Crazy Seduction(erotica)

Sandy was feeling particularly upbeat this morning. While not a gloomy person by anyone’s standard, today she felt almost giggly.

The previous day had been so much fun at work as Dayshia told and retold her boob grabber story to the rest of the staff they worked with, each time her satisfaction at putting the creep down for the count made her eyes glow. While many in her audience were more mesmerized by her cleavage than the story, her bestie had enjoyed being in the spotlight and left everyone with a warning to watch out for weirdos in the subway.

Last night, all night, Sandy had many beautiful dreams about Henry and woke with such a case of the tingles she had to deal with it in the shower. No doubt this was a significant component in why she was feeling so good.

On top of that, this morning her hair was feeling unusually silky soft and shone with health. She had to make a concentrated effort to keep her hands out of it.

As she’d promised Dayshia, she kept her eyes open for weirdos, but she only saw the usual crush of commuters. She smiled at a young black NYPD officer she’d become casual friends with as he visited their hospital frequently and rode the same train as her. Every day, he got off at the stop before hers.

“Good morning, Officer Baker! Don’t you look smart in that uniform!” she said with a broad smile.

“Good morning, Ms. Marlow. You are looking exceptionally vibrant this morning!”

She laughed as they played the little game they enjoyed. Today was going to be a perfect day.

-=-

Dalewin and Rohann were ready to make their second attempt. This time Dalewin would take the point, and Rohann would be the spotter.

Their glamors displayed them as a couple of skinheads with ugly racist tattoos. Their disguises made the other passengers uncomfortable around them and less likely to make eye contact. As they were behaving themselves on the early morning platform no one wanted to start something. The cop was keeping an eye on them, but even he left them alone. According to Ikehorn’s surveillance report, he exited the train before the target so that’s when they’d strike. The platform was busy, but they needed to enter different doors to give them space around the mark.

As the train entered the station, Rohann moved further up the platform while Dalewin moved closer to the target. That earned him another look from the cop, but he just let the glance slide off as if he hadn’t noticed. The doors opened, and they pushed their way onto the crowded train.

Dalewin almost had an opportunity to hit the target as he followed her in but they were too far from the hospital. The plan had him stabbing the female in the back to knick the heart. It required an exact aim and significant strength. The wound would bleed, and she’d need immediate surgery. The injury would leave a permanent weakness… unless the Fae intervened. Plan B was to stab her in the kidneys.

He was an expert with knives, far better than Rohann, so it was natural that he take the point.

As he was standing so close, he had to listen to the cop and the target inanely babbling to each other. He traded a glance with Rohann up by the next door to check in. His partner rubbed his nose. That was the back off signal as Rohann thought he was too close to the target. He glanced over his shoulder, and there was no room to move behind him. So be it. He felt eyes staring at him and glanced down to see a young black man looking at him with hate in his eyes. Those eyes flicked to the cop then back to his. Hmmm… he didn’t calculate for another distraction. No matter. If he needed to take out the young man too, so be it. He wouldn’t have to hold back as he would with the target.

The train rode on stop after stop. Few left so less were able to board. Dalewin noted the angry young man had his head down as if dozing.

The next stop was the cop’s.

Then he would strike. He would succeed where Rohann failed. He allowed himself a little smirk. Rohann was such a perfectionist and had a long list of successful kills. Almost twice as many as Dalewin. It felt good to see him miss once in a while and to step in to finish the job for him.

Glancing across the train, he caught his partner’s disapproving scowl. He schooled his expression. How did Rohann always know what he was thinking?

-=-

Baker chuckled. “Tell Dayshia the next time I’m in I’m going to ask her to describe her assault in explicit detail.”

Sandy giggled at the thought. She knew Dayshia liked Mr. Baker even though she’d vowed she’d never date a police officer. “I’ll let her know. Oh! Here’s your stop. Be careful out there! Watch out for weirdos.”

The officer grinned at her and tipped his hat which earned him another brilliant smile. He moved to the door and kept his eye on the skinhead standing next to it. The doors opened, and he walked by the man, but it seemed like he didn’t even register on the punk’s radar; speaking of weird.

The doors closed and with a slight feeling of unease, he glanced in the window to see Sandy’s lovely smiling face one last time.

