JUST ANOTHER SATURDAY NIGHT
Her frame had slimmed down, although the smell of motherhood still clung to her like a vice. Medusa wreaked of milk and little bodies, and she hated it. Domesticity was not something she enjoyed, and she knew now that she would never again repeat the mistake of having children. It had left her bored and feeling disgusting, and now she had to work to get back to her previous state. She was close to her previous, seductive frame, although she had yet to be satisfied. She ran often, regaining lost muscle tone and fitting into her previous athleticism.
She had to get in shape, after all, with the threat of Newt still on the horizon. The harlot needed to protect her sun, and she had no doubt that one day Newt would come for her head. In that case, the serpent would be ready to intercept. What was the moon, after all, without its sun? She shook these thoughts from her head for now. The midnight mistress would have time to figure out her tactics of war, and for now she would concentrate. Soon, she would be toned and sleek, and soon she would be ready for whatever the world would throw at her.
The harlot took pause beneath a tree, catching her breath and checking over her pristine coat. The sun was beginning to set, and yet she did not mind. Medusa had been in the arms of demons before, and she knew those that went bump in the night intimately. She feared nothing, except losing the sun forever, for without the sun, how could a snake possibly exist?