Lighter part 2

On the next evening he was back. He didn’t bother to be nice, he told himself, it was time for a show and he tended to play it as spicy as she could eat her curry he was taking her to eat. Yes, he was taking her out. Part of his ingenious plan.

He pushed the black button and the door bell rang four times.

She appeared on the door with the same lazy outfit he’d seen her the night before. He scanned her from her hair to her feet and grimaced resentfully. The medallion was still hanging around her neck and he took a second longer to sense her reaction through that. A heat wave rushed over her.

“Come on, get dressed, we’re going for a dinner!” he announced with vile piling up in his mouth and walked straight in, pushing her back in her small apartment. He made his way straight to her bedroom’s closet and pulled the doors open.

“What?” she frowned, feeling life returned in her frozen limbs. “Time out!”

He turned around, raising his eyebrows as high as he could manage. “Yes?”

“W-what are you doing here? I told you to take time for yourself and now you’re here?”

He let his brows drop with demonic smile and took a step closer. “Where else could I be?” he pushed through his teeth, “You hold my medallion. So? There’s only one place I CAN be!”

He sensed how her body heated up, knowing suddenly what he meant, but she didn’t want to believe it just yet. “W-what do you mean by that?”

“That you made a miscalculation, Peachey! The medallion never was what forged my promises in iron – it holds me from nothing! It’s my gateway to the rooms where I’m called in!” he whispered straight to her ear, but kept his distance enough not to touch her. It may not hold him from breaking every law she forced on him, but he found the don’t-touch rule pretty much to his liking, especially since he resented the thought of touching her at all right now.

A flip through her stomach made her radiate so much warmth for a moment that he choked on his own thoughts. She moaned in agony, realizing fully what he meant with that.

“You have a choice,” he decided it was the best time to bring out his ultimatum and save them some night time, “you either give me the medallion back now and I can go on doing my business or you keep the little adornment and feel the full heat of my anger while I force you give it up!”

Why did it make him sad then? He frowned, but straightened again fast, happy that she hadn’t noticed it. She wasn’t in the mood to notice much though. She was still standing there, her eyes closed and thinking so tensely it was making her head swarm. She looked as if she was going to faint right there and that brought him back to life, searching for the chair, finding one under a pile of clothing, pushing them on the floor and tugging it in the back of her knees forcing her to take a seat.

He waited for her answer, but she didn’t give any. That WAS his answer, he thought cheerfully, glad she hadn’t tossed it back to him, and strode past her, back to investigating the interior of her closet.

There were several items there he would rather tossed in the recycle bin before continuing, but he held back his whim and instead concentrated on what he DID like there. Like the light green summer dress that would’ve nicely complimented her cleavage or the cobalt dress that would make her slightly bigger and curvy than she appeared in that dreadful outfit she had on right now or the short ammonite colored dress with enough space around her breasts that every time she’d lean, she’d show quite a lot of her…

She leaped from her spot just as he was reaching his hand into what he thought must have been her underwear drawer, because he felt an intriguing jolt right before his hand was pulled away from there.

“What are you doing?” she demanded fiercely, snapping the blue gown out of his hands.

“You don’t give it back to me– I’ll drag you to every place I want to go! Clear?”

That was too sudden for her and she frowned with such force it made him skip a heartbeat.

“You can’t force me to go with you against my own will!”

“You said you’re using my service for two weeks and instead gave me two weeks without my medallion. If you don’t want to see my face here twenty-four-seven, I suggest rethinking the boundaries of your own agreement or give the necklace back to me!”

“I ain’t giving it back! Two weeks, remember?” she announced without thinking twice and watched his wide evil smile. She blushed and he sensed her heartbeat quicken under that ugly top. “Alright, I’m coming with you to eat. But I’m not wearing this dress!” she showed it up between her fingers against the light.

He felt his own heart jump as if thrust under his chin and he gulped, suddenly yearning to see her in that, slowly walking through the aisle of tables, men staring lustfully after what he had in his possession all the time.

“Yes you are,” he immediately advocated, forcing those thoughts on the back of his mind. “If you change into anything else, I’ll set them on fire, one by one. While you’re wearing them.”

The last threat seemed to have merit, because her face paled notably even in the bad lighting of the room. He strove out of the bedroom, leaned against the cupboard in the kitchen and watched her backside while she changed into the blue gown.

She disappeared from his view few times, running across the room, forcing her dark yellow stilettos on while searching for something she couldn’t find.

She seemed surprisingly eager to go out, he suddenly thought and the grease between his eyes deepened. Something she was hiding? He quickly skimmed over the kitchen table and saw what she was hiding scattered all over the place – pieces of clay covered with patterns from the medallion!

