Memoires of Jerry Dandridge's Stalker
Chapter One
(Author)
This is something I wrote a couple years back. I found it today and decided to toss it out there for you guys to get some more of that Fright Night deliciousness! Enjoy this crazy little compliment to how irresistible Jerry Dandridge truly is! Oh, YUM!
~GaGa4FrightNight~
1984: The Apartment of Jacqueline "Jacked" Bishop
As the microphones and camera are set up, camera man Paul scans the apartment with one of the running cameras. The interviewer, Bob, prepares for his interview with Jacqueline who sits across from him in a vintage looking high back chair. Paul frowns while spying through the eye of the camera recording evidence of the subject's odd appearance which looked like it was inspired by the old 60's Hammer films. He panned the camera over the usual set and backdrop. He again moved the camera to the Gothic looking eighteen year old who was the subject for Bob's public cable show which surrounded the weird and unusual.
Jacqueline sat with an odd grin across her brightly painted red lips which were highlighted by her naturally pale skin and thickly black lined eyes which were a prominent shade of blue. Her left hand rubbed the tattered arms of the high backed chair with the slick black and lengthy nails scraping the holy fabric while the other hand fiddled with the somewhat unnaturally red tendril resting over her right shoulder. She strangely eyed the interviewer named Bob without blinking. The corner of her mouth twitched; anxious to tell her lavish tale surrounding the painted image hung above the mantel behind her. Her eyes were wide with anticipation then they shifted to the camera's eyes, held firm in Paul's hand. Her lips broadened with a sinister smirk and revealed passed her full lips were her pointed, possibly filed, canines mimicking those of a vampire's.
Paul stood behind Bob while he noticed how much weirder the subject was with her fangs and sinister smirk. He shifted the camera down looking to the tiny microphone hooked at the hem of her blood red corset; there was no avoiding her hiked bust. "Can you hear me?" He heard Jackie speak which meant he was busted videoing her bust. He quickly nodded then shifted the camera from her bust. "Yep," He simply replied. "I'm ready when you are, Bob." He announced wanting to get the interview over with.
"Okay," Bob nodded then lifted his hand as signal for Paul to begin recording with the tripod. He smiled over at Jackie who now had her large eyes looking at him.
"One," Paul sang, "Two… and…"
Bob smiled wide, "Hello, Jackie."
"Hi," Jackie continued to smirk, "Call me Jacked."
"Okay, Jacked, I must make clear to my audience that everything you are about to tell me is nothing but the truth." Bob stated trying to ignore Jackie's quirky weirdness.
"Everything," Jacked simply replied. She lifted her hand and rested it against her chest just over where her heart was located, "Put a stake in my heart and hope to die. Everything I say is the truth."
"Great," Bob nodded finding her statement just as strange as her appearance, "Could do my audience a favor and introduce yourself. Name and age, stuff like that."
"Sure thing, Bob," Jacked sang with a little sarcasm. Her bright blue eyes looked directly into the camera which gave cameraman Paul the shivers. She broadened her smile revealing those 'fake' fangs. "Hello, I am Jacqueline Bishop but you can call me Jacked. I am eighteen years old." She sang into the microphone then quickly shifted her eyes back to Bob who was frowning, "Good enough?"
"I guess." Bob commented, "You're telling us the truth, right?" He watched as her smile faded.
"I swore to tell the truth, Bob." She stated, "And I have."
"Okay, you're eighteen." Bob turned his attention to the real reason he was there. "So, you actually contacted me, correct?" He watched her nod, "And why did you?"
"Because I believe that your audience would love my story." She stated.
"What story to be exact?" He asked.
She lifted her hand to aim Bob's attention to the portrait, "The story about my love and me," She explained, "It's happens to be the three month anniversary of the first time I saw him."
"And who is he?" Bob asked curiously.
"One of the most unimaginable creatures of darkness to ever walk the Earth," Her smile broadened as she sighed heavily with thoughts of the creature she spoke of, "Kinsey Sinclair of course."
"Kinsey Sinclair," Bob nodded, "Is he or is he not the man suspected of being serial killer throughout the United States and other countries. Kinsey Sinclair is said to be one of his many aliases."
Her face became serious, "Wrong."
"And why am I wrong?" Bob asked while leaning forward as if intrigued.
