A Bloody Romance.
By: Link (51712 on wajas, link91993 on Neo)
Chapter One--
The sun cast its murky yellow light over Fleet Street once again. It was greeted with the normal grimaces and curses that always came when a new day of work dawned and the people of London were roused from their beds. Mrs. Margery Lovett was already in her small kitchen, kneading carefully at a lump of dough. The table top was covered in flour, as was usual, and so were the hands that worked on it. The lady hummed slightly to herself, not looking up when the bell on her door jangled.
"Sorry, sir, it's a bit early for pies," she remarked instantly, not thinking that it was a certain barber in for his breakfast. But when there was no response, she immediately realized who it was, and quickly stammered a more appropriate greeting.
"Oh, Mr. T, excuse me, I had forgotton." Luckily, she hadn't forgotten to pop the daily batch of homemade biscuits into one of her small ovens, so she was prepared for him never the less. She slid the tray out of the oven with quickness that only came from constant use of the skill, and drew out one of the clay plates that were normally graced by one of her satisfying pies.
"Here you are, love," she said, pushing the plate towards him. She didn't receive a thank you, and didn't expect one. She gazed at him for a moment. "Want some meat with that?"
He looked up at her, his hard brown eyes matching nicely with his ragged black hair and locking unto her pale, victorian face. He appreciated neither her joke or her cheerfulness, and she knew that. She sighed, crossing her arms in front of her barely concealed chest, the lacy black fabric scratching at her bare skin. Moving back to the counter, she realized that Toby would expect meat with his breakfast as always, so a trip to the cellar was in order. She gave Mr. Todd one last longing look before descending the cold stone steps that led to her cellar, an empty bowl clasped tightly in her hand.
Once she reached the cellar, she studied the lean pieces of meat she had jaggedly removed from their owners and thrown in a messy array the day before. She sifted through the pile until she found a piece that took her fancy, then dropped it into the rusty metal grinder that loomed over her and cranked the handle, a soft grunt of exertion escaping from her lips and echoing off the stone walls. Her efforts were rewarded, as always, by a bloody pile of ground beef. At least, that's what everyone but herself and Sweeney thought it was; in truth, it was human flesh, which strangely enough, tasted much better than the normally used, expensive type of meat known as beef. And it was free! Smiling slightly to herself, she filled the bowl with every last bit of the ground meat and hurried back up the stairs. Mr. Todd was gone, the biscuits eaten and the plate in it's place in the tub of dining ware meant to be washed.
"Good morning, Mum." The sweet greeting was laced with a child-like affection.
"Ah, good morning, Toby, darling," replied Mrs. Lovett, setting the bowl of meat down on the counter beside the dough she had been working. "Hungry, I s'pose?" Toby nodded eagerly, and a smile played across the woman's face. "Meat'll be right up."
She molded two small balls of the meat into patties and removed a rarely used skillet from a nearby wall. She wouldn't have even had a skillet if it was not needed for her own personal cooking, which she did very rarely. She sat the skillet over an already lit burner and cooked the patties through, popping two biscuits open while doing so and adding the patties to them to make small sandwiches.
"Here you are, love," she said, sliding the plate in front of the boy. "Eat up. It's Friday, and you know that Friday's bring a lot of customers." She tucked a few strands of her wild, curly red hair behind one ear and busied herself with the rolling pin and a lump of dough.
Toby nodded and shoved one of the biscuits into his mouth, not knowing that he was eating a farmer that until yesterday had lived miles away in a little farmhouse with his wife. The ex-farmer's wife now assumed that he had been cheating on her and had decided to stay with the other woman, since he had not arrived home at the proper time, when in actuality he had loved her very much and had been getting a shave to look presentable in front of her when he returned. The wife had secretly been seeing the stable boy while her husband was at work, so she didn't miss her husband much at all.
The rest of the morning and the early afternoon went by routinely and uneventfully for Toby and Mrs. Lovett. Both worked on the dozens of pies that would be gone that evening, though Toby had worked only in the kitchen, for under no circumstances did she allow him to enter the lower bowels of her house.
Mr. Todd's day also passed routinely, that is, if you count killing every other person that walks through your door routine, which of course, he did. At the moment he was talking to a gentleman that had come in for a quick shave while on his lunch break. Todd was gently stirring a creamy mixture up as the man rambled on.
