Nov. 7th, 2011

applespice: it is a sparkly fairy ([girls] dark lady)
Her fair hair gleamed in the moonlight, so blond it was almost silver. When she walked, the tapping of her high heeled boots and the swish of her coat seemed a quiet, nocturnal music. Her dark eyes were fixed ahead of her, her stride sure-footed and confident. She was not a stranger to the night, this neon-lit nymph, and the knowledge of it read in every line of her slim, statuesque body.

He fell in love with her immediately, just as he had done a hundred times before with a hundred different women. Her straight back, her fashionable coat, the way her pale, tapered fingers curved around her satin clutch – all sent the familiar tingling rush into his blood. Almost unconsciously, he dropped his cigarette and ground it underfoot, pushing away from the brick-walled club in which he had been loitering for the past two hours, his gaze sliding unarrested from one short skirt to another. What a waste of time that had been – he should have known even before entering the place that he’d never find someone interesting there. It had just been so long…

The staccato clicking of her heels increased in tempo - she had sensed him approaching. He was quiet, his steps barely registering above the nighttime din of partygoers, but women had a kind of intuition about being followed. Still, she did not turn to look; her silvery hair swung behind her like a silken pendulum as her pace quickened. If he was going to speak to her, he knew now was the time - if he waited any longer she would think he was a pervert, the kind of person who followed beautiful women home from nightclubs and stared between the cracks in their curtains as they kicked off their heels and stripped off their dresses.

So he hurried up to walk beside her, keeping a respectable distance between them as he matched her stride. When she glanced over, the planes of her face tense in the semidarkness, he flashed her a quick, shy smile, the kind he knew from experience helped set a woman at ease.

"I'm sorry to charge toward you in the dark like this, but I hope you'll let me walk with you to the end of this street. There are some rough men around here tonight, and I'm afraid they'll harass a woman walking alone."

She looked at him suspiciously, her eyebrows drawing together. She veered farther away from him. He raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Of course, you can always tell me to take off - I won't be offended! But I promise I won't come any closer to you than I am right now. I just want to keep you company until you reach the end of this street. The main thoroughfare is well-lit, and I'll feel better if I know you've reached it safely."

Now a hint of amusement came into her pale, lovely face. A thrill went through him at the change he had wrought in her with his words alone. He imagined her face flickering through an array of expressions - a laugh, a tender smile, her mouth open and moaning in the throes of passion.

When she spoke, her voice was cool, but a ripple of laughter seemed to lurk beneath the words. "And how many other women have you assisted tonight? Have you accompanied untold scores of women down this dark little street, or have you let them all venture into danger until you had me in your sights?"

He shrugged and let his face fall sheepishly. "Truthfully? You're the first."

"And why is that?"

"You want honesty, I can tell - you're that sort of woman. Honestly, I couldn't resist you."

She remained silent, her dark eyes fixed on him and her eyebrows quirked. She wanted to hear more. She couldn't help herself.

"It's just... well, don't think I'm a creep, but you're extraordinarily beautiful."

When she smiled - the slow, indulgent smile that meant she secretly exulted in a stranger's notice - he knew he had her. He looked down again, a practiced blush spreading over his features. "I'm sorry," he added. "I shouldn't have said anything. I've had a little bit to drink and it's made me braver than I ought to be."

"It's all right," she said, smiling her knowing little smile. She edged closer. "I kind of like it."

They were nearing the end of the shadowy little street. The lights of the main drag sparkled ahead. He took a deep breath, and turned toward her with his most engaging smile. "How about if we walk together just a little bit longer?"

Her teeth glinted in the darkness as she returned his grin. "I'd like that."


Dawn broke cold over the sleeping city. Frost glittered in the gutters and at the corners of windows. Lovers snuggled closer together under the blankets, taking comfort in each other's warmth. And in one apartment, the smell of blood clung to the walls and windows like a suit of skin.

A long knife sat on the draining board, beside it a cleaver. The counters had been scrubbed clean, but in the deep well of the sink a single drop of blood shone against the stainless steel. In the refrigerator, slabs of paper-wrapped meet were stacked with careful precision beside a staring head, its eyes fixed interminably on the mustard in the shelf on the door.

In the breakfast nook, a cup of coffee added its bitter scent to the scene. Yawning languorously, she settled into the chair before it, drinking in the sight of the dawn-lit city beyond the window. She settled a plate of sizzling bacon on the table beside the mug, a smile coming unbidden to her lips at the sight of the meat. It was always better fresh.

As she lifted the first morsel to her teeth, she played back the events of the night before. It was always the same with men like that - the little games, the lies. She hadn't intended on taking anyone that night, not until he had approached her. It had been a long day and she was tired, ready to slip into bed and wake to the usual chewy pork sausage in the morning... And then there he was, smiling that disingenuous smile, and the anger at his presumption had risen in her like a monster from the deep.

They were all the same. Just the same old shit, every day.

But the meat was tender, and her tastes were sated. For now. Until another man approached her on a darkened street, lied to her, put himself willingly into her hands.


applespice: it is a sparkly fairy (Default)
How About Them Apples?

June 2015


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