"A serial killer is mortal." She replied, "He is not mortal. He is a beautiful creature of the night that has to kill in order to feed." Her expression twisted into hatred, "It pisses me off that people get this wrong."
"Are you honestly saying that Kinsey Sinclair is a vampire or something?" Bob smirked with humor.
Her eyes narrowed as she leaned forward glaring into Bob's eyes, "He is a vampire not just something; a vampire." Her expression softened with sweeter weird thoughts, "A very beautiful and mysterious vampire." She strangely hummed as her eyes fluttered almost insanely, "So, sexy and irresistible."
"And how do you know this; that he is a vampire?" Bob asked blatantly.
Her eyes frowned, "I lived in the second to the last city he occupied."
"Well, it is said that the last known location of Kinsey Sinclair that his identity as being a murderer became known because of numerous teen deaths including," he glanced at his nose and frowned, "You." He thought it pathetic that she gave herself the identity of a poor murder victim. "He was living under the alias Kinsey Sinclair." Bob noticed the fuming beginning to flame within Jacked's eyes, "Perhaps it's true he was a vampire." He spoke further trying to egg on her vampire belief, "So, why didn't he killed you if you knew?"
"What?" She snapped loudly, "Do you think just because some assholes had a prob with him I would have? Hell, I love the fact he's a vampire. To be truthful, I love him. And he knows it!"
"You love him?" Bob grimaced at her odd statement.
"Did I fucking stutter?" She snapped loudly, "Yes, I love him and eventually he'll realize he loves me then we'll live happily ever after like into those fucked up fairytales."
"They suspect he's dead." Bob commented, "Because like most serial killers, they usually don't stop unless dead. He simply vanished."
"Oh, he's alive." She nodded, "I still feel him sometimes. He can't run away from me. He can't hide from our love. He might be a vampire but that doesn't mean he's incapable of love. My love will break him down eventually then he won't deny me what's rightfully mine… him." Her smile was crooked as the corner twitched with the thoughts of her undying love for Kinsey Sinclair.
"Well, could you please elaborate with more detail on this love for him?" Bob asked politely feeling a bit awkward with the woman's tone and words. He set aside the awkwardness and forced a smile.
"I guess," She crossed left leg over the right then looked up at the portrait, "But I'll have to start from the beginning… it was fall… a few months ago." Her eyes glazed as they drew in his beautiful image which was derived from the embedded images in her complicated brain. His hair dark with ebony waves, eyes large and almost black in color and a complexion unlike other fabled vampires, tan and European. Her head rested against the chair as her mind moved backwards to the moment where her ultimate obsession began; the path in which led her to stalk a vampire….
Three Months Earlier: Ohio:
It was my senior year in high school; soon to be over. I hated high school and loathed the fascist pricks who roamed those prison-like walls. I stood out from them. They weren't like me and I liked that. They strolled around with spiteful grimaces when they saw me because I walked to my own fucking drum. All those ghastly pale colors; pinks, blue, lavenders, and other vomit inducing pastels they wore to make themselves clones of one another. Where did I fit in? I was the square peg unable to fit into the round hole and I loved it. Walking those long halls was a pleasure. All their preppy eyes glowed with their distaste for my appearance and presence. They didn't like me and they seemed to fear me. Their cliques would part from the center of the hallway just to let me pass as my only two friends strolled beside me; Brutus "Brute" Poole and Vivian "Vamp" Williams. We were the first Gothic teens to ever walk those dull hallways and everyone including the school staff didn't know how to react or handle such a gruesome threesome. And I loved it.
I was the center of that Gothic threesome; Jacqueline "Jacked-Up Jackie" Bishop. Perhaps I could say I stood out more than my two lonesome peers. They were more blackened by the traditional Gothic black while I flamed with brilliant artificial red hair lengthy and draped long over one shoulder. Some say we were Stevie Nicks wannabes but they were wrong, way off. It was more than just Halloween every day for us. We lived the darker life based on that of those who were portrayed on the classic horror screen; vampires. We loved Christopher Lee and all his multi performances as the numero-uno well known vampire Dracula. All those glorious Hammer films were our guidelines to enriching our Gothic lifestyle. Our attire was molded off the Gothic glamour styles of those romantic horror flicks; wicked corsets for us two ladies and lengthy waistcoats for our single gentleman. We were the true blood life of the introduction to 80s Gothic which was now injected in three doses to the world of small town suburbia.
