No, this isn't the pulp-detective story I told some of you I've been working on...

...This is something I've sat on because I didn't want to be pelted with proverbial old fruit and vegetables for posting a story with no ticking in it. But I've gotta hand it to some of you other story posters in here, particularly BOFH666, if ya'll can write that well and not even tickle the issue, then so can I, by gum! With that in mind, I humbly submit my second offering.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*


Lacy looked good tonight.

On purpose. She'd been moping for a while now, recovering from the heartbreak of discovering that the man she'd been seeing for a long time had several other girls that he'd been stringing along as well. Well, none of that crap for THIS girl, thank you very much. She glided into the club in that sexy, teal silk blouse and matching skirt that clung to her like a lover, her hair perfect and just enough makeup to highlight her features. Sheer, nearly invisible stockings encased her shapely legs, and her new shoes might be a bit uncomfortable, they were sexy as hell and turned heads. Women even stopped her to ask where she'd gotten them.

It was early enough that it wasn't busy yet, so it was easy to find an empty booth. Tossing her handbag on the seat and ordering a cocktail, she surveyed the place. A lot of the regular faces, and the dance floor was crowded, despite the hour. Some faces, she didn't recognize, not unusual. Always a good mix here.

Then she saw Him. He came here a LOT. And she'd never seen Him sit anywhere but His regular table. She wondered if He owned the club. A lot of girls had taken the long walk after going to His table ... He never danced. He was always polite, even buying them a drink before refusing to dance with them as kindly as He could. An enigma, that guy. But drop-dead handsome, though. Tall, dark, and muscular, and clearly able to afford decent clothes, with a sense of style. Lacy wasn't the only girl who frequented the club who'd spend time wondering about Him, but He was as mysterious as they came. He looked particularly magnificent tonight, too... a loose white sleeveless shirt, with those laces across the chest that always reminded her of pirates. It gave a fantastic view of His huge arms and just a hint of the hairy chest. Black, boot-cut jeans, with a grey belt and a silver buckle with something on it that she couldn't make out from across the club. And the boots. Black, with silver toe and heel guards, very minimalist and all the more stylish for it. Simple, but elegant. He sat there, arms up to the sides, casually scanning the club and taking the occasional sip from His drink. She idly wondered what it was He was drinking. Her thoughts were interrupted by the first bold soul to come to her table and ask her to dance. Feeling good, she put on her bright, lovely smile and took his hand, and they finished the song already playing and danced to the end of the next, then she thanked him and excused herself back to her table to rest. These new shoes were killing her feet, no matter how damned good they looked. She massaged her soles, flexing her toes and looking around the club some more.

She froze.

He was looking right at her, and the eye contact electrified her. He held her eyes for a few moments longer, then broke the spell by taking a drink of whatever that was in His glass.

"Wow. That was intense", she thought. Lacing the velvet straps back around her ankles again, she entertained the notion of joining the ranks of the girls that'd been turned away from that table in the past.

But all thoughts fled from her mind as Dale slid into the booth next to her, smiling as though he had every right to get that close to her ever again.

"Need some help with those?", he offered, reaching for her ankles with his oily smooth grin. Dale knew how much she loved to be tickled, and enjoyed it immensely himself. She almost squealed at his reach, but her anger took over and she kept her composure as she quickly slid her feet away from him. "Get the hell out of here, Dale. We have NOTHING left to discuss, you liar. Leave. Now!"

He started to frown, but he slipped back into genial mode, barely missing a beat. Not getting up, instead he put his hands up in a calming, surrendering gesture. "Whoa, now, easy, don't get mad! I just wanted to talk things out with you. We can still do that, can't we? Civilized people discuss their problems, not fight. I don't want to fight. I'm a lover, not a fighter," he said easily, a little too easily, as though rehearsed.

Typical Dale. No damned wonder he'd been so successful bedding all those girls. Weasel. It only made her more angry.

"Which part of get the hell out of here did you not understand, you creep? I'm done with you and your lies! Just leave me alone!", she snapped, clutching her drink in one hand to keep it from shaking, and sitting on the other one to keep from biting her nails.

