A/N This one's a bit of a departure for me. While many of the themes in my other stories are here, the central character being a succubus is different.
I thought about whether this should be in the Sci Fi/Fantasy category but chose Romance because I don't think it will meet the standards of the SF/F category.
Happy reading.
GM01
*****
There wasn't a hard and fast scientific description of her kind. There were multiple opinions on her kind as a subspecies, on their origins and various powers, strengths and weaknesses. Even Jillian wasn't sure of how and when she became fully aware of her status.
What she did know was that over time she had changed, no, she had evolved into what she now understood to be her true self. It had started slowly. In high school she was what might be referred to as a promiscuous girl. She lost her virginity a few weeks into her freshman year and by her senior year had experienced multiple partners. Her partners included several 'friends with benefits', a few girls and two male teachers.
In college she advanced further. Sex became a key component of her curriculum, a special sort of self study course. Along the way she had several lovers who could be considered 'tutors' of a fashion. Typically, these were men older than her, graduate students, professors, a Dean, some alumni and a few local businessmen. She had a rota of FWBs that she could hook up with at just about any time on just about any day for the majority of her four years. She graduated with a degree in English and a Summa Cum Laude in physical pleasures.
Post graduation she bounced around between various jobs (Marketing, PR, grant writer for a non-profit, editor for a literary website) and moved from city to city feeling no particular attachment to any one geography.
Now, at 27, for the past two years Jillian had been settled in Boston, working in Cambridge for a small digital publishing company. She handled several tasks - she was the head of Marketing (she was the only one in Marketing) and edited unsolicited submissions. Her job was enjoyable, if not challenging, but she had become an invaluable cog in the little machine. She was so valued that the two partners had offered her a small stake (5%) in the ownership.
The position paid well enough for her to have a lifestyle that suited her, plus with her new 5% ownership she began to receive small bonuses. She had a small one bedroom apartment in a section of the city that had not 'turned' yet so the rent was low. She had no car so that major expense was a non issue. Her tastes were not extravagant in most cases. The few exceptions being certain items of clothing, a sumptuous meal once in a while and vacations to a remote or special location.
--
Leaving her apartment a little before 10PM, Jillian strolled, no, she strutted at a leisurely pace toward a nightclub closer to downtown. To most men, and a fair number of women, Jillian was an attractive woman. She was tall, 5' 9", with a graceful, feminine body. Her long limbs and torso were toned, with all of her muscles plainly evident but not bulked or veiny like a body builder. Her curves had the appearance of having been sculpted for her body. Full, firm C cup breasts that swelled on her chest like two perfect halves of a ball, a bit bigger than a softball. She could, with a bra or the right piece of clothing push her breasts together and up to create a deep cleavage. In their natural state they had a smooth valley between the two hills of flesh. Her waist was slender but not thin and flared to hips that were curved to her thighs but not wide. Her ass cheeks were solid muscle, two half moons of sleek anatomy.
Tonight she wore a dark purple iridescent blouse that draped softly and temptingly over her braless breasts. The blouse was tucked into a black pencil skirt that reached her knees but had a slit up one side to an inch or two above mid thigh. On her feet were a pair of glossy, black patent pumps with a half inch platform and five inch spike heels. Jillian moved in a classic runway stride, heel, toe, one foot placed directly in front of the other. Even in the 5" heels her body moved fluidly, with a dancer's grace and her breasts bobbed lightly on her chest.
Her long, thick, luxurious, brown hair, freshly washed and shining as she passed under each street lamp, fell over her shoulders to curl below each breast and in the middle of her back She had green eyes, darker than emeralds, that rarely showed what she was thinking. They were surrounded with lush eyelashes that extended well out from each lid. Only when she smiled or laughed in an unrestrained manner did those eyes seemed to lighten in color and sparkle. Her smile was beautiful, though not displayed often enough for those who knew her. Perfect white teeth set between long, rosy pink lips, her full smile was infectious.
She rarely wore makeup at all. There was no need. She wasn't 'beautiful' or 'pretty' but she was attractive. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, her eyes, her mouth, her facial structure all fit together to form a visage that was pleasing to the eye. Tonight, however, she had placed some dark eyeshadow, a blend of grey, green and purple that created a smoky look around her eyes. She spread a light pink gloss on her lips that drew attention to them and gave them a more sensuous look. She had also painted her long nails a crimson color that made her fingers look even longer.
