Enrique was a handsome young man, raven locks with ebony eyes, and a smile that could charm the pants off of any girl within a hundred mile radius of him. The only thing more enchanting than his stunning looks was his silken voice. Enrique had the ability to take even the subtlest nuance in a lyric and make it ooze with sheer sexuality.
Currently he was caught up in a whirlwind of one night stands both professionally and personally. He felt his career was going nowhere fast. An endless stream of cheesy and often sleazy night clubs and Hotel Lounges left him unfulfilled and reaching for the first warm body , and coldest bottle of bourbon he could find after the set. Day after day, night after night he carried out this ritual. Sex had become nothing more than that bottle of bourbon. A drink that stung on the way down, but left you feeling as empty as the bottle when it was over.
Restless, a rare night off from performing, Enrique decided to check out the club scene. Tired of his bourbon, he ordered a Bloody Mary to switch things up a bit. The music in the club was pulsating, it had a life, and he could feel it. Perusing the crowd, he saw bodies moving rhythmically with each other, making love with out touching. In that very moment he knew that he would sell his very soul to have the DJ spin one of his records.
“Let’s blow this place, ” a curvaceous young woman whispered in his ear while firmly grasping his crotch.
Looking into her eyes he was mesmerized. They were the darkest eyes he had ever seen, If he didn’t know any better he’d swear they were black. Her bosom was full and jutting out above her blouse, where her jet black tresses flowed.
Arriving at his motel room, she opened the door. Wasting no time, they undressed and he anxiously laid on the bed. He felt a fire quell up within him that he hadn’t felt in a log time. Noticing her long nails his arousal grew, she clawed at him while gently kissing his manhood.
He saw flames fill the room, and became alarmed, she mounted him, gentle strides at first, asking him if he was ready to be a star. A nod from him then harder, with more intensity as the flames around her grew. She asked him again.
” Would you still sell your soul to get your record spinned?”
His pleasure, mixed with fear, was exhilarating at this time, and he felt like he was going to explode at any moment.
” Yes! Yes! Yes!” he exclaimed.
Revealing herself to him, she spread the length of her wings, for she was a Succubus, Naamah, the Fallen Angel, the Pleaser. She gave him release, and claimed his soul. This was his price. Naamah is The Angel of Prostitution and she will collect when services are rendered.