For KLeslie, until next time. ;)
Until.
Next.
Time...
And then she saw nothing but bright red.
Rachel sat bolt upright in her bed, shaking as she fought for breath. It took her a moment to orient and realize that she was in her bedroom, at home in Russellville.
After the... incident it had been thought best to withdraw her from classes for the remainder of the semester, and bring her home with the intention of returning to a different school down the road when she'd had time to get over that night.
Rachel had spent the first week 'home' in the hospital, where she did nothing but repeatedly recount the events to a therapist, who seemed to feel that Rachel was holding back. She would talk about Nate's death tearfully, but remained tightlipped on the events preceding the discovery of the body. No amount of prodding on anyone's behalf would get her to admit to anything other than spending the night in the Myers house even though the evidence collected pointed to so much more than that.
She still saw her therapist twice weekly, and still wouldn't breath a word of what truly happened that night in October. When Rachel's attempts to redirect the woman did nothing, she would merely sit mute until her hour was up. Even with the threat of not returning to school in Spring looming over her head, she couldn't bring herself to tell anyone what had really happened.
The consensus among her family and her therapist seemed to be that she had blocked out the events, but nothing could be further from the truth. Rachel remembered every single thing about that night, as if it had been burned into her brain and body.
She'd enjoyed it.
That was something she didn't even want to admit to herself, and something that made her blood run cold, and sent her straight to the shower to sit until the hot water was all gone.
She'd enjoyed what they had done together, and that was sick. The man responsible for not only Nathan's death but a slew of murders had managed to make her feel amazing, and god help her, she still thought of that night, but in a different way than she was sure everyone expected. While her parents were sure that the nightmares were what woke her every night with a start, the truth was that the nightmares were truly few and far between now. It was the more pleasant dreams that truly made her sit up in bed and pant.
And that was something that no one could know.
I'll never leave you lonely, I'll be there tryin' to grab a hold yeah. I'm not the nicest guy you know. You'll never leave me darling, now hear my tender warning. I'm not the nicest guy you know.
- Lordi "Not the Nicest Guy"
February 13th, 1988
Rachel stood before the house, wrestling with the absurdity of the situation. Had she finally stepped off the deep end, was she truly insane to come back here? She already knew the answer to that, but at the same time she couldn't deny the draw she felt that urged her to return to the house.
Would he even be here? Did he watch the house, or had he just happened by on that night? Had it all been entirely coincidental that he'd been there at all? She couldn't believe she was standing here speculating on Michael Myers' habits, hoping to run into him. She made her way to the back of the house, trying the kitchen door, and finding it unlocked. It sent a chill up her spine. Surely they would have locked the house up, after the incident last year, and yet the door swung open almost invitingly. She took a quick glance around, and satisfied no one was watching, she entered the dark house.
Rachel pulled out the flashlight she'd brought along in her backpack, and turned it on, the thin white beam illuminating the darkness around her. For a moment she swore she heard floorboards creaking over head, and she froze, heart pounding.
Someone was in the house. He'd heard the door, and while it definitely piqued his interest, he remained seated on the bed, just listening. He could hear them downstairs now, walking softly, hesitantly around, making their way to the staircase.
"Michael?"
Her voice was almost a whisper, shaking slightly.
He could see her now out on the landing, and immediately recognized her from that night last October. The strangeness of the situation certainly wasn't lost on him, and only served to heighten his interest. Not only had she come back to his house, but she was calling for him as well. He didn't really know what to make of that, it was definitely something new.
"I know you're there," the girl finally said, although she didn't make another move to enter the room. He made no move towards her either, although his curiosity was only growing by the moment. Still, he waited. Let her make the first move.
Rachel laughed softly, the absurdity of the situation not entirely lost on her either. While she still carried the flashlight, she'd thought twice about aiming the beam directly into the room, afraid of setting him off. The light was still enough from here to be able to dimly see him sitting on the edge of the bed, the whiteness of his mask starkly contrasting with the gloom.
"I couldn't stop thinking about that night. About you." She whispered, finally taking another step forward into the doorway. He cocked his head as if indicating he heard her, but made no move towards her otherwise. Was that good, or bad? She had no clue. This was all touch and go, after all. The fact that he hadn't yet advanced on her with shiny and sharp was always a plus, though.
