elusive
elude
allude
allusive
abuse
abusive
elute
eluting...

Qia goes home. She waves at the Recording Angel and heads through the doors of Heaven and straight to Hell. She goes in.

The Recording Angel is there. He is now red, with horns and black wings. Hell is currently all fire and brimstone and boiling lava and a lot of screaming. The Cramps album is playing. Or, well, it could be them, right?

Qia sits. She is dressed to kill. Blue sheath dress that hugs every curve. Conservative black jacket. Make up, with white along the lower lid: innocence. No bra. No underwear. She is wearing a garter belt and very very thin hose. She should be wearing four inch spikes, but she hates that shit, so she is wearing three inch black toe cleavage shoes, with crisscrossing straps up the ankle. Cleavage all the way.

The Recording Angel is admiring her shoes. He licks his lips, forked tongue, slowly.

"This assignment is a pain in my ass." says Qia.

The Recording Angel snaps his book closed and turns white again. "You asked for it."

"I asked why people are such assholes, especially to the people they love."

"So? You have your answer."

"Fuck." says Qia.

Shrug and some white feathers flutter down. "So?"

"Well, I'm working on the damn medical shit, but I am here about the true love."

"Mmmmm." Now his wings slowly turn red from the tips inwards, flowing like blood. Qia is impressed. Cool effect, dude.

"I am currently his mistress."

"Ah." says the Devil. "And liking that?"

"No." says Qia. "He has stopped singing to me."

Shrug again. The wings are now bat wings and he has morphed to she. Six breasts in two rows.

Qia fidgets. Uncrosses her legs and crosses them the other way. "He goes to the other place to sing. So he said he was not singing to me but that is where I fucking live, so how was I to know he was not singing to me."

The Recording Angel rolls her eyes. "Don't bore me."

"Anyhow, he's lying. He does love me. But he's trying really hard not to. Fucker. So I became his mistress to keep contact. And keep sex."

"Mmmm-hmmm." The Recording Angel is interested.

"I've been thinking about the Mistress role."

The Angel smiles. Fangs. Very white in a pitch black face with hair that is live snakes and two antelope horns curling up from her forehead.

"I find that I don't like the Mistress role where one sits around and waits for the Master to come home."

"And what do you have in mind?"

"I think that if I am going to be the Mistress, I would enjoy the Dominatrix role a lot more."

The Angel is all in, smiling evilly.

"I think that being showered with gifts, diamonds, begged to travel with him and in general having him crawl at my feet would suit me more. Plus he treated his wife this way too and I am feeling rather annoyed about it."

"Would you like to meet with some of our top Ladies of the Night?"

"Oh, yes," says Qia. She is grinning now too and has fangs.

"And of course you have full run of the Torture Closet. We have a very fine selection of toys and bondage equipment." The Recording Angel is already leading the way through Hell, stepping over the screamers. And sometimes on them. She can handle four inch spikes very neatly.

Qia follows. "I am especially interested in the Chemistry Lab. Eluting equipment."

"No problem." says the Recording Angel. "Right this way."

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