Prey, The Dance Begins

July 1925



His lean, supple body moved toward the Victorla, piquing my interest. He looked back at me. I knew a persuasive argument would no longer be our intention. With a mischievous smile, he wound the machine and placed the needle on the vinyl record. The music was resurrected. It enveloped me as if it were courting me, teasing me with the slide up of a heavy bass, taunting with the taps of a snare drum. The uneven vinyl coerced a horn to play in a melodic hum, binding me to its perpetual grind.



I held his face with longing eyes. Slowly I backed into my chair, caressing my thighs against the wrought iron, allowing my shoulders to dip down against my low buttoned cotton sundress that embellished my champagne glass torso. As I rose, my eyes traced up his cotton pants. He was at least in semi-agreement with my plan.



I crossed my arms over my chest, allowing the music to embrace me. Now, in a trance, beyond his presence, I could be the salacious predator and he my prey.



The bass swayed me, rocking my hips poignantly back and forth while the heat of the day left the cumbersome cream colored dress to cling to my voluptuous shape, furthering my intent. My arms opened, allowing my hands to trail to my waist where my fingers gathered the dress, cinching it to my hips. The music breathed a fuzzy hot breath, reaching a dominant chord within me as my fingers slowly pulled the dress higher and higher.



The bass struck again; its reverb brought forward an anxious piano, running a chill straight down my spine, presenting a slight flush of motion as it feathered through my lower abdomen. The piano continued to tingle somewhere in the arches of my feet and cascade into the back of my calves calling out the beast that lurked in the depths of my sexuality.



I raised one arm in a forward serpentine motion, calling him to me. He would take me, as I had never been taken before.

But it wasn’t always like this, two lovers enjoying one another. For a time during my life it was just me and The Edge of Succubus. Lucy was right when she said, “Sadie Dunning, your world is about to change – it’s never going to be the same.”



April 1924 – “Operation Free Me”



I flew through the front entrance of the house Melinda, my best friend, and I was renting from fire engine Andrew, a.k.a. my overprotective cousin. I had to tell her of this place called the Charmed Amethyst and make her want to go. “Operation Free Me” depended on it.