that they were about to get a little too friendly with her for his liking.

Finally, it was time for Slitkiss, the evening's headliners. Now the audience focused entirely on them at center stage and the room reached its peak in terms of sheer numbers packed onto the floor. This gave the circle pit a renewed burst of energy with an equal number of men and women jostling and nudging each other in a ritual that every metal-head everywhere knows. James took a deep breath and thrilled to the energy in the air, to the press of sweaty bodies and the mingled aromas of beer and perfume, aftershave and spirits; these were his people, this was his tribe.

“How are you going?” He asked, half expecting her to protest. He had brought several girls to gigs like this in the past, girls who were definitely not metal-heads and who had dated him only on the basis of his being a 'bad-boy'. None had lasted the course; a gig like this certainly sorted them out.

“Fan-fucking-astic!”

“Really!?”

“Fuck yeah! I love the bass beats and the thrashy riffs, oh and the screamo vocals!”

“You did do some research, didn't you? Except it's not screamo. They're 'harsh' vocals or simply 'screams' while normal singing is called 'clean'.”

“Right, gotcha.”

Slitkiss strove to give the audience their best show, extending their set to ten tracks from all nine of their studio albums. James was overwhelmed and, without thinking, squeezed Ivy's shoulder and butt several times during the set while also twining his arm around her waist, holding her close and swaying with her during the slower sections. She didn't protest. She leant back and whispered in his ear.

“This is fucking amazing, thank you.”

She did this just as the band announced their closing song. This had to be their signature track, the epic, anthemic Endless Night. Sure enough, as soon as it started James felt a rush of adrenalin. He jumped up and down then settled down to bang his head and throw his hair about as much as the press of the crowd would allow. Ivy too rocked and swung her body, causing several people to watch her fine purple and black-clad form as her hair shook and her shoulders swayed in the full heat of the moment.

The song lasted for seven minutes and was full of intricate riffs and killer solos. It ended with a bang and a roaring growl from frontwoman and guitarist Violetta Todorovska. Ivy howled and jumped into the air only to land and throw the metal horns sign several times onto the air. James laughed and did likewise while the band closed off their set to cheers and deafening applause.

For the rest of the night, the club held 'open mike', allowing anyone who wanted to, to ascend the stage and perform. This usually went on into the early hours depending on how many people were prepared to hang around. James bought them both another drink and led Ivy to a darker part of the club where they could sit down and relax with some level of privacy. As they walked she casually took his hand and pressed it lightly against the crotch of her pants. He felt a deep tingle but resisted the urge to slide his hand further down.

They settled into the corner of a booth, sitting next to each other. Ivy took a quick sip of her scotch on the rocks before their eyes met. She slid closer to James who again found himself with his back pressing against the wall. His last vision of her for several long, sweet moments was her luminous dark eyes floating before his face and the tilt of her head as she pressed against his lips.

They kissed tenderly and enjoyed exploring and discovering each other's lips and tongues. Ivy kissed him with building intensity, breathing deeply as she ground her face harder and harder into his. He felt her hands grasp his and pull him even closer to her. His hands settled on her hips, enjoying the luxurious feel of the soft leather she wore. His fingers eagerly sought and found the gaps in the lacing and stroked her skin through them. She responded by grabbing his head and kissing him even more deeply while sliding her tongue in and out of his mouth.

He loved the sensation of mingled tongues and hungry lips and would have quite happily continued. But now she broke their union and opened her eyes. Without looking around she reached down and loosened her belt buckle. then slid her hand under her pants. He studied her face as she rolled her eyes slightly and seemed to be reaching for something. But then her hand reappeared with wet, glistening fingers. She looked at him and gave him one of her elven smiles then pressed her fingers to his lips. He took her hand and licked it greedily, tasting the honeyed tang of her pussy.

“Fuck, I'm so wet right now James. See what you fucking do to me!” she whispered while looking at him intently.

