Lilith's estate was the bordello Lucifer had mentioned in his raunchy Beelzebutt erotica. The Shedim Club ladies of the night were flanked by Samael's exes, Naamah, Eisheth Zenumin, Lilith, and Agrath. They looked like 70s Go Go Dancers, all cocoa and caramel skinned, varying shades of Middle Easter, African, and Queen of Sheba, dressed in goth club outfits with red go go boots.
Lucifer, the incel naga, was politicking. I was left to my own devices with a drink he had pronounced a "pear toe cheese," then slogged Cabernet Sauvignon from a bottle, and slid off, clacking like keys screetching against a windshield.
Agrath eyed me, spiders weaving webs on her eyelashes. "Wanna get drunk and dance over bad boyfriends, Shannon?"
"Oh yes, men, they never lay beneath you… unlike Asmodeus," Lilith crooned, her sultry brown sugar lips coated in a frosty silver lippie. Her eyes were done up in vermillion shadow and gold liner.
