Soul Sucker
Cliffs

Ingrid Anderson (Frances Dortmund’s) POV

Flatirons, near Denver, Colorado

Tuesday, August 9, 2022

“Almost there. There’s a rock protrusion you can reach with your right hand if you stretch,” my guide told me from the top of the cliff as he belayed me. “You need to trust your body and your training, Ingrid. As soon as you have two fingers on it, let go with your left and reach for the crack above it.”

I reached behind me for the chalk bag and coated the fingers of my right hand with it. I’d only have one chance at this; the body lean to get to the next handhold was too much. If I missed it or my fingers slipped off, I’d be bouncing from the rope’s end for the third time this afternoon.

I took a few deep breaths, focused on the target, and stretched to my right. I got my index and ring finger over it, let go with my left, and pulled my body up so my left could reach the crack. With the two anchor points, I allowed my legs to swing under me, turning the momentum into a lift. My right foot found a hold, and I pushed myself up a few more feet. My right hand reached for the top of the rock, and I pulled myself up and into a sitting position. “Finally!”

Carlos was smiling as he coiled the safety rope. He was a young kid working as a guide for the Colorado Climbing Company while going to graduate school and had been climbing at a high level for a decade. He’d been sneaking glances at my abs and butt all day but had kept it professional. “Nice job, Ingrid. You bagged your first 5.7 cliff! I can’t believe you’ve only been doing this for a few days. You’re a natural.”

“You’re a good teacher, and I’m not afraid of hard work or failure.” Lana and I were bouldering in the Flatirons with Carlos and another guide. Lana was on a 5.5 climb right now, as she hadn’t picked up on climbing as fast.

“Still, that’s the fastest progression I’ve seen on a beginner in my career. You keep this up, and you could be something special.”

A little explanation might help. The Yosemite Decimal System (1-5) rates backcountry hikes and climbs. The climbs are in subcategories of the 5th category, numbered 5.1 through 5.15. Intermediate-rated climbs will have small footholds and handholds, plus near-vertical terrain. These get numbers between 5.5 and 5.8. At 5.9 to 5.10, you’re looking at vertical faces and maybe overhangs requiring advanced skills.

I wasn’t doing this long enough to get to the 5.11 and above climbs where the experts hang out. My target is a dedicated weekend climber who regularly climbs at 5.9. I’ve been busting ass to look like I belong since a beginner won’t catch Landon Street’s interest.

Having a 5.7 behind me puts me solidly in the intermediate category. Give it another week or two of climbing every day, and I’ll be ready for him. “That last move was a bitch,” I said.

“You’re lucky you’re tall. The shorter climbers have to leap for it, and that makes holding on to that little handhold difficult. Drink this,” he said as he handed me a water bottle.

I drank down the water as I looked out over the cliff, enjoying the moment. “What is next? Do we try a harder route?”

“Nope. You rappel back down, and we do it again two or three more times. This time, I won’t help you unless you ask for it. I expect you to finish a lot faster now that you know the route.”

“Wonderful.” The afternoon sun was still high, and the mountain air was fresh. This was a good moment for me, and my life needed more of these. I handed Carlos the empty bottle, set my gear, and rappelled back to the cliff base.

We only needed two more climbs before he was satisfied. “You have a choice,” he told me from the top as we looked at the sun getting lower. “We can try a 5.8, or we can move to another 5.7.”

“Do you think I’m ready for an eight?”

“No one is ready for their first eight. You’ve got the basic skills, but you need the confidence. You won’t make it, but you’ll figure out where you need to work. You can go for it, right? You already had a great day, and failing a tougher climb won’t ruin it.”

“You’ll help me through it?”

“For all the good it will do.”

“Let’s go. If I bag an eight, I’ll bang the shit out of you before the jeep picks us up.”

Nothing like motivation to succeed. We moved about a hundred feet down to where the cliff face was vertical, and he anchored the rope. I fell three times, but I finally summited on the fourth.

I was exhilarated, exhausted, and horny. I practically attacked Carlos at the top, pushing him behind a pair of boulders that would keep others from seeing us. “We shouldn’t do this,” he said as I reached for his belt.

“I shouldn’t do a lot of things, but I need this,” I replied. “You’ve never screwed on top of a cliff?”

“Only in camp,” he confessed.

I pulled his shorts down to his ankles along with his underwear. “You can’t tell anyone,” I said before I took his cock in my mouth.

“No one would believe it,” he replied. I didn’t need my succubus powers after he’d watched me all day; a minute later, he was so hard a cat couldn’t scratch it. He wasn’t a porn star, but his six inches had decent girth and would do just fine to scratch my itch. I stood up, pulling my yoga shorts to my knees as I leaned over the rock. “Condom?”

“I’m safe,” I told him. The demon’s power kept me safe from venereal diseases and pregnancy, so I didn’t care. He wasn’t worried about himself, as he moved behind me and felt between my thighs. I was wet and ready for him. “Fuck me, Carlos. Fuck me hard.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I felt the tip of his cock rubbing against my slit before starting to push inside me. Fuck that! I slammed my ass against him, moaning as I felt him bottom out. “Damn, you feel good,” he told me.