Our nights were just as fantastic as our daylight hours. We left our school, made a simple show at our parent's homes then directed ourselves to our private meeting place located at the very dead end of the dead end Michigan Street. We met, as we did every evening, dressed in warm Gothic at the beginning of the slowly darkening street. Arm in arm we strolled down the somewhat vacant street marching in thick soled Gothic boots. Brute brought his boom box cassette player, Vamp supplied the Gothic tunes, and I brought the red wine stolen from Dad's basement wine rack.
We continued forward, moving onto the cracked stone walkway and strolled towards the abandoned Carverdale house; 66 Michigan Street. We walked to the side of the old house. I would do my ritual unlocking of the padlock with my paper clip made key; the lock attempting to keep vandals from the basement then we entered our solace where there was no electricity but the looming glow of candles we lined throughout the privacy of the basement which also was decorated with images of our fabled vampires. We mainly sat discussing our Gothic heroes while drinking from the wine bottle as we were sipping the life blood. When our music played we danced, our brains numbed by sweet red wine. It was our heaven; our place to escape the critical eyes of normal outsiders.
Yet, we had no clue to what was about to flip our little Gothic world upside down.
I flopped onto the old mattress stolen from on the many bedrooms above, bottle of wine in hand while Brute and Vamp continued their fabulous dance moves. I wrapped my red lips over the mouth of the bottle and slammed back a big swallow of the sweet alcoholic nectar with my blue eyes widely watching my Gothic pals as they again began displaying the true nature of their affections towards each other. It was if they were oblivious to my presence when they got into their dirty Gothic dancing. I turned my eyes towards the front of the basement and pass my eyes through the dirty glass of the window was the glare of headlights. My eyes went wider and I scrambled onto my booted feet then darted toward the window. Rising up onto my tiptoes my eyes were lifted to the very bottom of the window. Two vehicles pulled onto the driveway of the Carverdale house which signaled our Gothic party was at an abrupt end.
I recognized the car belonging to the only realtor in town but the other was a dark colored Jeep. I raced from the window quickly ending the music and started blowing out the candle. "We're busted." I yelled to Brute and Vamp who, at first, were confused about my actions, "Old lady Pritchard's here." Immediately they rushed to help me gather up what we brought.
Just as we rushed toward the basement exit we heard the sound of footsteps moving against the floor above us. We froze, heads turned upward and eyes aimed at the ceiling. All three of us moved our eyes with the sound of the footsteps; three sets moving and creaking against the old wooden floor above our heads. Brute and Vamp quickly moved for the exit but my attention was drawn by curiosity to who would be interested in the run down Carverdale house. They made it out of the basement as I stood near the stone steps.
"Jacked, come on." Brute's voice called in a loud whisper.
I looked up the stairs at their faces which were distressed and I had the sense of a wild rush coming on. The corner of my mouth twitched with anticipation of my upcoming actions. I tossed the corked bottle of wine then lifted my lengthy tipped index finger to my puckered lips signaling for them to hush then I pointed up at the ceiling. They looked confused and worried but my heart was racing with the thought of satisfying my curiosity. I knew I couldn't just stroll up the basement steps that led to the first floor and introduce myself so I scurried up the outdoor leading steps joining Brute and Vamp. I carefully closed the doors and replaced the lock.
With a slight crouch I led my small pack along the side of the house then stopped at the corner. With my wide blue eyes I spied the around the corner seeing both vehicles I spotted earlier. I leaned forward just as the window above us lit up. Apparently the electricity was turned on for the potential buyer of the decrepit property. We all crouched lower with bent knees looking up at the tattered drape covered window. Being dead silent outside I could hear Pritchard's annoying voice and a man's intriguing tone. With further curiosity I found myself rising up out of my crouched position lifting my eyes to over the sill of the window. The drape was tattered enough with some holes giving at least one of my wide eyes a peek inside.
Back and forth my eye shifted trying to spy any sight of the cougar Pritchard and whoever was giving off that manly tone. My eyes froze upon seeing Pritchard step into view passing into the arched entryway of the room the window was located. She was obviously facing the person and by the way she was fiddling with her fake bleached hair with a flirty cock to her head that person was tucked behind the wall. Again that pesky twitch perked the corner of my mouth. "What you see?" I heard Vamp whisper. "Nothing yet." I responded then watched Pritchard sway her hips as she stepped backward aiming her arm into the room. I couldn't wait to see this person.
