Eat The Rich

Megan Amato // Contributor

Kaia’s eyes followed the shifting shadows of the tree branches silhouetted against the ceiling as they swayed in the moonlight. The silken sheets under her shifted with her every movement, rubbing against her sensitive skin. With every breath, she inhaled in the nauseating scent of Gucci perfume, stale sex and something…else that lingered in the air.

She could feel the fading heat of the bodies sandwiching her; the soft pressure of the woman’s arm draped across her chest, and the coarse hairs from the man’s legs tangled in her own. 

Glancing at the couple, she was unsurprised to see the peaceful looks on their faces. Even in death, these kinds of people went unworried. Only the pallor of their faces, the discolouration under their eyes and on half of their faces, and stiff postures of her victims gave away their state of being.

Turning onto her side, she glanced out the large bay windows that opened onto a manicured backyard with the geometric pool that looked onto the hazy ocean. Through the rain, Kaia could faintly make out the coastal mountains and the Two Sisters peaks that loomed in the distance.

She moved her gaze over the male, his large body towering over her even in stillness. He was an average looking white man with a Greek nose, thin firm looking lips, clean-shaven face, and ash-blond hair slicked cut into a neat quiff that must have been regularly maintained. Faint lines framed closed eyes with long eyelashes undoubtedly adored by all genders alike. He looked young for a man claiming to be nearing sixty.

Closing her eyes to the onslaught of images that flashed from the night before, Kaia savoured each memory that led to this moment.


Kaia sipped the wine Edward had ordered for her, savouring the weight of it in her mouth. She watched as the couple moved together, as if one entity rather than two individuals.

“I told you,” he said before looking around for their waiter and snapping his fingers to get his attention. “It’s like nothing you have ever tried before.”

“Eddie,” Claire said, smiling into her own wine. “I’m sure she’s tried a Sassicaia before.”

Kaia smiled to herself.

The waiter appeared beside their table, an apparition with dead eyes and a wide smile. “How can I help?”

“Are you a vegetarian?” Edward asked her, barely waiting for the shake of her head before turning to the waiter. “I’ll have the Fiorentina—the chefs know how I like it—and the ladies will both have the Veal Ossobuco.” He turned back to Kaia, his eyes intent. “And another bottle of the 2015 Sassicaia. Keep their glasses full.”

After dinner, as they waited for Edward to bring the car around, she leaned against Claire, taking in her warmth. “You don’t mind being ordered for?”

Claire gave her a confused smile, her eyes unfocused as she leaned closer to Kaia. “Why would I? Eddie always knows best.”


She turned over to examine Claire now, her eyes tracing a face that was at least twenty years younger than her husband but just as clinically maintained: the golden beach waves, bee sting pout, high cheekbones, Nubian nose and milky blemish-free skin. But Kaia could see the things that couldn’t be hidden: the sun damage beneath the layers of skin, the frown lines that couldn’t be erased.

Kaia shouldn’t judge. Her youth may not come from the deft hand of a cosmetic surgeon—well, there was that one plastic surgeon from Los Angeles a few years ago, but that’s another story. She stole her youth from folk’s bodies rather than through injections and incisions into her own. It wasn’t her place to judge others’ choices when it came to their bodies, even if she did play judge, jury and executioner. She turned on her side to study Edward again, laying her head on her hands as she studied his profile.

Kaia had browsed the dating website until she matched with someone who had been searching for a “naughty” young woman in her twenties interested in a threesome with an older married couple—and they’d offered her an obscene amount of cash if she would be willing to sub. ‘Unicorn’ hunting is a popular pastime for bored couples searching for a mythical, fetishized creature to use and discard like an old toy the second they become too human. Kaia almost laughed. This ‘unicorn’ certainly wasn’t human. 

She had agreed—they were exactly who she had been looking for, of course she was. She would have said yes even without the cash incentive, but a demon had to eat.

Sighing, she leaned over to place a soft kiss on Claire’s lips before lifting the woman’s arm from her chest—or trying to. It was a lot stiffer than she expected. After nearly breaking the woman’s arm, she freed herself to shimmy down the bed, hopping onto plush cream carpets that enveloped her feet.

Usually, when the demon in Kaia needed to be fed, she only needed a sip here and there from an unsuspecting fellow who had the misfortune to cast their avaricious eyes her way. Only from the rich and wealthy—there was no point in stealing from the poor.

Other times the ravenous thing within, inflamed by the insatiability in others, would take control, and just a few sips would no longer be enough. Wealthy unicorn hunters fit that parameter well. She enjoyed watching the slow loss of their colour as they pleasured her, the resulting lack of fluidity in their movements as she returned the favour. 

Kaia sighed again, a deep one that filled her poor lungs with the foulness of the room before she released it. She glanced around the spacious room decorated tastefully with modern monochrome furnishings pretending to be minimalist. Finding her purse and dress folded neatly on a stiff-looking white chair, she pulled her phone from a pocket.

Opening her dating app, she scrolled until she found the message she was waiting for: “Will tomorrow work? Greg and I are thrilled to meet you!”

Kaia smiled. “Perfect.”

mm
Megan Amato

Opinions Editor | Columns Editor

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