I was
powerless, completely powerless against him. How could I
withstand him? He was dangerous. I knew he was dangerous. He was
intensely alluring though. Something about the way he stood,
always with a straight back, always exuding confidence. His
trademark black steel tipped shoes, black jeans that somehow
never faded, his open black silk shirt. Right now, the way his
unlighted cigarette was hanging from his lips; all of this drew
me to him. His full, gorgeous, pouting and moist lips that many
women of this world would die to have. He was talking right now,
but to himself. He ignited his cigarette lighter, lit his
cigarette and put out the flame in one swift movement. In a flash
the lighter was gone. I could see its outline in his pocket. The
speed and gracefulness of his fingers was the envy of many kid's
party type, worthless magicians. But he wasn't a magician. At
least, not the pennywhistle type. He worked a lot of magic,
though. Magic of the mind.
He smiled so sweetly at me. His smile always lilted to one side,
almost like a smirk. And his smooth chocolate brown skin was
warm. He walked over and stooped in front of my chair. I loved
him. He touched my cheek tenderly and softly; I closed my eyes to
chase his hand with my lips. He let me touch it for one second,
then sent a stunning slap across my cheek. He continued smiling.
"No," he said simply, in his Scottish accent.
He then got up and went to the open bay windows. The night wind
was strong and it blew his shirt around his body. Though his
shirt blew, his kinky ringlets stayed perfectly in place. They
were perfect, like the rest of him. I saw his perfect silhouette
against the almost clear and transparent night sky. Perfection. I
lowered my gaze. My cheek smarted, but I didn't care. It burned
with love, not with pain.
"I want you to do something for me," he said crisply.
He turned to face me. It is remarkable how his ebony eyes could
shine so. Now he was leering. But I loved it. I loved everything
about him. But I could not show it.
"Why do you think I will?" I said curtly.
"Well, you'd do anything for me, wouldn't you? I know you. I
know you want me. You're obsessed with me even. I can make you do
anything. Besides," he said, closing the gap between us,
"who's the one tied up in the chair?"
I wriggled against the ropes that bound me to the chair. He
continued.
"When I first met you, I needed to use you. I was going to
use you in fact. You held such perfect virginal qualities that it
was my duty to seduce you and obtain what I could. However, I
know better now. You are not who I thought you were. That
encounter with your brother was reason enough, even though never
officially lost your virginity. However, I have found someone to
fulfil my needs. She is in the next room, if you didn't hear her
come in. She is bound to a chair as well. Now, here is what I
want you to do…"
He explained my task. I resented him for it. Truly I did, but
what is resentment against love? I loved him and his dubious
acts. I would do anything for him. Anything.
There she was. I heard her whimper as I opened the door. She was
gagged, and her large green eyes were opened in terror. I reeled.
She had to be a lily girl, didn't she? It made me hate her even
more. I was glad I had to do this, even though it was a sign of
his rejection of me. I opened her shirt by running the blade of
the knife under the buttons. I didn't expose her. I didn't need
to. Right under her collarbone was her hard, bony chest, and her
breasts didn't begin until lower down. I opened the little
container in my hand.
"Hold tight, Marcia Brady…"
With the knife, I drew a thin "X" across her chest, on
the left side where her heart was. I also drew blood. Her green
eyes squeezed shut as a loud groan managed to escape her mouth. I
slapped her cheek.
"Shut up!" I said, holding the knife to her throat.
Blood dripped into the phial that I held to her chest. She
whimpered and slobbered, but she made no more noise. I covered
the bottle and left the room.
I handed the bottle to him. He smiled his sweet smile.
"Thank you."
He walked to the front door of the apartment.
"You may leave," he said, gesturing to the corridor.
"What do you mean?" I said, panic creeping into my
voice.
"I have no use for you anymore. And I know you love me too
much to spread my secrets. So therefore, you may leave with your
life. Go before I change my mind and kill you too."
Angry and hurt tears streamed down my face. I ran out of the
apartment and into the road.
I walked briskly down the wet pavement, my black coat offering me
no shelter from the cold. I loved him. But he would pay.