Her art class ended after dark and with no moon, Alma cursed at herself for not parking under a streetlamp.
"Ah, well," she thought, "its such a small town, what could happen..."
The air around her seemed to sizzle with heat and energy from the coming thunderstorm the weatherman had so gloomily predicted earlier. Alma felt a shiver rise from her bones and course through her sweetly curved body, ending at her clitoris as she got her truck unlocked and jumped to the safety of the cab. She could have sworn someone was right behind her, outside. She shivered again, enjoying the erotic feel of it, and smiled at the thought of enjoying the thunder and lightning from her bedroom window.
As she headed for the coastal road out to her secluded home; she decided to pull off for a moment at a popular wayside and watch the waves crash against the jetty. The parking lot was empty, for once, and Alma entertained the idea of a walk along the waves to watch the storm come in. The idea nagged at her and as she watched the waves, she noticed two twinkling lights just at the edge of the beach, close to the water. The air in the cab was stifling all of a sudden and Alma opened the door to get a better look at the lights. They winked on and off at odd intervals and started to dance. Alma sighed to herself, "Curiosity killed the pussy," climbed out of the truck and headed for the lights.
As she came closer, the lights winked out and suddenly appeared directly above her head. Alma gasped at the beauty of them; they were multi-faceted and coloured in many hues. Alma's long brown hair was lifted and spun in front of her face by a warm wind that seemed to come off the sea. The lights winked out again and reappeared several feet in front of her; where they illuminated, for just a second, a tall human figure with horns.
Alma cried out.
Then she heard a step behind her and tried to spin around, only to find her arm being gripped tightly, and twisted behind her back, and a firm hand over her mouth. There was a breath on her cheek and the scent of salt and leaves and seaweed in the sun. A dark, warm voice said in her ear,
"Welcome to my storm."
"Well, um, thank you," Alma mumbled through the hand and shook, struggling to see who this was, "but I must get home to my cats. Can we talk about this?"
"Certainly." said the man, if that is what he was. "Walk this way."
Alma couldn't help but giggle, thinking of the scene in Young Frankenstein and her captor laughed,
"I am glad to see that you are not afraid."
"I am too afraid. A little." replied Alma, "I have a feeling that you do not have ill intent"