The pits of Mark's eyes burned. He closed them momentarily, stealing a fleeting relief as Lisa guided him up the spiral staircase. He had barely slept the past few nights. They ascended into the dimly lit bedroom. When he saw the plush, inviting bed, all he wanted was to fall asleep in it.
But the succubus had other plans. She turned to him and clasped his wrists.
"What's going on here?" Mark asked. He needed to be sure of what she wanted. Last time it was just sex; he prayed this time was the same.
"I like you very much, Mark." She stroked his chest hungrily.
"Come on, Johnny's my best friend," he replied. He chose his words carefully to remind her of their agreement.
It was to no avail. "Just one more time." She giggled girlishly and lured him to the canopy bed. Obeying expectation, Mark took off his shirt and began to caress her awkwardly, woodenly. He remained vigilant for any hint of the impossible request.
But the immense tension within Lisa required a simple release. She yearned only for the natural deed; to perform the sacred act of lovemaking as penance for her heretical designs.
Mark, too, was freed from anxiety as she guided him between her legs. The betrayal of his best friend was a necessary evil, a lesser sin. He knew in his heart that this was an act of self-preservation. Salvation. He would never survive as Mark-R.