"I'm not going anywhere until we've had a little chat, darling. You owe me that much. We've been through too much together for you to just turn off the feelings we've shared like a switch to a lamp," he said, putting a little force into his voice, knowing that in the past when he'd done that, she'd submitted to him. He slid closer to her, whispering. "You know how I feel about you. Those other girls, they don't share our special connection," putting a certain inflection on the last two words, and slipping his hand to her side and giving a little tickle. She gasped at it, and he grinned, expecting her to cave at any minute and be his again.

He wasn't prepared in the slightest for what happened next. As of with a mind of it's own, her hand flung the cocktail into his leering face, and he sat there, stunned, as the icy strawberry Stoli' dribbled down his face and front. She raised her voice, drawing several glances from nearby. With deadly precision, she said in no uncertain terms--"I... Said... Get... The... Hell... Out... Of... Here... And... Leave... Me... ALONE!", raising her voice an octave at the last.

That broke him out of his trance, and all pretense was gone then, and his arm raised as if in slow motion, and she thought, "OhnowhathaveIdonehe'sactuallygoingtoHITme...", all in the space of a nanosecond. The rest of the club faded into misty grey background, and the world was his hand, descending to slap her for her insolence in standing up for herself. Time stopped, and she was too stunned to even move or scream.

Then came the slapping sound of meat on meat, and she flinched.

But the strike never came.

She opened her eyes, and there HE was, miraculously materialized above them, and Dale's punishing hand was as transfixed as the look of shock on his face. His hand was casually wrapped around Dale's wrist, and He looked to be holding it as effortlessly as He might a child's.

"I'm pretty sure the lady there is done talking to you, peanut,", His voice dripping sarcasm, and the last word was spoken with such smooth contempt, it was nothing less than a challenge and invitation.

Dale grew enraged and swore, tugging at his arm to free it from his grasp, with no such luck. Dale launched into a litany of profanity and threats, which cut off suddenly as He almost imperceptibly moved his own wrist a fraction of an inch, and Dale's ranting squeaked into the sound of a mouse cornered by a very large cat.

"That's a little more respectful," He said smiling, "now, why don't you go ahead and apologize to the lady and excuse yourself?"

Dale's nostrils flared, and, not the quickest learner in the room, made as though to bring up his free hand, but again, just the slightest twitch of His wrist made Dale whimper, and He smiled wider now, but it wasn't a friendly smile at all.

"Ah-ah-ah, tsk! Never keep a lady waiting, ESPECIALLY for an apology, didn't your mother raise you any better? Clearly not."

Sweat popped in tiny beads along Dale's forehead now, and through his gritted teeth and slitted eyes, he said "I'm sorry, Lacy. Please excuse me, now."

"THERE'S a good boy! I knew you had it in ya," He said, and then He was propelling Dale easily out of the booth, still with his wrist secured in what looked innocent enough, but was obviously some sort of martial pain-compliance hold.

They moved towards the door, and still smiling that not-so-nice smile, He told Dale, "And ya'll prolly ought not to bother the little lady again ... in fact, might not be a bad idea if you stayed outta this here club altogether, dontcha think? There's a good boy. Right, now, here's the door, careful now, watch your step, don't want any accidents now DO we?", all this, while exchanging imperceptible nods with the bouncers.

Giving Dale a final shove towards the doors, He turned back and began making His way back to Lacy. Dale stood there, massaging his shoulder and wrist, perplexed at how quickly he'd lost control of a situation he'd been master of, and reached a decision. His anger got the better of him, and he swept up a chair from an unoccupied table, and raising it overhead, rushed at His back.

The high-pitched whistle of the bouncers at the door coincided with Lacy's shriek of "LOOK OUT!", but He only smiled again, and moved.

Once again, from Lacy's perspective, time seemed to stop and focus sharply on that chair, everything else a blur in slow motion.

"My God," she thought to herself, "he's so graceful. How can a man that big move so gracefully? He's like a jungle animal,", and the thought warmed her in ways she flushed to admit.

He leaped, almost casually, into a spinning kick that swatted the descending chair aside with the same contemptuous ease as He'd trapped Dale's wrist, and it clattered noisily to the floor, away from any of the other club patrons. The look on Dale's face was comically sad as he realized that he wasn't going to be able to check his forward momentum, and he was charging into a palm heel strike to his solar plexus that left him gasping on the floor like a fish out of water.

