To walk into a room with abandon – feeling the intensity of searing gazes raping me.

The envy and hatred of most women coupled with the blank-eyed shock and arousal of most men.

To know that I had that kind of power. The confidence to enter each new scenario with insensate eroticism and calm.

To wordlessly command the desire of those surrounding me – those numberless masses who so easily could overwhelm me, but instead are consumed by my essence. Not a one of them untouched by my being.

Me – a tiny little nothing. Speechless. Nameless.

But not helpless.

Because I have the power. I am a walking erotic dream. A succubus. My eyes see through you to your core – to those secret places that you open up to me like an offering. Utterly mine for the taking.

You want me to know you. To touch you. To take you. To offer myself to you even for a moment. My presence is a mesmerizing intoxication. Your will tossed aside in your fervour to join with me.

All your deepest desires – too secret to share with lover or friend are stripped bare before me. Placed at my feet as a sacrifice or gift.

Will I take you? Will I stroke you and suck you and use my tongue to bring you back to into being? Will I allow you to enter me and give your life meaning?

Suddenly all seems lost without it. To have seen me, looked upon me, mutely offered yourself to me is revelatory. Things will never be the same.

This is the power I crave.