The silence was unsettling, and while she knew enough to not expect a reply from him, the way he just sat there and only slightly tilted his head in response didn't help put her nerves at ease any. Rachel thought a moment, and then switched off the flashlight, and then took another step into the room.
"Maybe I was crazy to come back here, I don't know. Probably. Who am I kidding, definitely." She came a little closer, clutching the strap of her backpack a bit tighter as she mustered up the resolve to continue speaking. In a strange way, as disconcerting as his silence was, it made it a bit easier for her to express how she felt. He wouldn't question her, or laugh at her after all. "You could have just killed me that night, but you didn't. You let me leave. You left the note, too..." Here she trailed off, taking a deep breath. She had to tread carefully, choose her words with discretion. The message he'd left for her after their encounter had been on her mind almost every night, sending a shiver down her spine with what it implied. That note had been what had finally urged her to act on her desire, after all.
"You said... 'Until next time', Michael." Rachel paused a moment, to let the words sink in, before taking another step forward into the darkness.
Michael watched from his seat on the bed, still as a statue letting the girl come closer, not making a single move. In a way, he had to admire her bravery, he'd never expected her to seek him out. This was definitely something novel for him, but then, most of there last encounter had proven to be much the same. She kept him guessing, and in a way he liked that. He'd left the card stock decoration in the dashboard as more of a taunt than anything else, just an idle threat he didn't intend to carry out. But she'd taken it at face value apparently and here she was now, coming even closer.
She was only a couple of feet away when he suddenly moved, reaching out and grabbing her by the arm, smiling slightly under his mask as she gave a sharp squeak, startled by the sudden movement. While he didn't intend to harm her for the moment, he couldn't help but enjoy putting a bit of a scare into her, if only a small one. He was the boogeyman, after all. Holding her arm, he reached over with his free hand to shuck her backpack off onto the floor, and pushed her towards the bed.
The girl went down easily enough, and watching him intently she began to recline back onto the mattress, obviously understanding his intentions now. He reached for her jeans, and popped the button fly open, and began to tug them off. The girl lifted her hips to aid him in removing them, again surprising him. Even braver than he'd thought, apparently. Or perhaps crazy. Maybe both. Whatever, he intended to see this through to it's logical conclusion, although for once he found himself not quite sure what that would be.
She shifted suddenly on the bed, and for a moment he thought she was struggling, and that she had finally realized what a dangerous game she was playing and wished to flee, but instead she was peeling her grey top off, removing yet another barrier between them. She'd forgone a bra, perhaps seeing the practicality of easy access.
In the dim light he could make out the pink scrap of silky fabric that was all that stood between his eyes and her body, and a wicked thought occurred to him. Perhaps he was just that twisted, or perhaps it was the desire to see just how far he could take this, just how dedicated she truly was to what she seemed to want. The last time they'd crossed paths she'd been blindfolded, bound, and completely unaware of what was truly happening. How would she fare now, knowing exactly what she was dealing with here? He had to know.
It was then that he reached for the knife secreted in his jumpsuit, eyes never leaving hers.
Rachel gasped as the knife came out, her heart beginning to pound frantically. Here it was, the other thing that inevitably came to her mind whenever she'd replayed that night in her mind, and truthfully the thing that had kept her at bay for so long. Here was her greatest fear. Without the benefit of a blindfold this time she could do nothing but look up at him, at the knife, and she began to shake slightly.
Her mind railed, imploring her to try to squirm up and make a run for it, yet at the same time realizing just how futile that would prove. Envisioning all the various things he could do with that blade made her squeeze her eyes shut, the blood in her ears rushing. Yet as much as she wanted to flee, as afraid as she was, something deep within told her to remain still. Was it some warped last ditch attempt at self preservation, or was it a reflection of just how badly she'd wanted him again, enough to brave her worst nightmare? Rachel lay there, eyes still clamped shut, until she realized that he hadn't made a single move, the blade had never bitten into flesh, and she was still in one piece, still alive.
