Category: Eros-Passionate Love
Nickname: Jesain
This is the life, as the apes say. Inbeda sprawled in his favorite spot by the pool. He absently noted the scents of smoke and sulfur carried on the breeze, but the camps of his despicable brothers nearby bothered him less tonight. Right here, the air was filled with the sound of demons having a good time. The human servants glided back and forth, lithe sprites dispensing drinks, handing out towels, and otherwise attending to the bathhouse patrons. He fingered his recently filled wine glass. He stared at the slight indigo tint of the stem, and then at the pyramidal dark gray logo on the side. The eye in the pyramid’s center stared back, cold and piercing.
Just like her, Inbeda thought, something of a smile curling around his many teeth. He had just finished a long but profitable contract. Sources told him the Phoenicians were on it too, and that had worried him slightly, but in the end the House-In-Exile got to the target first. Inbeda had felt like celebrating, and it was only when he felt like celebrating that he took out his favorite glass. The splashes, gurgles and grunts receded around him as images of Kirsten seeped back into his mind. In the midst of the dirty thoughts, he caught himself boggling. In all his centuries he had never met anyone who could compare to her. What he felt was almost somewhat like…love. Suddenly an insistent flame of hope ignited in him. He reached for his phone. He bark-slobbered at the mask.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” the mask protested. Inbeda growled. Some spittle hit the wine glass and the phone. He wiped the phone on his bathrobe. “All right,” the mask said with resignation. “What shall I tell her?”
Inbeda thought for a few moments, and then snarled with satisfaction.
“Text Kirsten. ‘You’re still a goddess.’” The phone sounded a perky electronic squirt of acknowledgement. Inbeda waited excitedly. Somewhere by the lobby there was a muffled crash, followed by giggling. He could see a group of humans come hesitantly through the doorway to the main pool. They stopped in front of the job postings board, reading while trying not to look at their surroundings. They were kind of attractive. He gave them a friendly wave and snaked his tongue up his head and onto the mask, whose groan he ignored. The sound of small arms fire erupted suddenly, somewhere behind the building, followed by an explosion that made the walls tremble. An inflatable doll floated lazily past. “Unusually quiet evening,” the mask offered, hoping to distract Inbeda from the phone’s continued silence. An awkward few minutes went by. Finally–ding.
“‘I know,’” the mask recited. “‘Hey, sweet of you to text, but I’m in the middle of a meeting. I’ll have to get back with you later. Ciaociao.’”
That’s what she said last time, Inbeda thought with a raspy sigh. Out in the hallway one of his junior lieutenants collapsed loudly into a drunken heap with a pair of bikini-clad mannequins. He took a gulp of wine. He grinned. I’ll try again tomorrow.