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Another day at work, pondering what sex with Aubrey Plaza would be like
🕑 Added 2019-09-13 00:48:46 +0000 UTCAbigail came in. She still looked distant, untouchable, and yet with a gleam of sexuality that seemed to challenge a man to try. From the waist up, she wore something much like formalwear. A punkish dinner jacket, a blouse buttoned to just over her small breasts, a bowtie on her bare throat. But below the waist, she wore shorts so small they were swallowed up by the hanging hem of her blouse. Outside of the immediacy of her inner thighs, a swath of tanned skin led to black stockings, which continued all the way down to shiny black pumps. The blend of sex, high fashion, and exoticism that any vampire would’ve given their fangs to pull off. All that was holding her back was that Abigail had a pulse.
God, she really was Thana’s Renfield, leeching off the vampire’s dark mysticism to feed some urge of her own, a proud kept woman, dressing herself in imitation of the strange netherworld Thana held herself in. Yet, I couldn’t think of Abigail as an addict or a sycophant or a groupie. She seemed far too willful, too herself, for that. It made me wonder what the hell her deal was.
Thana nodded with a modicum of pleasure at Abigail having followed her instruction. Looking over Abigail as if making sure a ship was seaworthy before a long voyage, she leaned back in her chair. “Strip. You’re going to fuck Ivan here.”