My eyes firstly shifted toward the floor waiting for the view of the person's shoes. Rich black leather pointed boots with silver tips stepped to the entryway; my lips trembled with a twitching corner. The silver tips of those leather boots aimed into the entryway and my eyes slowly shifted upward over deep black dress slacks draped perfectly over manly legs. There was an obvious rich gray leather trench brushing the back of his calves as my eyes reached the belt at his narrow waist where a charcoal black button up shirt was tucked. My eyes moved up those buttons discovering an opened black and red trimmed vest and a bright red scarf draped loosely beneath the trench's lapel. Hands tucked in the trouser pockets giving his stance firmness and strength; also accentuating another lovely part of the male anatomy; the twitch intensified. The twitch at the corner of my mouth grew rapid then I reached a face that seemed to have leapt from the darkest depths of my Gothic fantasies. Full lips, large black eyes and thick ebony waves crowning his head brushing downward behind his head ears which had a simple silver stud punctured through the right. "Good enough to eat." Those words passed my lips through a whisper.
"What?" Vamp questioned.
I watched closer as this dark god entered the room; all my senses were on fire seeing this majestic display of sly movement given by the perfection that was he. He casually removed his trench flipping it over his shoulder; that was the very moment an obsession began. Something in my brain was triggered. I felt like a curious feline; curiosity killed the kitty cat is what Mom always said. His every movement I watched keenly keeping my black lined eye wide; feeling the pupil flex with focus on each of his smooth steps. Every motion embedded into my complicated memory; the manner his head shifted in follow of his dark eyes studying the uniqueness and potential of the old rickety mess of a house. Even as he came closer to where I spied I didn't budge keeping steady focus on him.
"So, what ya think?" I heard another man's voice ask. My eye made a quick shift seeing a quite awkward looking guy entering the room with a tussled mess of blond hair and a porn star's blond mustache; I grimaced. My eye returned to the unsuspecting target waiting for his response. He paused at the window; I didn't flinch. He made a turn with his back aimed at me which gave me a quite tasty peek at his slack hugged ass while one hand remained in his pant pocket. "Perfect," I listened to his sweet voice sing. Perfect was right; he was definitely perfect and I couldn't think of a better specimen of perfection to move into that drab boring town.
"Oh, goody!" I listened to Pritchard sing giddily, "So, would you like to see the rest of the house?"
"No," The black clad majesty announced firmly, "I'll take it."
"Oh, okay," Pritchard sounded surprised, "Well, we can have the paperwork to you tomorrow."
"Good but no later than six." Tall, dark, and handsome practically demanded but with a smooth sultry manly tone, "I will be on business until then." He turned around and I quickly crouched down.
I smiled wide, felt exhilarated as my heart pounded against the walls of my chest. Brute and Vamp stared at me probably noticing the wicked twinkle in my eye. I licked my red lips, tasted the lingering flavor of the red wine, and then smiled wide. I leaned a little forward. "My friends, I think I'm in love." I whispered to them. Their eyes frowned as they took in the glimmer of insanity within my eyes. I sighed with the images of his glorious beauty spinning throughout my mind and leaned back against the chipped siding just beneath the window that had opened my mind and heart to an older man. "He's perfect." I stated with another sigh.
"What I think would be perfect is that we get the fuck out of here." Brute commented trying to ignore my sighs.
I trembled with thoughts of that heavenly creature within the walls of Carverdale house then nodded in agreement with Brute. I reluctantly skedaddled with my two friends trying not to get busted by Pritchard who would definitely have a fit knowing we were on the property let alone in the house. I was determined to see that majestic creature again. It was as if something was triggered in my brain, body, soul, and heart the moment my eye spied his perfection. Thankfully the next day was a Saturday which meant I had all the time in the world to do a little investigation. Many ideals were creeping into my complicated brain. In fact, so much was happening inside my head that sleep was virtually impossible.
That Friday evening, having had my little creepers gathering interrupted so pleasantly by such a divine specimen of the male species made it so all I could think about was him. I laid there in the shadows of my parents' suburban home; lay in the center of my black and red draped four post bed staring up at the ceiling. My eyes remained wide barely blinking while one hand rested above my heart feeling its heavy beats and the other rested on my abdomen. I felt that familiar twitch at the corner of my lip. I finally dared closing my eyes seeing his god-like perfect face. That twitch developed into a smile and a breathy sigh drifted passed my lips. I delivered myself into my deepest thoughts which now were swarming with the beauty of that stranger. Eventually sleep managed to take me.
