"Belle," she calls, lying on silk sheets with her fingers sneaking through my dark sleek hair. I look up, on my knees as I taste her, curved down on her, my tongue flicking with surgical but loving precision on every wet, warm, soft place she seems to respond to; my fingers and lips draw more liquid out of her body, which is squirming in an apparently defenseless fashion under me. "Annabelle," she calls again, this time with a slightly shaky voice, one injected with want. She tastes ripe, she is full of me, her cheeks are still pale but with delicious shades of red that resemble make-up, a perfect mask for the beauty I carved within her. Her other hand is buried through her own curls and ringlets while she thrusts her waist gently into my mouth, nudging me to eat her, prey offering itself to the highest food chain occupant.

Her hips shake, they dance, they roll and I follow their lead, I let them drag me through all of Willow's moods and instincts, my name on her lips is like a snake charm. She pulls my hair and my body shivers only enough to make me moan once, before my mouth closes on her clitoris. She dances again, with vigor, slow, her back arching and in the same moment she screams: "Belle," over and over again, and my tenderness towards her rises, reaches my chest, burns hot and almost too intense for me to bear, I wish she could experience it. And she is under me, in my mouth. Although she still is just a pupa I know she will one day break her incubating cocoon to become the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Independent, ruthless, precise, deadly and appreciative of all aspects of life, just like me.

She is already cunning, this creature. She would wrap me around her finger, dangle me in front of the world like one of her stray dogs, hurt me and I would forgive her because my affection and adoration for her elevates my own being beyond the state of deity. Even though I know what she is becoming. I know she will be perfect enough to kill me some day, and I will be delighted to welcome her coldness in my arms when she does.

She will stop me from being alone, finally. She just needs to learn another lesson...

Three bold knocks at the door. "Police," someone shouts in a recognizable voice on the other side and I once again turn my eyes up to her pink cheeks, her round, full lips, and she blinks at me with a mixture of indifference, perhaps a mild fear. Slowly, I smile. She did learn, then. That is good. I rise from her still desiring, crimson flesh, wiping my mouth, and crawl to press a single kiss to her lips that twitch with regret, I think, but I rise on my feet nonetheless, even though I wish we could have laid here after I fed myself off her pleasure... No matter, however. This is a good outcome.

I wrap myself up in a gown with arabesque motifs - beautiful, golden, on a black satin background - and respond vocally that the kind officers should wait a moment as I comb my hair and take my time, adorning them with an elaborate, graceful chignon.

Eventually I do walk in slippers to the door, then open up to the beasts coming to claim me. Despite the anguish that should be within me I am calm, since I had not planned this but I am still glad. She learnt to betray me.

Jackie, with an impersonal voice hiding her own disgust and disappointment towards me, reads me my rights and tells me about my wrongs in their eyes, but my own are only for Her. Will. My beautiful, venomous Willow. When handcuffs click around my wrists and a muzzle locks on my face, she then appears on my bedroom door's frame, still disheveled, as flushed as I left her. She is so beautiful. I smile with all my affection to her, I let her know she is already forgiven. Her frown lets me know she does not understand.

It is alright. She will.