“Do you love me as much as the day we met,” the old woman asked her husband, as they watch another sunrise during their sunset years. He turned, running a knotted knuckle down her wrinkled cheek. “More. Everyday l love you a little more.”

Don’t worry, she’s resilient

She’ll take all you have to offer

Your wicked whims and your sweet sensuality

Whisper your dark desires on her waiting flesh

Flush and ready

Both your dreams are waiting to come true.

In the daylight she is human, but when the sun goes down, and the earth cools, she heats up, melting away her sweet humanity. She becomes a monster in silk, revealing herself in the shadows and moonlight. Ready to play with her demons.

The lonely woman is a ghost without a soul. She gave it to a handsome devil. He played with it and grew bored, tossing it aside as he walked his road to damnation. She trails behind him but is already in hell.

She left. Days pass, then weeks

Yet her ghost remains, haunting him

The echo of her sultry laughter

Grabs him by the throat

The whisper of her wicked words

Wrap around his every thought

Her phantom touch strokes him

Setting his flesh afire