by Poppet
Opening my eyes again as the towel wraps back around me and she plants a gentle kiss in my navel, I have never experienced such domination. Her desire to please me, she's the first angel to turn. To give me surrender without my force. My dirty angel has finally resurrected herself.
She is the one.
Needing to explore this strange exhilaration further, I pick her up and walk to the sanctuary of the bedroom. Her warm breath teases my neck as she sucks the skin gently. When she whispers seductively in my ear, even my DNA reacts.
"Victor you are wonderful. Please let me keep you."
I'm going to work her with the intelligence of Omega. Knowing biology the way I do, it should be easy to manipulate the X, Y and G spots. I have to see her eyes when she goes blind.
Chapter 20
Photography has no rules. It is not a sport.
It is the result which counts, no matter how it is achieved.
~Bill Brandt
I feel like giggling as Victor keeps a look-out for me while I dash across between our doors wearing nothing more than knickers and his humungous vest. But once inside, the enormity of last night hits the joy right out of me. The smell of petrol is overpowering.
He's wearing his dark glasses, a black cap, and his usual black jeans and t-shirt as he joins me, staring into my bedroom. The carnage and the despicable memories have me paralysed. Tears streaming, trying to be brave I suppress a sob.
"Do you want to call the police?"
Shaking my head in response. "No. Two deaths and now this? I'll be the main suspect."
Frantic, I push past him to get my phone off the coffee table. Snatching it up, I collapse onto the floor next to the table, cradling the phone. Laughing between tearful bursts.
"Shauna?"
Arms wrap around me and I bury my face into his neck, indulging in safe strength. "He …" sob, "likes you."
"He?" … "Oh yes, Vengeance."
He pulls me up, turning my chin so that I face him. "Get dressed. You can't sleep in that bed. We're tossing it."
I know it's logical but I'm on a tight budget.
"My treat. Okay?"
"Victor, no … I couldn't possibly …"
"Just bury your female pride this once?" His face gets closer as delectable lips press against mine enthusiastically. "Let me spoil you." Between kisses, and his seductive grin that curls the corners of his mouth up, he tells me, "Besides – I – might – want – to – sleep – over – and – it's – not- long enough – for – my – height."
Wrapping my arms around his neck I let him pick me up, kissing me, taking me back to my bedroom. He plants my feet back on the ground at the closet. "Now get dressed while I open this place up and get some air in here."
"And then?"
"And then we're going shopping for a new bed."
Incredulous, I watch him pull open the left blue and white pinstripe curtain. How the heck did I just get so lucky? Even Vengeance approves.
Facing my wardrobe I unearth a pink and white gingham peasant blouse and plain pink matching skirt. If Vengeance is watching, I'm not going to give him a reason to blow Victor up too. Opening my underwear drawer I select pink underwear and pull Victor's vest off. Hooking the bra, I look up to find him watching me. Instantly self-conscious I ask, "What?"
His eyes amazingly seem to be a deeper shade of brown. They've gone from warm brown to coffee liqueur. I can't read his expression. He seems so poised with his shades perched on the peak of his cap.
"You."
"What about me?" I continue getting dressed. Glancing at him as I change underwear.
"Feminine and petite. Such a tiny waist."
My face heats up uncomfortably, "And now my cheeks are coordinated." Eyeing him curiously I ask a burning question as I finish dressing. "Victor, why do you live here?"
"You mean doing what I do, why do I choose to live a superficially modest existence?"
He's sharper than a Katana sword. "Yes."
"I'm single. I don't like hired help and don't have the time to clean a bigger place. It suits my needs."
Nodding thoughtfully I sit down at my dressing table, brushing my hair out. "That makes sense. Men are always so practical."
He picks up the duvet, "I'm putting this outside."
I watch him walk out of the bedroom in the mirror's reflection. Smiling with secret pleasure I spritz perfume, grab deodorant, pop my pill, and run pink lipstick over my lips. Slipping flat, matching canvas shoes on; I grab my phone and purse, putting them into my skirt pockets. With my own sunglasses in place perched on my head, I go in search of him.
Noticing the open windows, the duvet outside and him leaning next to the kitchen counter, I smile. For some reason a swarm of locusts just took flight in my stomach. Devouring my joy like the plague as his expression morphs from tranquil to displeasure. He stands erect as I reach him and easily retrieves a serviette on the other side of the counter, running it over my mouth.
"Why do women wear this shit?"
I'm stunned. Feeling reprimanded and insulted simultaneously. "We like it."
"Do you ever taste it?"
"Obviously."
"Your lips are perfect without it."
"It gives us subconscious confidence."
His voice is dead serious as he challenges back. "No. It makes you look cheaper than tinsel."
I'm still oddly in shock. I've never had a boyfriend dictate to me, ever. Is he dictating to me?
"Shauna, you don't need artificial shit on your face to look pretty. It tastes like burnt plastic and cheapens you. You're better than that."
Is this a compliment? Then why do I feel like it's an insult somehow? Something about this moment gives me emotional conflict.
Sliding his sunglasses on, he links his fingers through mine, tugging me out the door with him. After locking it he leans me against it with his own body weight. Kissing me so deeply, I feel it in my knees. Pulling away slightly he whispers, "That's why. Those are my lips and I want to taste them. Often."
