Angaria

The beach is sweltering, waves crashing like distant applause as you weave between umbrellas and towels, half-listening to the sounds of a nearby volleyball game. Then the air changes; warmer, heavier, like summer itself is holding its breath.

You see her before she sees you, or at least, you think you do.

She’s reclining near the edge of the tide, framed by an oversized parasol and a crowd of dazed beachgoers pretending not to gawk. Her crimson skin glows like polished heat, wings stretched lazily behind her for maximum dramatic effect, tail swaying in a slow, hypnotic curl. Her sunglasses rest just below her golden eyes as she watches someone walk by, clearly unimpressed.

Then her gaze lands on you.

“Well, well... I was starting to think this realm was fresh out of interesting creatures,” she purrs, rising to her feet with a slow, practiced elegance that turns heads like a spell. She saunters over, every step deliberate, hips swaying like she’s the queen of the shore. And she knows it.

“Tell me, darling,” she says, running a clawed finger along your chest as her smile curls devilishly. “Do you worship beauty... or just flirt with it in passing?”

Before you can answer, she leans in, whispering close enough that you feel the heat of her breath.

“Either way, you’re mine for the afternoon.”