He looked to the door, and made a dismissive gesture with his hand, and two burly men in white silk shirts with black bow ties "escorted" Dale out of the club.

Moving back to Lacy's table, He stood there, larger than life, and looked at her, gazing up at Him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have let it get that far. I'd like to make it up to you, if you'll allow me to. Can I pick up your tab for this evening?".

She looked at him, doe-eyed and amazed. Was He for real? He'd just leapt to her rescue like some comic-book hero, and HE was apologizing to HER? Her gaze took Him in, and she noticed idly that the sliver buckle on his belt had a scorpion on it, sealed in a bubble of plastic or Lucite, and around it were strange symbols, like some ancient writing.

She tried to speak, but flustered, her tongue betrayed her. "I... I... I...", and she stopped, blushing furiously. "No, thank YOU," she managed weakly, "I had no idea he'd get that way." She felt a little faint. Light headed, she stammered again, until His hand came down in appeal, open and warm, inviting her to take it. She placed her hand in His, and she felt His strength flowing into her like warm water, and she stood. The opening chords of one of her favorite songs was playing, and she felt the music calling to her. "Please," she asked more with her eyes than her words, "can we dance?".

He led her to the floor, and as the song started, she was swept up in it like never before. Her eyes locked onto His, and there was a current of energy between them that thrilled and frightened her... The music carried her away...

***how can you see into my eyes like open doors
leading you down into my core
where I've become so numb without a soul my spirit sleeping somewhere cold
until you find it there and lead it back home***

He held her effortlessly in those arms, whirling around the dance floor, and she nearly swooned at it's fluid grace. The music continued it's thumping into her soul...

*** (Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I cant wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up)
bid my blood to run
(I cant wake up)
before I come undone
(Save me)
save me from the nothing I've become***

His hands held her and moved across her like they'd done so a million times before. It was almost as if He anticipated every move she made and flowed with it, as though He'd always known her...

***now that I know what I'm without
you can't just leave me
breathe into me and make me real
bring me to life***

There are those who have compared dancing to making love while standing up, and now Lacy knew what they'd meant. That was what this was like. One hand on the small of her back, the other nestled in her hair on the back of her neck, He held her tenderly, yet supporting her effortlessly as they spun and moved, dipping her and sweeping her again and again to the rhythm...

*** (Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I cant wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up)
bid my blood to run
(I cant wake up)
before I come undone
(Save me)
save me from the nothing I've become***

His smoldering eyes burned into hers, and she knew; He'd known her forever, and she was oblivious. A gaze like that meant He'd wanted her for so long, yet made no move as she went from one disastrous relationship to another, and she saw the glimmer of the pain of self-denial deep, deep in His eyes. He was so perfect, so unattainable, how could she have known?

***frozen inside
without your touch
without your love
darling only you
are the life among the dead

all this time I can't believe I couldn't see
kept in the dark but you were there in front of me
I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems
got to open my eyes to everything
without a thought without a voice without a soul
don't let me die here
there must be something more
bring me to life***

It was all so beautiful and yet so unreal, she felt her eyes swell with unbidden tears. He spun her and she whirled into the air above him, to slip down into His waiting arms, sliding along the length of His body. The heat of the moment was a tangible thing, like a caged beast that knew it was about to be released back into the wild...

*** (Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I cant wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up)
bid my blood to run
(I cant wake up)
before I come undone
(Save me)
save me from the nothing I've become

(Bring me to life)
I've been living a lie, there's nothing inside
(Bring me to life) ***

The song ended, and the other dancers and club patrons who'd been watching and moved back into a circle to watch now began cheering and whistling and screaming and clapping.

Lacy began to cry, but He soothed her, holding her tightly and murmuring reassuringly as He stroked her hair. Cupping her face in His hands, He searched her eyes again, looking for her desire or denial. She grabbed His head with both hands and pulled Him to her, His lips into hers, and she melted. His fire filled her heart, and she knew this was real, what it was always meant to be. He broke their embrace, and led her upstairs, to His apartments above the club, HIS club, and they began their journey together with a night of passion that they'd both dreamed about but never believed could really happen.