But why?
She cautiously opened one eye, and to her shock she swore she could make out a glimmer of outright amusement in his eyes. And then, just as quickly as he'd drawn the blade, he slid the knife down into her panties. With almost surgical precision he severed the pink cloth, and reached to pull the sliced fabric away from her crotch.
Before Rachel could so much as breath a sigh of relief, again he moved, kneeling between her legs and placing both hands on her thighs that were still shaking somewhat. He fixed those dark eyes on her, and waited. While she'd proved her mettle, passed his test, and all while being perfectly capable of seeing and knowing, and having the ability to run if she'd chosen, there were still some things he didn't want her to see. And so he waited, patient for the time being.
A long moment passed, and she finally understood. Slowly, deliberately, she relaxed against the mattress, letting her eyes close, the darkness only serving to sharpen the rest of her senses. Rachel could feel his breath now, hot as she felt herself rapidly becoming wet with anticipation at what he was about to do. Again her mind returned to that night last October, but soon enough he was busily creating new memories she'd certainly replay for some time to come.
With a surprising gentleness he teased her sensitive nub, swirling, sucking, pausing to nip at her inner thigh before working his way back to breath hot and heavy on her damp slit. Rachel couldn't manage to stay still any longer, although she kept her eyes closed now more from the desire to abide by his unspoken request than from fear. Writhing under his attentions, she felt his hands press down on her thighs a bit harder to steady her, and perhaps remind her exactly who was in control here.
"Michael... mmm... oh, god..." She breathed, finally comfortable enough to again vocalize. It felt strange to actually acknowledge his efforts this time instead of attributing them to poor, dead Nate, but somehow it felt right, at the same time. As if understanding, he nipped her opposite thigh before starting to work at her clit in earnest, as if wanting more of that acknowledgement. Wanting her to call his name and know it was him.
Rachel continued to squirm against his grip, squeezing her eyes even more tightly shut, and curling her toes as he brought her off, groaning and bucking under his tongue. She panted his name again, wanting more of him, wanting everything he would give her.
"Michael..." She breathed, reaching out blindly, eyes still closed for the moment.
"I want more... and I want to watch this time. I want to remember it exactly as it happened. I don't want to only have my imagination, how I think it must have been. Please..?"
Michael paused, thinking on her words, the taste of her still on his tongue, almost intoxicating. In a way, he wanted that just as much as she did. He wanted her to know he was the one making her toss her head and moan, know it was him that managed to wring out every last cry from her lips. Call it obsession or possessiveness, whatever, but while their first encounter had only been a sort of diversion for him, now he felt the urge to give her just what she asked for.
But still, there was something he definitely didn't want her to see, so taking a ragged breath, he reached for the edge of his mask and tugged it back into place. Her scent was even stronger now under the latex, stoking his desire for her even further. He reached out almost hesitantly, to touch her face, and she opened her eyes and smiled slightly.
While she'd hoped to have gotten a look at him, curious as to the true face of her unconventional lover, she knew better than to push it. It seemed to be something that was not negotiable with him anyway, and this was enough for her. Rachel supposed it didn't really matter, she didn't have to know what he looked like to want him. She knew how he made her feel, and that was enough.
"Thank you," Rachel whispered, as he ran his thumb over her cheek slowly. Bolder now, and recalling what she'd done for him the last time, she reached out slowly for his zipper. When he didn't shy away or try to stop her she tugged it down, and reached inside, pleased to see that he apparently had been enjoying this as much as she had. There was no way he could be that hard, otherwise. Michael watched with an almost curious air, as she worked to free his cock from the confines of his suit, and situating herself where she could comfortably move she began to stroke him.
"I loved how you tasted..." Rachel whispered, her cheeks reddening slight as she spoke. "I thought about it, and sometimes when I'd dream... I'd still swear I could taste you, even for a moment." Somehow without speaking a word, she was telling him things she'd never dared speak aloud, or even allowed herself to admit to herself.
