She'd always dreamed of drinking unicorn blood and snorting pixie dust, of what it might be like getting high on the discarded fluids of mythical creatures. She had seen them, she claimed, springing to life after the throes of her animated orgasm, the rapture draining from her simple features, the color returning to her placid face. Naked she climbed precariously out of the soft, soiled sheets of our afternoon tryst, winding through a maze of piled books and used CD's in the moody candle lit splendor.

Skimming through the stacks she settled on Billie Holiday Pure Platinum as perfect post coital noise, ejecting my more scurrilous selection; Sweet Dreams by the Eurythmics. She took pleasure in a half empty glass of Chianti formerly abandoned near the stereo during the discovery phase, when tight clothes were peeled to reveal delightful secret regions. Her emerald eyes were naturally bejeweled with a wicked Irish glint of lingering lasciviousness. A thin sheen of sex still shimmered on her stomach. Her pure, unabashed goddess beauty and slick, shaved cunt sparkled with flecks of forgotten glitter.

'When I was a child, lost in the forest,'� she unctuously alluded. 'Laying in the tall grass, with my pants pulled down, waiting for Peter Pan to deflower me, while the gust of a warm zephyr tickled my dew kissed cherry blossom, that's where I had my first experience with the faeries.'�

The sly way she twisted her hips drew my full attention, rising again without moving a muscle, the blood and need hardening me to an unbearable degree until my balls ached with dull wonder. An unraveling pile of twisted copper curls deftly framed her cherubic face, accentuating her tiny, cherry red lips in a curtain of scarlet tangles.

'They floated above me, a trio of iridescent pigments, caressing my virgin skin with their tiny fingers, singing ancient lullabies only children can hear, and luring me to following them home.'�

A solitary, thin finger, a delicate shade of dusted moonlight, unconsciously traced a soft circle around her creamy breasts as she spoke, the ripe blush of her aroused nipples responding instantly.

'Everyone knows they kidnap children and keep them as cherished pets,'� she whispered. 'Or training them to be sex slaves and concubines.'�

The hint of a snarl sneaked across her lips and then rippled into a sardonic smile.

'They were the first to taste my sweet girl nectar,'� she cooed. 'They taught me everything I know, deep down in my pink and wet places, all the wicked magic in me traces back to that idyllic day. '�

I'm lost in her I thought as her words rained over me. I could smell her from where I lay transfixed. The feral desire to climb back into her, to possess her and be infected by her delicious madness, pulsed through me while she chanted her quixotic confession like a practiced spell. She finished the wine, set down the glass, and crept towards the bed again like a curious fawn inching towards a black mirror lake.

'And in return for letting me go I promised to one day give them my first born child, which is why I stopped taking my birth control.'�

My laughter filled the room and melted her fear. I'd give anything to breed her and she knows it, if only I were still capable.

She dived back onto the bed, into my outstretched arms, and we rolled around, a peel of high-pitched giggles wrapped over us, conversing in forgotten tongues of fairy wonder and smoking pot until the sun burned itself out of the gummy amber sky.

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