"And that was the last time I talked to her! Can you imagine someone's own loving mother doing such a thing? Kick me out of the house she did, for the second time too, in fact. Said I should have learned from the first time, she did." He lifted his head slightly to allow the barber to brush the cream onto his neck.
"What a shame," remarked Todd, not actually sympathizing with the man. He latched his strop to the back of the chair and slowly slid his favorite straight razor up and down, keeping the glimmering edge sharp. He then made a motion as to begin his job, but at the last moment struck, slitting the mans throat easily and unexpectedly. Warm red liquid spluttered out of the newly formed opening, covering the floor and spattering the large window that made up one wall of the shop. Todd quickly wiped his razor clean on the manâ–“s shirt sleeve, and then stomped on the lever. The body went shooting straight to the cellar, it's landing softened by the three men that had unknowingly visited the killer earlier in the day. Todd took a damp cloth to the blood that was now gracing three of the walls, and slid his now blood laden vest off. He then replaced the straight razor in it's holder at his side, and switched the sign on his door from it's cheerfully written 'Open' to the not so cheerful 'Closed'. He descended the stairs that bordered the building and led to Mrs. Lovett's new outdoor dining area. A canary chittered, and the grusteque barber snarled at it, immediately silencing the small bird, which ruffled it's chest feathers defensively.
Soon he was in the pie maker's kitchen. She wasn't there, but Toby was, which was unusual this time of the day. The young boy looked up from where he was mopping the floor with a wet rag. His brown eyes grew large at the sight of the barber and he immediately scrambled to his feet, slipping slightly on the wet stone floor. Todd reached out and grabbed the boy's arm, steadying him and preventing the boy from cracking open his skull on the unforgiving stone floor. It wasn't because he liked the boy, but he was good for errands and he kept Mrs. Lovett occupied.
"Thank you, sir," said a very grateful and very surprised Toby. He tilted his head slightly, which would have casued a slight cooing sound from Mrs. Lovett, but had no effect whatsoever on the barber. "Are you looking for Mrs. Lovett?"
"No."
"Mr. T!" cried Mrs. Lovett, rounding the corner that separated her work station from her home. She was clearly over-joyed to see him, as she had stopped slipping her black lace gloves unto her hands and instead pulled them off. "Here you are, Toby, dear."
She pressed two shining pennies into the young boy's hand, who looked at her gratefully and then scurried out the door to do whatever pleased him. Todd watched the young boy leave, knowing what was about to happen. Mrs. Lovett could be very predictable sometimes.
She flitted forward, and he didn't move. She got extremely close, and laid her hands against his chest. He looked down at her, trying extremely hard not to push her away. He could tell from the way she moved that this was more then just an attempt to gain his fancy. She carefully slid her hands up his chest and stroked his cheek thoughtfully, as if trying to decide where to start.
"Mrs. Lovett." He said it as a warning, reminding her that he didn't want her and wouldn't do this. He still loved his first wife, and had a hard time beleiving she was actually dead. For all his deeds, he was still somewhat a proper man, even if it was covered with the pain and hate he felt inside. Never would he take Mrs. Lovett.
Normally, she would sigh and back away after that, but this time she just drew closer. He repeated her name again, this time his tone even harder and laced with anger. In response she stood on tiptoe and moved her lips towards his...
In a moment, her back was pressed against him. His right arm was wrapped around her neck, and the straight razor that had been dutifully at his side was now pressed menacingly against her neck. His left hand held her head back, and she shivered as his hand warmed the back of her head.
"I'm not above killing you, Mrs. Lovett," he whispered into her ear, pressing harder with the non-sharp edge of the razor.
"You wouldn't kill me, love," she whispered back to him, a smile forming on her face. "If you didn't need me, you would've killed me already."
Normally, Mrs. Lovett chose not to talk in situations like this, but today she was feeling overly confident. She knew that she could end up dead, as she didn't doubt that he could slice her throat open with the un-sharp side of his blade.
"If I wasn't here, you'd have no barber shop. No place to stay. No meals. And you wouldn't get the satisfaction of seeing your customers eaten." The words, now that they were out in the open, seemed to flood from her mouth. "You'd have to find something else to do with the bodies. And bodies can't be hidden forever, love. Bones are much easier to hide and it's harder to tell what they are."