"I liked how I made you twitch. I liked knowing I did that. " She continued, still stroking his cock as she spoke, feeling it grow even harder in her hand if that were possible. He twitched again, and she smiled, leaning up to plant a small peck on the molded latex covering his lips, before crawling back down to take him into her mouth and worth steadily to drive every bit of reaction from his that she could. His hand went to her dark hair, and while he did tighten his fingers in her hair it wasn't painful. In fact she found herself enjoying the feeling of urgency it imparted, and she groaned on his meat, feeling him twitch again and grip her hair tighter. Rachel felt him stiffen, and while she might be relatively inexperienced, she was pretty sure she knew what it meant.
Soon enough she felt him jerk in her mouth, and she found herself tasting him all the more intensely, and before she could even register what had happened, she reflexively swallowed. Pulling away to catch her breath, she looked up at him, only to see his eyes closed behind the mask, breathing harshly as he recovered from her ministrations.
Michael choked slightly, finally untwining his fingers from her hair, and opening his eyes, settling them back on her. Any residual thoughts of not making their last encounter an encore performance including the part where he'd left her alive were now gone from his mind. To his surprise the thought of killing her didn't give him the pleasure it might have once, and instead he found himself contemplating all the ways she could make him feel, instead.
Again Rachel planted a kiss on the mask, somewhat disappointed that she wouldn't be enjoying the kisses they'd shared the last time, the latex a barrier between her and that small intimacy. Her eyes flicked down to the backpack laying on the floor where Michael had dropped it earlier. She licked her lips, wondering if she should say something about what was inside, when he noticed her eyeing it, and gave her a questioning look.
"I... I brought... things. Things I like... things I thought you might like, too. I just brought them along, I don't know why I did it." Rachel laughed almost nervously, before continuing. "Maybe I thought I'd have the nerve to show them to you. I don't know. Honestly, when I came here I wasn't sure what would happen. I just knew that I couldn't stop thinking about you, and I've thought of you every single night. I know it's wrong. I know I shouldn't. I can't help it though. Maybe that makes me bad, but I just can't help it. That's really why I came here. I figured that either I'd just give in to it, and possibly get what I wanted, or you'd finish me off this time, and I wouldn't have to live with the guilt of feeling that way any longer." Her voice shook slightly, and while Michael wasn't really capable of understanding why this seemed to bother her so, her sense of morality totally beyond him, but he could recognize that she seemed unhappy.
Michael drew his attention to the backpack, both curious about what could be inside as well as seeking a way to distract her. He reached for it, and tugged the zipper open only to find himself staring at an array of things he'd never seen before.
Rachel noticed the puzzled look in his eyes, and flushed a bit deeper. Obviously he was looking for an explanation, and she couldn't help but again laugh briefly.
"They're just things I used when I thought about you, sometimes." She ventured, unable to think of a more delicate way to put it. Rachel wondered now if bringing along the purple Jack Rabbit and string of graduated silicone beads had been such a hot idea, and if maybe she hadn't overreached. He obviously had no idea what they were, and she was currently turning a deeper shade of red with every moment that went by as she struggled to think of a way to describe their use to him.
He picked up the very elaborate vibrator slowly and gave the power button an experimental prod, almost dropping it as the thing responded by roaring to life. Rachel couldn't help but chuckle softly, the unintended comedy of the situation succeeding to distract her from her conflicted emotions.
"It doesn't bite. Here, give it to me." She reached for the Jack Rabbit and with seeming relief he handed it over, as if glad to get it out of his hand. Still somewhat self conscious, she brought the vibrator to her still wet slit and teased it against the folds there before slowly sliding it in, groaning hard as the pulsating beads in the shaft began to work inside of her. He watched her with an air of cautious fascination, as she rolled her hips to better come into contact with the toy, moaning as the rabbit the toy was named for worked her still sensitive nub. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, and a thin stab of jealousy worked inside him, even as he enjoyed the show she was putting on for him. Starting to feel a bit left out, Michael reached for the strand of beads, less overwhelmed by the lower tech aspect of them, and pressed the smallest of the strand against her rear opening as she worked the vibrator.
She squeaked sharply, giving a long moan as the first popped in, huffing as he slid a second and a third bead in, feeling almost pornographic as the rabbit teased her clip while he fed beads into what had turned out to be a very hungry orifice indeed. Experimentally he pulled the third bead back out, before twisting it slightly as he reinserted it, drawing another sharp cry form her.