“Mmmm, well, maybe we should go.”

“Go? Go where? I like you just where I've got you.”

With that she slid nimbly onto his lap, turning so that her head rested on his shoulder and her voluminous hair was draped all down his side. With her legs up on the seat and knees bent, he wondered at how marvelously light she was. They kissed again, this time with her fingers finding their way under his tee shirt and her nails raking his abdominals and digging into his sides.

The pain was minor but exhilarating and administered at just the right dosage. His own hands found her belt and the press stud buttons that fastened her pants. He popped them one by one as she swung her legs so that she sat fully in his lap with her knees raised on either side of him. One of his hands now wriggled down the front of her pants and soon encountered a discreet patch of closely cropped pussy hair and then her warm, wet slit. Meanwhile, the other hand savored the firm, smooth and perfect curve of her ass.

Grasping his head with both hands now, she alternated between kissing him and gently biting his neck and ear while grinding her pussy against his fingers, moaning softly and undulating her hips as his fingers gradually entered the inner folds of her pussy.

“Oh fuck yes, James, tickle my fucking pussy, slide your fingers deep into it baby.”

Her whispers were like commands that he had no desire to disobey and soon he was sliding up and down from her clit to the wonderfully soft and wet tunnel that had occupied the inner recesses of his mind now for several hours.

“Lick your fingers baby, taste again how sweet I am. It's like fruit nectar, ambrosia and honey flowing from my pussy.”

Her words were hypnotic and commanding. He lifted his hand to his mouth and she pressed it against his tongue. Its effect on him was intoxicating, like a subtle yet powerful drug. She giggled as he licked each of his fingers then sensuously lapped the cup of his palm. He looked at her with hooded eyes and saw her move with cat-like grace off his lap to lie on the padded bench with her knees bent up and her boots in the air.

She crawled up to him so that her face was now in his lap and he felt her nimble fingers releasing his cock from its confines in his jeans. He spread his legs as her hand grabbed his balls and brought his already-hardening cock to her lips. She propped herself up with one elbow and he looked down to see her hand with its heavy silver sigil ring firmly around his shaft.

Her warm, firm lips and tongue were soon working both the upper and lower side of his cock, then she concentrated on his head and treated his balls to some teasing licks. Gentle at first then getting harder and faster, she soon worked his cock up to its full hardness. He threw his head back against the wall, largely oblivious to anything that might have been going on around him. He was only conscious of the impression that the room seemed much darker than he ever remembered it and that his senses were still filled with the sweet ambrosial aroma of her pussy.

He slid his hand against her jaw and rested his fingers just behind her ear. Her skin was smooth and cool and he could feel the rigid shaft and head of his cock whenever she rubbed them hard against the inner wall of her cheek. Subtle laughter surrounded him and he thought he heard some words spoken by a deep foreign voice but these were fleeting impressions, chased away by the sheer force of pleasure that Ivy was able to create in his body.

He bucked and thrust upward to meet her mouth as it bore down, bringing to every one of his nerve endings an electric frisson of stimulation. Even in the narrow confines of the booth with his back hard up against the wall, James felt totally at ease and totally at the mercy of Ivy's passion. Her shining hair was a glorious sight to behold as were her beautiful hands; both now resting on his thigh like she was a tigress lapping water from a forest stream.

Harder and faster her head bobbed and she changed its trajectory in many small and subtle ways, the sum of which had him racing ever faster towards the exhilaration of release. He licked and bit his lips; saliva escaped his mouth and dripped onto his tee shirt, his breathing quickened too as he felt his balls tighten and contract. Ivy was, of course, conscious of every nuance of his arousal and now she deep-throated him slowly and expertly, delaying her own breathing to bring such suction to bear as he had never experienced before. He bucked gently several more times until she stopped, ready and eager to receive his cum.

When he blew, he felt a jolt in his spine like the tapping of a thousand tiny silver hammers hitting his every nerve ending over and over again. The terms tantra and chakra floated inexplicably through his mind along with many rapid visions of the beauty and irresistible allure that was Ivy.

