The plan had fallen into place quickly. Michael found he had an intuitive understanding of the entity's powers, while the entity seemed to quickly grasp the capabilities of modern technology. Whatever form of unspoken communication occurred between them, it was effective. Ideas flowed freely without a need for any formal language.
There would be a rave. In the warehouse. They had worked out many of the basics before recent events transpired. Michael had a DJ at the ready. Vanessa and Erika had a plan to spread word of the rave and bring in a crowd. The one major twist was that Michael would be supplying the DJ was a very special light show to play alongside the music. The DJ wasn't thrilled about that change, but a fistful of money brought him around. Shockingly, Erika and Vanessa had made no protest when Michael ordered them to supply the necessary funds to pay the DJ.
Vanessa was the their resident expert on both tech and raves, so he'd put her in charge of preparing the light show. That left Michael with little to do, besides wait in anticipation.
One of perks of devouring souls,
he chucked to himself,
the ability to delegate.
Michael had left the girls to their tasks for the past few days. Afraid he might blow his cover and ruin everything, he'd spent most of his time laying low, following his normal routine so no one wold get suspicious. But now, on the eve of the rave, the anticipation had grown too great to bear. He needed a distraction.
And thus it was that Michael found himself sipping a coffee in his favorite cafe during the late afternoon, not long before closing time. A cafe where happened to work a particularly stunning blonde waitress over whom Michael had been drooling since he'd discovered the place three months earlier. The cafe had quickly become his favorite, and it certainly wasn't because of the mediocre coffee.
The waitress, Natasha, was the only employee left in the cafe this close to closing time. She gave the only other customer in the cafe his check, then placed Michael's check on his table with a smile. Michael knew that smile. It was a "get out of here so I can go home, but not before leaving a generous tip" smile. She had no romantic interest in him and he knew it. He wasn't a bad looking guy, but she was still way out of his league.
The other customer paid his check and left quickly, taking the not so subtle hint. Meanwhile, Michael slipped a small piece of paper into the folder with his bill, then placed it upright on the table, letting Natasha know she could come collect it.
Michael shuffled with his belongings as if preparing to leave while Natasha snatched the bill from his table with a cherry "Thanks!" Michael watched as she walked to the register and opened the folder. "What..." It was all she managed to say before the symbol Michael had drawn on the paper burrowed its way into her mind. She stood holding the open folder in one hand staring intently at the circle of ancient script.
Michael rose casually from his table and walked to the entrance of the cafe. He locked the door and flipped the sign over to display "Closed." Then he turned and surveyed his prey.
Natasha was tall for a woman at perhaps 5'9". Her wavy blonde hair tumbled down over her shoulders to her mid-back. She wore simple attire fit for work: a white t-shirt, bluejeans, sneakers, and a baby blue apron. On paper, it was a modest outfit, but everything fit so snugly that it was clear Natasha knew her generous curves could earn bigger in tips. The outfit gave male customers something to leer at without giving female customers anything obvious to complain about.
Michael watched as Natasha's full lips parted, just a hair at first, then her jaw fell wide open. Slowly, her unoccupied and reached behind her back and untied her apron, slipped the neck band over her head, and let the apron fall to the floor. She reached down and unfastened the button on her jeans, then slowly tugged the zipper down. Still staring at the drawing, Natasha slipped her hand beneath her jeans and into her panties.
Michael smiled at the steady rhythm of Natasha's hand beneath her pants, knowing her delicate fingers were gently circling her clit. She was breathing heavily now, and soft moans escaped her lips whenever her pleasure peaked.
Michael was incredibly aroused. He couldn't wait to get Natasha out of those cloths, to see that shapely body in the flesh and use it however he pleased. But there was something else gnawing at him as well. He cold feel her will, he realized. It was a strange sensation, like using a 6th sense he'd never had before. It was difficult to describe. From somewhere in his mind came the knowledge that, as the script worked is magic and sexual tension distracted Natasha's mind, her grip over her own will loosened, for lack of a better word. She had a strong will. Stronger than Erika's had been. Centuries, perhaps millennia, of experience let the entity glean certain information from a will. Natasha had overcome great adversity, and emerged stronger for it. She had an unshakable self identity and valued her independence. Michael realized he was salivating. He craved that robust will and the new power it would bring him.
Michael licked his lips. Everything he wanted was there for the taking. "Come with me," he ordered, grabbing Natasha's arm and leading her into the kitchen, out of sight from the windows. Any thoughts of toying with his prey flew out the window. He wanted her now. Michael tore off his shirt, displaying the ancient script swirling around his torso. Natasha's big, blue eyes went wide. The drawing slipped from her hand and fell to the floor, the crude imitation replaced by the real thing.
"Present," he commanded.
"Present," she mumbled back as she began removing cloths. She pulled her shirt over her head, then unfastened her bra and slipped the straps from her shoulders. Michael gulped as she revealed her tits, bigger by far than Erika's or Vanessa's. It was all he could do to stop himself from interrupting her undressing by pushing her down onto her knees and fucking those wonderful tits. But sex was not the real prize here. He wanted her will. Her body would forever be his to use afterward.
Michael began unbuttoning his own his pants as he watched Natasha hook her thumbs into the waistline of her skintight jeans and shimmy out of them, rocking her hips side to side in way that had Michael's cock standing at full attention. He slid his own pants off as Natasha pulled a pair of hot pink panties below her hips, let them fall down her legs to her feet, then stepped out of them.
Michael was in awe. It was a travesty Natasha was waiting tables. She belonged on a fashion runway or in blockbuster films. She was an absolute bombshell. A perfect 10/10. And she was about to be his.
Natasha began lowering herself down to her knees, but Michael stepped forward and stopped her, grabbing her by the arm. "No," he said. "No games." He grabbed her by the hips and effortlessly lifted her up, setting her bare ass on the cold, stainless steel counter.