Thanks, BOFH666... you da man!

wow Dan, all I can say is wow. I am very impressed. I am a big lover of romance. It read as if out of a Nora Roberts book, now where is part 2 with all the tickling?? LOL.

You write quite beautifully.

JPie

Thanks, Judy... but...

Who in the world is Nora Roberts? TELL me it's not one of those Harlequin Romance caca writers, please? Do I need to go out and eat some red meat, watch sports, shoot guns, and watch naked chicks dance now, just in case?

just beautiful.

Whooo *clap*clap*clap*clap* encore etc.

Back story and character development, 'tis good, no? And thanks for the name check by the way *grin*

How's this for a weird coincidence, just got back in a couple of hours ago (about nine or so UK time) after a night just like the first part of this, though sadly without the catlike grace, subtlety or, most importantly, getting the girl, even had Evanescence playing. Short version - I have a very dim view of anyone picking on people I know, especially when the idiot in question is over 25 and should know better.

Oh yeah, almost forgot, Nora Roberts. Umm, which I just googled for I hasten to add.

Now stop reading this and get back to writing

Re: Thanks, Judy... but...

AffectionateDan said:

Who in the world is Nora Roberts? TELL me it's not one of those Harlequin Romance caca writers, please? Do I need to go out and eat some red meat, watch sports, shoot guns, and watch naked chicks dance now, just in case?

Click to expand...

lol Dan, No I don't read that Harlequin Romance stuff, Nora Roberts is a romance writer but very well known publisher of romance novels, for those into romance novels they will know her. Her books usually jump right to the top 10 when released. I have read several of her books. I am just a romantic at heart, a ticklish romantic.

Umm, I hope it’s okay but when I read this story last night I got the idea to do a kind of counterpoint story for Dale, guess I just love the idea of trying to write a complete bastard for a change *grin* . If you want me to take this down just let me know and it’s gone. Tried to match the tone and style of the original, though it’s a bit hit and miss.


*WARNING – This post contains swearing*

The club echoed to the sound of flesh meeting flesh and Dale reeled back, hand raised to the red mark on his face where Cat had slapped him. His shock was quickly replaced by anger and he moved to grab her, but she was already up and moving quickly towards the door. He took a few steps in the same direction before realising there was no way he was going to catch up to her and headed instead for the bar. Dropping heavily onto a stool he ignored the bartenders smirk as he passed over a shot of vodka, followed by the rest of the bottle. The club started pounding as the sound system fired up and the dance floor suddenly turned into a mosh pit.

***Saint Anger round my neck,
Saint Anger round my neck
He never gets respect
Saint Anger round my neck***

The music swirled around Dale as he downed the first shot and refilled the glass. What the hell had happened, Cat hadn’t given any warning, any sign that she’d found out about Lacy, or the others for that matter.

*** (You flush it out, you flush it out)
Saint Anger round my neck,
(You flush it out, you flush it out)
Saint Anger round my neck
(You flush it out, you flush it out)
He never gets respect
(You flush it out, you flush it out)
Saint Anger round my neck***

Another shot washed down his throat as his mind toyed with the possibilities, he never wrote anything incriminating down, she couldn’t have found out that way. There were the numbers in his mobile of course, but they weren’t marked in any way, just normal business contacts so that didn’t seem likely either. So how the hell had she worked it out?

***Fuck it all and no regrets
I hit the lights on these dark sets
I need a voice to let myself
To let myself go free***

Lacy! Of course, Lacy, it was the only answer that made sense. She’d spotted him out with Cat a few weeks ago and had done her own digging through his life, she must have told Cat what she knew. His mood started to change from shock and confusion to anger, anger with a target. He abandoned the shot glass and started necking straight from the bottle, the vodka burning his throat on the way down, stoking his growing rage, fuelling him.

***Fuck it all and no regrets
I hit the lights on these dark sets
Medallion noose, I hang myself
Saint Anger round my neck***

Hadn’t he done everything they’d asked, taken them out, shown them a good time and asked so little in return? God damn it, he’d even gone to the trouble of remembering all those little things, birthdays, favourite foods, noticing new clothes or hairstyles, how many men would do that for their woman these days?

