Lair of the Smooch Spiders

"You're not a very hungry vampire, are you?"

It's not that Rozana's not used to dealing with reticent men in capes and eyepatches and all that sort of thing. They're practically her bread and butter, which is how she was even able to be lured in here in the first place. But my, if Ziggy isn't a tidy one.

Ziggy faces her, all eye contact and acceptance of who, or what, he is. "Rozana, I have no intention of making this difficult for you."

"Really no fun that way," she sniffs. "I might as well bite you, for all the good it's doing!"

"I'm sure you wouldn't find it at all pleasant."

After a brief pause to allow Rozana to decide if she'd like to prove his point, or not, Ziggy steps toward his prey and braces hands on her shoulders. Robotic, robotic, robotic, he is, until his chin descends and he angles in at her neck.

Yes, he's still efficient, but Rozana can just hear the scervos rotoring away. That explains it handily.

"Do me a favor and take your time, won't you, Ziggy?"

Without another word, Ziggy demonstrates his earnest acknowledgement; each successive expert nip slower and more excruciating. Rozana gets the sense that this is how he likes his women: not mouthy, but matter-of-fact, altogether in charge of what they want so he doesn't have to invoke his own preferences, ever.