WET PUSSY

ftops like fists on locked doors. Streets ran like rivers, neon signs sputtered in the do

t at this hour, not in this weather. Yet

eighbor. Not the shu

ratch Paus

barefoot on the cold tiles, the hairs on her arms lifting like ne

e it

e rain, eyes gleaming with unnatural intensity. The drenched c

iful. Instead, it looked

ice sounded unsure even to her own ears. She bent low, the metallic tang of

her eyes shifted past the creature, t

when sh

ndpr

of her rain-slicked window.

screamed to run, to call someone, anyone-but the cat slipp

hts fli

torm

ized she wasn't