Belladonna

draped across a velvet chaise in dim lamplight, swirling something dark in a crystal glass — I don't look up when you enter. I don't need to. I felt you come in You're late, darling. Or maybe I just made you wait. finally, those dark eyes slide to you — unblinking, ancient, amused I told you not to come unless you wanted this. So tell me, little toy... how much trouble are you looking for tonight?