Todd shut the straight razor with his thumb, and spun Mrs. Lovett around to where she was facing him once again.
"My my, Mrs. Lovett," he remarked in a hushed voice, studying her carefully. "Where has this sudden bout of confidence sprang from?"
Her smile faded for a moment, but sprang back unto her features as he let her wrap her arms around him.
She was quiet, so he continued, "You're somewhat right, as always, my pet. But, what would you put in your pies if I wasn't around?"
She smiled cheerfully at him and replied quickly. "Pusses!"
"And what exactly would you do if I didn't aggree to give you what you want?" asked Todd, his voice low and aggressive again.
"Simple. I would stop making pies. I have enough to get me through."
"Then I would stop killing men."
"Then you wouldn't have anything to do but be with me anyway."
"I could bake you into one of your own pies, my pet, and then my razor would never see another neck." He ran two of his fingers gently down her jawline, as if he would eat the pie himself, and enjoy it immensely. She didn't doubt that he would, but, as always, his touch made her shiver even though it was warm enough out and if it wasn't, her black, lacy, low-cut dress should have been sufficent.
"Someone would notice my absence," replied the pie maker, sounding somewhat unsure. It had taken her a few moments to regain her voice, and she still felt as though her black heeled boots were part of the floor.
"I could leave, and then they would assume you had run off with me."
"Which isn't a bad idea."
He sighed, so she prodded at him some more.
"People already have ideas. It's not like you don't live here with me anyway. You have no idea how many people ask me if we're engaged." At the word engaged she automatically brightened.
"No. If you do remember, Mrs. Lovett, I am married."
"She's dead, my love. You need to move on." She moved his arms to where they encircled her waist and held them in place. "I can help."
The barber looked down at her, a contemplating look on his pale face. She moved her arms back to where they were around his neck, and his own rested just above her bottom. Todd was still undecided about what he should do. Part of him had the primative urge to make her his own, right then and there, while the other part told him to draw away from her tempting behavior. The woman caught the uncertainty in his expression and immeadiatly pressed closer to him, and when she spoke, her breath was warm on his face.
"We can have a life, you and I. Mabye not as I dreamed it, and mabye not as you remember it, but we could get by."
She had used this same string of words on him before, and they had swayed him toward her longings. But the first time, Anthony had busted through the door of the barber shop and crushed the moment. This time there was no one around; absolutely no one to ruin the moment, the one moment that could either fufill her dreams or crush them once again. She watched as his eyebrows knitted together, showing that he was still trying to figure out what to do, yet acknowledging what she had said without him having to say anything. She wanted so much to just press her lips to his, to figure this all out for him, but she knew that it would be so much sweeter if he did so himself. As she had repeated many times to the barber, good things come to those who wait.
She knew her patience was rewarded when he sighed slightly, yet did not draw away. He had attempted to fight off his own craving for her, for the one pleasure that only she could give, and had lost. He pulled her towards him gently, finally responding to her insinuating. She assisted him by standing on her toes as he pressed his lips to hers, and she met him somewhat forcefully. The two remained latched together for several long seconds, both comfortable in each others embrace. Her heart was pounding so heavily she knew that he could feel it through her bosom, and he was using what little self-control he had left to keep his clothes on. She moved her mouth down to kiss his neck in a come-and-get-me manner. Todd moved one hand up from her waist and softly cupped it around her chin, moving her head up to meet him once again. She was suprised by the gesture and came on less enthusiastically this time, allowing him to part her lips, which he did in a manner that didn't fit his appearance or his somewhat rash habits. Once he had gotten a taste of her, he realized what he'd been missing for the past 15 years, and he didn't want to let go. Finally she pulled away from him, and rested her cheek againest his chest. She was begining to feel light headed with a mixture of emotions, including joy, suprise, and shock. She heard him chuckle softly at her, so she looked up at him once again.
"What about your poor Albert?" asked the barber in a soft whisper, refering to the woman's first husband.
Mrs. Lovett smiled. "Who?"
She backed away from him, sliding through his arms and grabbing his hand in hers. There was one more thing she wanted, and then everthing else could wait and she would be satisfied. He knew immediatly what she now expected from him, and remained where he was, even though she tugged persistently on his arm for him to follow her. The man was eager to take what she had to offer, yet he still didn't feel like he could go with her.