-=-

As the train began moving again, Dalewin palmed his dagger. It had a long slim blade as it was designed to slip between the ribs and penetrate deep into the victim’s torso. He began his countdown.

The target remained oblivious to her imminent danger and was relatively still. Dalewin was confident he could hit the target at precisely the correct spot with sufficient energy.

They passed the halfway point to the next stop, so it was time. The assassin eased his body closer, just so-

The fist that caught him on the ear was small, and the punch was poorly executed so, while it hurt, it caused no real damage. He spun and expertly jabbed the blade into the young man’s chest, collapsing his lung. As he turned back to hit the target, a roar of rage erupted from the seat next to his stabbing victim. A huge black man surged to his feet, shoving people to the side, knocking the target away from Dalewin.

As he turned to dispatch this second distraction, a huge paw gripped his face and drove his skull back against a handrail. Blood splashed the passengers seated there.

That’s when the screaming began.

-=-

Sandy felt a sharp bump forward and managed to turn to see a tattooed man having his head cracked against a handrail. She stepped back, away from the violence. Suddenly, Sandy gasped as someone behind her tugged on her hair. She cried out as the tugging became painful. A sharp, loud crack rang out followed by a high pitched scream of agony.

The train jolted to a stop in the station, and the skinhead behind her pushed outside through the opening door, cradling a visibly broken wrist.

Something fell to the floor behind her with a clatter, and she turned to see it was a knife. That bastard cut her hair?!? Oh my god! Who does that?!? She pulled it over her shoulder, but she found no gaps. It looked intact if not as bouncy and shiny as it was earlier.

She turned back and saw a young man sitting on a seat with blood on his shirt and lips. Her training kicked in as people screamed and fled the train.

“I’m a nurse, someone call 911,” she called out, and the brute who’d crushed the skinhead’s skull looked at her hopefully. Now that his rage was gone, she saw the simple innocence and desperation in his eyes. She turned her attention back to the young man he was fretting over.

She’d do what she could.Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g

-=-

Ikehorn was in a rage. This team of elite assassins was proving to be completely incompetent! Sent against mere Humans on two separate occasions, they not only failed to take out their targets, this time one of them was taken out by a bystander! And the excuse his partner was claiming?

“What the hell do you mean her hair broke your wrist?” Ikehorn exclaimed.

“I had a perfect opportunity to strike, and her hair seized my hand and bent it back until my wrist broke.” Rohann asserted.

Ikehorn stared into the frustrated eyes of the assassin. “She’s Human!”

“Is she?” Rohann growled.

Ikehorn leaned over the map of Central Park he had resting on the table before him and glared into the eyes of the assassin. “I ran the surveillance team for this group personally, and they are all Human. What happened to your wrist must have another explanation.” The assassin opened his mouth to argue.

“ENOUGH! We only have one more chance at this. We will target the tall, dark haired female. Her surveillance report shows she exercises by running through Central Park early in the morning. She has a few favorite routes, all which pass through this secluded, treed intersection. We set up an ambush here. A simple armed mugger scenario. Shoot her-”

“Have you not seen my wrist? I shoot with my right. You need a precise aim for the type of gunshot wound you’re asking for.” He stared down at where Ikehorn was pointing. “An old Dryad is living in a tree at that junction. She’s ancient and slightly mad. It wouldn’t take much to tip her into attacking. We disguise ourselves as police to ensure she doesn’t kill the target and call in the ambulance at the appropriate time.”

Ikehorn huffed with frustration. He didn’t like Rohann’s plan. There was too much that might go wrong. “Let me see your wrist.”

Frowning, the man lifted his arm. Surrounding the wrist was a faint green glow from the spell a healer bound to the damaged limb. It would protect the injury like a shield as well as aid the healing process. While it would take Humans six weeks of convalescence, the Fae only needed two to heal fully with their magic.

Ikehorn didn’t have two weeks! He needed Rohann better now! Concentrating his will, he passed his hand over the wrist before the man could pull away. The lightest touch…

The green flash obliterated the spellbound to the man’s wrist, and Rohann leapt back in shock.

“WHAT THE HELL are… you… What did you do?” Rohann started yelling but finished quietly as he carefully flexed his healed wrist. The terrible bruising was gone. It moved freely, but it was still a little weak. His hand still had a slight tremor in it when he used the muscles. Time would heal that.