As the sun set, the Succubus woke, filling her eyes with the wonder and mystery of a changing sky. She stretched out over the cold gravel and snow and extended her mind out across the city to find suitable quarry.
To find her first lover.
As her mind wandered, her body writhed. She was beautiful, the distillation of men's secret desires. Snow turned to droplets on her blood-red skin; her black nails raked the broken shale. She stretched her arms outward and slid them over her head, looking for all the world like a child making a snow angel, breathing deeply yet making no mist upon the winter air.
Her mind alighted upon another, drawn to it and joining it as a cluster of milkweed clings to another in a warm breeze. She extended herself deeply into the man's mind, parting the tangle of his thoughts gently. She tended the dormant seed of desire she found there, awakening it with a caress, a whisper, that would make his need cross his mind as a momentary flash, then settle and grow.
She made him ripe for harvest.
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