Disclaimer: Don't own them!
"There're only so many things you can expect. In this world you can always expect the unexpected." She whispered into his ear. She leaned back and smiled. It was a sweet smile on a pretty face. Soft yet chaotic waves of brown hair fell just past her shoulders and into her face. She reached up with her hand and gently swept the hair away from her deep blue eyes. Her face was smooth with high cheekbones that gave her an air of power that she seemed not to know about. The corner of her small pink mouth twitched at a joke he made. A pretty girl, but a young one. She was slender, in a peasant skirt and a snug tee. But you could see the small reminders of baby fat on her face. She placed her hand on the curve of her hip. She was too young for him, too young for that place, but there she was. No one questioned her because she'd learned how to blend in. For all she looked the part of innocent, in her eyes you could see the contradiction. The contradiction that fit in with her ability to hide when needed, and at all the things she did just right to keep his interest. By noticing he liked her façade of purity and the ignorance she sent off herself glowing at will.
Even if she hadn't been young, he wouldn't have had a girl like her. She was too good for him. But she was a predator by nature, or so they say, and she needed prey. All hunters need something to hunt. He was drunk, and not as charming as he thought he was. He hadn't shaven in weeks, his beady eyes peered at her greedily through his shaggy, greasy blonde hair. His grubby hands pawed at her. Any self-respecting person would have been appalled. But people at places like that just let it all blend into the background. Why deal with someone else's issues when you have your own boatload to carry around? His hands found their way to her ass, causing a sloppy grin to spread over his face. She swatted his hands away and blushed modestly. He smiled wider. She leaned over and whispered something in his ear. He laughed. He said something back to her, but in a place like that you can't hear much of anything three feet away from you. That was when she got up out of her seat and walked right out the door. A smile played on her face when she looked back and became more suspicious as she turned away. He watched her go hungrily. A fat redhead slapped the bill down on the table, along with his credit card. He signed it. Then Patrick Stoner left through the same doors she had.
He didn't get far before he smelled her perfume, light and feminine. "Looking for me?" she asked. He turned to her wide blue eyes. Deep, pure, afraid, just the way he liked them. "Didn't believe you when you told me." He breathed just as thickly as he spoke. He stepped closer to her so that her back was against the cold brick wall. She bit her lip, her eyes telling everything. The game was already played, no need for any extra effort on her part. She smirked, letting the pout drop. "Better believe it baby." He chuckled. He liked this, she had a saucy side, just as well. He ran his hand down her hair and cupped her face with it. "Don't be afraid, honey-girl. I'll be nice." He mocked her with his voice. She could play games, and so could he. She grinned at him wickedly, more of her true self shining through. "You don't gotta." She bit her lip again and he growled. His lips crashed down on her. The true game had just begun.
He ran his meaty hands up and down her back, along her sides, over her breasts, everywhere he could reach. He cupped her ass and brought her to him. He grunted and groaned as her hands gripped his neck, his arms, his hips. He hiked up her skirt and fumbled with his belt. She let him. He grunted and panted as he moved against her, under the folds of her skirt. He kissed her harshly and pressed her back against the wall. Her arms hung gently from his shoulders and her legs dangled uselessly from his hips as he squirmed and pushed and finally fell still with a grunt. His grimy, sweaty hands moved out from under her skirt, letting her slid down the wall to her feet. She straightened and twisted her skirt until it was back in place. She pulled her tee back down, trying to cover all of the places he'd touched, trying to hide that dirty feeling. He leaned back, a cigarette balanced on his lips. He watched her pull herself back together. He threw the cigarette onto the ground after one last drag. He dug in his pocket and pulled out some money. He counted it out and handed it to her. She snatched it and went through it herself. Halfway through she dropped it on the ground. He swore and helped her pick it up. He felt bad for the kid. What the hell had driven her to this? He smiled when her eyes met his. She hesitated, but returned it. He stood. "Look, kid. You need some help, just talk to the lady that owns that bar. I can give you a hand, if you need it." Her face hardened but she nodded. He smiled at her again and went on his way. She turned the other way, hating herself for what she was, for what she did, for what she was going to do.
Patrick Stoner died that night. The police say he died in an alley with one shot to the head. A waitress at Midnight bar reported having seen him in the company of a young girl. But no one knew who she was, or where she went. They saw her leave the bar, but after that there was nothing. It was as if she just disappeared. No one was ever brought in as a suspect.