I had tried so hard. Tried with everything I had to stay away, to make the right choices, to pull myself apart from Lenore. Those few weeks had tasted so sweet, but Lenore was a poisonous woman; the kind you couldn't stay with for too long without becoming someone else. She had that sort of effect on you—the way monster-girls always do—but I couldn't let myself stick around. That sweet, shimmering haze she pulled me into night after night was a drug you couldn't find anywhere else. I knew I would end up craving steadily more from her, until Lenore had chipped away at every piece of who I once was. So I got out; broke things off, and moved on.

And yet… there I was. On a rainy Saturday night, standing outside the bar where I knew I'd find her. I didn't know why I was there. Maybe it was a moment of weakness, maybe some dark part of me had finally come out on top, maybe I was just feeling reckless. What I felt for certain was a deep sense of morbid curiosity. What was I going to find?

I wanted to walk in and not see her at all, to find closure in the emptiness. But I knew what outcome was far more likely—and despite everything, the thought of that still excited me. I could have turned away and walked home, gone back to the peace and quiet of my weekend, but the enticing mystique of the unknown was too strong. Despite the protests of my conscience, I pulled open the door and stepped inside.

The bar hadn't changed a bit; still lit by dim amber wall sconces and visually dominated by the dark, polished wood that comprised most surfaces. An extra hint of class was provided by the jazz music which drifted out of hidden speakers, tying the atmosphere together to complete the impression that I had stepped into a vision from my past.

I drifted into a bar stool almost on instinct, my head still on a swivel trying to take in my surroundings and observe the faces in the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bartender approach me. "Just give me a screwdriver," I mumbled with the wave of my hand, eyes still wandering over my shoulder.

"Ooh, a screwdriver? My favorite~" a voice purred from my blind side.

I whirled around in my seat, coming face-to-face with an all too familiar beauty. Like a summoned hallucination, Lenore was sitting right before me; leaning against the bar, propped up on an elbow, staring at me with all the playfulness that could fit in her scarlet eyes and teasing smile. Moth-girls usually came in bright floral colors, but Lenore was a creature of the night down to her ashen-gray skin and deep crimson patches of fluff.

"You've got a real knack for sneaking up on people, you know that?" I shot back with a slight raise of my lip.

"Oh, clearly," Lenore giggled, "you look like you've seen a ghost, honey."

I grumbled under my breath, gratefully accepting my drink from the returning bartender. "Maybe I have."

"Oh, another one of those please!" Lenore said, momentarily turning her attention to the bartender. "With a little extra juice, if you don't mind." The bartender replied with a nod, and silently moved to fulfill her order elsewhere. One of Lenore's free hands moved to play with a lock of her hair, and her eyes looked me up and down in a keen manner. "So…" she breathed softly, leaning just a bit closer, "…what exactly brings you back here, handsome? Because I don't think it's the drinks."

"Something to tune of 'old habits die hard', I guess," I mused, facing forward as I took a sip. "Couldn't give you a straight answer if I tried."

"Ooh, you know it's not nice to lie, Damien…" Lenore sighed with a smirk, running one of her pointed fingers along my forearm. "Especially not to pretty girls like me."

"Lenore, I—"

Two of her hands reached out, pulling me closer until her lips were almost flush to my ear. "Why are you wearing that honeysuckle cologne then?" she whispered, pursing her lips to leave the faintest kiss on my earlobe. "You know… the stuff I gave you?"

I shrugged Lenore off in a flinching motion, just in time for the bartender to reappear with her drink. She graciously accepted it in one hand, with a smile so polite it was like the last ten seconds had never even happened.

"I think you know exactly why you're here, honey," Lenore muttered softly, not even looking me in the eye as she tasted her drink. "You came here for me."

"I came here on a whim," I growled, fixing my collar.

Lenore's eyes flickered back over to hold my contemptuous gaze. "Telling ourselves stories now, are we? Although, I suppose your ability to fantasize was why I always liked you, Damien…"

"What do you want?" Though I had tried to manifest a sense of irritation in my voice, but all that came out was a pathetically wavering tone.

