Drained: The Lucid by E.L. Blaisdell, Nica Curt Page A

been in,” Riley muttered to herself.
    “You’re hardly my fantasy.”
    Riley lifted a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Oh really? How do you want me then?” Her clothing morphed before the other woman’s eyes. Instead of her sheer babydoll, she now wore a short pleated skirt, white knee-high socks, and a tight blouse tied just beneath her pert breasts. “Maybe you’d prefer me sweet, innocent, and a little naïve? Perhaps I’m a student in need of help on an assignment.”
    Riley took a cautionary step closer to her mark as her clothing shifted again. She knew she was wasting her energy, but the frustration had begun to cloud her mind. The more control a succubus had over a dream, the more energy it depleted. For more energy efficient sessions, a mark’s imagination had to do all the work. But without a little give, there wasn’t a take. And that take was more than worth the trouble if the experience exceeded expectations. Morgan had Riley’s interest, and it would be a lie to say that the challenge didn’t turn her on. Her schoolgirl outfit melted away and re-formed as a skintight, crimson, leather body suit. Loosened hair turned ten shades lighter as it pulled back into a high ponytail. A harsh zipper split the tight material between her breasts, revealing a startling amount of cleavage. The pants tapered down her long legs, and she stood confidently on four-inch black platforms.
    “Or maybe you need me to whip some sense into you,” Riley purred. Her eyes narrowed, and she tapped a thin riding crop against the palm of her hand. “Maybe you’ve been pining for someone to tell you what to do. I think you need a break from always being in charge, always being the head of everything you do. Must be tiring.”
    “Still not your type?” The red leather outfit shifted and fell away to reveal a black string bikini whose material barely contained her firm flesh. She wore leather straps around her ankles. Her taut hair fell out of its ponytail and blonde roots sprouted from her scalp until her entire thick mane was platinum in color. “Maybe all this hesitation is an act,” Riley continued as the distance between them closed. She shook her wrists and the metal bondage rings jangled. A small, black collar materialized around her neck, dangling from a shiny d-ring was the leash. “Maybe you’re always the take-charge type and you’d rather I not call the shots.” She batted her thick lashes. Her demeanor didn’t miss a beat; she could change her tempo as fast as the outfits.
    Morgan looked visibly flustered. Riley wondered if she had unknowingly tapped into a secret fantasy, but assumed that woman’s academic, left-sided brain was working overtime from watching her transformations.
    “How did you do that?” Morgan’s fingers grazed over the material of the leash. “It—it feels so real. I can practically smell the leather,” she thought out loud.
    “It feels real, because it is real,” Riley replied. She watched Morgan’s hesitant touch, a mixture of fear and curiosity, continue down the lead.  
    “Can you change into another person?” Morgan asked. “Or can you just change your clothing and hair color?”
    “Don’t you know?” Riley said smugly. She could only hope that her poker face would hold. But under the wandering eyes and examining touches, she felt insecure. She was a specimen under a microscope. “You seem to be the expert on what I am.”
    Behind them on the stovetop, the teapot shrieked to life. Morgan blinked and shook her head. She turned her back on Riley and pulled the kettle from the gas burner. The shrill cry faded as the silver kettle cooled.
    Morgan pulled a ceramic jar from a ceiling cabinet. “Would you like some tea?” she offered.
    Riley stood stunned for a moment, and her outfit defaulted to her original babydoll. It wasn’t that she’d never been offered food or drink on an assignment before—although generally she was licking said food and drink off of