He picked the closest one up, utterly confused and shaken by this little revelation. She could’ve just taken the medallion and force it’s face into a mold or something! What was she doing with it anyway? Really make a souvenir to herself and her friends? Replace his with her creation and fooling herself even for a second he wouldn’t notice?

“Ready!” she cheered and stopped dead. “Fff…”

He sensed how flushed she was, heat running up her spine. So fear was what made her lose control! If so, he knew exactly where to start!

“What is that?” he asked through his teeth, fiddling with the piece before kneading it into a ball.

“I was bored,” she said quickly, not indulging into details. That didn’t satisfy him.

“And?”

“There’s no and. I make jewelry, it’s my hobby. I was bored and I liked the pattern, so I…” she shrugged.

“Why, so you could make a copy for your friend?”

She inhaled soundly. “No! But she did send it to me, because she thought I might be interested in it and she was right, I am!”

So THAT was the sensation he had felt! She wasn’t interested in him after all, only in the damned pendant!

“But I wouldn’t copy it. It is part of you and copying somebody’s soul, be it as small part as it is, is criminal in every sense of its word!”

“Why should I believe you? Have you any idea what it means? These markings are unique! If anybody, who has encountered me before, happens to see the jewelry, they’ll know immediately, where it’s from!”

“I told you I wasn’t copying it!” Her voice yelled high over his and with force it was released from her vocals, he knew she meant it.

“If they see the patterns, they’ll remember how to call me again, do you understand?”

“Of chores I do! I made that connection long before your arrival yesterday!”

“Then stop carving it!” He bellowed and all the clay pieces burned into dust with such heat it made her flesh blush as if she’d been exposed to Sun.

“Fine!” she shouted back, hands crossed over her breasts, forcing them up.

He waited. He didn’t know, what, but he waited and was rewarded whilst her eyes shut towards the ceiling.

“Fine!” she repeated with anger stroking her throat, collected her carving tools, dashed them into the box that already contained the other stuff she used for metal and clay work and shoved the shoebox into his stomach. “If switch, then switch – I keep your pendant for two weeks, you keep my carving tools! Is that fair enough for you?”

Not really as he was planning to get it back already tonight, but he nodded in agreement and without blinking burned her tools into ash that fell off his fingers on the ground.

Her shoulder slump, her fingers pulsate in agony and her lips parted to express the despair, but not a word passed through.

“You owe me one night with you!” he blackmailed her instead, deciding to take everything if she was already so apologetic.

Her eyes widened and shot up to look straight at him. Her clutched fists fell on her side and she turned to leave.

“No!” she said firmly as a yew in a longbow. “I said no touching! I mean it – you don’t love me, hence you ain’t touching me!”

“Oh, what a whiny!” he winched his nose. “You do understand this kind of thinking was good in middle age, love?  Not in the 21st century!”

She stopped, glowering at him over her shoulder. “You may be personification of obsessive thoughts, but some things in this life are still reserved for those, who appreciate what they’ve got.” She opened the front door and left before he could say anything else that might

That shut him up. He tried to understand why it hurt so much when she said it, like he didn’t appreciate every woman, who needed him. In a way he knew – she wanted the man to want her, not the other way around and she wasn’t interested in getting the fake. And he was the fake kind.

He watched her disappear down the stairs until nothing could be seen anymore before going after her. She had thoroughly ruined his mood for the night and he swore she’d pay for that.

He followed her around for the first blocks, always few steps behind so he could watch her squirm in her blue dress. There was no sunlight that would’ve made it shine through, but it was obvious to anyone around where her flesh touched the fabric and she felt utterly uncomfortable showing it. He had been right about the gorging sighs she gathered, but instead of enjoying it he shot the man second later glances of such obsessive jealousy that made them diminish in their size nearly three times or flee altogether.

They had gone for six blocks already before she stopped and turned around. “Where are we going anyway?”

He passed her without looking back and snapped. “To eat curry.”

“I’m allergic to Tamarind paste!”

“It isn’t that kind of curry.” He pushed through closed teeth, eyeing the sign of the curry restaurant. “We’re here.”

She reluctantly followed his gaze. Adoni. He felt her heart flutter and he knew the reason – this was one of the most known red light district places around! But he wasn’t going for any other place either. They did offer the best curry he’d tasted, hot enough to burn her senseless.

He opened the door and let her in, following her close after so she couldn’t back out. It was all she was probably thinking about and he wasn’t in the mood to give in.

The rooms here were better lit than the streets, making her dress show through even more and her comfort flew out of the window, crossing her hands straight over her bare breasts.

“Stop it!” he hissed to her ears. “No one will notice it here! It’s a whore house! You’ll fit right in.”

She gasped and tears would’ve found their way to her cheeks hadn’t she got enough sense to gulp them down. No crying in public, he thought reluctantly gazing down at her, that’s my girl.