My lips? Holy shit! I think I just became Doctor Victor's official girlfriend! Instantaneously I'm transported to walking on a carpet of evanescent bubbles. I cannot recall the last time I felt this buoyantly happy.
***
One of the key elements of luring her is to dangle bait in front of her nose. Father's insights are as always invaluable to me. She needs to feel rescued. With me, she must feel safe, protected, and humbled.
It's a plain ugly fact that a young woman like Shauna, will find a wealthy man attractive.
Phase two of her seduction is now in play. Spoiling her with what is an essential item beyond her usual means. It was a logical move, but one that has personal value to me. She fucked that degenerate on that bed. I will be the only man in her bed from now on. A virgin bed where I shall again reinforce the blood covenant.
Simple biblical law. Resume marital relations, lest Satan tempt you to sin through your lack of restraint of sexual desire; 1 Corinthians 7:5. The moral being to keep her busy in bed so her eyes and body do not stray. I intend to keep her exhausted and preoccupied with me. My desires, my needs, my fulfilment. Whilst validating her ego, complimenting her, and letting her think I do it all for her. My approach is to be perceived as altruistic.
I've discovered the truth that Alpha hid from me. The forbidden fruit he kept from me. He gave me temple whores to practice on as part of their punishment. But I never even knew their names. I became disassociated mentally and emotionally to the act. They knew they were going to die, and tried to give as much pleasure as they could to stall the inevitable. Shauna is in no way the first woman to get a rise out of me. But there is a significant personal difference between her and them.
Shauna was chosen. Hand picked by me. Then purified immaculately by me. My attention to detail went into this. The relationship cast before she was aware that there was to be a relationship. Intention is the biblical measuring rod of the heart and soul. My intention was for her to be my female co
mpanion. My Eve. When Father created Eve, he said she was to be a helper. And Shauna is already obediently helping as instructed. She hasn't questioned my authority.
I selected her out of a handful of sinners. She met the criteria on many levels. Any fallen angel worth my time to cleanse, purify and sanctify, had to be at the age when they were beginning to fear staying single and childless. Shauna's twenty-eight now. She was twenty-seven when I found her. I watched her for four months before taking her. She is the perfect age of vulnerability. Ready to be plucked from the masses. Young enough to give birth to a healthy child, but old enough to accept the pregnancy in case she never gets the opportunity again. Open to a long term relationship because of familial pressure and her own biological clock. And the fallen had to be as pure as possible. A non-smoker, non-drug taker. No dependencies of any kind that have a permanent effect on the genetic DNA.
Her blood type had to be compatible with mine, and I had to find one thing endearing and at least one thing physically attractive. My personal trinity of traits. I find all of her physically attractive, her husky voice especially; and I find that trembling lip endearing. She has no idea how blessed she is to be chosen out of a meagre five women. Five women. Shocking statistics all things considered.
I sensed her reluctance this morning. Yet I manipulated her to give me my desired result. Father however, did not educate me to the secret. The secret is that I enjoy it. It's unlike any task I've yet endured. It isn't a sufferance. This is a task I undergo willingly now that she submits. Her eyes watch me. I've caught her smiling to herself. Her eyes sparkle with such intensity. I've known her for fourteen months and have not witnessed that expression before.
That is the reflection of joy; of a woman dominated with love. She cannot disguise it. She hasn't challenged me once. And for the first time I'm faced with the duality of relations with a woman. I have the urge to protect her with the shadow I cover her with. It's the strangest sensation to crave her warmth. I haven't craved anything in my entire life, other than to serve Father and achieve his love.
I am unsure what grandfather did for a living. He was already dead when I was born. Mother died when my younger brother Seth was two, and I am exactly nine months older. But between them Father has always had a mountain of wealth. When he set me my task, he gave me a substantial sum, ensuring that I only ever need work to maintain my cover and keep my skills honed.
Making this part of the Shauna plan simplistic to execute. I can give her anything she desires. But I shall only give her what she requires, for to desire is to lust. And she may only lust after me.
Turning from the newly delivered bed, now cosseted in fresh white silk, with an exceptionally large duvet to cover the extra length king sized bed, I smile with satisfaction. The soiled bed and linen I had them remove and take to the dump when they delivered this one. A persuasive tip was placed in a palm to do my bidding without argument.
On my way past the laundry basket I pause, open it, extract the underwear she wore last night, inhale deeply. What a good girl she has become. All she required was me. My instincts were infallible as usual. Hurling them back into the basket, I slam the lid down. I have a hunch which I cannot ignore any longer. Creeping into her lounge I pick up the painting I bought for her this morning. Swiftly I cover the camera that I know is there. Hanging the picture deliberately to obscure the view from that lens.
Another day I'll install a new feed to this room. I just can't shake the feeling that someone has hacked this feed. Satisfied, I turn from it to stare at last night's access point. She listened. Perfect in a pink skirt. Easy access to what it covers, and perfectly feminine. She's no longer fallen. She's an obedient angel who listens to her maker without question. Feeling potent, powerful, and strangely elevated, I go to check on my woman.