***I feel my world shake
Like an earth quake
It’s hard to see clear
Is it m? Is it fear?***

Downing the last of the vodka Dale stood quickly and headed for the door, he wanted some answers and he had a pretty good idea where he could find them, and her.

***I’m madly in anger with you
I’m madly in anger with you
I’m madly in anger with you
I’m madly in anger with you***

The door slammed shut behind him as he took a deep breath of the cool night air before turning and heading for Lacy’s favourite dive. He couldn’t stand the place, no sense of style but he’d put up with it for her hadn’t he, never said anything about not wanting to go there, all for her, and this was how she repaid him for his patience, his understanding? Dale’s mind whirled as all the time he’d put in with both Lacy and Cat flashed in front of his eyes, the time he’d wasted trying to make those bitches happy, all for nothing, the ten minutes it took to walk between clubs seeming to stretch out to hours as the memories washed over him, consuming him as his anger grew.

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts before walking in to the club Dale forced himself to adopt his best approachable look before entering, then stepped inside. The bouncers checked him over as he passed by, but the alcohol had yet to kick in fully and they let him past without comment. He spotted Lacy, his Lacy, on the dance floor almost immediately, wrapped around a man he didn’t know but recognised as a regular, this was what she’d left him for? The music finished and she lingered with the man before heading back to a booth, limping slightly for some reason. Dale immediately headed in that direction, brushing past the other patrons with barely a glance, focused totally on Lacy, on his betrayer.

He slid into the booth next to her and with his most charming smile reached out to her, “Need some help with those?” he offered knowing how much she enjoyed his touch. She pulled away, her eyes flashing as she said “Get the hell out of here, Dale. We have NOTHING left to discuss, you liar. Leave. Now!”, her voice rising in either fear or anger, he wasn’t sure which and for a moment his mask slipped, but only for a moment as he smoothly changed track, raising his hands and moving back, non-threatening.

"Whoa, now, easy, don't get mad! I just wanted to talk things out with you. We can still do that, can't we? Civilized people discuss their problems, not fight. I don't want to fight. I'm a lover, not a fighter.” The humour came surprisingly easy and he grinned at the realisation he hadn’t lost his touch.
"Which part of get the hell out of here did you not understand, you creep? I'm done with you and your lies! Just leave me alone!", she snapped, clutching her drink in one hand, a slight tremor passing through her. Well, if that’s the way she wanted to play this Dale was quite happy to oblige.

“I'm not going anywhere until we've had a little chat, darling. You owe me that much. We've been through too much together for you to just turn off the feelings we've shared like a switch to a lamp," he said, putting a little force into his voice, knowing that she liked that side, the dominant persona. He slid closer to her, whispering. "You know how I feel about you. Those other girls, they don't share our special connection.” He slid his hand over to her, tickling her ribs, keeping the mood light, his manner approachable as he smiled at her, showing he was willing to play her game, but only to a point.

Without warning a wave of liquid hit his face, a slight scent of strawberries washing over him as the drink ran down his cheeks. Lacy raised her voice, drawing several glances from nearby as she almost yelled "I... Said... Get... The... Hell... Out... Of... Here... And... Leave... Me... ALONE!", raising her voice an octave at the last.

Dale sat unmoving, his anger building now, seeking release as he saw his efforts thrown back at him, only one option seemed to be left, one option that called him and almost without thinking about it his arm came up, his hand curling into a fist, wanting more than anything to show her how good she’d had it all this time, what he could have been like, what she deserved. He brought his arm down, putting all his rage, his frustrations behind the blow.

And jerked to a halt as something wrapped around his wrist, looking up to see a man holding his arm in a grip like iron. "I'm pretty sure the lady there is done talking to you, peanut." His voice dripping with sarcasm and contempt, Dale recovered from his initial shock and felt his anger building again, who was this man, and how dare he interfere in something that was none of his business. Dale yanked his wrist, trying to break free but the stranger simply tightened his grip, pain shooting through Dale’s arm as his wrist was twisted in a very unnatural movement.

