Edited: 2015/04/24

Disclaimer: Don't own nothing but the plot.

Original A.N: Another main inspiration for my original concept of this story was from the myth of Pysche and Cupid. I'm trying uber hard to make the plot sensible and believable, or at least make some sort of sense. I have the core of four done. It may or may not be updated this weekend. I've got some essays to work on for school. Finals really suck.

Thanks for the reviews!

P.S. thismustbetheplace – what do you think of Tru now?

Shadowing Phantoms

Chapter 3 Faulty Blondes

"That's disgusting!" spat an irate Ashley. Crumpling the latest design for the (or rather her) VIP suite, tossing it at a bored Kyla.

Construction was nearing complete. It's taken just under seven months. The building was up. Staffing and decor were their main concerns now.

"What? Don't you girls love shit like this?" Glen obviously confused by his boss friend. She was his friend when his efforts proved valuable and an idiot the remainder of the time. "I actually thought I'd get a treat for that." He even did research. He went all out; studying all the romantic hallmark clichés.

Kyla unruffled said design, and gestured a puking motion. "Seriously Glen?" kindly setting the design on the coffee table in front of her. "I think I threw up a little bit in my mouth."

"Show me! Show me!" Brianne's voice chirped, her physical attendance lacking due to pressing matters with a new artist's album release tour upstate. Through the magics of technology, the trio were able to accommodate and give Brie her 'say'.

"Remove it from my sight!" was Ashley's royal proclamation.

Kyla rolled her eyes, her sister always such a diva, she continued sipping her coffee, whilst scanning it over to email to Brie

"What's wrong with it?" Glen asked. Always looking to improve himself to better suit his girls. "It's romantic."

Ashley scoffed. "It's like arts and crafts day in kindergarten class, and cupid decides to drop in and just explode," throwing her hands in the air for dramatic effect. "Blood splattering left and right. Drenching everyone and thing in his cold blood."

"Red is a romantic colour!" Glen argued, violently grabbing the design from the table and looking it over.

"Hey don't ruin it! I want to be surprised!" complained Brie, "I wanna barf a little too!"

"It's the colour of blood!"

"Hearts are red," Glen lamely refuted.

"Not Ashley's," Kyla mumbled into her coffee, masking her voice in a lower tone.

Cue Glen's snicker and a deadly Davies glare.

"Who said that?" Kyla aimed a grin right back at her sister, whilst setting her coffee down.

Ashley accustomed to her sister's craziness, brushed it aside and continued her furious ranting at Glen. "And the scattered body parts?" pointing out the headless lamps and random child head like bedposts. "The scattered body parts of children!" she declared. Yes, it only confirmed her theory depicting Cupid's suicidal massacre of children.

"It's cupid," Glen answered defeatedly. "You know god of love, and whatnot. Cute winged kid in a diaper shooting arrows at people. Struck by cupid's arrow? You know, fall in love with the first person you see? Roman god." Like Voluptas, their namesake. It totally made sense.

"It's morbid is what it is," mumbled Ashley. "Come off it Glen. You're telling me that you'd pay a shitload of money to spend a night in a room full of dead naked- diapered-baby parts?"

"Well if you put it like that..." Glen good naturedly, taking up his design again, "Not really." Glen pause, deciding to make one last rebuttal for his cause, "But romance never came cheap?"

Both Kyla and Ashley rolled their eyes at the stubborn blond.

"Oh wow," sighed Brie, finally receiving the email from Kyla.

"What do you think Giles?" Glen asked.

"It kinda looks like they're floating in blood," Brianne pointed out through the telecom.

"Try drowning!" Ashley exclaimed. "It's a goddamn bloodbath!"

Glen sighed and inspected the design and chuckled, "Hey they're armed too!" taking note of the pointed bow and arrow, "Yeah before nailing a hot broad, the last thing a guy wants to think about is the slightest possibility of babies and paternity tests in the not so distant future."

Ashley sighed, she points out dead babies and Glen processes babies, not dead baby limbs and baby parts, but babies equal zero chances of scoring. Boys! At least he didn't start spouting dead baby jokes.

"Actually Ashley I've seen motel rooms decorated to similar extents," Brie reasoned.

"Thank you!" Glen was glad to have someone somewhat on his side.

"Maybe we can do something a little more traditional?" Kyla suggested.

"Less tacky," Brie added.

"How about sandy white decor: foamy, serene. A seashelly look, just plain, simple and pure?" Kyla elaborated. "Maybe add a seashell shaped hot tub. If you want imagery Aphrodite was born emerging in a giant shell in a sea of foam. With the right lightning..."

