Love & Death [Femdom 18+]

10. The Hand of Death

        The gloves made her feel sexy. She'd felt sexy before, feminine and appealing. Before Aphrodite imbued her with Love's magic, she felt attractive enough to leave the house without make up. High self image is hard in this world. Especially when so few women in magazines are black or have natural hair. But her mother, her real mother, had gifted her with confidence and the skills to prioritize the important things in life. Goodwill toward others. 

        There was a point in her life, back in the mid sixties, that she'd lost a little bit of herself. Her mother had died and Geneva was in love with a man, Richard, who did not love her in return. She'd taken a broken man and thought that she could fix him. Instead, he broke her as if she wasn't anything more than an egg he'd make for breakfast.

        But that was a long time ago and much of it, thanks to the sometimes merciful Goddess of Love, was fuzzy. And perpetually at twenty-six, Geneva had both the confidence that comes with age and the bouncy vitality of youth on her side. Being pitied by Aphrodite had it's benefits. 

        Geneva didn't have anything else made of latex in her apartment aside from a box of condoms and maybe some yellow cleaning gloves under the kitchen sink. Luckily, it was black and she did have a cute little black satin chemise that she'd bought for herself two years ago. She donned it in a hurry, not sure how long it would take the Reaper to show up. She knew he'd come, knew that he'd be drawn to her like she was to him, but Death could be unpredictable.

        He showed up while she was tidying her room. Lizzy always told her that she could probably keep her apartment cleaner if she had guests over more often, because guests were the only reason she put away her things. 

        "Sorry about the mess, I didn't notice how out of hand it'd gotten until I imagined you standing by my pile of laundry," she apologized while bulldozing past him to shovel all her clean laundry into a hamper and shoving it all into a closet. It was certainly not the sexiest start to the night. 

        "Did you dress up to entice me, Cupid?" The Reaper asked, his voice low and hard with suspicion. 

        Geneva stopped sweeping her earrings and necklaces into a wooden jewelry box. She turned her large hazel eyes on him and a cute, unassuming smile curved her lips. 

        "I don't need to dress up to entice you, Reaper. Apparently, all I have to do is be myself," Geneva retorted lightly and continued clearing off her nightstand. "Do you feel seduced?" 

        What she told Dot was true. Geneva didn't know how to draw her aura back into herself. She knew that her presence could sometimes be overpowering to others. But she never expected anyone like Adrian, an instrument of Death, to fall victim to her allure. Love was a human condition. It made her very curious about him. 

        "No," Adrian replied coolly but she could see that he was blushing. He looked very cute when his pale skin glowed pink with embarrassment...Or arousal. 

        "Did you go back to dressing like a Duke because I said something about your sweater?" Geneva asked as her eyes traveled down his tall form. 

        He'd gone back to the polished boots and britches but he'd worn only his shirt and a vest over it, forgoing the doublet coat. He wasn't as muscular as Brian. But his frame was still quite beautiful and Geneva was eager to trace his musculature beneath her newly acquired latex gloves. 

        "I never dressed like a Duke. I was a librarian's son. I was a...an academic," he replied. He looked so awkward standing in the far side of her room by the window she'd left the letter. Still as a statue but tense and ready to flee.