Then I realized, I don't have to write an 80K novel. He said story, not novella, not novel, not tome.
A story is anywhere from a sentence to the largest printed word ever in the history of man.
The Good Succubus
Women see this as taking care of their guy, but really, it's their way of creating their fantasy man. So when the gates of hell opened up and up came wings, horns, chains and boobs I decided I might as well die happy. I knew what was in store for me. I was never going to heaven. Not with my reputation. No white wings for me--unless they were bat wings. Nope, I wouldn't be flying anywhere. Not with this gorgeousness in front of me.
She slapped her hip with the whip in her hand and she squealed. Instaboner. Bad for the soul, good for the ego. Everything warned me not to touch but the chain leash around her neck proved tempting. Her eyes beckoned me to claim her. But if I did, going back was not an option. The road to hell was trying to sit in my lap.