I also considered Flames of Fornication as a title for this one... ;)
|Rick rolled off the nameless girl, panting. His sweaty, naked body sated for the moment for the bargain-basement price of one rusted anchor of leaden guilt buried deep in his twisted guts.
As she had turned to him on her barstool, the bluest eyes he’d ever seen had scalded his retinas with their dilated smolder. Her smile and a wink had been all the persuasion necessary for him to slip his ring into the darkest pocket of his work-worn pants and approach the tantalizing beauty. He drifted his bare fingers along the flesh of her silky thighs, and they had opened in carnal invitation.
That was thirty minutes ago, downstairs in the bar.
As he lay gulping air on the sticky sheets, years of creases etched themselves above his trembling eyelids—another payment exacted for that half-hour of sin.
Hearing a whispered muttering, he turned to the girl, but she was silent in her fitful, alcohol-aided sleep. Eyes widening, Rick squirmed into a seated position in the bed, moist sheets clinging to the tendons in his bare legs like the tenacious fingernails of his young daughter when he left her each morning for work.
Manic eyes searched the room as beads of sweat dribbled from his brow to sting his vision into salty blurs. Rubbing them red, he blinked away the itching irritant to find a raven-haired form coming into view. Her face, pale as a ghost, materialized from the darkness as she stepped into the lone ray of moonlight that streamed from the window.
Rick gasped. It was Serena! How had she known?
Serena reached down the floor and rose again, clutching a pair of pants in her bony hands. Reaching into the pocket, she withdrew a ring, which glimmered silver in the moonlight. Turning it in her fingers, it began to glow red. Using her thumb, she flicked it into the center of the bed.
A ring of fire erupted from the sheets, flames licking the bare flesh to either side. A shocked cry exploded from Rick’s right as his adulterous partner awoke to the sound of her own crackling flesh. Rick’s apprehensive eyes turned to his own body, but he smelled the fumes of charcoaled skin even before he saw the wisp of rising smoke.
Desperately, he tore the blankets away from his buxom conquest and flapped them over his own flames. But the supernatural fire would not be so easily snuffed.
Staccato cackles pounded his eardrums to the blood-pumping beat of his racing heart. Welling eyes focused past the unbearable blaze of his black, shriveling body to find the source of the sound.
His wife looked on, dancing amber tongues reflecting in the midnight pools of her eyes.
“You bitch!” Rick screamed in an agony-mangled shriek.
“Witch, actually,” she said matter-of-factly. Spinning on her heel, a satisfied smirk gracing her crimson lips, she swept into the torrid night, marching to the hideous duet of tortured screams.