Aaron Walters had it all; lived very comfortably in an expansive luxury penthouse atop one of those desirable downtown glitzy condo towers, possessed the right education credentials to get to know influential people who willingly opened those invisi...
After surreptitiously slipping out of the house shortly after midnight, Serpentina immediately yanked off her few garments and tossed them aside. Seconds later she dropped to ground.
Instead of slithering off into the barely moonlit night as she had intended, she remained motionless; her tongue now busily tasting the warm humid night air which always carried an invisible smorgasbord of tastes; some appealing, others outright distasteful but most neutral. That busy tongue suddenly vanished and immediately she lifted herself erect, crossed her arms and expectantly waited.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
That unmistakable faint aroma, and I do use this word very tongue-in-cheek, of cow manure hung in the air, no doubt the compliments of a couple of dairy farms a little more than a mile distant. Such was life in country bumpkin land and those scents a reminder why I don't keep and raise animals. Besides, crop gardens can present their own challenges; a past one in particular my purpose for being outside here in this post-midnight darkness.
I was reasonably certain Tina was still nearby but wasn't able to see her, so I gingerly tip-toed up to and then peeked around the corner of the house; she was waiting for me. As always, both the air and ground had betrayed me before my appearance in spite of what I thought was a stealthy soundless approach.
Not the least bit surprised by my presence but with obvious curiosity, she questioned, "How did you know I was out here?"
I stepped around into full view and then as a rhetorical question, countered, "Do you really think that fifteen feet and 200 pounds of lamia just quietly slips out of the house without being noticed?"
"Cog... I'm only 148 pounds!"
Irritated, she'd corrected rather than answer my question and then slithered sideways a little.
"Close enough."
My deliberate exaggeration concerning her weight had its effect.
"And I'm not a lamia!" she insisted, and sounding no less irked by having to remind me.
"Okay Tina... I won't argue with you." conceding to be diplomatic and, having no wish to instigate another debate with her right now, especially out here where raised voices would easily carry far in the silence.
A couple of months ago, Tina started insisting that she wasn't a lamia. At first I thought her denial was just another one of those phases she was going though so I ignored it but now I wasn't so sure. I have no idea what sparked the recent change in her perceptions about herself, because when I asked her what she thought she was if she wasn't a lamia, she simply shrugged her shoulders and said she didn't know.
Recalling a snippet from that discussion a few months back, I'd challenged her, "Why don't you think you're a lamia"
"Because they don't exist and I do!" she'd emphasized without a hint of hesitation.
