Alluring, exotic, delectable, sexy...dangerous.
M. E. Hydra returns with a second collection of thirteen sizzling stories featuring seductive succubi, amorous aliens and other sexy femme fatales.
“A Succubus for Valentine's Day” shows the perils of letting a succubus play cupid. Two tourists discover a dark secret of Amsterdam in “Venus of the Red Lights”. In “Knight vs. Succubus”, a knight battles for his life and soul against a cunning and seductive demon. A man finds out his pleasure planet of blue-skinned alien babes is not as it seems in “The Spiders of Thomisoidus”. And finally, a young man has a very special date in “A Summer Dance with a Succubus”.
Prepare again to be both seduced and shocked by these and other tales of wicked, sensual predators. They'll give you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams, and terrors beyond your darkest nightmares...
Kurtzberg went home to his cold, dark flat. The terms of his lease meant he couldn’t even keep a pet. There was nothing and no one to greet him as he opened the front door and walked through into his living room. He slumped down in his armchair.
He wasn’t going to wallow in self pity.
It never achieved anything. He’d figured out years ago the world wasn’t fair. People weren’t all the same. Not everyone could be athletic, good looking or smart. You could waste your life moping over what fate had failed to bestow on you, or you could make the best of what you had and get on with it.
Days like Valentine’s Day were tough though. Out there he knew happy couples were staring lovingly into each other’s eyes at romantic, candlelit dinners. All he had to look forward to was a microwave dinner in front of the TV.
He wasn’t going to wallow in self-pity.
Kurtzberg looked down at the succubus tablet, his ‘gift’.
Kurtzberg had accepted his own limitations and learned to live with them a long time ago. Was it too much to ask for people—people that took their own genetic good fortune for granted—not to remind him of them at every fucking opportunity?
He wasn’t going to…
Fucking Valentine’s Day.
Kurtzberg threw the tablet across the room.
It didn’t strike the far wall.
“Hey! Be careful. That’s my calling card.”
The tablet hadn’t hit the wall because a petite girl had stepped out of the shadows and caught it. She was wearing an old fashioned telegram delivery girl’s costume. Her long red hair spilled out from beneath a little peaked cap. The face beneath was pale and delicate, elfin almost. Her face might be delicate, but Kurtzberg couldn’t fail to notice the way her uniform strained to cover her ample bosom.
“Who are you?” Kurtzberg asked. “What are you doing here?”
How had she got into his flat?
The elfin-faced girl smiled.
“I’m here to deliver your Valentine’s Day present,” she said. “Me.”
She started to unbutton her uniform, revealing the inviting chasm of her cleavage beneath.