Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Tigress Shapeshifter... the deliciousness of the kill

Greetings, shapeshifter lovers. Per usual, I got carried away writing this particular scene. But, heck, it’s a frustrating time on the planet. Certainly, the financial stress of the times demands some fictional relief.

Warning ~ X-RATED! Gratuitous violence ahead. Grrrrrrrrrrrr...

Year of the Super Cat

Bankster. The odor of fraud clung to him like fresh dung. I sniff again, just to get an exact location. Yep, there’s the stink of spoiled meat. His demon nature is ewe-ick obvious.

On stealthy feet, despite my tall, black leather boots with chains, I stalk my natural prey. Entering the glass and steel building from the mean streets of the Big Apple, I survey my surroundings and glance over the sad-faced humans.

In line, they cower waiting to do their transactions. The little people, they reek of fear, of despair. I can’t help them individually. I can hunt down those who prey upon them as if they are worth less than a piece of stale moldy bread. When, truth to the Great Goddess, they are stars, each one a diamond sparkling blaze.

They light up the heavens.

Languidly stroking my hand onto my hip, I sway like a sex kitten toward the armed guard, only because he stands between me and the elevator. “ID,” he demands, palming the butt of his holstered gun. His gaze lasciviously oozes up and down my body, once he checks for the plastic badge that should be hanging around my neck.

I pause, bending some to show off my cleavage. “No ID. I have an appointment.” My breathless voices lingers in the air between us. No surprise, the size of his gut could feed a large litter of kittens. I ignore it, blink, then smile at him. Through the hooded slit of my eyes, I see his body’s matrix and note his weaknesses.

“You need an ID. I can’t let you on the elevator.”

I grin like a minx out for a good time. “Not even for a blow job?”

I laugh inside at the salacious bulge of his eyeballs, at the drool leaking from the corners of his mouth...at the pitiful rise of his penis. Then, I claw his mind. A twist here, a prick there.

“Go on up. Must have missed your ID.” He waits for me to issue another carnal invitation.

Breezing past him, I enter the dull shiny confines of the elevator. I shrug and give him *I’m just a clueless goodtimes girl* wave before the doors slide shut. Alone, I put on a tame show for the all-seeing eye of the cameras, three of them, by stepping forward to check the panel. After a moment, I press the floor number I want, instead of tripping the mechanism with the woo-woo power of my mind.

What to do with the cameras? I tap my lips with one finger, my long blood-red nail not much contrast against my red-lipsticked mouth. Since I don’t want to change my appearance... way too much energy expended, I decide to glitch the electronics, just enough to make me unrecognizable.

Once I reach the 29th floor, the doors glide open soundlessly. A sumptuous roomscape meets my gaze, the kind that demonstrates obscene wealth, not a mere enjoyment of luxury. I slink forward silently, but like a fifties fashion model.

The women and men guarding the gate to the inner sanctum stare for an instant. I have no time to bother with the niceties, so I blanket them with an energy field that temporarily switches off their brains... you know, like unplugging a computer. Down they fall, landing on the thick, thick carpet.

Following the maggot-rotten stench of my prey, I find Mr. Snob-Trendy Suit. He’s standing behind his desk pressing a security button over and over. “Who are you?” he imperiously demands.

I fasten my predator’s gaze on him. From between his pale flaccid eyelids, his sick little eyes gleam like a petty burglar’s flashlight.

“Obviously, no one you know.” I prowl toward him, my gait becoming ever more primitive. To be somewhat fair, I say, “I am now disengaging your security grid. If you agree to change your diabolical ways, I will spare you. If not...” I leave my words hanging.

“What do you mean, bitch?” His gruff bravado covers his terror. He realizes I have cut him off from his army of security. All the tiny lights on his control panel have vanished.

I halt not ten feet from the arrogant bag of pus. “Bitch?” I smile sweetly, yet with a menace that causes him to inhale sharply and take a step back. “I consider that a lovely compliment coming from you.”

He sneers. Nothing uglier than a sneering corporate demon. I arch my brows, then give my cap of hair a shake. “My goodness, aren’t we attractive? How many whores a week do you fuck? Oops,” I stare at his crotch, “does that small pecker even do the job without the little blue pill?” I raise my gaze, penetrating his useless soul like a fang sliding through a ripe avocado. I love avocados. “Or, is it the boys you prefer?”

“Is that what you came for? A good long fuck, bitch? Bend over. I’ll give your cunt all it can handle, bleed the pink to raw.”