"No lights. Absolutely none!" Ashley interrupted. "Screw traditional. Ashley Davies does not do traditional. Forget pure, white and blank. Think forbidden love affair. Raw. Carnal. Desperate. Mysterious. After all Aphrodite was notorious for her love affairs. There must've been times where she'd come to them in the dark."

"I'm sensing a Cupid and Psyche theme here," Brianne pointed out.

"Why don't we just throw the guests in a dark room with a box spring bed then," Glen snorted at his own ridiculous notion.

"Shut up Glen!" Ashley chastised. Although she did think the exact same thing, but when they reunited, Ashley wanted it to be perfect. "Continue,"

"Psyche was the most beautiful woman in the world, and Venus, goddess of love and beauty got jealous, so sends her son, Cupid, on an errand to make her fall in love with a beast. But upon seeing her he quickly falls in love with her. He challenges his mother and refuses to shoot his arrows of love, leaving the world barren and cold, empty of love, until Venus promises to leaves Psyche alone. Eventually Venus folds and love is restored on earth. Yadda yadda," Brianne began. "Sorry, I'm paraphrasing wiki as we speak, but it's a good story, okay," Brianne clears her throat. "So ya the goddess threat dealt with everyone goes back to praising Venus and Psyche for their beauty but no one wants to marry Psyche. I think that has more to do with Cupid not wanting her to be with any man but okay, so their daughter is unmarryable, so Psyche's parents go see the oracle, a psychic type of person back then, and leaves her on top of a mountain where she gets swept away by the wind to Cupid's castle-"

"Point Brie?" Ashley asks impatiently, tapping her nails against the wooden table now.

"I'm getting there. I'm setting the mood. Well the palace is well a palace and she has servants left and right, she's taken care of, and at night she gets some mad passionate loving from her husband. Best sex ever. But the catch is she never sees him. During the day she's waited on hand and foot, at night she gets crazy blinding sex, but she never sees her husband, she never sees his face. Their agreement was she can go on living her life of luxury with him, under one condition. She can't see him."

Intrigued, "I'm listening." A type of melancholy washes over Ashley.

"Well Psyche breaches their agreement one night. Waits for her husband to sleep, and burns a candle to peer over his face. She's stunned by his beauty, she stares and stares and the wax drips down and wakes him up. He's enraged. He was going to tell her the truth soon, he just wanted to trust her. He wanted her to love him for him and not because he's a god. But she breached his trust. So he leaves her. She cries and begs and begs. But he leaves her."

The room was silent.

Ashley was contemplative. "She left. She was going to leave anyways," she mumbled to herself, lost in her own world. It wasn't Ashley who prompted her to go. If anything her midnight maiden was mulling about it for quite some time.

Ashley had always respected her wishes.

Her fist clenched, nails penetrating skin, threatening to draw blood.

Ashley was the one who was abandoned. It wasn't the other way around.

"What do you think?" Brie asked.

"That's a little heavy," Kyla sighed. "Unrealistic. Really. Sleeping with someone who you don't know?"

"What if they were a beast," Glen joked.

That was a possibility Ashley entertained for a long time. Countless drug induced rampages, after the fact, swearing she was better off now, that it was a mistake. That 'she' was just some nobody, who got off on getting off with Ashley Davies.

"Pig," Kyla countered, "Looks aren't everything, plus they had great sex."

You can't fake passion like that. It was true. She tried to recreate it, empty attempts of trial and errors with an array of suitors, and drugs.

"Why do you think one night stands are so exciting?" Brie piped in.

"Anonymity is hot. No strings attached," Glen agreed.

"Ya but to what extent?" Kyla asked. "You sleep with the person every night for a good long duration and you don't know their face? You wake up and they're gone? Who does that?"

She did.

"I like it, make it happen Brie," Ashley announced getting up to leave. "Meeting adjourned."

"Ashley what about the other suites?" Glen asked.

"I just want my suite like that, as for the others, I really have nothing much to say. You've heard my thoughts on the naked diapered babies and their weapons," Ashley said with a grin. Trying to keep her emotions at bay. She felt vulnerable, abandoned and 18 again. She needed air.

"So you're just taking off now?" Kyla exclaimed.

"Just let her go," Glen whispered.

"No! What the hell Ashley you've been so flippant lately. Grumpier than usual. You want this hotel, you want this here and yet you leave everything, everything to us. All you do is set deadlines, we're working our asses off here! Do you even want this?"

"You have no idea how much I want this!" Ashley seethed.

The Davies sisters stared hard at each other, neither backing down, neither budging.

Silence.