There was a heavy pounding thundering into my wonderfully dark dreams followed by the annoying voice of Mother's. My eyes blinked open and saw that it was blissfully evening. My lips spread into a smile as Mother's voice continued interrupting my blissfulness. I quickly sat up, whipped off the black satin comforter, then stormed off the bed and stomped my way to my black painted bedroom door. I swung the door open, "What?!" I yelled with annoyance.
"Dinner's on the table." Mother snapped back then spun on her prissy shoes and left my third floor attic bedroom.
I slammed the door shut once she vanished back down in her suburban dwelling. I had no time to sit at the dining room table amongst the living. I wasn't in the mood to listen to their chicken clucking about their day; Father's golf swings at the local prep pit, Mother's gossip news from her clucky friends, and my brother's chiming about his date with the local whore cheerleader. I dressed in my fabulous Goth, grabbed my birthday present camera which was expensive and appeased my parents' neglect of who I was cramming into my black linen purse decked with skulls. I left my room, marched down the two floors with my Victorian Goth boots stomping down the stairs. I marched passed the dining room without a word and left the drab dwelling to enter the fall evening to continue with my new obsession.
Strolling those suburban streets was a rush having every fake residence darting away from the one of three freaks in the town. I felt like a goddess having those suburban freaks terrified of my very essence. With a pleased grin I stomped my boots over the cracked sidewalks with my flowing attire drifting against the wind of my movements. Of course there were the occasional teenage pricks that drove by yelling out 'whore', 'freak', and other unimaginative adjectives. I was no whore by all means but they could call me what they wanted for I didn't give a flying fuck. I had grown with the ability to ignore their stupidity which gave me the ability to continue radiating my unfaltering confidence. I was who I was; there was nothing that suburban life could do to change me.
I strutted my way onto Michigan Street; my heart began to race and pound against the inside of my chest. I was excited for it was nearing 6:30 which could give me the opportunity to steal my new obsession's soul with my camera lens. I moved down the center of that dimly lit street with eyes forward staring at the walkway ahead located at the dead end. As I continued to move I dug the camera out of my shoulder draped purse bringing the strap dangling around my neck. As I continued on my path I started snapping pictures at random.
I stepped onto the sidewalk set before the lengthy walkway that lead up to the Carverdale house. Quickly I continued snapping photos, the flash blinking like a strobe light. Each flash glared off the parked vehicles; Pritchard's silver car and my obsession's dark gray jeep. Did I care if they noticed; not for one second. The corner of my mouth twitched as the rest of my face was frozen in concentration. Then came that annoying voice of Prichard's, "What do you think you are doing?" I lowered the camera and smiled. She marched down the walkway after leaving the porch of the old house and I held my footing firm atop the public sidewalk. "Hey there, Ms. Prichard!" I greeted with fake enthusiasm.
Prichard finally made her way to me then planted her hands on her bony hips giving me the typical adult scolding expression. "What do you think you are doing, young lady?" She asked while grimacing at my attire, "Jacqueline Bishop correct?"
"Yes, ma'am." I responded holding my fake smile.
"And why are you taking photos, might I ask?" She questioned me while tapping the sole of her tacky six inch heels.
"Oh, it's a project for my photography class." I lied casually.
"Well, you don't have the permission of the new owner to take photos." She stated truthfully.
"Okay," I rested a hand on my tightly corseted hip while holding the camera limply with the other, "Can I get the new owner's permission?"
She was at a pause with her pink lips pressed firmly together.
"I have no prob asking, ma'am." I stated wanting so badly to get a face to face view of the creature of dark perfection.
"I don't know," She finally spoke taking a glance back at the house then returning her concerned eyes back to me.
"Just let me ask." I said fighting back the urge to be snotty, "Please."
She crossed her arms as I watched the expression of her face displaying the struggle to turn those rusty gears in her feeble minded head. She huffed through her nose, "Well, follow me." She spun on those shoes and my smile broadened with excitement.
I strutted behind her, watched how she attempted a sexy strut across her ass and hips which forced me to roll my eyes. My attention drew to the house seeing that looming porch coming closer and closer with each stomp of my boots. My heartbeat thundered loudly in my ears and pounded feverishly against my chest. Was that my moment to indulge in the object of my renewed sense of wanting something so bad that I could taste it?