She let go of his hand and put her hands on her hips, clearly annoyed that he had to think about a decision she had made many many years ago. This time, it was her that sighed. She took the two steps that led her back to him and patted his chest with one hand.
"Now now, love, you go up and think about it and we'll see how it goes after the dinner rush." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Toby rushed in, holding the door open for several customers. Todd nodded once, then went back into the house to get another vest on. Mrs. Lovett cast a backwards glance at him while setting pies down in front of the awaiting diners.
"Eat up, dears. Toby, one for gentleman." The boy quickly filled a metal pitcher with ale, and then emptied it back into the man's tankard like he was told.
"Good boy," she whispered to him as they were passing each other while waiting tables.
She saw the barber once during the busy hours. He had been standing on the porch outside his shop. She wouldn't have even noticed him, but she had felt as if someone was watching her, and she was right. He hadn't made eye contact with her, so she was still unsure about his decision, and he was ushering a man into his shop before she had time to even get a good look.
The dinner hours normally went by quickly, yet this time it seemed to be a full day before both the inside and outside dining areas were free of people. Lovett set Toby to clearing the tables while she rushed back into her house, trying to decide whether she should put another dress on or not. It wasn't like all of her dresses were enticingly tight and low-cut... wait... yes they were. She flicked pickyly through her wardrobe, then decided on the one she had one. She liked how it hugged her curves tightly, and she was rather partial to black lace that made up most of the fabric. She bustled back out into her shop, pulling down her hair in the process. She stopped just before she reached the living room, fixing her hair quickly in the mirror propped againest one wall. Todd sat in a chair in her living room. Mrs. Lovett wouldn't have seen him if he hadn't spoken.
"Where are you going, my pet?"
She jumped at the soft words, and spun around with one hand clutched over her heart.
"Oh, Mr. T! You startled me!"
He stood up, prowling towards her. She flitted towards him eagerly, letting him pull her to him until they were but a few inches apart.
"Ooh, Mr. T," she repeated again, this time in a softer tone that was full of anxiousness for what was to come.
She kissed him, a kiss brimming with burning passion and impatience. She felt one of his hands at the small of her back, and the other was buried in her unrulely red hair. She was still the one to pull away from him, however hard it was.
"I better do something about the boy," she whispered to him, fondling a strand of his own unrulely black hair. "Give him a bottle of gin."
He let her go after a short pause, and she glided over to the mantle, grabbing the bottle of gin that could always be found there.
"Toby!" she called, uncorking the bottle. It was only a split second before the boy was in front of her.
"Yes, mum?"
"Here you go," she told him quickly, pressing the bottle into his gloved hands. "You did good tonight. Drink up."
He looked down at the bottle then up at her. "Wow, thanks, mum."
She patted him fondly on the shoulder, then flitted back into the living room, her dress swishing lightly around her ankles. She took the man's hand again and this time he didn't hesitate before following her into her down the hallway and into her bedroom.
The room was femininely decorated and all the furniture was victorian. Lovett pushed him down to where he was sitting on the bed, looking a little unsure of himself. She then sat across his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. He smiled at her for the first time since she suggested using human meat to fill her pies and wrapped his arms around her waist. Both the barber and the pie maker were hot with cravings and peaking horomones. He undid the two buttons keeping his vest on and moved so she could slid it off of him easily. She then ran one hand softly down his cheek until she reached the two top buttons of his white shirt, which were always undone, and moved down to the third one, which she slipped open with ease. He closed his eyes at her caressing touch, his mind immeadiatly taking him to a night long ago when he was with his Lucy.
But this was different. Mrs. Lovett set about everything she did with energy and excitement, and this was no exception. He noticed she was trembling with excitement as she undid the last button and slid his shirt off. Her eyes fell on the straight razor that was in it's place in the hollister at his side, and his hands immeadiatly fell to his belt, which he quickly took off, along with the razor. She smiled at him, and went cold as she felt him parting her hair so he could easily untie the back of her dress. Her stomach churned with willingness and anticipation as she felt the dress coming up over her head.
Soon her dress was in the floor, his arms were around her again, and he was pulling her towards him.
Soon she was kissing him again, her lips greedily taking in every movement of his own. She pulled away from him for a moment and turned off the oil lamp sitting by the bedside, causing the room to turn black.
Thus the dream of Mrs. Lovett was fufilled.