More story bits

Because of my adult ADD and incredible laziness, I find it very difficult to finish, or even move beyond the first 1000 words of a story. Here's another begining:

Edmund wondered as he stared into the she-demon's many fanged mouth why each acquisition had to involve so much drama. Her claws dug into his shoulders, and with each of her ragged exhalations he was assaulted with breath that was a mixture of rotten tuna sweaty feet.

She rasped at him in a questioning tone. As if to punctuate the phrase she licked him across the nose with her bifurcated tongue, which was warm and rough like a cat's.

"I'm sorry, I wish my knowledge of conversational esoteric languages was better, but..."

She questioned him again in hissing gutteral speech, squeezing him tighter and lifting him so that he dangled above the floor.

"I really don't understand you. Your breath is really quite terrible, and I would prefer if you would put me down now."

She cocked her large head to the side inquisitively and brought her eyes close to his. Each red pupil in her black eyes formed a small inverted cross.

"Who sends you?" She asked in a rough approximation of English. Edmund wished he could reach the gun in his briefcase or at least think of some sort of spell to protect him. He wasn't quite sure that either would work, this being his first encounter with a demon of this sort in the flesh.

In his line of work, the collection of rare and powerful occult books and artifacts, Edmund often encountered demons and spirits lingering about, but those entities were easily dealt with, using one of a number of spells and rituals that he knew, but never had he seen something like this.

He had assumed incorrectly when they boy said that there was a demon involved it meant the incorporeal-throw-some-dishes-around-general-nuisance kind.

This was quite different.

She was almost ten feet tall, and like traditional western devils, the lower half of her crimson body ended in a pair of cloven hooves. He had seen no evidence of a tail, but from her back stemmed a set of wide bat-like wings. In spite of his fear and surprise Edmund's eyes roamed from the dark fur of her crotch to her breasts that swayed rhythmically. It was almost lovely in a evil and sacreligous way.

....

The young man stared hard at the business card clutched in his hand. "Edmund Frentic, occult books and paraphenlia, 777 Crowley Way," it read in a simple block font. The edges were frayed and the card seemed old and forgotten when he found it in his father's desk, but right now it seemed his best bet....