Free A Succubus For Christmas by M.E. Hydra

needed that dirt so he could persuade some of the corrupt bastards in city hall to call off the attack dogs. Koontz claimed he didn't have it. Estevez didn't believe him and had called in Bachman to take it.
    Loud grunts and sighs came from behind the last door on the corridor. One of Koontz's guests was taking advantage of the hospitality.
    The same hospitality had been offered to Bachman, but he'd turned it down. The girl was hot, but he was here on business.
    Koontz threw regular events like these for well-connected guys in the organisations. A gesture to keep everything smooth as he described it. It had been easy enough for Carlito to slip Bachman on the guest list as the new guy in town.
    Bachman had been incredulous it had been that simple, but now, walking around a pleasure palace with what appeared to be zero security, the surprise had worn off. Koontz must have rotted his brain with too much coke. Maybe he really believed that everybody get along peace crap. The hippy godfather.
    The private chambers were even more sumptuous than the rest of the mansion. Koontz was a man who'd indulged expensive tastes in fine arts. Well he probably called it fine arts. The sculptures and paintings of naked chicks Bachman saw only provided further proof to him that pornography was the second oldest profession.
    The stuff Koontz kept to himself was way more of the mondo bizarro type. In one of the rooms a wall was taken up with a painting showing three freaky demon chicks laying into some Jesus clone with whips. The artist had some serious repression issues as far as Bachman could tell. A damn fine idea of the female body though, even if he'd kind of spoiled it with the horns and bat wings.
    Freaky.
    Ozzy Osbourne meets Hugh Hefner as Bachman had originally thought. Maybe Koontz got his jollies dressing up in robes and playing at being cult leader with his harem of ho's.
    Apparently Koontz kept most of his files scattered around the house for convenient access. The information Bachman was after was supposedly in a small safe hidden in one of the private bedrooms.
    Unfortunately, the room was occupied.
    The description Bachman had been given seemed accurate enough. The room looked like something out of the Arabian Nights. Silks were suspended from the ceiling and walls to make the room look like a tent and soft cushions were scattered everywhere. A soft orange light bathed everything in a warm glow. The safe was supposedly disguised as a gold chest and bolted to the floor.
    Bachman saw it in the far corner and was advancing into the room when a bubbling noise suddenly made him freeze. It was the kind of sound you might hear from a water cooler after getting a drink.
    Just around the door was a giant, highly ornate hookah. It sat on a low table on three golden legs. Lounging on cushions on either side of it and holding a pipe each were two naked girls.
    Sloppy, Bachman cursed. The lack of security had made him too casual.
    There was no response though. The girls didn't cry out or even acknowledge he was in the room.
    Was this his lucky night?
    Cautiously, Bachman walked towards them. Still no response.
    They were asleep. No, more than asleep, stoned. Completely and utterly stoned out of their minds. Whatever was in their giant bong, it was some pretty potent stuff.
    Bachman's tenseness evaporated. He almost laughed.
    There was a strong musky odour in the air, like an exotic perfume although Bachman didn't recognise the brand. He wondered if it was the remnants of whatever the girls had been toking on. It tickled the nostrils and Bachman was surprised to find he felt quite aroused.
    That was probably the naked girls though. They really were stunning, with long lithe legs, smooth dusky skin and ripe full breasts. The girl on the left was a golden blonde while the other had jet-black hair that cascaded around her shoulders in tight ringlets. They were naked apart from some delicate golden chains around their necks, wrists and ankles. The