*I am a watcher! That man is going to be disembowelled if I ever locate him. How he knew I have no idea. But this black lens surges rage through me. He has no idea who he's messing with. Death will be a mercy when we're done with him.*
Chapter 21
Photography, alone of the arts, seems perfected to serve the desire humans have for a moment – this very moment – to stay.
~Sam Abell
He won't let me see it. He insists on making me wait while he takes delivery of the new bed in my home. Instead I'm stuck in his, listening to yet another of my favourite bands. It is pure serendipity that our tastes are so similar, while putting me to work chopping vegetables. He left precise instructions which I'm following to the letter.
It slipped out during breakfast at a delightful café where we stopped to brunch, that I make killer Kahlua coffees. He's given me half an hour to have one ready and waiting for him after completing my task. I mean, what are the odds that he likes Point of View? Then it hits me. My knees go weak as I grab a stool and sit on it heavily. It never occurred to me before that this song, Dirty Angel, sings of an angel. The lyrics creep all over me, 'I sit in that room again for days, holding every dream to death, wondering when it all could change, when would you see! When you take me to the angel's mind, show me how I could be fair, you know there's really nothing left to say, and that it's all you get and all that you could need, yeah it's all you get when love begins to breathe …'
I never saw him. And he kept telling me I was a fallen angel. I even bet this is his favourite fucking song. Song and lyrics by Point of View. I bet he just loves their point of view. I wonder if he watched me today to make sure I wore a skirt. Where is he? How the hell does he watch me? Is he even human?
"Holding every dream to death."
Yelping in fright, my instinct is to laugh when I realise it's Victor whispering in my ear before nibbling my lobe. "You scared the hell out of me."
Turning to face him, his smile is seductively mysterious. "Then I should scare you more often. I'm not a fan of anyone holding onto hell."
"Don't freak me out. I was just thinking about Vengeance."
"And there I was deluding myself that you were thinking about me."
I'm stuck between his arms and the black counter behind me. Closing the distance he whispers deeply, "I think this is my favourite song." A soft kiss touches my neck before he pulls away and turns to the opposite counter top. "I only recently discovered that band. Their lyrics are subliminally perfect."
"Vengeance must love this song. That's what I was thinking about."
He pauses as he lifts the lid on the prepared vegetables, "Are you saying I'm like Vengeance?"
Uncomfortable, I become aware that I probably just insulted him. "No! God no! Sorry I didn't mean it like that. I'm a fan of the song myself."
"It's okay. I don't mind sharing his taste in music and women."
"Only you can get me to smile with a sentence including him."
"So where's the coffee?"
Grinning I slip off the stool, put the microwave on high for thirty seconds, and turn to him, appreciating long legs hooked at the ankle in relaxed ease, "Coming right up."
"Oh I like it when you talk dirty to me."
I laugh again. Smiling broadly at the most yummilicious man I've had near me for years. "I'll wear just an apron and say it again if it'll keep you this charming."
The agility and speed that he moves at still surprises me. I'm caught by his strength again as he directs my face to stare up into his, like worshipping Sol. I wish I could read his eyes. They are so enigmatic. He seems happy and congenial, but like quicksand I feel stuck inside the vortex of his mahogany eyes.
"Take me to the angel's mind." He stares deeply into my eyes, lips pursed slightly, highlighting the fullness of his bottom lip and the shy dimple in his chin. "Shauna, this song is your song. You hide it well, but you do have an angel's mind, holding all of your dreams to death. They kept your spirit alive. You never saw him. He kept you oblivious. And you endured the tragedy. Shakespeare made his fortune and legacy on tragedies. I look into your eyes and want to lose myself in them to excavate what they hide."
Oddly anxious
, I'm shaken. "Victor you are far too perceptive."
"Coffee. Now. Or suffer my wrath."
He's teasing I know, it's almost like he's testing me with his choice of words. Turning I open the door to the black microwave and hand him a glass mug of frothy Kahlua coffee. He takes it, kissing me again, before retreating back to the other counter, leaning against it and sipping slowly. I wait with eager anticipation.
"Okay. I'll keep you."
Quizzically I smile.
"Excellent coffee. Excellent ass. Excellent shape. Excellent voice. And excellent lips. Definitely a keeper."
Relieved I take my own out of the microwave, walking over to clink it against his softly, "Cheers."
"Cheers."
"Victor …"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"Hmmm?"
"For being there. You've been an unwavering haven in this storm for me."
"Keep making me coffee and seducing me, and I'll say it's my pleasure." The wink reveals the jest.
I observe as he makes dinner. Impressed with his ability in every department of life. Men like this don't exist. I've had bad luck for so long that I'm hesitant to take this at face value. He must have a flaw. He must.
He made the perfect meal. Tender beef, slow roasted vegetables, everything is luxurious and immaculate. The wine is obviously expensive. I've read a lot about the Cape wine estates. They hug Table Mountain on one side, and stretch all the way throughout the region past Stellenbosch and deeper. The wines here are renown. Yet I'm staring at the wine bottle, which is surprisingly dust free, the cork was heavily stained, and see it's ten years old.