I roar a short laugh, sheer black amusement at his expense. I advance. He backs away. Stalking the white collar badass, I stop not a foot from his so-called power desk. His back is now against the proverbial wall. His hands seek anything to seize onto.

Silkily I snarl, “My request is simple. Stop manipulating the stock market and make amends to all those you’ve stolen from.”

He laughs, no, he guffaws as I if my words are insane. I unsheathe my claws and bare my teeth like a tigress. Oh, wait, I am a tigress.

The instant his maniacal laughter ceases, I ask, “May I consider that a ‘no’?”

“No? Hell, no!” He glowers, but not impressively. “What? Am I shit gone crazy? You’re one woman. A squad of hit men would take my ass down before I could step out of the building.”

I shrug one shoulder. “So not my problem. Or, should I say, so not my bed to lie in.” I bend at the waist and unbuckle my boots. No use ruining them, or any of my garments. Slipping them off quickly, I rise to find a Glock pointed at me. Wow, well, there’s a big *life in the jungle city* surprise.

With one swipe of my hand I knock it away, then listen to it clatter on the desk’s surface, and slide onto the floor.

“Oh God,” he shrinks back, “are those real claws?” He stares from my hand to my face. The whites of his eyes remind me of a cartoon scaredy-cat.

“Would you like a strip show?” I shimmy my purple miniskirt down my thighs. Used to managing with my claws, I take my tiny undies with it, and step free.

“Oh, God.” He pants like a goner in a slasher horror movie.

I slip off my black leather jacket, dropping it on top of my boots. “What do you think?” I don’t bother with a taunting smile, but simply tug my lycra-stretch tank top over my head, and give it a toss from the end of one claw.

“What are you going to do?” His hoarse voice cracks.

“Would you mind running for the door? You know, it sorta gets the predator instincts...”

He takes off before I can finish, running like he probably did in high school when he carried the football, the pigskin for the team. My body flows toward him, elongating, furring... shifting to ferocious beast.

In moments I’m upon him, my claws sinking into his putrid too-soft flesh. My fangs grip the back of his neck. I shake, digging them deeper, crunching fragile bones... snap, snap, snap. With a fury that is liberating, my front claws rip and tear away hunks of his pathetic body. The blood spurts, flying and pouring gloriously. I lose myself in the deliciousness of the kill.

All too soon, it’s over. I lick my chops and back away until my flipping tail tip strikes the side of the desk. Morphing into my human body swiftly, I cleanse away his dung-stinking remains as well. I’ve perfected the art. Necessity is the mother tigress of invention... well, you get the picture. I need to leave fast.

Donning my clothes, I pull on my boots and quickly stride for his tech-advanced computer. No, this ain’t your home PC or Apple. Closing my eyes, I scan the crystal-chip system and seconds later I’ve dumped billions into the bank accounts of millions.

“Good luck,” I whisper to all the little people. Heading for his hidden private elevator, I pause long enough to smile and enjoy the sight of his sloppy joe demise.



Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Author of ~

All Shades of Blue Paradise
Red Lioness Tamed
When a Good Angel Falls ~ In Print
Tangerine Carnal Dreams
Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis ~ In Print
Black Cat Beauty
Her Insatiable Dark Heroes ~ In Print
Stallion of Ash and Flame ~ In Print
Branded by the Texans ~ Coming in August 2010 from Siren-BookStrand


Serena Shay said...

Bye-bye banker demon! Now would the Tigress be on her way to the mortgage brokers next?? ;)

Anonymous said...

I want to know more about this character. Her name, for instance. The names you come up with are always memorable. I need to know because I want to take her with me next time I go for a car loan.

Pat C.

Savanna Kougar said...

Oh, the Tigress is on her way to other Banksters. One down, so many more to go... yep, bad mortgage brokers included.

Savanna Kougar said...

Hey, Pat, she didn't give me her name... yet? I have a feeling she uses several names. She also moves around a lot, to keep her identity secret.

However, sooner or later, I'll figure out her preferred name, and the other ones she uses.

Savanna Kougar said...

PS. Pat, if you need her for a car loan, Ill give her the big GO to assist you.

ladybirdrobi said...

Great scenery, I hope it is from a book soon to be released. I have to wait for print releases as I have no ereader except for pdf files on computer. I just love shapeshifters so powerful and seductive.

Crystal Kauffman said...

Wow, majorly sexy!

Savanna Kougar said...

ladybirdrobe... oh, how I wish I could say, yes, but I just came up with this scene... though, of course, I'd love to write my Tigress's story.

Savanna Kougar said...

Crystal, thanks for winging by! Mucho success with Claiming Lady Marianne.