Sneaky bitch!

Well, to be honest, he thought, she wasn’t sneaky at all. It wasn’t as if she was doing it on the sly… Still, he was stunned, standing in the framing of the door.

He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and lit himself one, not even wondering if she would disapprove. She was probably still asleep in the bedroom, her crow-black curls and snow-white skin contrasting with the ruby red silk linen.

Breathing the smoke in, he grinned. He guessed her delicate and feminine hand writing on the vials. He couldn’t tell the different contents, but he prefered not to know, anyway.

Was that a real skull, on her desk? It sure looked genuine. Did it belong to a previous lover she had gotten rid of? He didn’t want to take all of this seriously, but he still felt spooked. Especially after what she had told him.

He pulled on the cigarette again, and blew the smoke in perfect rings, framing the scene. When he had joked about being a sniper, he thought she was just playing along, when she had admitted to being a witch.

A fuckin’ witch, hah! You have to be kidding me!

She did have a somewhat gothic look, but nothing suggesting a witchcraft background. He smirked again, thinking about the strange tattoos he had found, while covering her with kisses and tickles, in the heat of the night. First at his place, and now in her own home.

What a disappointment. She seemed like a brilliant girl… How on Earth could she believe in such shenanigans? Burning incense and invoking the moon and all.

Oh damn! Another nutcase…

Suddenly, he felt a soft touch on the back of his neck, and passed out on the wooden floor, at her feet.

Via Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge, this is some kind of a suite to my previous story, Pillow talk