For adornment there was a single gold ring on the second finger of her left hand with a large, dark stone, perhaps garnet. On her left wrist was a heavy, gold link bracelet and in her ears two large diamond studs. All were gifts from previous admirers. For some reason men just liked to lavish her with gifts.
Around 10:15 Jillian strode into the club exuding confidence and poise. That attitude drew attention to her as much as her statuesque physical appearance. With a breath of excitement she strolled gracefully to the bar. Before she could place her order there was a guy at her elbow.
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked smoothly. His dark, almost black, hair was slicked back with some sort of 'product'. He was tall, probably 6' 1" since he could look Jillian straight in the eye as they stood toe to toe. His face was tan, a real tan not some tanning bed substitute, and his teeth were bright white. Jillian's first impression was that he was smarmy, a modern day lounge lizard in his black Kenneth Cole tee shirt, pleated pants and loafers with no socks.
"No thank you. I've just arrived and I'd like to get the lay of the land before spending time with anyone." Jillian tried not to come off as haughty or bitchy in her reply. It was not her intention to offend him.
"That's OK," he replied, seemingly undeterred. "Allow me to buy you this drink and maybe you'll remember me after you've had time to get into the flow. My name's Tony, by the way."
Tony extended his hand and Jillian took it with just the tips of her fingers and her thumb. "Nice to meet you, Tony. I'll have a ginger ale." She gave him a slight smile as she withdrew her hand.
It took a few beats for Tony to turn to the bar tender and order her ginger ale.
Where she had clasped his hand was still tingling a bit. When she touched him it felt as though some low voltage electric current flowed from her to him. What he did not know was that Jillian was probing him, getting readings on things like testosterone levels, virility, muscle tone and some genetic traits.
Raising her glass to him, she said, "Thanks, Tony. Maybe I'll see you in a little while."
She moved away, Tony's eyes were glued to the way her ass cheeks popped with each sexy step. She surveyed the club over the rim of her glass having left the straw on the bar. Straws were for children and bimbo women sipping fruity cocktails and tittering to each other about which guy was cutest.
There were several candidates tonight and she looked them over. The one she felt held the most potential did not appear to be alone. He stood at one of the small tables near the dance floor leaning on his elbows as he chatted with a blonde.
They appeared to be a mismatch. As so often happens a tall guy (six feet or better) was with a short woman (a little over 5 feet). The blonde was wearing some sort of flouncy orange dress that ended well up her thigh and was cut low over her too large breasts. Jillian assumed they were enhanced with the way they popped from the dress with the edges hard. She wore high heel sandals to display her fluorescent orange toes. She looked like a little bimbo fuck doll.
Jillian moved across the floor angling to remain out of the guy's line of sight. She approached him from behind and as she proceeded toward the rest room she faked a small stumble, putting her hand out on his shoulder to steady herself.
Steve McCarthy had been dating Tina Langwood for a year. She was starting to do more than just give hints that she wanted to move in together and / or get married. Steve liked Tina a lot and at 30 he was starting to think it was time to get married and settle down. Tina was looking like wife material to him. Tina was totally devoted to him, deferential to him in all major decisions, very pretty, with great, big tits and excellent in the sack. He had started to look for rings on the sly.
As he was staring into Tina's deep cleavage and thinking about tit fucking her later tonight, he felt a hand on his shoulder and an electric charge bolt into him. Rising and turning he extended his hand to a tall, dark haired woman who had apparently stumbled and grabbed onto him to avoid falling.
"Are you alright?" he asked, looking into her dark green eyes and feeling the electricity resume where his hand held hers.
"I'm so sorry, I never do that. I wear heels all the time and I never trip," she stated in a relatively flat tone with no embarrassment in her voice.
"Not a problem. Glad to be of service," he joked. He followed her with his eyes as she walked away, drawn to the taut muscles of her calves and the sway of her hips.
"Steve!" Tina barked across the small table, "Earth to Steve."
"Huh?" he replied turning back to Tina.
"What the heck? You stared at her like she was Giselle Bundchen or something. I
called your name like five times. You're here with me, remember?" she whined.
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. What were you saying about houses in Westwood?" Westwood was the town where Tina grew up.