"How many dead babies does it take to paint a room?" Brie's voice sliced through the tensioned filled room.

"GLEN!" Kyla shrieked.

"What?" exclaimed the startled blond. "I didn't say anything."

"Sorry," Kyla mumbled at the offended man child. "It was a reflex. Brianne that was completely inappropriate."

"Are we continuing this meeting or not? I thought y'all hung up on me with the dead silence and all," Brie answered. Crisis Averted.

The room was silent again.

"It depends how hard you throw it." Ashley released the sigh she was holding and sat down.

Glen laughed aloud, while Kyla glared at her sister.

"How are we with labour, have we hired anyone yet?" Ashley wanted to brood, but she didn't want to deal with Kyla's bitching at the moment. Kyla was right, she can't just open up a hotel and expect 'her' to return. It needs to be done right, and Ashley cannot bet her chances of success on these three.

Tru hung up the phone smirking a big dimpled grin, proud of herself for the message she just left for her partner. "I think I outdid myself with that one," speaking to no one in particular.

In fact Tru was sprawled out on her hotel bed, if anyone, she was speaking to her wiggling big toe, whom she affectionately named Spencer Jr.

Once upon a time, before Tru became celibate- a millennia ago, a young Spencer Carlin whilst delivering the cities' greasiest pizza broke her beloved big toe. Yes, the cute blonde, bless her very very generous sexual appetite, scootered over her toe, on her, quote on quote, "badass" silver Derbi. A Derbi, not a Vespa, was a Spanish scooter brand, but much cheaper and much more badass than a Vespa. At least that's what the blonde told her.

Now a quick run over by a three hundred pound bike didn't break her toe, no. That just made Spencie Jr, swell like a motherfucker. It was the backing up of said scooter, running her toe over a second time that cracked off part of the nail.

The crushing of said toe occurred moments later when the blonde dragged her up to her apartment, all the while still juggling six boxes of undelivered pizza. Stumbling with full arms, mentally berating her clumsiness, and devising her plan to nurse her victim back to tip top shape. Spencer's steel toed boot smashed the rest of the nail off Spencer Jr.

Really, it was their bowling date later that week that effectively broke the little fucker.

"SON OF A-!"

"I am so sorry!" exclaimed a flustered Spencer Carlin, finally dropping everything in her hands.

"It's okay!" Tru grumbled, biting her bottom lip. She will not cry. All she wanted was to cross the street, and maybe score a nice spot to work the rest of the evening. She will not cry. Especially in front of this girl. 'God, if this girl apologizes one more time...'

"Sorry! Please don't cry!" Spencer exclaimed.

"I just need to sit down," Tru groaned through clenched teeth. Her pride, will hold her tears at bay. She was offended the blonde would even think she was going to cry.

"Right," Spencer fumbled with her keys, to open the door dragging the blurry eyed brunette into her home.

In the absence of chairs, Spencer shoved Tru onto her bed, and hurried into the washroom. "Sit tight I know I have a first-aid kit in here somewhere," Spencer took off into what looked like a broom closet. The apartment wasn't much just a single room, a mattress on the floor, books and clothes scattered about. Her kitchen took up one corner of the room where the microwave and toaster lived. It wasn't much, but it was more than what Tru allowed herself to have.

"Forgive the mess, between school and work, I don't spend much time here," Spencer emerged from the broom closet with what appeared to be a brand new first-aid kit. She stopped and took in the brunette in front of her, finally taking in the appearance of her captive.

Tru swore she saw the blonde's eyes dip down towards her cleavage.

A warm smile. "Hi." Cerulean eyes sparkled drawing Tru into their depths.

"Uh…hi…"

"I'm Spencer." Her voice soothing, with a gravely quality to it. Tru immediately took a liking to it. Spencer was still looking at her, observing her, but not in that creepy way guys leer at her, nor was it predatory or coy like the girls from the bars.

"Tru."

"You've got dimples." Most people loved her dimples, and often complimented her on them. Spencer's tone was not one in adoration but rather observant, with a hint of disappointment.

Tru cocked an eyebrow and met the blonde's gaze again. She didn't know how to respond to that. "I was born with 'em?" Even frowning her dimples were prominent.

"Sorry," The blonde cast her gaze away, focused on the floor, hiding her blush. She clutched the first-aid kit, and knelt down in front of the brunette. She just realized how rude she sounded. "I'm sorry," she set the first-aid kit on the bed beside Tru and looked up into her brown eyes again, "…you're beautiful. Really," The blonde quickly looked away again hiding her reddening cheeks. She began to untie the laces to Tru's sneakers.

