Jump to content

Archive: Phero Girl: PG-17


luna65
 Share

Recommended Posts

il_fullxfull.1318488860_hr75.jpg

 

In tribute to the pheromone-enhanced fragrance which started it all, we present an “after dark” version of this instant classic, it’s definitely Adults Only! The provocative sensual delights of our Phero Girl recipe - numerous types of honey, honeycomb and tinctured bee pollen, layered with amber and enhanced with Essence of Woman copulins - in a rough-trade erotic encounter with leather, oud and bitter cocoa absolute.

 

HONEY ~ Enticing, seductive; use to bewitch a straying or hesitant lover. Happiness, fulfillment.
ORANGE BLOSSOM ~ Strong ‘magnet’ to attract men; eternal love, marriage, fruitfulness, thoughtfulness, happiness, tribute.
OUD (Agarwood) ~ Love, aphrodisia, spirituality, health.
AMBER ~ Fertility, creativity, love, luck, riches.
CHOCOLATE/COCOA ~ Lightens emotions, evokes feelings of love.
LEATHER ~ The musky scent of leather inspires feelings of lust, personal power, and provides a hint of danger.

 

Created by: Mara Fox

Description: Julie (luna65)

Label art: vintage film publicity featuring Lon Chaney

Pheroversary mini collection, October 2017

 

Pheroversary 2007-2017
Celebrating ten years of the very best scent and intent especially for YOU!
It seems like only yesterday we first introduced our series of pheromone-enhanced fragrances, but in fact it has been a decade’s worth of fabulousness featuring cutting-edge scientific enhancements combined with congruent scent blendings for myriad uses both personal and professional. These Limited Edition Pheroversary perfumes are spooktacular spins on our flagship creations...please enjoy with our gratitude for the enduring loyalty of our beloved customers and, as always, add a little MAGIC to your life!

 

from The Impudent Incubus

a Savannah Finch mystery

by Julian Lune

 

“He asked me about my feelings!” she wailed. “What a buzzkill!”

 

I gave a sympathetic shrug to my client, Justine Ridell. We were ensconced at the bar in the Maison Dupuy, as she related the nature of her complaint and thus my latest assignment. It seemed simple enough: Ms. Ridell had become involved with one of the local incubi who had then stolen something from her. Not her soul, mind you - which incubi and succubi cannot not prise from any mortal - and not the amount of lifeforce which they do take with every visitation. The item in question was an antique brooch with a rather...shall we say...salacious history.

 

“Is that really what it’s called?!” I exclaimed when she revealed its’ official name. I would say I clutched my pearls if I had any, which I don’t but that’s not for lack of trying. Plus that’s just too easy a pun because...well, I’m getting to that.

 

“It’s known as the Pearl of Euphoria,” she replied, “but yes, the name the piece was given at its’ creation was Thalassa’s Cleft, as it contains a baroque pearl -”

 

“ - in the shape of a giant vulva,” I commented, trying to wrap my mind around why someone who want such an explicit piece of ornamentation.

 

“That’s right,” Justine said with a smile. “And it is quite powerful, as baubles go.”

 

“One can only imagine,” I quipped, taking notes.

 

“But anyway, that’s why I don’t sleep with men any longer. They’re so boring.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“I mean, have you ever -”

 

I held up a hand and noticed I desperately needed a manicure. “Yes, I have, so I can sympathize with your plight. But what I don’t understand is you say this demon has shunned you?”

 

Justine drew herself up and sipped at her cosmo, looking affronted. “That is what I was told.”

 

“That doesn’t make sense, I’ve never known a demon to actually turn down a meal.”

 

“He told me I had a particularly exquisite flavor.”

 

“I’m sure he did,” Sebastian broke in from his place at the bar. I frowned.

 

“You’re supposed to be watching the car, Bast.”

 

“In this neighborhood? Be a mercy if someone did steal it.”

 

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Justine purred, rising from her seat.

 

“And you don’t need to be,” I said, rolling my eyes. “This is my associate, Sebastian Flambe.”

 

“Charmed,” he said, turning the full weight of his not-inconsiderable charms upon her. I could feel the heat of her flush, smell that familiar scent of arousal coming off of her as she reacted to his attention. Sebastian was irresistible, as he had been bred to be, but over the many months of witnessing receptivity to said attractiveness, this was a particularly intense reaction.

 

I sniffed, loudly. Frankly, she smelled like fucking, like she’d just rolled out of the full-body embrace of her latest boy toy and threw on some clothes. But she didn’t have that glazed cockstruck just-fucked expression which all women had after an encounter with an incubus. This didn’t quite all add up to my usually scheming mind.

 

“And then he stole your brooch?”

 

“He is the most likely suspect, having unlimited access to my boudoir, you see. And demons like shiny things.”

 

“That they do,” Bast affirmed, raising his cup of coffee in a toast.

 

“Flambe...where do I know that name from?” my client asked.

 

“Oh it’s quite infamous,” Sebastian replied brightly.

