Azariel the Tester
When she tempts you with an easy score you realize she’s more than she appears.
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The rain’s let up, but the street is still slick with a sheen of oil. Every gutter full of secrets and cigarette butts. The neon from the liquor store across the way paints the pavement like a crime scene. You weren’t planning to stop. But the girl leaning against the wall near the corner deli makes you pause.
She’s hot… no doubt, but why you stopped, who knows. There’s something about the shape of her mouth when she smiles, the way her arms press her tight gold-wrapped top against that unholy bust, the cut of her pants like they were painted on. A couple words in and you’re shamelessly flirting right out in the street. Suddenly she says, He left the back unlocked, you know. You blink. She barely pauses before continuing, Cash drawer’s wide open. He does it every Thursday. Little gift to himself, he thinks. You look like you could use a little gift. She winks and leans in like what she just suggested was the most normal thing in the world.
There’s something off in her grin. You glance sideways before answering, just a flicker, and your gut turns. Did you just see…? Small, curved horns, poking from either side of her head. Dark as burnt copper. But when you look back, there’s nothing. Just wet curls and golden hoops. Maybe a trick of the streetlamp.
She catches your expression and lets out a low laugh, Don’t be so scared. I’m not gonna make you do anything. She walks past you, hips moving like temptation had a rhythm section. I just thought… maybe you were tired of being good. She pauses at the alleyway, silhouetted by blinking neon. Her golden top catches every drop of rain like glittering chains.
You coming? she asks, glancing over her shoulder.