Take It

Lois grabbed the bottle marked 'XXX.' Action followed idea almost immediately as she twisted off the cap. The smell of it hit her, stronger than in the cocktails upstairs. An ammonia reek that reminded her slightly of stale piss. Yet her throat felt dry, and she didn't hesitate to bring the bottle to her lips—then throw her head back and chug it.

Rat grabbed her hand wrist.

"Put it back!" he hissed, between clenched teeth. "Who knows what'll happen if you defile their shrine?"

Lois hesitated, strained for a moment. He was taller than her, by a couple inches, but he was thin as a rail and the goth's arms were skinny. Anger suddenly sparked in her.

Her right toe rammed into his left shin. Rat fell down on his knee, hard, hand still grasping her wrist. The reporter drew her leg back for power and brought it up in a fast, powerful arc. The kick caught the skinny goth right in the fork, and he gasped as his testicles were suddenly driven violently up inside his body.

The goth gasped and his legs gave up beneath him as he instinctively tried to curl around his bruised genitals. Lois ripped her arm out of his grasp, so hard that her fist struck the top of his head, fingernails leaving faint scratches above his eyebrow.

The rage simmered in Lois. She had never been a mean drunk before, but something about the cringing, mopey bastard had her blood boiling...and she realized, almost to her shock, that she liked the sense of power as he knelt before her.

Her left hand grabbed at his long, greasy hair. Knotted it in her fist and half-pulled, half pushed him until Rat was staring at the idol face-on, small rivulets of blood flowing down from the cuts in his forehead. Lois let out a laugh, and pressed his face against the idol itself, the blood running onto the rune-carved belly...

She felt the itch, between her legs. Her nipples were hard and erect as thumbtips, pressing against her bra. The thrill of just dominating the little shit of a man was making her wet and excited in a way she had never known before. Lois wanted more.

The open bottle was in her right hand. She could smell it, the stale, slightly ammoniac scent awakened a hunger in her. The reporter's lips drew back in a cruel smile as she looked down at Rat, his eyes wide and staring, mouth agape...and that gave her an idea.