Dealing with the Devil

Mary woke. It felt like there was a weight on the bed, like a large pet had landed, making itself a nest. The covers were tight but something stopped her pulling them back up towards her chin.

She didn't have any pets.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

Sitting on the end of her bed was a rather startlingly beautiful young man. He was glowing faintly, almost pink. Her heart was racing and she immediately reached to grasp the small, silver crucifix at her neck.

"Now, now. There's no need for that. I'm not here to hurt you," the man advised and with a click of his fingers, the room went from dark to soft light, like he'd twisted a dimmer.

He really is very handsome, Mary thought and despite herself, found her mind drifting towards vivid scenarios of lustfulness, writhing and gasps. Quickly, she retreated from the profligacy of these images, shame reddening her cheeks and her fingers found the reassuring presence of cross-shaped metal.

She was shocked at where her mind had taken her. She was a middle-aged voluntary worker; spinster; church warden; councillor. She wasn't a virgin but she wasn't usually subject to such desires. She was pragmatic and moderate and her warmth at the arrival of this stranger surprised her enormously.

And excited her.

The man smiled as he realised the effect he was having and frowned when his potential ally renewed their resistance through God.

He would have to try harder.

"Who are you? And why are you in my bedroom?" Mary tried to fill her voice with defiance but it sounded shaky even to her.

"I could give you my name but you know it, I'm sure." He rose and said, "And why? Well, I have a deal to propose."

Again, the warm rush of desire assaulted her.

"Some of your abundant light for some of my dirty dark," and he licked his lips.

She shivered, but not from fear.

*

At the monthly council meeting, Mary arriving, oozing sensuality, presence and self-esteem, made Sylvia comment, "Have you done something different to your hair?"

To which, Mary cackled, wickedly and said, "Not just my hair, Sylvia. Not just my hair."

***

366 words

I don't know how I feel about Mary in this story. Happy for her? Worried for her eternal soul? Hoping her faith will save her? Part of me hopes that she's just having a good time and living a little.

I didn't write this with a message in mind - just a bit of saucy fun about temptation and how even the best of us are the servants of our desires. Lots of influences here: I recognise ACOTAR and my reading of this recently in the beautiful young devil as well as Faustus, The Lives and Loves of a She-Devil and discussions about good and evil I've had and how that manifests itself in us humans as well as the strength of the Church and faith in individuals.

Thanks for stopping by! If you do read this, please do leave a comment as I love to interact with my readers.

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