"Whatever you want, baby," she replied coyly, running an index finger along the inside of her wing. After a moment, she pulled it away, revealing a fingertip stained by a faintly red, glittering powder. "Whatever that whim might be."

I knew what she was going to do, but I didn't stop her. She reached out with her powder-caked finger, swiping it ever so delicately across my top lip. Then, in a flutter of motion, she left her seat at the bar, a simple whisper punctuating her exit.

"I'll be out front."

The powder began to hit my senses when I took a breath in through my nose. A fuzzy warmth poked at my brain, faint due to the small dose, but still tangible. I swore under my breath, clutching at my drink and taking another hasty sip of the mixed alcohol. My thoughts were a maelstrom of frustration, guilt, shame, arousal, and lust all at once. The right answer was to walk away, to go home and not look back; but when I got up and paid for my drink, I knew I wasn't going to do that.

We had barely made it four steps through the door to Lenore's apartment, and we were already all over each other. My two hands were exploring the curves of Lenore's body through her blouse with a passionate hunger, and her four hands were feeling me up from my face to my waist in a delightful dance of motion. Our lips pressed together and pulled apart in a series of heated kisses, each one carrying a little more force and desire than the last.

"Oh… I knew you'd come back to me, baby…" Lenore panted between our kisses, her upper two hands running across my jaw and neckline. "Mama missed you so much… The other boys just aren't the same."

"Mmh, I can't seem to help myself," I breathed, holding the side of her face as I sank down to press a few kisses into her neck. Getting to Lenore's skin through the warm layer of fluff around her neck wasn't easy, but that was what made it one of her sweet spots.

Lenore's gentle, appreciative moan was all too easy to earn. "Ahn~! Damien, honey…" she hummed quietly, leaning on the wall for support as she pulled me against her body. "You know me so well."

In a sly move of reciprocation, Lenore's lower pair of hands snuck beneath the hem of my shirt, where she softly scratched my sides with the points of her nails in lazy upward circles. My shudder of delight was practically reflexive, and I melted against Lenore's shoulder with a husky sigh.

"Hmhm… and you're still so easy to please, baby," Lenore chuckled, her voice a smooth whisper in my ear. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," I murmured instinctively. A deep twinge of shame plucked at my gut, hearing the words tumble out of my mouth so easily. But I felt so good, so enamored with her presence and touch, that I didn't care. I had unmistakably backslid into something terrible, but feeling Lenore beneath my hands, against my lips—it was like taking a bite out of a decadent dessert that I hadn't tasted in years.

In a twirl of shuffling and kissing, Lenore guided me to her bed, not missing beat in pushing me back-first onto the mattress. Her legs settled on either side of my hips with effortless grace, while her bottom pair of hands stayed beneath my shirt to caress my abs, and her top pair of hands held my face steady for more quick, feverish kisses. The arousal building between us had become strong enough that Lenore's wings were beginning to flutter, releasing the magic ingredient that would bring the entire experience together. Lenore's love powder came curling off her felt-textured wings in a glittering red haze, like plumes of dust being shaken free from a blanket.

"Mmmm, there it is~" Lenore cooed softly, running her thumbs across my cheekbones. "Just breathe, baby… Breathe nice and deep for me…"

If I was hanging on to any feelings of remorse, they all disappeared when I pulled that first breath of love powder into my lungs. It was an all-engrossing high; a head-rush that built up from the center of your chest and washed outward to fill your entire body with a deep, carnal warmth. Every part of Lenore's body that touched me felt softer, more vibrant, and more passionate than before. All four of her hands worked delicately to accentuate the outpouring of sensation consuming my body from the inside out, gently smoothing her palms across my chest, shoulders, stomach, and waist.

"That's it, honey… just breathe for me," she whispered, leaning forward to plant a tender kiss on my forehead. "Breathe in Mama's magic powder."