by Marata Eros
She snapped her fingers. “That's it!”
“Listen,” she leaned forward and our hair mingled together, “that new gal... with the red hair...”
“Molly?” I said, automatically looking around for her.
“Yeah,” she waved her hand, dismissing the name. “She was talking about that piece of creepy news that's been circulating today.”
I looked at her blankly.
“Oh for shit's sake, Rachel! Don't you pay attention to anything?”
“Not really,” I said noncommittally. My life was beyond boring right now. I worked here, hung out with Michelle, worked out, read, fed my cat. I was dying for some Excitement. Dying. But the news wasn't going to deliver. Excitement... no way.
“You're hopeless! Anyway,” she sounded the syllables out slowly, “there's been another killing. Another bleed-out.”
That got my attention.
It had been almost a month since the first murder and they still hadn't found the killer.
Then there were the rapes.
Somehow, it was all connected. Men were killed and drained dry of their blood and if there were women with them, they were raped.
But none of the women could remember the attack or their attacker.
Our gazes locked. “So... they found another body. Two, actually.” Michelle said ominously, waggling two fingers.
Great. Just when I thought we could flounce around for the weekend. Talk about a wet blanket.
“Maybe... we shouldn't go to Spinners then. I mean, if it's not safe.”
“Eff-that, you're going! I just wanted to spread the gory gossip.”
“That's kinda sick, you know.”
Michelle nodded vigorously, she knew.
I sighed. There was no getting out of it once Michelle had her mind set. And, in my soul... if I didn't get a break from this job and do something out-of-body, I'd scream.
“I gotcha talked right into it, don't I?” Her eyes sparkled.
“I guess but, we need to be careful, especially now,” I said in a conspirator’s whisper.
“Hell, I'm more worried about the regular guys.”
“Were the women... you know, was there blood... there?” I asked.
She spun back around, her skirt twirling a little with the motion. “That's the major weird thing, they had all been bitten, but still had their blood. Only a pint gone.”
Well, wasn't that just comforting.
Michelle winked as she sauntered off, hips swaying. “Pick ya up at seven sharp.”
She didn't wait for me to respond. Michelle knew she had me, hook, line and sinker.
I gathered up all my stuff, slipped my heels back on my feet and headed for the door.
Unfortunately, my dragon lady of a boss was blocking my way.
“Miss Collins, I see you're ready to leave.” She looked at her behemoth of a wristwatch. “Two minutes after five.” She raised a humongous unibrow at me and I stifled a giggle. It was hard to be pissed at her when she looked so ridiculous.
Almost.
“Yes. That's traditionally when the work day ends for us here, Ms. Hogan,” I replied, thinking with mild irritation that Hogan had me by the short hairs. She knew I needed the job, she couldn't lambast me for leaving when the work day was through, technically. But... she liked to make me feel diminished for leaving so close to the chiming of the clock.
Hogan looked me over from head to toe, taking in my long black hair, so deep a black it had blue highlights in the right light. My eyes were a pale blue, I was shapely but not skinny, and on the tall side. I didn't consider myself a hot number but I held my own. Hogan, on the other hand looked like she was always trolling for a new bridge.
I had discreetly pressed my elbow into the elevator button and it dinged just as she opened her mouth to mention something else equally unimportant, her jowls swinging as she popped her mouth open then closed it again.
I felt my escape portal open at my back and walked backwards into its gaping mouth, never more glad to be out of mortar range of the enraged cow, aka my boss.
She glowered at me, starting to waddle forward and I blurted out, “Have a great weekend!” The door swept closed in front of me.
I did a mental forehead-wipe. Thank God I was out of there.
As the elevator descended I prepared myself for the onslaught of cold weather, my car would need at least five minutes to heat up. The days were long here in the north and heating my car in the underground parking garage was just part of what we did in Alaska.
The elevator doors hissed apart and the cold air swept into the tight space, momentarily stealing my breath. I huddled my full length coat around myself, silently wishing the car was already warm. I rushed out of the elevator's cocoon of heat, my heels making clicking sounds on the concrete as I made my way to my car. If you could call it that.
As I approached I knew my car stood out, it was a Smart Car and Michelle liked to tease and say it was a toaster that I drove, not a real car. I smiled, she had me there.
I fumbled with my keys, finally yanking my glove off with my teeth, groaning as the cold air assaulted my fingertips, making them instantly numb.
“Hey, Rachel,”
I dropped my keys on the ground, spinning, my hand to my heart.
It was Erik, a guy from work. My shoulders slumped in relief. He scared the shit out of me.
“Scare you?” he smiled.
I smiled back tentatively. He had really been pursuing me and I wasn't that interested. I couldn't put my finger on it exactly but there was just something off about him.
Erik approached me and I stiffened a little, but he bent over, jerking the keys off the ground and put a finger through the loop of my key fob and hung them off his finger in front of my nose.
I tried to snatch them and he yanked them just out of reach.
“Meet me for dinner,” he stated, his eyes steady on my face, disconcerting.
“Ah... Michelle and I are going out tonight,” I said, trying to distract him.
“Rain check?” he pressed, never stopping his eye contact. I was starting to get nervous.
Damn.
I resisted the supreme urge to look around, seeing if there was anyone else. But there wasn't, I could feel the absence of others. I sure wasn't short on woman’s intuition. Just another creepy service we offer, I thought, getting the heebie-jeebies.
I closed my coat tighter around me and his eyes tracked the movement, a smile spreading on his face. “I'll let you go, I know you have plans.” But his face told another tale. I didn't think he'd forget my rebuff anytime soon.
I held my hands out and I was happy to notice that they weren't shaking. He'd really put me in a creeped out mood and I wasn't happy about it.