I followed the saucy wench up the rickety steps; boards creaked beneath my boots. She halted before the door then spun around putting a hand up, "Stay right here and no more pictures." I nodded with a fake smile. "I will see if he is willing to see you." She spun back around; I wished the porch would have opened up and swallowed the bitch whole. She opened the door enough to slip inside shutting it behind her.
I stood practically impatiently waiting for her smug ass to return with some good news. It was almost painful waiting for the moment I could come face to face with him. I crossed my arms tapping my fingers against my upper arms; my lengthy nails snagging the think black fabric of my fringed shawl. I stood with a crooked stance while my eyes stared at the paint pealing door. Where the fuck was she; I questioned loudly in my head. I felt that eager twitch at the corner of my mouth. I was I being too daring too soon? Was my request to speak to the dark god too soon? Could I handle being face to face with him? It seemed like forever standing there in the dark on that porch feeling the cool fall breeze pick up and begin tossing around the lengthier back of my black and purposely tattered skirt. My eyes began to stare without blinking at the door in front of my as my head lowered at the chin. The door came open and I startled out of my trance.
Prichard stood with the door wide open with an unsatisfied expression over her face. "You can come in." She stated with the tone that matched her expression; disappointed.
I smiled then strutted forward, stepping over the threshold of no return and into his dark dwelling. I moved passed Prichard quickly taking in the surroundings. The house was absolutely heavenly in its run down state; covered in dust, cobwebs, and perfect for the beginning of a beautiful romance. My eyes scanned over every dark detail within the dimly lit dwelling. I heard the door close then Prichard marched passed me giving me a simple and smug 'come on'. I followed her obediently and eagerly. I was amazed I was going to have an opportunity to be before him without a pain of glass between us.
Prichard led through the first floor; I've been inside before besides the basement having stolen the old mattress from one of the upstairs bedrooms. This time I had a chance to really look the place over. There were other pieces of furniture, all draped over my thickly dusted white sheets. Prichard stopped at the arched entryway. "Mr. Sinclair will be up shortly, he and his roommate are currently inspecting the basement." She continued with her smug tone, "Go in there and don't touch anything. I have to go to the car and fetch the keys to the house."
"Okay," I returned her smug tone and she marched out the front door. I was alone in his glorious dwelling. I stepped I into the room I first spied him. I was tingling all over just imagining I was walking on the same floor he had the night before. Each of my senses was heightened taking in the sights and smells. The room smelt deliciously smothered with old dust and decay. The dimly lit room was darkly romantic in its abandoned state. I approached a dusty sheet covered chair, grabbed the sheet though I was instructed not to touch; like I listen to snobbish bitches. I jerked the sheet back and dust tossed into the air like dull glitter dancing in the dim lighting. I stared down at an antique high backed chair slightly worn and faded; the perfect throne. I spun around and seated myself gripping my fingers against the thinned velvet. My eyes scanned the room imagining it filled with candles jabbed into iron holders. So perfect.
In silence I heard footsteps; they sang from the distance as they moved up the basement steps. Two sets of footsteps I heard distinctively and immediately felt as if I were melting into the old velvet chair. My eyes stared at the arched entryway waiting for the moment I was blessed to be in his presence. I licked my lips returning that red to a glossy sheen. Closer the footsteps came as I crossed leg over leg. My head lowered at the chin while my fingertips dug into the velvet coating over of the chair arms. I could feel my body begin to tremble with anticipation. He was closer; my heartbeat moved in sync with his footsteps. My eyes grew wider with each nearing footstep.
Suddenly the front door came open interrupted my almost orgasmic thrill. I watched the bitch come rushing pass the room and stopping my moment of pure joy. "Mr. Sinclair, I am so sorry but I have to return to the office and get the keys." I listened to her speak apologetically to him, "It will only take me about fifteen minutes."
"Fine," I smiled hearing him speak with an annoyed tone by her insolence, "Make it ten because I have things to do." Oh, how devilishly sweet his demanding voice sounded.
I watched Prichard scurry like an obedient dog with her bitch tail between her legs. The moment the door slammed my eyes jerked back to the entryway waiting his anticipated arrival. I saw his shadow loom in his approach of the room I sat; I held my breath. I felt as if I were going to crumble the moment his shadowy figure stepped into the entryway. My legs squeezed together; I wanted to see his face and new when I did I could possible become numbed by uncontrollable pleasure.