"That's a little more respectful," The stranger said, smiling, "now, why don't you go ahead and apologize to the lady and excuse yourself?" Dale growled and started to turn, bringing his free hand up and around, intending to at least make a fight of it. That idea was quickly choked off as more tension was applied to his trapped wrist, another bolt of pain shooting through him.

"Ah-ah-ah, tsk! Never keep a lady waiting, ESPECIALLY for an apology, didn't your mother raise you any better? Clearly not."

The pain and humiliation was building now, and through his gritted teeth and slitted eyes, Dale said, "I'm sorry, Lacy. Please excuse me, now."

"THERE'S a good boy! I knew you had it in ya," He said, and then he was propelling Dale easily out of the booth, still with a seemingly unbreakable grip on Dale’s wrist. They moved towards the door, and still smiling the stranger told Dale, "And ya'll prolly ought not to bother the little lady again ... in fact, might not be a bad idea if you stayed outta this here club altogether, dontcha think? There's a good boy. Right, now, here's the door, careful now, watch your step, don't want any accidents now DO we?"

As the bouncers moved forward towards him, Dale felt something snap inside him, the pain and humiliation of the last few minutes building on his earlier rage as a red mist dropped in front of his eyes. Spinning round he grabbed a chair and charged the stranger, regretting for a moment that the man’s back was towards him, wanting to see the look of surprise, of fear as the chair sailed towards his face, the exquisite pain as it hit. A whistle rang out behind him, a scream of “LOOK OUT” ringing over the club as the chair started to swing down. The stranger jumped into the air, one foot lashing out in a kick that ripped the chair from Dale’s grasp, a hand extending out, using Dale’s own momentum against him to drive the air from his lungs as he fell gasping to the ground. Two bouncers swept in and picked him up by the arms, half carrying, half dragging him to the door before throwing him bodily out of the club. His head and back bounced off the wall opposite and he fell forward in a heap, body still struggling to draw breath, his last vision of Lacy her enraptured face as she gazed at her ‘hero’.

Slowly Dale dragged himself to his feet, leaning on the wall for support he was oblivious to everything but his own pain, and he almost jumped out of his skin as a delicate hand touched his shoulder. He tried to spin round to confront this new threat but his legs failed him and he fell to the ground once more. He looked up and saw Cat staring back down at him. She didn’t say a word as she slid an arm under his shoulders and gradually helped him back to his feet, guiding him over to her car parked only a few yards away. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, and was met with a long kiss, something he’d thought he’d never experience again after she’d stormed out on him earlier that night. Head spinning from recent events Dale dropped into the passenger seat and sat in silence, staring out at the buildings flashing by the windows as Cat drove him through familiar streets. A distant part of his mind registered they seemed to be heading for her house, but right then he didn’t care why or where they were going, craving only a return to the life he’d had a few short hours ago.

Cat helped him out of the car and guided him inside, up the stairs to her bedroom. The small voice at the back of his mind was getting louder, something wasn’t right but it was still quiet enough to ignore. Cat laid him face up on the bed and slid over him, her hands gliding up his sides past his shoulders, moving his arms up over his head. There was a sudden snap from above him and to his right, followed an instant later by an identical snap from his left and he found his hands secured to the head of the bed. Dale came fully awake, straining at his bonds, yanking his arms as hard as he could, doing anything he could think of to free himself. So frantic was he that he failed to notice the soft padded cuffs being snapped around his ankles, only the regular metallic clack of gears turning attracting his attention as Cat started to turn the hand crank connected to the chains now firmly secured around his legs. Slowly, despite his panicked thrashing his body was pulled taut, right to the point of causing physical pain as Cat watched him carefully, judging exactly when she should stop to avoid any physical damage. Satisfied she turned on her heel and left the room, leaving Dale to flex his feet and hands helplessly, the rest of his body pulled so tight he couldn’t move more than a fraction of an inch in any direction.

Cat walked back in barely five minutes later and walked up to a chair positioned right by the head of the bed. Sitting down she stared at him for a long moment until he met her gaze, a gaze that caused him to recoil in horror. Her eyes were white, no sign of pupils at all, like a shark’s eyes as it fed and the sight was truly horrifying, doubly so in his current position. Intellectually he knew it was a pair of contact lenses causing the effect, but there was something almost primal about the image, bringing to mind pictures and stories of demons and the dark creatures of the world that had him shaking in fear.

