Maurice Koenig woke up in his apartment bedroom to see a shadow above him, in the curvaceous silhouette of a woman. Suddenly, despite the lack of electric light in the room, he saw clearly the naked body of a sexy and beautiful lady.
Her skin was swarthy, her hair jet-black, her eyes a bizarrely bright shade of green, and her breasts were magnificent. Her hips were the most voluptuous ones that he had ever seen in his 40 years of life. She was absolutely ravishing in a very exotic way. She was definitely better looking than the Parisian women with which he was familiar, not to mention the more provincial girls of his adolescence in Strasbourg.
He couldn't believe the sight of this deliciously gorgeous lady standing in front of him. He had to wonder why she would bother to visit him, a dentist from Alsace-Lorraine. He was not even very young anymore. He had children by his ex-wife, Clothilde: a son of 19 and a daughter of 16. He was reasonably prosperous, but not rich, and what he had was partly taken by his ex in child support for his daughter and partly by the government in punitive income taxes.
Maurice had largely resorted to prostitutes for a guarantee of regular sex, whenever he could afford it. There was no disgrace in it, nor any trouble. Brothels were legal in France, which was one of the good things that he could say about his country.
He dated every now and then, but had mostly given up on the scene. He didn't trust the women of Paris. Many of them wanted a wealthy man who would be faithful to them and pathetically grateful for any sex, enough to grovel for it. They were gold-diggers and few bothered to disguise it. Worse, they were anorexic junkies in many cases, obsessed with fashion and inclined to spread their legs for more drugs. They were hypocrites, bigger whores than the official ladies of the night, and more promiscuous than any cheating husband.
At least the prostitutes were disease-free, hard-working, tax-paying, honest, and regulated by the state. They were prevented from stealing from their clients and less likely to abuse drugs. That was more than he could say for most models and other "respectable women" of Paris.
Koenig made a point of using protection with his women and they made one of insisting upon it.
The last things that he wanted were STDs, HIV, and pregnancy. He wished to raise his present children before even thinking of having more of them. However, something about this woman made him want to just take her and think of the consequences later. She had an earthy, full-figured look to her that screamed fertility, sensuality, and a voracious appetite for animalistic sex.
"Aren't you going to say 'bon soir' to your Aunt, Maurice?" the woman finally asked him, obviously flirting despite the claim of kinship she was making on him.
"Excuse me, ma'am? Who are you?" he questioned her, both excited and stunned by her unexpected arrival.
"Like I said, I'm your aunt. Well, your greatest aunt, to be precise. My name is Lilith, but you should call me 'Aunt Lilith'," she informed him.
"How are you related to me?" he demanded, now regaining some of his normal assertiveness. He was never accused of being a wimp, even by his ex.
"Well, I am the younger sister of your direct ancestors, Adam and Bath-Tammuz. They were man and wife as well as siblings. I was Adam's 2nd wife. I loved both of them very much, you know," she clarified.
"So, you're a ghost of a plural wife married to her brother? That's pretty wild, Aunt Lilith!" he exclaimed in surprise.
"Not a ghost. I never died. I am immortal and have been for the past 50,000 years," she explained.
"50,000 years? How in the hell can you be that old? Nobody lives that long!" Maurice shouted.
"I told you. I am immortal. I can not die," Lilith reminded him patiently. Obviously, this was someone who had trouble accepting the idea of immortality and the paranormal.