WESLEY AND THE LOVE ZOMBIES - a tale of sweet erotic horror

Please be aware that this story contains sensual content that is only suitable for adult readers who are comfortable with frank language and descriptions of erotic scenarios

Background

This one is a bit of an oddity and not typical of my usual writing style. I don't usually write horror stories, and this isn't a very horrifying horror story at that. It's actually a fairly sweet little love story in a way... only with a slightly undead edge.

Blurb

Computer wizard Wesley Greensward is having a terrible day. His girlfriend is cheating, his best friend has let him down and he hates his job. Then, in a grungy motorway service café, a vision of unearthly loveliness walks into his life. It's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen... and the most beautiful man.

But while Wesley weaves an erotic fantasy about these two mysterious and delectable strangers, Luciferia and Maximillian are plotting and planning too... and their arcane scheme might mean the end of Wesley's life!

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Excerpt

Glumly, he doodled in a pile of spilt sugar. Then, as even his sugary pattern went wrong, Wesley suddenly smelt a rather pungent and overpowering perfume. Twitching his nostrils, he looked up to locate its source, and saw approaching him what was probably the most gorgeous and unusual apparition ever to grace the Woolley Edge Services Cafeteria. He blinked furiously. Making a royal progress amongst the tables was a creature as tall and voluptuous as she was bizarre: a quintessentially female vision of night-dark eyes, creamy white skin, scarlet lips, and hair colored the very precise bloody-purple of a glass of Beaujolais Nouveau. Her breasts were high and deliciously pointed, her waist was narrow and her legs were supernaturally long. Quite a lot of their smooth, pale length could be seen too, because the mystery woman was clad in what could only be described as designer rags; a soft filmy frock all slashed and cut in a selection of provocative places. Beside her was a being appeared to be her slave -- a disturbingly pretty young man with a platinum blond buzz-cut and an equally eccentric taste in clothes.

Wesley was bewitched. He gaped at the fantastic couple, and then silently laughed at himself. They were just a pair of cleaner than usual New-Age travelers after all. Nobody else in the cafeteria even seemed to have noticed them.

"Follow me, Maxi my sweet. I've found us a table," the woman said, drawing long, green painted fingernails across her young friend's chest, then extending a slender arm, covered in tie-dyed silken cobwebs, to indicate where he should sit. The sound of her soft, husky voice sent tingles through Wesley's every nerve end and made his half-hard cock leap with sexual hunger.

Gliding forward like a supermodel, the dazzling woman made her way to a seat close by, and as she passed she turned and fixed him with a glance so sharp and hot he almost came in his pants there and then. A fascinating play of emotions danced across her powerful yet finely formed features: hauteur, sexual interest, and -- to Wesley's utter surprise -- a trace of what could almost have been relief. As he fought a battle for control of his senses, she turned away towards her compliant young partner.

She likes me!

Wesley felt punch-drunk. It was an effort of will not swivel round and stare open mouthed at her.

"She likes me," he whispered aloud as sweat trickled down inside his shirt and his penis surged up in his jeans. It felt like a rigid, aching pole; a painful tribute to her beauty. He sighed and stared fixedly at the coffee-smeared table before him, seeing nothing but a heavenly, curvaceous body, lush, violently-colored hair, and the pale oval face of a hard-times Renaissance angel. Dark, smoky eyes seemed to reach out and caress him, focusing fierce rays of pleasure on his cock. If he hadn't been sitting in a roomful of people, he would've unzipped himself in an instant and stroked his flesh until he climaxed in her honor.

As a distraction, he took out his shorthand pad and pen. This morning, after Ethan's shitty news, he had sworn he would never write another word; but now his head was full of them. Full of descriptions of shabby but imperious temptresses with wine-colored hair and eyes that could sear a man's soul, not to mention what they did to his anatomy.

On this thought, he wriggled in his seat. "God, I bet she's hotter than hell in bed!" he muttered, then began to write it all down as fast as was humanly possible.

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