Remembering Lila

Remembering Lila

by Indigo Giordana-Altu

Lila glanced at me with diamond eyes and a ruby grin. For a moment, my heart ceased to beat. Thinking that her expression would be yet another indirect greeting of a stranger in passing, I prepared to never see this rare beauty again. I continued eating my lunch. As I bit into my sandwich tasting the many notes of flavor, I imagined that it was she that left the waves of satisfaction on my tongue. With my mouth full and a drip of sauce hanging at its corner, I nearly choked when she stopped in front of me to ask for directions to Washington Street. She tossed her fiery hair to the side and it revealed an Alpha tattoo on her neck. Her voice was like the sound of a gentle strum on a harp when she accepted my offer for escort while wiping away the sandwich drippings for me. Too enamored to be embarrassed, I inhaled her scent that smelled like exotic nectar. 

Our unfamiliarity quickly blossomed into a serious relationship. I was high on Lila in a way that no drug could compare. On the night that Lila and I would finally make love, I could hardly contain myself. She studied celestial alignment and it had to be just right. Her leather corset outlined her figure and forced her full breasts to swell out of it like sunrise breaking dawn. In my daze, I was willing to let her do anything. After hours of foreplay, she cuffed me to my bed. When she stepped back, I caught sight of what I thought was a whip but, on a second glance, I realized it was a tail. 

Large wings sprouted from Lila’s back and my feelings went from fantasy to fear. She approached me with clawed feet. Her instrumental voice now sounded like a thousand warriors in a cry of battle. She mounted me and, despite the metamorphosis, one look in her eyes made me give in and ache to be inside her. I experienced pleasure that seemed impossible for any human to endure without an aneurysm. 

After I finished, she stood rubbing her abdomen as if her womb had been filled. “Lila,” I called breathlessly, “I love you.” Suddenly angered, she clutched my throat so mightily that I thought my neck would snap. A tear crept out of her eye, down her cheek, and landed on my chest. Releasing her grip, she rushed to the window and opened it up to the city that never sleeps. The breeze played in her hair as she gave me a sorrowful look of reminisce and longing. Spreading her wings, she flew out into the beyond. I was later found on the brink of death from hunger and thirst. No one believed me and the story of Lila is what has placed me in this cold institution. Lila still visits me when I am sleeping and I assure you that she is as real as the day we met.