Free Demon's Delight by MaryJanice Davidson

his pelvis forward and said, “Get on with it!”
    She unzipped his pants, eased his cock out, gave him what he demanded, teasing and tantalizing him with her mouth and tongue.
    He was vaguely aware of her long fingers digging into his bare buttocks, and found that incredibly erotic. He grabbed her head, pressed her closer, and she took more of him. Jesus, she was good.
    Then she took him really deep into her mouth, deeper than any woman had ever managed. He wanted to hold back, he tried to hold back, but her mouth was moist and her throat tight, creating an exquisite suction around his dick, and suddenly he was exploding. Oh man, oh man, he’d never experienced such pleasure. He didn’t know if he could take it, if his heart could hold out.
    His world went dark with stunning, ruthless suddenness.
    Â 
    Rachel left the back alley and its fully dressed occupant without a backward glance. She felt the warm glow of his blood in her veins, given in exchange for another illusion of a sexual act that had never really occurred. She considered it a fair trade.
    This was her last “business transaction” of the evening. She knew, without the benefit of a watch, that the night was waning, with about two hours remaining until sunrise. She’d had enough blood, and she had more money to add to her hoard. It was time to call it a night, although there was certainly nothing awaiting her at her condo.
    She slipped behind the buildings fronting Harry Hines and walked past stinking Dumpsters and litter scuttling along the ground until she found a bedraggled and pitiful group of people huddled around a fire in a trash can. The stench was overwhelming, the atmosphere of despair and mental confusion oppressive.
    Most of those living in the streets were mentally ill, homeless through no fault of their own, shunned by the rest of society. Rachel had long ago accepted that justice was a jaded crapshoot. Drawing some bills from her pack, she approached the group.
    â€œHey Paul, Sam, Martha,” she said, acknowledging the people she knew. “If I give each of you some money, will you promise to share with everyone here?”
    They nodded enthusiastically, toothless smiles splitting filthy faces. “Thank ye, Rach,” Sam said, snatching the bill she offered him. “God bless ye.”
    â€œSame to you.” She couldn’t bring herself to say “God.” She didn’t believe He existed—just a useless myth. “Don’t spend it all on booze, okay?”
    They all nodded their agreement, but she knew they’d make a run for the Centennial liquor store as soon as she was gone. Maybe some food would make it into their bellies—she could only hope.
    She headed for her car. She lived in a modest condominium in Oak Lawn and could walk the miles to get there, but she preferred to travel by automobile, as a hedge against being caught out in sunlight. The years had taught her that anything could—and did—happen and that she must always be prepared. The instinct to survive was strong, even if she no longer remembered the reasons to persevere.
    Her car was at Parkland Hospital, a few miles south on Harry Hines. Rachel always used the visitor parking garage. She could afford it and didn’t have to worry about her vehicle being vandalized. And if someone tried to question her appearance or her regular use of the garage, she could always glamour them into forgetting they’d ever seen her.
    She’d gone one block when she saw him. He was standing beneath one of the streetlights that still worked, and its fluorescent glow gave him the unsettling illusion of being framed in a halo. His body language was different from the usual Harry Hines crowd.
    He appeared to be expectant, almost waiting for something—or someone—although he didn’t emit the threatening hostility of a criminal, the hardness of a drug dealer, the apathy of a drug addict, or the general despair