She swallowed every delicious rope of rich fluid that he brought forth, working his balls gently with one hand until she was satisfied that he was quite literally drained. Slowly he opened his eyes as the waves of pleasure gradually receded and was faintly alarmed to see another couple sitting on the opposite side of the booth.

They were kissing passionately with hands clasped and seemed to have been there for quite a while. James did not recognize them although his mind was still far from any state of analytical capability. Ivy now rose and sat up. He sensed a coolness on the surface of his skin where her mouth had moistened it and he looked down to see his cock; its hardness finally on the wane. Ivy giggled quietly as she looked at the couple opposite, causing them to part just long enough for the girl to say,

“Sorry guys, I hope we're not disturbing you, only there's nowhere else to sit...”

Ivy didn't answer immediately, instead, she licked the corner of her mouth, smacked her lips and made it quite obvious what she'd been doing; although the fleeting looks on the couple's faces made it abundantly clear that they had known. Then, in her crisp, chirpy, tone she replied.

“Oh no, you're good! No worries, we were just leaving, weren't we James.”

All James could manage by way of response was “Ah, huh.” which was followed by a long, awkward minute of trying to force his still semi-erect cock back into his jeans. Finally and quite loudly, he zipped up his fly with the couple still looking on. He did his best to hide his embarrassment while Ivy downed her scotch in one gulp and put the glass down with a loud tap.

The club was still quite crowded; if anything, there seemed to be more people around than when the bands were playing. James paused to adjust his clothing as Ivy walked on ahead. He glanced up to see her hips and shoulders swaying as she cat-walked through the crowd. Predictably several heads turned to watch her pass and, at that moment, James imagined a sly smile playing on her lips. He caught up with her by the bar where she turned to look into his eyes. She was all sweetness and easygoing charm.

“Do you want to stay, it's ok if you do, I don't mind?”

“Mmmm, no, let's go get that kebab.”

“Sweet, I know a good place but we'll have to drive there.”

“Drive?”

“Yeah, I'm parked only a few streets away.”

“Ok great, lead the way.”

They stepped out into the street whereupon James checked the time. It was 1 am. He saw that Ivy had turned left to head down the alley that ran along one side of the building. He caught up with her and immediately looked warily around. The alley was dark and lined with the barred doorways of old, largely dilapidated buildings. At one point, they passed a stack of wooden crates. James glanced sideways at them then reached for Ivy's hand. When she didn't clasp it he turned slowly and froze.

He saw Ivy standing perfectly still with her head down. A man had one of his arms around Ivy's neck with a knife aimed at her throat. The glint of the steel caught the dim light for an instant as James took a deep breath. He looked at the man's face before the man spoke between gritted teeth. It was a thin, strained voice,

“Give me your fucking wallet cunt or your girlfriend gets cut.”

“Ok, ok relax, I will, just don't hurt her.”

But the man's aggression only seemed to increase at these words.

“Yeah, you think I'm a stupid fuck huh!”

“No, no, I'll throw the wallet over there. Let her go and just take it.”

“Fucking do it then!”

He took his wallet out of his back pocket slowly and threw it three or four meters down the footpath. With a loud grunt, the man shoved Ivy down and shambled towards where the wallet had landed. James was about the grab Ivy's shoulders and draw her in the opposite direction when she sprang up from where she was squatting. She threw her hair back in an instant and ran after the man. She moved swiftly and silently despite the heavy boots she wore. James attempted to stop her but her burst of lightning speed stunned him.

She stopped abruptly behind the man who didn't even have time to turn. She landed a thunderous hammer blow to the base of his neck and he fell heavily into the gutter at her feet. She kicked the knife away, picked the wallet up and threw her shoulders back as James ran up to her. He heard sly laughter as she threw the wallet to him. Their eyes met.

