Weekend with Kaa

"Mrs. Snellings? Brought you some lemon drizzle cake." I held up the plate, forcing a neighborly smile. Her front door creaked open wider, revealing Diane Snellings in faded shorts and a loose tee, dark hair piled messily. She looked tired—divorce papers finalized last Tuesday, according to the neighborhood grapevine.

She blinked, surprised. "Oh! That's... sweet of you." Her voice was softer than I remembered, almost hesitant. She stepped aside, gesturing me into the cluttered living room. Unwashed mugs dotted the coffee table beside stacks of Vogue. The air smelled faintly of lavender cleaner and loneliness.

"I was just stretching," she added, flexing one bare foot against the worn rug. Her arches curved high and elegant, pale skin smooth above the knobby bones. Lovely. Exactly as I’d hoped.

"Mind if I use your bathroom?" I asked casually, setting the cake down. "Drank way too much coffee this morning." She nodded absently, already turning toward the kitchen. Perfect. Down the hall, I eased the bathroom window open—just enough. Outside, Kaa’s sleek scales glinted in the sun where I’d left him coiled in the azaleas. A low hiss slithered through the gap.

Showtime.

The bathroom window clicked shut behind me as I rejoined Diane in the living room. She stood by the sofa, absently tracing a finger along the rim of a coffee mug. Kaa, now in the house, slithered around the house, looking for the best place to strike.

"Everything alright?" Diane asked, her voice distant. She hadn’t touched the lemon cake.

"Just fine," I said, forcing calm into my tone. "Old pipes."

My eyes darted to the gap beneath the kitchen door. A shadow, sinuous and deliberate, slid across the threshold. Kaa entered the room soundlessly, his scales catching the dull light like spilled oil. He paused near Diane’s bare feet, raised his wedge-shaped head, and began the low, rhythmic hum that vibrated in the air itself.

Trust in me... just in me...

Diane blinked slowly, the combination of stress and exhaustion dulled what would have been a startled response. Her gaze drifted downward, locking onto Kaa’s eyes. They pulsed—yellow shifting to violet, violet bleeding into a deep, unnatural green. Her shoulders slumped visibly as her eyes mimicked the pattern. The tension lines around her mouth smoothed away, replaced by a vacant, beatific smile. Her posture softened, her arms hanging loose at her sides. The mug slipped from her fingers, thudding softly onto the rug, unnoticed. She was utterly still, save for the gentle rise and fall of her breath. Perfectly entranced.

Slowly, deliberately, I knelt before her. Her feet lifted up to meet my waiting face. The scent of lavender cleaner mingled with something warmer, uniquely hers—clean skin and faint, floral soap. Those high arches impossibly elegant. My heart hammered against my ribs as I leaned closer. The skin looked impossibly soft. I inhaled deeply—a warm, intimate scent, earthy and human—before pressing my lips gently against the smooth curve of her sole. Her skin was warm silk beneath my mouth. She didn’t stir. Kaa’s humming filled the quiet room, a hypnotic lullaby.

"Beautiful," I murmured against her arch, the word escaping unbidden. My thumb traced the delicate bones, feeling the subtle tension even in her trance. I lingered, kissing each toe slowly, savoring the texture—the slight roughness near the heel, the smoothness beneath the arch. Kaa watched, his green eyes unwavering. Diane remained motionless, her vacant smile serene, lost somewhere deep inside her own mind.

A sudden creak echoed from the hallway—the old house settling? My head snapped up. Kaa’s hum faltered for a split second. Diane’s eyelids fluttered violently, her smile flickering like a guttering candle. Panic surged through me, but Kaa's eyes glew again as they bore into Diane's mind. Her fluttering eyelids stilled. Her slackened jaw relaxed again, the vacant serenity flooding back, deeper than before. The creak wasn’t repeated. False alarm. Just the house breathing.

I resumed my worship, emboldened by the close call. My lips moved from her sole to the delicate ridge of her anklebone, tasting the faint saltiness of her skin. The warmth radiating from her was primal, enveloping. Her breathing remained slow, rhythmic, undisturbed. A bead of sweat traced a path down my temple, not from exertion, but from the sheer intensity of the transgression. She was utterly unaware, pliant, existing only for this moment and my exploration.

The distant chime of a grandfather clock drifted in from another room—three resonant bongs. Time was slipping away. I couldn’t linger forever. Reluctantly, I drew back, my gaze lingering on her peaceful, entranced face. I awoke Diane from her trance. She seemed rested, happy, and more than willing to eat some lemon-drizzle cake now. She was also more than happy to see me again next week.