With cat-like grace (and she would hate to hear herself described that way) she placed her left hand on the handrail and leaped from the downward moving escalator to land lithely two steps ahead and facing me on the upward moving escalator. The momentary flash of her panties distracted me until I felt the thump of her landing. Unlike the purely spiritual creatures, like my ghost student, Kitsune have a physical presence in our world. No one seemed to notice her acrobatics, either through some type of “you-don’t-see-me” spell or through natural Japanese composure. She was clad in a glamour that obscured her inhumane aspects. I shifted focus and could see her true form. Eye level with her lower set of breasts, I raised my gaze to meet her eyes as she spoke. She was beautiful in a way that promised endless nights of pleasure. I was instantly on my guard; the most powerful spells are not woven with magic…
A Taste of Tokyo Supernatural
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