He dropped the keys into my cupped hands and smiled again, tipping an imaginary hat.
I turned after his back was to me and stabbed the key into the lock, opening the door in one movement I slid behind the wheel, slapping the flat of my palm on the lock after it closed. I heard the simultaneous click in the silence of the car and let the breath out I didn't realize I'd been holding.
Holy-hell.
I turned on the car and stewed for the five minutes, all the while wishing I could have driven off.
That encounter with Erik had put a bad taste in my mouth. Like diet pop, but somehow worse.
I pulled out of the bowels of the building, the night as black as when the day started. I entered traffic and began the drive to my condo, almost in the heart of downtown.
I couldn't wait to be home.
I threw my lights on, and glancing right then left I was so startled that I almost let my foot off the brake into opposing traffic.
Erik sat behind the wheel of his car. He'd having sat there the entire time... waiting for me.
I gunned it at the first hole in traffic that appeared. What a whacko!
I'd have to tell Michelle he was a nut-job. She'd have him cracked in no time.
****
&
nbsp; I had my head thrown back and my lips parted, the last swipe of mascara almost perfect... there! I stood back and looked at my reflection: definitely not work attire. I was so glad I made the decision to not perk up the whole mess with just a new top. Michelle probably would have flogged me if I had anyway. She'd be dressed-to-kill (as usual). I needed to make an effort. Sometimes, I wondered why I bothered. Michelle would go, shine, get picked-up, bang some anonymous stud in the bathroom or wherever, and I would sip my drink wishing I could go home and curl up with a book. I sighed. That's okay. She was... my vicarious slutty friend. And I loved her.
I grabbed my vanilla body spray and squirted a last dab. If I got to dancing a lot, I'd be glad I wore it. It was frigid outside but once we were inside Spinners, with all the bodies packed in there, it'd be a different story.
I heard the doorknob jiggle and caught sight of Michelle coming through the doorway looking delectable in her slut suit. She twirled for me so I could get the full effect.
“That should be illegal!” I nearly screamed. She had a micro-mini on that was two part: it cupped her ass and was barely legal (skimming the indecent exposure laws by a millimeter). It was hot pink, setting off her platinum hair to perfection. She “helped” the color of said hair, but not by a lot. Michelle was a rare thing up here in the frozen north and I was betting that it was her coloring that got her so much attention, and the boobs... and the outfits. And, and....
I smiled as she circled me like a shark, gauging my potential for Attracting the Opposite Sex.
“I don't know... is this the shortest skirt you have?” Her brows closed the distance between her eyes.
I self-consciously ran my hand over my short black skirt, it barely covered the lace of my thigh-highs... a gorgeous pair that I had splurged on from Italy.
“Yeah, I can't go much shorter without the lace tops showing.”
Michelle gave me a blank look. “Seriously, that's part of the allure.”
“Ah... no. I say let them guess. It is underwear after all.”
“I say show it!” Michelle said.
“Mystery,” I replied.
She threw her hand up. “Whatever, I give up. At least you did right by the top.”
I had almost not worn it, it was a scorching crimson and showed off my raven hair, my eyes stranded like startled jewels in my pale face. It left my arms bare and was tucked inside the skirt.
Michelle allowed her glance to linger a moment longer on my outfit, then shook her head as we walked out. I gave a quick pet to Caesar the cat and waltzed out.
#
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Acknowledgments
It's been three years since my first book, Death Whispers, was published. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of my readers. Without you, I would not have an audience for my work. Your support, recommendations, encouragement, and critical feedback have allowed my improvement as a writer and as a human being. Ironically, words are inadequate for expressing the depth of my gratitude. Please know how much your support has meant and will continue to mean in the future.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Danny
Cameren: Without you, there would be no books.
Special thanks to the following: Angie, Autumn, Beth Dean Hoover, Crystal Dii, and Shana B. for all your help and support.
Books written under the pen name, Marata Eros.
Dark Paranormal Erotica
The Demon Series:
Brolach
The Druid Series:
Reapers
Bled
Harvest
Sow
Seed
Plow
Thresher
The Druid Breeders
(available for preorder) Baird
The Siren Series:
Ember
Constantine
(available for preorder) Brandon
*
Dark Romance
Novels:
A Terrible Love
A Brutal Tenderness
The Darkest Joy
In Broken Love
The Token Series:
The Token
The Token 2
The Token 3
The Token 4
The Token 5
The Token 6
(available for preorder) The Token 7- Thorn
(available for preorder) The Token 8- Kiki
(available for preorder) The Token 9- Chet Sinclair
*
Erotic Shorts
The Dara Nichols Series:
The following titles in one bundle of 8 short stories:
A Hard Lesson
To Protect and Service
The Thirteenth Floor
The Boardroom
The Four Whoresman
The Masquerader's Balls
The Ball Player
The Cock Tale
The Zoe Scott Series:
Smoldering Wet
More Books by Tamara Rose Blodgett
Death Series:
Death Whispers
Death Speaks
Death Inception
Death Screams
Death Weeps
Unrequited Death
(available for preorder) For the Love of Death
Savage Series:
The Pearl Savage
The Savage Blood
The Savage Principle
The Savage Vengeance
The Savage Protector
(available for preorder) The Savage Dream
The Blood Series:
Blood Singers
Blood Song
Blood Chosen
(available for preorder) Blood Reign
The Reflection Series:
(available for preorder) The Reflective
About the Author:
Marata Eros (a pseudonym for Tamara Rose Blodgett), is the NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling hybrid author of more than thirty-five titles between the two names, including her NYT bestseller, A Terrible Love. Marata lives in South Dakota with her husband and children.
BLOG:
marataeroseroticaauthor.blogspot.com
&
tamararoseblodgett.blogspot.com/
