Ellen Mint

In the process of righting my eyes, I caught a flash of light breaking from the living room. It kept strobing as if a lightning storm had crashed on my futon. If I wasn’t partially hungover and drunk at the same time, I’d like to think I’d have done the smart thing. Called the cops, called the building manager, grabbed a weapon. Not walked out into the weird lights and sounds armed only with my exhausted hand on my hip.

As I stepped into the hallway, noting that my front door was still closed, a shadow crawled across the wall. It looked like a man rising to his feet when a pair of giant bird wings erupted from behind his back. They stretched wide, every shadowy feather straining as if this intruder were about to fly.

Did I turn around, grab my phone and wait for the police to sort this out?

Of course not. I ran straight into my living room and my jaw hit the floor.

It wasn’t because a giant bird flew into my apartment and flapped about in pain. Or that one of my old angel costumes from a past Halloween had come to life and started dancing around. No, this was even weirder.

A gorgeous man with sun-kissed skin stood on my yoga mat. His hair was lush and reached his collarbones. His very exposed and cut collarbones. Which drew my eye lower down the rest of his body.

I could have offered to check him for moles for how naked he was. His chest glistened the only way hairless skin could, which he had puffed out to display his impressive pecs. A single line of dark hair revived itself under his labyrinth of abs. I tried to count them but lost track as I followed the treasure trail down to a pair of red satin briefs that barely covered his shame.

And it wasn’t just because the fabric was tiny enough it revealed nearly his full bush to the world. No, whatever pipe he was swinging bulged so tight below his underwear it looked like it was vacuum packed for easy transport.

What if that wasn’t the full show he had?

What the hell is wrong with me?

I lashed out with my hand and snatched up the first thing I could…which happened to be a pillar candle. Waving it about as if it were a club, I shouted, “Who the fuck are you?!”

The man laughed, his voice that deep ‘roll through every nerve in my body’ baritone. “Highly accurate,” he said, raising and lowering his sharp eyebrows while a smile perched on his lips.

I shook the candle around, prepared to attack him if he didn’t give me an answer. The stranger eyed it up, then said, “I am your incubus.”