 

“Anyway,” I said, attempting to gain control of the conversation once more, “I must be rather explicit in my questioning, Ms. Ridell, if you’ll forgive me. Just how many demons have you -”

 

“Fucked, you mean? Oh, several, yes.”

 

“And when did you discover the theft?”

 

“I knew as soon as it was gone, you see. Whomever holds the Pearl of Euphoria has a very intimate connection with the piece.”

 

“It has a rather euphoric effect, as I recall,” Bast said. “When it is touched.”

 

“Not just touched, but stroked. That’s how it works.”

 

“So it’s a sex toy,” I said, not meaning to sound as jaded as I did, but...it just figured.

 

My client offered a withering glance by way of reply. “The Pearl of Euphoria is nothing so vulgar as that.”

 

“Why would an incubus steal such a thing? Especially if it is known to his kind?” At this I stuck my tongue out at Sebastian who gave me a heart-stopping grin and took another sip of coffee. “So no men at all?”

 

“None. As I said, they are far too conventional and ordinary when it comes to sex. A woman of my discernment and desires requires a far more...adventurous companion.” She looked at Bast and he gave her a wink.

 

“Are you...seeing anyone right now?” she asked.

 

“He’s part human,” I informed her.

 

“Hopefully not in his dick,” she replied.

 

Sebastian snickered, and my client smiled.

 

“If in fact a demon stole your brooch it could be anywhere,” I informed her. “It could be in Hell for all we know, adorning the leathery hide of Malcanthet even now.”

 

Justine thumped a fist upon the table. “I will not be humiliated like this! Don’t they know who I am?!”

 

I sighed. When would humans finally realize that we are only the playthings of forces above and below? If in fact this incubus had fucked her merely to steal a trinket for his queen, it was the price one paid for...well...fucking demons. She got off easy as far as I could tell.

 

“Demons don’t know everything, I suspect, but it is likely you were specifically targeted, Ms. Ridell.”

 

“I want Petrus Vinovich to answer for his trespass!”

 

Sebastian started coughing as if he had choked on his drink. I turned around in my seat and stared until he regained his composure.

 

“Petrus the Monstrous?” he exclaimed after he recovered from the fit. “Fuck me!”

 

“Funny,” Justine said, smirking. “That’s exactly what I said.”

 

 

“You can’t go after him!” Sebastian protested as we were, in fact, driving to track down Petrus at his hangout in the Quarter.

 

“Why? He can’t hurt me,” I replied, which was true. When you bear Hell’s Mark, it makes you impervious to the abuses of demons.

 

“No, but he’ll hurt me! He’s enormous!”

 

“You’re the incubus scion of the Flambe family, that practically makes you royalty in this town.”

 

“He’s hundreds of years old, nearly seven feet tall, and he’s got a cock like a -”

 

“TMI, dude, TMI. Okay, if you’re afraid then I’ll just go alone.”

 

“I am, I am very afraid.”

 

I was getting spooked because Bast is rather reckless as a general philosophy of existence. I glided by Absinthe Alley, a Goth enclave, while Sebastian slid down in his seat, whimpering.

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake already!” I shouted, putting the car in park and climbing out. The effetes were milling about in their jet black finery, velvet, leather, satin and lace, holding parasols high to block out the sun. In the aforementioned alley I found Petrus - I mean, who could miss him - giving it hard to some ivory-skinned dolly up against a brick wall. I cleared my throat mid-thrust and he looked at me.

 

He had the most vivid green eyes I’d ever seen. I felt myself melting inside as the tendrils of my demonic addiction responded to the totality of his temptation. The world shimmered before me just the slightest bit.

 

“Uh -”

 

“I went looking for Trouble,” he murmured, his voice a thoroughly pornographic basso profundo, “and boy, I found Her.”

 

I cleared my throat, which had gone as dry as Death Valley in that moment. “Uh, Petrus, I am here on behalf of my client, Justine Ridell -”

 

“Such a tiresome woman,” he said, extracting himself from the object of his attentions, who collapsed in a heap at his huge feet. “She is free to pursue others of my kind.”

 

“Yes well, that’s not the issue.” I cleared my throat again, I put my hand upon the brick wall to steady myself. This Hellspawn was like a black hole, I could feel myself succumbing to his void even as I hadn’t moved an inch.

 

The other girl struggled to her feet, pulling down her old-fashioned dress. “Who?! Who is she?!”

 

He placed a hand over her face. I’m pretty sure he only meant to cover her mouth, but his hand was indeed that large. I felt myself go liquid again.

 

“Bast! I could really use some help here!” I yelled over my shoulder.

 

“I tried to tell you! But no, you wouldn’t listen to me!”

 

“I’m sorry, okay? But seriously -”

 

And that is when I saw it. And I knew exactly why they called him Monstrous.

 

“Oh holy fuck,” I whispered.

 

“Miss Finch I assure you,” Petrus said, the subsonic brown sound vibration of his voice making me quiver like Jello, “there is nothing holy about any fuck with me.”

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Guest
This topic is now closed to further replies.
 Share

×
×
  • Create New...