"Oh god, yeah, just like that..." Rachel whimpered, as he fed her another few in the same manner, so close now, panting as she arched up into her toy. He felt that tinge of jealousy again surprisingly, wanting it to be him and only him that was drawing all of those reactions from her, and just as she was riding out a rather loud orgasm brought on by all of this external stimuli, he suddenly pushed two more beads in almost roughly and grabbed for her hand, hard.
Clamping down on her hand, he forced her to withdraw the vibrator, and almost petulantly flung it across the room, ignoring the beads he'd lodged into her ass for the moment and instead grabbing for her other hand and forcing both up over her head. Pinning her wrists there with one hand, he couldn't resist the urge to swat at her admittedly cute ass, liking how the few remaining beads peeking out sort of jiggled as he did. He liked it so much in fact he gave her another before situating him self op top of her and guiding his hard meat against that very wet opening.
Far from being upset by this turn of events, Rachel groaned hard, more than ready for his cock now, still very aware of the string of beads still inside of her as well as he suddenly thrust up into her, filling her completely.
"Oh god Michael, fuck..." She moaned gutturally, rocking up as hard against him as she could manage. He responded by pulling back and thrusting back in even harder, bringing his free hand to her throat and wrapping his fingers around her throat not tightly enough to cut off her breathing, but enough that she could without a doubt feel it. A slight shiver of fear ran up her spine, somehow only making it all more exciting as he continued to hammer her. The roughness and urgency with which he moved soon brought her back to that familiar tightening in her loins, and she squeaked and thrashed under him, utterly wanton now, loving everything he was giving her and craving more.
Rachel was getting extremely close to coming for the third time now, and he must have either anticipated it or gotten very good at reading her body. Suddenly letting go of her throat and wrists at the same time, he rolled over with her until she was on top of him and then he hauled her upright so that she was almost sitting on him. All the while he continued to thrust powerfully, and brought a hand to thumb at her clit roughly while reaching for the beads at the same time.
Then as she spasmed on his cock, in the throes of coming hard he gave a tug on the beads, sending her over the edge. Rachel panted and cried, grabbing desperately at him as he continued to tug the beads out and rub her clit, collapsing on him as he pulled the last one out and let the beads drop beside the bed. He continued to thrust, holding her hips now to keep her steady as he came inside of her, his groaning muffled by the mask.
Catching her breath and shaking like a leaf, Rachel whimpered as he rolled them so that they were on their sides now, her leg still draped over him, and his cock still lodged inside of her for the time being. He brought his hand to her face and stroked her jaw, moving upwards until he was brushing his fingers over her forehead and down. She reflexively closed her eyes to enjoy the touch. Rachel was on the verge of almost passing out she was so exhausted by their encounter he she felt him shift slightly, as if adjusting something.
Before she could open her eyes to see what he was doing, she was floored to feel his lips upon her own, initiating the kiss this time. She let him explore, sighing hard into his mouth and wrapping her arms around him, until the next thing she was aware of was the sensation of sunlight on her face.
She sat up, looking around for any sign of Michael, but he was gone. It was just her in the room, and there was no indication that he'd ever even been here. Rachel groaned in disappointment, while the logical side of her understood why he'd felt it necessary to leave before she woke, she couldn't help but feel abandoned by the man she'd opened up to. She'd told him everything, things she hadn't even been able to face fully herself before that night. Now he he was gone, and here she was to face the morning without him and the thought that it this was only the first in a string of many she would face alone pierced her.
Rachel pulled the coverlet higher and rolled onto her side, not wanting to leave, wanting to stay in this bed forever, if only to temporaryily delay returning to the inevitable reality of being without him. It was then she felt something crumple under her hand, a piece of paper by the feel. Odd, that hadn't been there earlier, she was certain of that. She fumbled for the scrap of paper, bringing it up to her face and squinting in the early morning light to make out the scrawled message. She then smiled crookedly, and closed her eyes again and let the words wash over her.
"I'll never leave you lonely."
...the end?