I used my pussy muscles to squeeze him, working the groups so it felt like I was stroking it even though he wasn’t moving. Then I squeezed tight as I slowly pulled forward before slamming my butt back against his hips again. “Your college girls know how to do that?”

“Hell, no.” He didn’t say anything as I gave him the promised fucking. He barely lasted a minute. “Shit, I’m going to pop!” I pulled off him and spun around, dropping to my knees. I took him into my throat with my tongue extended to lick his pebbled sack. “Fuck! Here it comes!”

I backed off, taking his load in my mouth until I looked like a chipmunk. When he finished, I opened my mouth, showed him, then swallowed it. “Damn. I’m sorry I didn’t last, but you’re SOOOO hot!”

“You didn’t get me off, stud.” I went back to his dick, sucking hard on the sensitive tip. “There’s nothing to apologize for if you can get this hard again,” I said.

His youth and my oral skills soon had him back in business. He started with a hard pounding in Round Two, getting me my first orgasm a minute later. I felt the demon stir but shoved him back. This fucking was for me, not him. He’d had his feeding last week, and Carlos was a good kid.

I didn’t want to take any chances of killing him, so after one last orgasm, I dropped to my knees again and finished him off. The load wasn’t as big, but I used a few tricks I’d learned to extend his orgasm until his knees buckled. He had to grab the rock to stay standing, and it took him a minute before he could think straight.

As for me? He was a decent fuck, and I’d enjoyed myself. I felt a little bad about it, because I’d ruined him for other women now. No matter how hot the girl, he’d wake up wondering why she couldn’t fuck and suck like Ingrid could. I’d always be a fond memory for him. “Same time tomorrow?”

“I wasn’t scheduled to work, but I’m sure as hell working if you’re here,” he told me as we pulled our clothes back on. “Damn. Thank you, Ingrid. That was unexpected and amazing.”

“Keep it between us, and it might happen again,” I told him. “The rush of conquering the climb makes me horny as hell.”

“Good thing not many people are out here.”

We grabbed our gear and walked towards the pickup point. Lana and her guide were waiting there. I could see blood on her cheek and right elbow. “How did you guys do?”

“I fell more than a baby learning to walk,” Lana complained. “I bagged a 5.6, finally. I saw you climb that last one. Was that really a 5.8?”

“Yep,” I smiled.

“She’s really good,” Carlos added. “Listens and picks up things fast.”

“Maybe we should switch tomorrow,” Lana’s guide said.

“Nope,” I said. “We work well together,” I grinned slightly, “and I’m not changing horses in the middle of the race.”

“I can tell,” Lana said with a grin. “We can trade stories over dinner.” The guide service dropped us back at our cars, and we ended up at a Mexican place nearby. “I’m so fucking sore,” Lana complained after we ordered drinks. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“And I’m not even sore from fucking,” I replied.

“You cheeky bitch! I can’t believe you!”

I rolled my eyes. “It can’t ALL be work,” I told my daughter. “The poor guy did spend all day looking down my top, after all.”

“And my instructor is gay. So, what now?”

“We train until I’m good enough to be on the same cliff as Landon. Every day, probably for a few more weeks.”

Lana rolled her shoulder. “I don’t know if I’ll survive that long. I don’t have your advantages.” It was unfair that my demon gave me superior strength and healing powers. My body had fully recovered by the time I got to the jeep.

Lana had a little buzz on by the time we left, so I drove home. My succubus powers meant drugs and alcohol had almost no effect on my body. She headed off for shower and bed, while I went to the office to check in with Lonnie. He was at his desk, staring at a big computer screen. “How are things going,” I asked my son as I kissed his head.

“We’ve got problems,” he told me. “Remember the lawyer in Indiana? The one handling the sale of the trucking company?”

“Yeah, Lana told me about him. Some insurance investigator from Manhattan Life called him yesterday with questions about the sale.”

“He’s looking at more than just Michael Petersen. I got a bunch of tripwire notifications yesterday and more this morning. The IP address is for Manhattan Life. He’s searching the Web for information on two of your buried identities.” He showed me the information. Once we liquidated her dead husband’s estate, Jordyn would disappear forever. The money would get funneled through overseas accounts and shell companies Lonnie controlled.

Why not kill them off? A death certificate brings probate, and we don’t want that. It was easier to have them vanish.

“Where do we sit on the life insurance claim for Michael?”

“Still pending. Manhattan Life has about a week to pay or justify the delay.”

That wasn’t much time. “I’ll let Lana know. We’ll keep Jordyn’s identity going longer than usual, until interest dies down. A disappearance so soon after raising these flags wouldn’t be good.”

“I agree. Jordyn should make a few public appearances as she moves on with her life.”

I nodded. “Find out when the trucking company sale is closing and get me plane tickets. Fly me through Dallas, and I’ll change identities there. I don’t want any traces coming back to Denver.”

He nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks, baby. Don’t stay up too late.” I walked to my room, thinking of how I could handle this.

If that investigator got too close, he might get burned.

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