So here’s the thing.
        I. Like. Sex. A lot.
        Ever since a very cute boy popped my cherry under the stars of Hawaii I had been very clear on enjoying it and wanting it. A lot. I mean, I’m not one of those people who can only have sex with a romantic connection, I’m perfectly fine with having a purely physical romp to blow off steam or simply to get off and anything in between those two poles. Because I’m a very physically active person who enjoys engaging in the act and, well, orgasms are kinda *awesome*. Beyond that, I like being thought off as attractive, sexy, desirable, the whole shebang. The fact that I had been able to make any ‘No’ I uttered stick with judicious use of violence by the time I had reached second base for the first time had probably helped developed an…positive attitude in regards to people being attracted to me.
        (And I mean, I was an early bloomer in regards to top heaviness so that had been happening either way.)
        So yes, I like sex. And I had, to be perfectly honest, quite a lot of it in my life. I had boyfriends, girlfriends, sex friends, fuck buddies and more one night stands than I could remember off handed. If that makes me loose, well I’m not ashamed of it. This was my life and if I wanted to get busy with a guy or girl for the heck of it, I was perfectly free to do so.
        (Heck if I was a guy they’d buy me drinks for that)
        But here’s the thing. Just because I was easy to get into bed didn’t mean I didn’t have standards. Less in the standards of my partners - I mean, I am an open-minded gal - but more in the standards I set for myself when getting some;
        First of all, no sleeping with people who can’t have sex without love. Some people can fuck and move on, others can’t. If you end up breaking someone’s heart because yours wasn’t in it, then keep your panties *on*. Sex is fun, but only if its that for everyone involved. Sex is a cooperative sport, not a competitive.
        Second, keep it on the eye level. Which means no getting in bed with someone who only see’s you as a sex object. Even when its meaningless fornication to blow off the frustration, always have sex with a *person*, otherwise you are just doing some very involved wanking and being a dick about it. Make a fond memory, not a notch in the bedpost, if that makes sense.
        And third, lastly and most importantly, sex is a *choice*. Yes, I chose to have it more often than not when said choice presented itself, but this didn’t mean I didn’t respect it and expected my own decision to be respected. So I tended to react…badly to my ability to make that choice being undermined.
        Which was why the pants wetting feeling of horniness the whampire waved my way was parted like the red sea beyond a rising squall of a state of being thoroughly *pissed* and my hands balled to fists as I began walking toward the Incubus, hard nipples boring into my sports bra, getting more underfucked by the second and deadly set upon venting all that mounting sexual frustration this was causing on his pale white ass before I dumped him head down in the next trash can.
	Lysander Vallon seemed to realize he might have overplayed his card here as he saw me advance upon him and, I don’t know if it was panic or just a sunken cost fallacy but the aura of pure sex on the side walk increased with every step. God he was *gorgeous* and somehow this only made me more *furious*.
	I was maybe three more strides away from unleashing some good old ultra violence upon him when something popped behind me and suddenly two wires flew past and hit the Incubus straight in the crotch. The world stopped breathing for a second as both he and I realized what those wires were and he had just enough time for his face to turn into a grimace of realization and something that could only be properly described as 'Fuck my life'.
        Then Ann hit the trigger on her stun gun again.
        Okay, I’ll level with you here. Shooting someone in the dick with a taser? Not funny…unless it happens to a White Court sex pest. Then its *fucking hilarious*. Lysander’s scream was the sort of high pitched sound a prepubescent kid makes and apparently the while Vampire shtick did do squat on easing that.
        I enjoyed the spectacle for a few more seconds and then turned to Ann.
        “I think that’s enough.” I said, reluctantly, but the redhead just shook her weapon in confusion.
        “It won’t *stop*, it’s supposed to only do five seconds!” She frowned and then looked at me. We were both breathing heavily, both obviously aroused…and with a glance we drew the same conclusion. The Taser was a piece of modern equipment, with a computer chip and all. And it had been used within a few meters of a fully blown Wizard in a emotional storm of both lots of fury and horny.
        “So, how much juice is in this thing.” I asked lightly as I turned back to the vampire who had stopped screaming and just twitched in pain on the sidewalk, soiling his white suit with what I hoped was urine.
        “For about five hundred seconds of shock.” Ann said, holding the taser at her side. Neither of us felt motivated to try and pull the electrified wires out of Lysander or tinker with the already hexed weapon.
        “Well isn’t that just terrible.” Taking slow breaths, and with the incubus induced sex appeal gone, I was beginning to gain emotional equilibrium again. Which didn’t mean I hadn’t drenched my panties through. Ann beside me looked not much better off given the flushed color on her lighter skin I couldn’t help but notice as she glared at the Vampire.
        “Yes. Just terrible.”