He pushed her further in the room, grabbed her elbow and forced her sit down in one of the corner tables and let her get familiar with her surroundings. She openly looked around in the lushly decorated room and people around small lit candles. The shadows made their face jump and dance while they were talking, few eyed around just as she did and though they were nicely hidden from the main rush, he still sensed some curious stares.

He frowned, disturbed by them way more than he had let him feel earlier and grabbed the menu, hoping it would put him off for a while.

Her chair creaked and suddenly stopped. The heat in her body was becoming unbearable, that sick feeling she had inside, growing and he knew she was ready to flee.

“I’ll walk right out of here!” she announced bluntly after a whistle from the other end of the room, followed by her laud gasp.

“And I’ll fry your dress!” he murmured without looking up from the menu.

“I can’t stay here!”

The heat was starting to disturb his thoughts, making him so hot he wanted to tear his clothes off. He had to cool her somehow or he was the one loosing his wits and he needed them if he wanted to have his medallion back before the sun raised.

“Yes you can! You told me I’m on vacation, and you, my dear, are holding my key, so sit tight and shut up!”

That helped. Her attention was without a doubt on him and he could finally feel the fresh breeze passing.

“And I wish to leave!” she didn’t give in.

“You can leave later. Right now I’m hungry.”

The heat returned and he frowned. He placed the order for both of them, hot curry without tamarind and some cold drinks. After that he took his dark coat off. The moment he put it down next to him on the couch he felt her fingers grab it and the next he knew it rested on her shoulders her pushing her long hands through the sleeves. In a weird way it suited her well and she calmed a bit, giving him some space, too, so he didn’t protest.

OK, so the woman wasn’t the type to turn on through public display, he admitted to himself. Next time – the ammonite dress. No next time! He refused to believe his own thoughts and forced himself to scowl at her, but it didn’t work, so he turned his anger towards the waitress.

Now, nicely tucked in his dark velvety wonder, she finally allowed herself to really look at him. He forced himself to be oblivious of it, keeping his on the waiter, who eagerly tried to please and by that trashed the glasses over on a by standing barman.

He felt his skin crawl. From the corner of his eyes he could tell her fingers had climbed up to her neck and she was gently groping the medallion. The way her touch moved, so did the sensation that heaved through his body. It moved up over his chest, carefully over his neck, down on his right arm, almost to the middle, then down to his stomach. He bit in the breath that was making his body just as tight as the metal she was touching. His eyes closed as her move took the feeling way lower. He listened tensely as her breathing started to change, slow at first, but still and it added to his joy. She was finally giving in to her own fantasies.

Something cool passed his nose and two glasses landed on the table with subtle thud. Just as quietly he heard the waitress ask her if he was tired.

He gasped hard, hearing a familiar click and the next thing he knew he was holding her hand above the glass of water and ice cubes, his medallion only an inch away from the freezing water.

The waitress, who was still standing next to them, held her breath, eyes wide like a kitten and stepped back, realizing she was way over her heals trying to find a man from this table. She quickly disappeared, straight between the kitchen doors.

“Stop that!” he hissed and pushed her hand away. “You have obviously no idea what it does to a man!”

“You’re no man!” She snorted. “You’ll handle it!”

“Oh, I am a man, honey, more ways than you can handle!”

Her face stayed masked.

“Good, our food is here.” he announced, seeing the woman arrive with two plates. She used the moment to drink. “Don’t gulp too fast, dear,” his voice fell low, “you’ll need it after you’ve tasted the food here!”

She nodded to the waitress and ate without adding a word and he watched. Like insane. Her every movement was like music he yearned to learn. Why didn’t she call for him?

“Stop that, I can’t eat if you stare.”

“Get used to it.”

She raised her eyes and looked at him and his plate. He hadn’t touched a thing.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“I want to know something before I eat.”

She lay back on her chair, finishing her mouthful, put the fork down and nodded then. “Alright, ask.”

“If I burn your dress, will you still be so calm and reserved as you are now?”

He meant it, every word of it. If this dress was making her so uncomfortable, he had ways of disposing it.

A shriek of laughter escaped from her full lips, then another and another until it filled the whole room with echoing beautiful laughter.

“You wouldn’t.” she said calmly and picked her fork up, smile still playing on her lips. It was too silly.  Her smile echoed over on his lips too, with slight difference. She got to know it as a smell of burning fabric.

He had never seen a woman froze all over. All of a sudden her face paled and he wondered if he’d seen the blood flowing away or was it just a mirage.

She let her fork fall, rapidly trying to breath and pulling his jacket closer to her bare skin.

Don’t start crying now, you big fuzz, you’ll kill all the joy…

 

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