“Are you ok? What the fuck! You could have been hurt or worse!”

She laughed again, stepping casually over the man's body like it was a fallen branch.

“Don't worry about me honey, I'm not half as helpless as I might look.”

“But he held a knife up to your… throat.”

“Oh James, it's so sweet of you to be concerned about little old me.”

She grasped his hip and pulled him close.

Let's go and keep an eye on that wallet. James looked back at the still-inert body in the gutter behind them.

“Don't worry about him, it's probably about time he met his match.”

“Shouldn't we call the police?”

“No. Now let's go, I'm so fucking hungry, I could devour that hot, thick, delicious cock of yours again right now!”

Her whispered tone had the same commanding effect on him and he felt a tingle of desire at her choice of words. She slipped her fingers under the top of his jeans and pressed close to him as they walked. Her aroma and presence were as intoxicating as ever and soon the crumpled, motionless mass that lay breathless in the gutter behind them was all but forgotten.

They passed several more dark, silent streets until Ivy turned down a lane called 'Eternity'. There she paused by what, to James, seemed a rather odd vehicle and, from a hidden pocket, she took out a set of keys.

“What the hell? What kind of car is this?” He spoke with a far more critical tone in his voice than he had intended.

“It's a 1962 Morris Minor 1000!” She informed him proudly.

“Wow.” He replied without seeming at all impressed.

“I've had it completely reconditioned and it is tuxedo black.”

“I can see that.”

“What? You were expecting a Mazeratti perhaps?”

They both laughed as they got in. James found the car warm, comfortable and smelling sweetly of fine leather upholstery.

“You have had it done up, haven't you.”

They drove to an all-night Afghan takeaway where they ordered two kebabs with extra garlic sauce. James then suggested they stop and eat at a point that he knew which overlooked the bay along the coast road towards Tamarind Cove. The moon was full and the road to the clifftop point was all but deserted. James sat back and admired her as they drove; tracing her perfect profile and the elegant sweep of her lustrous dark hair; that seemed to have lost none of its sheen in the moonlight.

He feasted his eyes on her bare arms and perky breasts; mostly hidden by the laced vest yet beautiful and alluring. Then the delicious curve of her hips and finally her long legs with that gorgeous stripe of skin; showing teasingly all the way to her boots. She was of course fully aware of his attention and while she never took her eyes off the road, he could see her smiling and reading his mind.

“Just a little further lover-boy and we'll...eat!”

When they parked and unwrapped the kebabs, he was amused by her total lack of table manners; chewing with her mouth open, talking with it full, wiping her lips with the back of her hand and finally burping loudly. He laughed, while maintaining his own level of decorum in spite of her bad example. He was pleased to see her make good use of the napkins once she had finished eating then she opened her door and walked to James' side of the car. She opened his door and he swung his legs down. She sat in his lap and he wound his arms around her.

They gazed out at the moon-drenched sea; calm and welcoming, with the merest breeze refreshing their senses. He sighed and she turned her face towards his. He met her beautiful, luminous eyes and they kissed tenderly for what, to him, seemed a blissful, timeless moment of pleasure. When Ivy, at last, broke the kiss she smiled and whispered,

“Come on, let's get naked.”

Before he could protest she had stripped her own clothes off; tossing them unceremoniously into the back seat of the Morris Minor. He had no choice but to follow suit and with rapid hands she helped him; giggling and laughing the entire time.

“Mmmm, fuck you're hot James Dunlean ! Let's go down to the shore.”

He laughed and took a quick look around the car park. As there seemed to be no one around so he threw caution to the breeze and followed her down the paved path. This was the first time he had seen her totally naked and he thrilled at the sight of her perky breasts with rosebud nipples, her perfect curves and the cleft of her ass as she swung her hips, walking just one meter in from of him. He felt a significant tingle in his balls and, as his cock swung from side to side he could already feel it hardening, and growing heavy with desire. She turned frequently and teased him by tossing her hair and wiggling her butt at him.

