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With a scientific background and a questioning mind, Ms. Everett wouldhave desperately wanted to know what was happening to these fewmonsters, but she wasn't there. No one was around that morning asJohn's body, within minutes, began mounting a silent defense againstanother microscopic unknown.John's white blood cells found the first few invading cells of thatSwallowtail and a chemical alert within his body was issued immediately.Something foreign had registered and was now under attack. Each cell ofthat butterfly was identified as alien and the battle began.Those first few fights, carried on silently by John's own defenses, woneasily. For an analogy that battle took the same course as thebeginnings of a cold or flu virus. It was and wasn't a virus becausenothing on Earth evolved the way these mutated genes did. It just actedlike a virus. Something almost like a cold for want of a betteranalogy.Unfortunately, like a cold, it was the speed of their alien divisionsand that. They coiled around Rosa and lifted her up off the ground. In an instant the other succubus was completely trussed up and helpless."I always knew you had a kinky side," Rosa growled sultrily, completely unfazed by her sudden imprisonment.Verdé ignored her and gently pushed Phil deeper into the clearing."Hmm, now if only we had a nice soft bed," Verdé said. "Ah ha."She flashed Phil a beaming smile and gently tapped the green wall of a gigantic bulbous plant. The plant opened out with a moist liquid sound and unfolded enormous pink petals. The air was flooded with a sweet scent that slithered through Phil's catatonia and sent blood rushing to his groin.Verdé pushed him back onto a gigantic petal. The surface beneath him was moist and spongy, like a large, extremely soft bed. Still smiling, Verdé took off her green cloak. She unhooked her brassiere and let it fall down around her feet. Phil blinked as his eyes drank in the beautiful, naked curves of her body.The heady scent of nectar.
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She tried to remember what name he went by back in those days but couldn't bring the name out of the fog. He was so vain even after all these years. To drag her into one of his old haunts was so very much his style.She turned back to the bar. The bartender kept smiling at her with that "so whatcha doing later" smile. His hair was pulled back into a pony tail despite the fact the man had began to lose his hair way too early in life. His shirt hung open showing a golden cross peaking out of the deep growth of chest hair. The cross made her smile. She wondered why men like him wear them. She was willing to bet that he hasn't been to church in over a dozen years yet he still wear the cross proudly. Like no matter what sins he does in life the fact that he wore the cross while doing them was like a free pass to heaven. She hated men like that. Noticing her smiling at him, he did this thing with his eyebrows that was half way between a come hither look and a facial tick. She had to fight.

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