Wesley and the Sex Zombies by Portia Da Costa Page A

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.
    *** *** ***
    As she took her seat at her crud-littered table the object of Wesley's adoration shivered, and for a reason that would have rather surprised him. He was, in fact, completely mistaken about her. Luciferia Jones was very, very cold stuff indeed.
    Body heat was a luxury that neither she and nor her travelling companion, Maximillian Tesoro, could afford right now. Hot coffee, the usual warmer-upper in such circumstances, was no good to them either, but even so Luciferia bade Maxi fetch some. Appearances meant everything at the moment.
    "And please, try not to frighten anybody in the process!" she whispered, and then felt instant remorse for her snappishness. Maxi was doing a damn good job even though he was in just as much a mess as she was. Sighing, she watched her half-dead lover drift his elegant way towards the serving counter.
    It was getting so difficult to maintain the illusion now -- even with their consummate skills. If they didn't find a sorcerer soon their facade would quickly start to crumble -- quite literally.
    Pushing away that nasty thought, she glanced across to where the young man was sitting at his scribbling. If only she could be sure it was him. But she felt so cold, so tired; and it was dangerously taxing to do a mind-probe when her reserves were getting so low. What was more, her present enervated state meant her ability to influence him was negligible.
    "They're odd again, Lucie."
    Maxi's soft, airy voice made her jump.
    "Shit!" she said wearily, looking up into his beautiful, but increasingly mutable face, "It's getting so difficult to hold the patterns. I should've made us less pretty, shouldn't I?"
    "But you look delightful with one green eye and one brown!"
    "Yes, maybe so, sweetheart, but