Smiles and breathy giggles followed them as their feet finally reached the sand. The beach was bordered with huge slate boulders piled there long ago to prevent erosion. They formed lots of nooks, into one of which Ivy now stepped. As soon as James joined her she pushed him up against the side of a broad flat rock and fell to her knees. She sucked his cock hard but for only a few minutes; he was hard in no time at all. She then sprang up and climbed nimbly onto the rock. On her back with legs spread wide, she beckoned him forward into the cleft of her pussy.

“Taste it, lover.”

He marveled at her lustrous slit and her perfect triangle of dark hair pointing down to it. He now fell to his knees and lapped, sucked and licked her nectar-sweet flesh; sinking his tongue impossibly deep into her velvet smooth folds. Sweet abandon followed until he turned his attention to her clit and soon made her come. She moaned and cried out, holding his head between her legs until the waves of incandescent pleasure slowly receded. She then propped herself up on her elbows. Breathlessly she whispered,

“Fuck me.”

He climbed onto the dark stone and Ivy immediately guided his shaft between her glistening lips. In an instant, her long legs were wrapped around his hips and he settled down to fuck her deep and hard. Below him, she was a vision of not only beauty but pure desire. Her every move met his every thrust and she arched her back so that he penetrated her as deep as it was possible for him to go. With her breasts heaving and his heavy balls heavy swinging against her ass, they fuck harder and harder, faster and faster. The rock beneath his knees seemed to grow warm as he drooled onto her chest before descending to kiss her delicious open mouth.

Now she dug her nails into his butt cheeks; pulling him harder into her pussy. She tightened her muscles around his cock as he bucked; sweat dripping from his brow despite the sea breeze. They fucked for what seemed like an eternity of pleasure until the subtle pain from her nails finally tipped him over the edge. With a profoundly deep groan he twined his hands around her shoulders and kissed her hard as he shot rope after rope of come into the delicious depths of her pussy. She milked his cock the entire time feeling the electric surges of incandescent pleasure as they shot up his spine.

At last, he collapsed next to her; still holding her firmly and he felt the warm stone under his cheek. She didn't move for a long time but with his eyes closed her listened to her breathing until the aroma of the sea was replaced with something else; a tangy slightly acrid smell. He opened his eyes at last to find that he alone lay on the rock. Around him the dark boulders where veiled by a clinging fog beyond which he could see nothing but the pale moon; like a dim and distant memory.

“It's time James.”

He turned abruptly to see her standing behind him on the sand, naked and beautiful as before but carrying a scroll of what looked like thick, yellowish paper and an old-fashioned nib pen that she set down next to him. Solemnly she said,

“Sign, and you'll see me again. Otherwise, I will return whence I came and I'll bother you no longer.”

Slowly he picked up the pen and she unrolled the scroll.

“Sign this and nothing can part us. But it must be in your blood. Do you agree?”

He nodded solemnly.

“Shut your eyes.”

He did so, not knowing what to expect and immediately felt a sharp pain across his face as she punched his nose. Dazed for an instant, the punch also woke him up. With stars falling before his eyes he croaked,

“Ouww! What the fuck did you do that for?”

She laughed slyly, and endearingly.

“Oh, don't be such a wuss! You'll live.”

Blood trickled from his nose quite freely and she was quick to catch it in her cupped hand. She looked at him with total seriousness as he dipped the pen into it and scratched his full name onto the parchment. Once this was done she picked it up and looked at it with satisfaction, rolled it back up and took the pen from him. The mist had now taken on the quality of thick opaque smoke. It started to surrounded her and she stepped back into it smiling. He held out his hand and started to speak but the scene around him rapidly faded and he found himself, still naked, sitting in his own bed.

“When will I see you again?”

And, in a distant but unmistakable voice she answered him,

“Oh, in about eighty years. Ah, but what fun we'll have Metal-head!”