Sylvia slunk past Alex dressed in none other than a Catholic schoolgirl uniform. Her yellow blouse draped lazily over a tartan skirt, which she'd rolled up so that she could fit in as one of the cool girls. In every other way she resembled a willowy nerd, her body sculpted from years of dancing.

Just his type.

Hopping onto the old-fashioned yellow school bus, she showed the driver her monthly pass and scoped out her prey. There Alex sat on a tattered bench, gazing at her wide-eyed as he licked his lips.

I'm good at this. He'll never suspect a thing.

Sylvia flashed him a shy smile and sat on the worn bench adjacent to him. A familiar warmth rose inside her, the beginning of the buzz that came from the first stages of a feeding frenzy.

She would need to concentrate. To hold the crescendo at bay until she got her evidence. Once she did, though, she'd rip him apart like a snarling fiend.

After readjusting her cute secretary glasses, she opened a battered copy of Nabokov's Lolita. A bit on-the-nose for her taste, but it would send a clear signal to Alex of her intentions. To tell him what she needed from him.

His predatory gaze landed on her, one given through lidded eyes that pierced her defenses. Or so he thought. Inside her dreamscape Sylvia could detect every emotion inside his unconscious mind as his lust burbled along with her Desire. 

A sigh escaped her lips. Soon! Soon she would feed. Another wave of anticipation flooded her body like tingling electricity, a desperate hunger on the cusp of fulfillment.

Alex interpreted it another way and almost attacked her right there.

His overwhelming emotion gave Sylvia all the evidence she would ever need, but it didn't suffice. She wasn't here simply to render justice as his own personal judge and jury.

Oh, no!

Sylvia needed to play with him like a wildcat--torture him a little bit. Once she had drunk her fill, she would execute his sentence without laying a finger upon his wretched body.