Unfinished Business

Disclaimer: Scooby Doo and all related characters are owned by Hanna-Barbera, Warner Bros.,and Cartoon Network. All other characters, names, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, places, and incidents is coincidental.

Chapter One: The Naughty Redhead

It was late, nearing midnight. The barroom was dark; the man stopped for several moments to allow his eyes to adjust. The few patrons lifted their heads, looking at the stranger before returning their attention to their drinks. The girl at the end of the bar drew his eyes. Her skirt was too short and she gave it a tug. Thick, reddish hair, cute face, full breasts barely covered by a red tank-top, shapely legs ending in stiletto boots; 'prostitute', he thought.

He ignored the others in the room, making his way slowly toward the girl. He offered a smile, "Hi, can I buy you a drink?" He hadn't had any plans other than a drink but wouldn't turn down a little female company. He could afford the most expensive call girls but there was something interesting in this pro who was apparently waiting for a last 'John' before calling it an evening.

"Thanks," She nervously pushed the near empty glass in front of her away. "Name's Mary." She extended a slim hand. He took her hand, letting his thumb caress the soft area between thumb and finger.

"John." It wasn't his real name, only one of many but it would do for tonight. "May I suggest a Naughty Redhead?"

"Sure. How naughty are we talking?" The barkeep delivered their drinks, pointing at a sign. "No Soliciting" it read in bold letters. Mary and John laughed at the sign. John used a little condensation off her glass to print a certain number and a question mark on the bar.

"I'll get coal in my stockings for Christmas but I could be very naughty for that."

Small talk followed, more for show than any interest by either party as they sipped their drinks. "Are you cold? my place is just around the corner."

"Why do you ask?" John's eyebrows went up.

"You didn't take off your coat." Mary ran her hand down the coat's lapel.

"It is a bit chilly out. Get your coat, you can warm me up." He smiled, dropping a generous tip on the bar.

Mary leaned into his body as they walked toward the door. "You don't mind do you? It's these boots, they're new."

"I don't mind at all." He grinned, feeling her body under the coat. 'Yes, you'll do fine,' he thought to himself.

The moon overhead gave a silvery glow to the city landscape as they walked arm in arm along the sidewalk, leaning into each other for warmth against the cold night air. There was a look about her. Innocence turned to trash. She had attracted him, aroused him and he was anxious for this professional interlude.

The shove was unexpected, rough. Thrown off balance by the breaking of one stiletto heel, she fell into the alleyway; she had no chance to yell before he was on her, dragging her deeper into the ally. She tried to scream but could only manage small muffled sounds as a strong hand clamped her mouth shut. Frantic, she tried to twist out of his grip, but it only made the man angry; he jerked her to her knees, pebbles bit painfully into her legs, shredding her pantyhose. Her eyes went wide with fear; the moon light flashed against the knife blade. Her struggles seemed useless but she was a fighter and tried one last desperate attempt for freedom. The blade, so shiny and deadly, started on its downward arc.

-Xxx

"What happened, Velma?" Shaggy cradled held her head in his arms.

"I could ask you the same thing." Velma smiled up into his eyes. "Did we get him?"

"We got him. Fred's trap actually worked this time. He wont be killing any more prostitutes." She tried to rise but Shaggy gently held her down. "Just rest a minute; you're bleeding. How do you feel?"

"Too much peach schnapps, not enough cranberry juice. Fred needs lessons on being a bartender."

Shaggy helped her up, blood streamed from both knees, running down her shins. "Let's get you to the Mystery Machine."

"I can walk, Shaggy." Velma objected when Shaggy swept her up into his arms. It wasn't like this was the first time she had been in his arms. She relaxed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Not until I have a chance to clean up your knees and see how badly you're hurt. Be quiet and let me be your hero. You've done enough tonight."

Inside the Mystery Machine Shaggy turned the heater on high, retrieved the first aid container and made sure Velma was comfortable. Kneeling beside her he stared at her wounds.

"I'll have to remove your stockings." He started to slip his hands under her short skirt.

"They're not stockings, they're pantyhose and you aren't putting your hands up my skirt!"

"Velma, stockings or pantyhose they have to come off and I'm certified in first aid." His hands slid higher up her legs. Her body quivered slightly feeling his fingers glide over the fabric.

"Certified or certifiable?" She didn't object when his hands reached the top of her hose. She felt a warmth spreading throughout her body. "Watch where you put your fingers."

"There's a difference?" He had pulled her hosiery down to her knees when they both jumped at the rear door to the van being opened.

"Oh! Sorry," Daphne took in the scene; Velma had lifted her hips slightly, Shaggy had his hands full of ruined hosiery. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"You're not interrupting anything, Shaggy was just removing my hose."

"Of course he is." Daphne smiled wickedly. "You two don't have to worry, Fred and I will talk to the police."

"I may have to have Velma checked out at the hospital, can you and Fred catch a ride," Shaggy smiled like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar...or up a girl's skirt.

"You take care of Velma, we'll meet you two back at headquarters. Enjoy yourselves." Daphne closed the door, "Fred, you aren't going to believe this but..." The rest of whatever Daphne was going to say was lost in the night.

Shaggy slipped her stockings, or hose, down carefully clearing away the blood and cleaning the wounds. Velma hadn't noticed when his fingers started moving through her hair. And somewhere along the way he had stretched out beside her. He had slipped his arm under her head, holding her tightly, feeling her shiver.

"It's okay, Velma. It's over now." She closed her eyes, breathing his closeness. An ocean of memories overwhelmed her; the sight of his surprised reaction when she jumped into his arms, the sound of his voice, his poor attempts at humor.

"Shaggy, I'm sorry." Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.

"Why, Vel?" The brown haired man rose up on one elbow, wiping away her tears.

"I'll never make fun of you and Scooby being live bait again. I was so scared, I nearly barfed on his shoes. Shaggy, do you like the...way I'm dressed?"

"It's not you but even dressed like this, I think you're lovely," his lips met hers tenderly, felt her lips responding; his fingers grazed a breast bringing a gasp of pleasurable surprise from Velma.

"If you say one word about this, I'll claim there was too much alcohol in that Naughty Redhead."

"Since when do you need an excuse to admit we both want this..."

TBC