Jen anxiously watched the clock, counting down the hours until she could sneak away to Ms. Davidson's house. It seemed as though the hour would never come. Sam had been sullen all evening, giving her wicked glares, and not speaking a word to her.
Their parents had noticed the tension between the two of them, but hadn't really pushed the issue as to why. Jen knew she could easily make peace with Sam; all she had to do was slip into his bedroom and let their animal natures take their course, but she wasn't ready to do it, at least not tonight. The last thing she wanted to do was lose track of time.
Around ten o'clock, she slipped out of her bedroom window, walking down the road, trying to figure out how to get to Ms. Davidson's house, wishing she'd gotten directions. After what seemed like a very long time to be walking, she found the house. It was a placial estate, three stories high, surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. It was enormous, and she wondered to herself why noone thought anything of a guidance counselor owning such a large home.
Jen walked up to the front door, which was guarded on either side by a pair of stone gargoyles, and rapped loudly on the door. A moment later, the door opened, and Ms. Davidson appeared inside.
Jen was struck immediately by how beautiful she appeared. Her hair, which she'd only seen up in a bun, trailed down her shoulders, shining black. Ms. Davidson had also abandoned her glasses, which served to only accent the beauty of her eyes. She was clad in a long crimson bathrobe, which hung slightly open, revealing a large pair of breasts wrapped in a black and lacy bra.
"Come in, Jennifer. I'm glad you could make it," Ms. Davidson said, her voice dripping with sensuality. Jen felt a little awkward, seeing the look of dark lust barely veiled in her eyes. For a moment, Jen almost backed out of their meeting, wanting to run home, but found herself almost compelled to go inside.
Dark tapestries hung on the walls, depicting scenes of Lucifer's fall from heaven, his failed war with God, and various tortures of the damned. They seemed impossibly old, looking as though they'd be more appropriate in an ancient castle, or in a museum of history. Ms. Davidson gestured to a long leather couch on one end of the room, "Have a seat, Jennifer." Jen did as she was told, taking a seat on the incredibly comfortable couch.
"Care for a glass of wine?" Ms. Davidson asked, pouring out a pair of glasses from a mini-bar she had on another wall of the room.
Jen agreed, hoping it would quell the butterflies in her stomach. Her dark host smiled, having already anticipated her answer, bringing her the glass of dark red liquid. Jen eagerly took a gulp of the wine, which burned more than she'd expected, and almost immediately caused her head to swim.
"So, are you ready for us to complete our deal?" Ms. Davidson asked her.
"Yes. Do I have to sign a contract, like in the movies?"
Jen asked hesitantly.
Ms. Davidson laughed softly, "Yes, dear, but you don't have to sign in blood. I've found that makes many people rather uneasy." She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of smoke, a multi-page contract appeared in her hands. "I'll give you the basic terms of our agreement, set forth in the contract. Or would you rather read it yourself?"
Jen took the offered contract, but found herself unable to focus on the words, as she had quite a powerful buzz, despite having barely drank a half of the glass of wine. "I...I'll let you read it; I don't really have a mind for the legalese."
Ms. Davidson smiled again, "Not a problem dear. The first point is that you are giving me your soul for all eternity, to use as I see fit, as payment for our deal. In exchange, I grant you the power to transmit lycanthropy to anyone and everyone who tastes your juices, and further more, that their own lycanthropy will have a trigger of lust, just as yours does. The third point of the contract grants you the rank of lieutanant in my army, which entitles you to greater freedoms, such as the creation of lycanthropes, in exchange for which you agree to a higher level of loyalty to me than the average person who sells their soul. This also grants you a share of the material rewards in my war with heaven."
Jen interrupted, "A higher level of loyalty?"
Ms. Davidson sighed, "The standard deal is for twenty years, at which time I kill the person whose soul I own, and leave them to an eternity of torment. I'm being perfectly honest, perhaps too much so. But you, Jennifer," she reached out and stroked Jen's arm, causing goosebumps to rise, "are so much more intriguing. In you, I see potential. That's why I'm giving you the chance. You'll simply have to do errands for me from time to time, that's all. I don't actually keep a hard-set timetable. In fact, the few that have been offered this sort of a bargain tend to live abnormally long lives, assuming they don't displease me. But, if you'd rather have the standard deal, I can cross it out. No hard feelings." She snapped her fingers, and a pen appeared in her hand.
"No, don't cross it out," Jen said. "I'll...I'll do it."
A broad grin creased Ms. Davidson's face, "Smart girl. Well...all that's left is the signing, and we can get on with my end of the bargain."
Jen took the contract and pen from her host, and prepared to sign. This was her final chance to turn back, but she'd already come this far. Still, the superstitious part of her was afraid. The devil always came out ahead in these sort of situations, she remembered.