“Your arrogance is unbelievable, you know that?” Cat practically snarled, “Thinking that, what, I’d forgiven you, regretted standing up for myself? Is that it?” Dale started to reply, desperate to find the right words to get her to let him go, but she cut him off before he could get the first syllable out. “What was I to you I wonder, just another piece of meat, a trophy to hang on your wall, or is this all a game, highest score wins?”

She took a breath, visibly bringing her temper under control before continuing. “You played me, lied to me, I trusted you, loved you and this is all you think of me!” Her voice was rising again, pain and misery coating every word now. “God, to think I believed you, I…” her voice failed her for a second and once more she took a deep breath, reaching over to the bedside cabinet and pulling a long, vicious pair of scissors out from a drawer. “Well, my love,” with so much sarcasm and hate on the ‘love’ Dale was physically rocked, flinching away from the lash of her words, “we’re gonna play a new game, but this one’s on my terms, my rules, and all you’ve got to do is manage to keep breathing.”

She reached down and started to cut away his clothes, moving quickly over his body, coming close enough to his skin for the blades to poke into him but not to draw blood. In the space of a minute Dale was naked on the bed, every muscle outlined against his skin as Cat gazed down at him. Her gloved fingers dropped to his ribs and started dancing against his exposed flesh and almost instantly Dale dissolved into laughter, his head shaking back and forth the only movement he could manage as Car started an all-out attack on his body. For what felt like an eternity she raked her fingers over his ribs, stomach, armpits, knees and feet, driving him onwards whenever his laughter started to ease, forcing him to gasp for air as best he could. This was no erotic meeting, no teasing foreplay, this was revenge, a woman scorned at work and it was simply torture for Dale.

Eventually Cat relented, walking down to the foot of the bed and pulling out a set of small plastic items, about the size and shape of a human fingertip, all connected by a wire. Without saying a word she lent down and with the aid of roll of duck tape started placing the plastic tabs in between his toes, the wires running back to what looked like a small control box, which she taped to his sole. She repeated the process on his other foot and stepped back.

“How many was it Dale, how many people did you cheat on, how many hearts did you manipulate, how many of us did you string along to satisfy your ego?” Once more Dale tried to reply, tried to find the words that would end this but there simply wasn’t enough air in his lungs to form the words. “What, you couldn’t even be bothered to keep count?” she asked, sarcasm again dripping from her words, every motion every sound designed to cut his psyche, to hurt him and drive home the realisation of what he’d done. “Well, then I guess I might just do the same. I was going to give you something to hope for, some time limit when you would at last receive mercy. But why should I? No, you’re going to suffer until I say you’ve endured enough.” So saying she pressed the start button on both controls.

The plastic tabs came to life immediately, vibrating between his toes and sending shockwaves down his legs, through his spine and straight into his soul. In a moment of revelation he realised what he’d done, his mistakes and wanted nothing more to confess, to beg forgiveness. But all he could do was laugh as Cat stared down at him, her face blank now, a vengeful goddess passing judgment on the evil. She reached down and turned the crank one more notch, sending pain shooting through his body as his muscles stretched beyond their natural limits. Satisfied she turned and walked out of the room, the door shutting behind her and sealing Dale in his own, personal, tickle hell.

Ha ha!

Looks like Dale's in for a long night... poor ba$t@rd! Now, Lacy and Cat should've networked longer and gotten those other girls in on the revenge pact!

Oh My God... Danimal... you never cease to amaze me. I felt like I was right there with them watching them sway, feeling the music and thrilling at the sexual tension between them.

Bravo! Bravo!

Good stuff, no?

(heavy sigh) Makes a bear desparately wanna go dancing!

Absolutely nothin' wrong with 'em!

Taimar said:

What's wrong with red meat, guns sports, and nekkid chicks dancing?

Click to expand...

I was hinting that I'd need to do those to get back into the masculine groove if I KNEW who the romance-novel writer chick was...

Better safe than sorry though surely?

As a general rule...

...that's been my policy as well!