"Can I help you?" His voice sang with a cunning tone.
Oh, I wanted so badly to shout he could help me by putting his hands on me but I was practically speechless with the desire to see those black eyes.
"Ms. Prichard informed me that you wish to ask me something." He again spoke; his voice sounded so heavenly with its English accent and proper wording.
"Um," I mumbled; fool, "Yes." The words were so hard to muster underneath his weighing presence.
Finally he proceeded into the room. My eyes again looked down at those rich leather covered feet then worked slowly in a tormenting manner up his glorious frame; such lovely dark colors for such a lovely creature. My eyes froze the moment they saw his perfectly carved features and those black eyes. I released my breath with sigh. Oh, hell yes! Never had I seen such a man in that pathetic suburban town. There wasn't one guy that could compare to the vision ten feet away from me. He was my god and I was so willing to worship at his leather soles. I felt that twitch slowly nudge my lips into a satisfied grin; like a smoke after sex.
"Well?" He asked waiting for my question.
"Um," I again mumbled like a teenaged fool, "I have this project and was planning on, um, using this house as the subject." I lied through my teeth which wanted to bite into his flesh.
"What sort of project?" He asked as he continued forward with that sexy stroll within each of his perfect steps.
"It's for photography class." I continued my lie, "Carverdale is the only house in town that's sorta…"
"Run down," He finished my sentence, "Perhaps scary."
"Yea," I nodded slowly trying to burn his image permanently in to my head, "Exactly. All the other houses… suck." I was now looking up at him as he casually crossed his arms over his chest; how I wanted to see what was under that black shirt and gray cardigan.
"Suck," He smirked with intrigue, "Because they don't emulate what you obviously represent." He was definitely noticing my unusual attire.
"Yep," I again nodded.
"Interesting," He nodded then turned around tucking those hands into the pockets of his gray trousers again allowing me to see the perfect sculpture that was his ass, "But must apologize that I must decline for this is now my home."
My jaw dropped; he denied me. My brows frowned in response to being denied. I pushed myself up out of the chair. "And why is that?" I asked; not one to take lightly being denied what I believed was rightfully mine to do.
He turned around with a smug smirk, "Now that this is mine, I am keen to keep my privacy and have no desire to have what is mine photographed." His head tilted slightly; perhaps my expression was amusing. "Again, I apologize but that is how it is. I hope you will understand and respect my privacy." He again spoke.
"Mister, good luck with privacy with all the jokers in this town." I spoke almost with disrespect, "In this place; everyone knows your business and your business was just opened up the moment you signed with Prichard. You will be the talk of the town by morning if not tonight." I crossed my arms over my corseted bust and stood in my crooked stance. "Not exactly a very private town; just a heads up." I stated blatantly.
"Well, thanks for the heads up." He gave a short nod, "So, if you don't mind I have the rest of the house to inspect." He began to turn then paused halfway looking back at me with a sly grin, "It's been a pleasure making your acquaintance, Miss?"
"Bishop," I said with fuming sounding in my tone. I made a mock curtsy, "Jacqueline Bishop, Sir, and one of three freaks of this suburban pit. But by the looks of you; you'll be number four." I listened to him give a quick laugh.
"Have a nice evening, Miss Bishop." He stepped out of the room, "You can help yourself out or," He paused again looking at me from the shadows looming outside the entryway, "Or do you prefer exiting from the basement?"
My dismay faded upon hearing his question; he knew that I had frequented the basement but how? "Huh?" I mumbled with confusion.
Again he laughed then disappeared.
I hurried from the room keeping my eyes forward then swung the front door open but before I stepped a foot over the threshold I took a quick spin around. He stood near the stairs preparing to move upward. My lips pursed together just as the glare of Prichard's headlights moved onto the driveway. "Hey, Mister," I called to him and he looked my way and I did what I had set out to do; with a flash of the camera I snapped his picture, "See you on the dark side!" I darted without looking back, raced down the steps ignoring Prichard's yelling. "Have a good one, Ms. Prichard!" I yelled running down the walkway feeling the exhilaration of having defied the newest resident of my humble shit hole town; the most beautiful resident!
(Author)
Jacked be a crazy Bitch!
~GaGa4FrightNight~