Achieving Heaven Through Hell Part 1: A Peaceful Afterlife

Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Personal Inventory

Charlie reclined in her chaise lounge, a romance novel in one hand and a tall glass of wine in the other. A trashy novel and a fine wine, a nice little vice she enjoyed from time to time but so rarely had the chance to indulge. Besides, if Angel knew there was so much as a drop in the house he'd guzzle it like a Hummer on a gentle incline. She'd taken measures to hide her various stashes, one of which was inside a large-size jug of Welch's Grape Juice. It was the perfect crime. But now that the kids were out on the town, she could kick back, relax, and read her lady-smut.

In her novel, Love and Armageddon, an idealistic military doctor on the frontlines against Heaven must grapple with her obligation to the patients under her care and her smoldering, passionate, forbidden affair with her nurse, a gruff and surly but noble-hearted lesser demon. Oh! The scandal! An Archdevil like the good doctor can't fraternize with the lower orders! But...forbidden fruit must be tasted, it is the tragic duality of this wretched thing called love!

Doctor Drusilla leaned in close, finger notched under Nurse Sherah's elegant, pointed chin.'

Nurse Sherah's cheeks burned, her orange quartet eyes shining. "D-Doctor Drusilla!"

"Please," Drusilla said, her flush, full lips drawing ever closer to Sherah's. "Call me Dru."

"Dru..." she sighed, her sweet breath hot against Drusilla's face. "...You...I..."

Their lips met, a sigh passed between them as their bodies and souls connected; all that energy, all that tension, all that doubt and fear and pressue, it all melted away like snow on the coming of spring, burned away by their passion. They embraced, tongues and bodies writhing against one another, Dru could feel her heart thundering through her chest as she pressed against her, their pulses becoming one as they joined. Sherah's hand snaked up and coursed through Drusilla's hair, squeezing a handful of it as she pushed into the kiss, driving Drusilla back against the desk, the only substantial piece of furniture in their sparsely appointed tent. Sherah reached down and cupped Drusilla's rump and hoisted her onto the desktop. Their kiss broke as Sherah went lower, and lower, her fingers hooking into the hem of Dru's pants, shuffling them and her briefs down her hips in a smooth, practiced motion.

"Sherah," Drusilla panted. "I've wanted this for so long..."

"I know, Dru." Sherah peppered her inner thigh with slow, gentle kisses. "I've always known."

"Sherah," said Drusilla, huskily, reaching down and gently grabbing her head. "I can't wait any longer!"

Sherah simply smiled up at her lover, her superior, her social better, drinking in the low wanton need in her eyes, the pleading tone of her voice. She nestled her head into the hot crux of her thighs and–

The door swung open with a bang, Husk's deep, throaty drawl cut through the air. "We're back!"

"Charlie?" Vaggie called. "You here?"

Charlie near enough jumped out of her chaise lounge, just barely keeping her wine from spilling. She dog-eared the book and stuffed it in between the cushions, safely out of sight. She sipped her wine from a frazzled hand, hoping she looked casual as Husk and Vaggie walked in. Husk looked to be in a particularly foul mood as he shambled over to the ficus. He grabbed the plant and pulled it out of the pot, reaching in a producing a filthy bottle of Johnny Walker Red.

"Husk, what–?!" Charlie began to say.

Husk capped the bottle and held up his finger to pause her, knocking back the bottle and taking several hard, deep gulps. "Pfaaah! That's the stuff! Chuck, we gotta talk."