Lioness

The Salty Taste of Blood

 .            The lioness stretched and yawned in her sleep.  Her tawny mane scrunched under her neck and her long golden muscles expressed sinewy power in their smallest twitching movements as she dreamed.  She dreamed of cubs, she dreamed of her King, she dreamed she was running free across great expanses of golden African grasslands.  She dreamed of Freedom.

             Her den was comfortingly warm, cozy and moist.  She rolled over onto her back bathing in the luxurious feeling that morning sun would soon to be breaking around her.  She savored the feeling of being wrapped in fur and warmth.  Wet. Fuzzy.  Warm.  Glorious.  Almost like floating in her mother’s womb.

             Must she really awaken?  It was so heavenly just lying here being a lioness.  All 138 pounds of her muscles stretched again.  She coughed slight phlegm, releasing a small hairball as she reached out her rough red tongue to lick the liquid on her forearm.  Her hypnotizing eyes remained closed, hesitant to open and take on the task of living.  Were those magnificent orbs open, they would mesmerize all who gazed deep into their magic-large, innocent waters.   Compassion and passion danced in the rainbow mist of those eyes that slanted up in the corners just enough to reveal her dangerous soul. 

             The magical eyes, ever changing in color like an old fashioned “mood ring”, remained pleasantly closed.   She was licking her own forearm.  Her bumpy tongue roughly massaging her muscles as she licked the delicious warm liquid from her limbs.  Salty.  Warm.  Blood.  Nothing lovelier than the salty taste of blood.

             Blood?  Blood?  Holy Shit, Blood!  She quickly sat up in the foreign bed and those huge golden eyes sprang open.   Crap.  Crap.  Crap.  Blood.  Blood.  Blood.  Help. Help. Help. 

            Her thoughts were short and panicked and the eyes turned bright green, then ocean blue, as she was in utter confusion.  She saw the dead, sliced up body of a formerly lovely woman beside her.  The bedding was covered in the woman’s blood.  The sheets, her own body, everything covered in blood.  YUCK.   She had licked it.  GROSS!  Waves of repulsion flooded her body.  Panic married repulsion in her gut producing together an explosion of an odd sort of orgasmic heat, flooding out from her groins and through her body to her brain.  Shit.

          Her life was over.  Her destiny was over.  The Presidential election was over.  As of last night she was going to be the first woman President of the United States