The gown supplied was a froth of silk, held together with filigree that showed enough flesh I’d forgone foundations. Our bargain precluded complaint. The male guests surely had none.
“I hate everyone here,” I murmured.
My angelic handler propelled me forward. “You hate everyone everywhere.”
“Yet you made the bargain.” Belial handed me pills, staples for my pretense of courage.
I swallowed them, then went to meet the lord of demons, pulled like a star toward a black hole.
He surveyed me. “Yes, I think you’ll do nicely.”
His laugh caused lacerations. “No, not at all.”