Get This Over With And Fuck Blaze

"Fine," Lois said. She set the glass down. "So...where are we doing this?"

"There's a private lounge." Blaze said, the dark eyes flashing, that Mona Lisa smile on her lips. She stood as well. "Unless you need something else to drink?"

The reporter looked down at the empty wine glass. As much as a bit of alcoholhic buzz would probably make what was to come easier, she knew that she should keep her head clear. Lois shook her head.

What are you worried about, Lane? The reporter asked herself as her mother took her arm, Angelica Blaze leading the way through the hot restaurant to a dark wooden door, which she unlocked with an ancient silver key. You're safe. No matter how much cum she pumps in you, the tubes are tied! Baby factory out of business.

Except Lois had seen the trick where Blaze had turned the water into wine. It made her stomach knot and unknot to think about it. Or maybe it was just the realization of what she was about to do. Have sex with a complete stranger—and self-proclaimed demon!—all to save her mother's soul.

How do I even know that this is real? Not some elaborate illusion, some game, some trick to get in my panties? Lois chewed the thought as she stepped through the door. The truth was, she didn't know. But her gut told her that this was her own mother. That Angelica Blaze had been absolutely truthful. That one way or another, she was about to be fucked.

The "lounge" included a large flat-screen television that took up most of one wall, several tall green plants in brass pots, an antique loveseat against the opposite wall, and a pair of matching chairs. There was one other exit for the room: a dark door on the opposite wall marked "WC" with brass letters.

Angelica Blaze closed and locked the door. Ella Lane let go of her daughter's arm and took a seat in one of the chairs.

"You can freshen up, if you'd like," the demon pointed to the bathroom. "I can have something brought in?"

"Mineral water, for later," Lois said...and realized, as she let out a breath, that she wasn't nervous. Not really. Resignation had settled on her. "But I will take a moment to clean up, thank you."

She pushed open the door marked WC, slid into a small bathroom. Sink, bidet, toilet. Black and white checkered tile. The door shut, and she didn't bother to lock it.

How many times in my life have I done this? Lois thought as she sat on the toilet. Gone through this pre-sex ritual. Empty myself out, clean myself up...

The reporter could still remember the first time she had done that. She had so wanted everything to be perfect. It hadn't been, of course. They had been young, inexperienced. It had been over too quickly, and she'd had to finish herself off later, with her fingers, with a sense of disappointment. After that...encounters tended to blur. Some of them stood out starkly.

Lois didn't bother to put her pants back on as she stood up from the bidet and wiped herself down. She stepped out of the room, naked as the day she was born.

"So...how do you want me?"