Darkroom

47 Seconds of Vocal Fry

A langourous vocal fry emanated from the greyness of my imagination, and provoked me to open the door in front of me.

In the middle of the cavernous space sat an irregular pipe organ that steamed a lecherous sweat from its brass nostrils, as its operator continued to play unperturbed. She stood on her monopod and greeted me with her swirling and salacious aphrodisia.

The sonorous prelude of the empusa found residence in my libido, as we stroked each other's gaze. Something within the id had advised me to stay at that cottage in the woods, despite the decapitated reindeer on the rim of my desire.