Tru wasn't stupid, she knew she was hot, she's had people complimenting her on her looks since she could remember, but the sincerity in Spencer's voice surprised her. She loved the way the overzealous blonde suddenly became shy. "Most people ask me to dinner first before they try to undress me," she teased as Spencer began to remove her white socks, gently stained with spots of blood. She wanted to see those baby blues again.

"No, I wasn't undressing you!" the blonde squeaked aghast, dropping Tru's sock.

Tru grinned playfully, "And the socks usually come off last. Got a foot fetish there Spenny?"

Spencer didn't respond and shrugged it off, she frowned disapprovingly at the nail hanging off of Tru's big toe threatening to fall off any second, "That's gross…"

Tru looked at her toe. Yup it was gross. She wiggled it. *ouch* Still hurt. "Kiss it better," she pouted mischievously.

"What?"

Tru nodded, and wiggled it again, while simultaneously suggestively wiggling her eyebrows at the blonde.

"Uh no." She playfully flicked the offending victim, and Spencer was back to working on cleaning up the injury, with an annoyed but concentrated grimace on her face.

Fiesty. Tru liked feisty. So far in the span of 10 maybe 20 minutes, this girl has assaulted her, fawned over her, got her feet naked, been shy and called her beautiful-albeit she called her gross as well but, whateves. She was hot.

Tru crouched forward and captured Spencer's lips with her own.

The blonde surprised at first, soon returned the kiss in ferocity. Apparently, it's been awhile.

Their ardent embrace escalated far too quickly for Tru to register it logically. Spencer had Tru flat on her back, groaning into her mouth against an onslaught of wet kisses.

This girl could kiss. Her passion untamable, it swallowed Tru completely. She laid there as the blonde possessed her.

The cool evening breeze tickled the goose bumps on Spencer's bare skin, stirring her from her slumber. Her face contorted in annoyance. She didn't have any windows. What could possibly cause a breeze? Forcing herself up off her stomach Spencer glanced at her front door, not even three feet away, left slightly ajar. A deep frown marred the blonde beauty.

"Could've closed the door," Spencer mumbled to herself, perturbed more at the fact that 'Tru' did not shut the door on her way out than, the fact that Tru left while she slept. Actually Spencer found it amusing, a type of poetic justice, for all the times she's left Ashley as she slept. She just hopped this Tru character didn't rip her off or anything. It's not like she had much.

"Well you could've at least shown me where the bathroom was, or fed me before you assaulted then proceeded to pounce on me."

Tru stood in the doorframe, to the bathroom, with a box of pizza in hand, stark naked. She grinned at Spencer, "hungry?" waving a half eaten pizza at her. Given the opportunity, she helped herself to a warm shower and some food. She'd even been watching the blonde bombshell sleep for a bit, now from the bathroom on her makeshift seat, on the toilet seat (with the lid down).

"You're still here."

"How far can I go?" Tru asked, making her way back to the bed and Spencer, "You've crippled me," teased with a wink, setting the almost empty box on the floor.

If the brunette wasn't as hot as she was, Spencer would've reprimanded the winking. She usually found winking awkward and cheesy, an uncontrollable erratic flutter of the eye that she herself could not master. But the winkage was most definitely working at the moment.

"You aren't wearing any clothes," Spencer pointed out, her examination of Tru's wink extended to her beautiful doe eyes, her perfectly pouty lips to the nape of her neck down to her general nakedness.

"Yes I am," Tru grinned blatantly oogling Spencer's goodies, "your fault."

"I'm just full of faults with you aren't I?" Spencer responded in jest, allowing her eyes to linger on the sight before her.

"Cold?" Tru grinned, focused on the hardened nubs of Spencer's nipples.

"Your fault."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Tru challenged, finishing the last bit of her pizza crust.

"Kiss it better." Spencer demanded, pouting and tilting her head just a bit.

"I was hoping you'd say that." She leaned forward and caught a taunt little nipple in a kiss.

They spent the next twelve hours holed up in Spencer's den of sexploitation, finding fault after fault in each other, devouring the undelivered pizza, and each other in between.

Tru wasn't the type to 'see' anybody a second time, to hook up with, let alone date, regardless of how great the sex was but the blonde was stalking her.

Tru just happened to be, three blocks out of her way, in the blonde's neighbourhood.

It was Spencer who pursued further interaction by calling out to her and initiating conversation. The blonde even started up the 'your fault, kiss it better routine,' which ultimately landed them both in the messy apartment again.

Out of the kindness of her heart, Tru assumed that after six undelivered pizza on her third shift and disappearing mid shift for hot lesbian sex, generally makes one blonde less likely to be employee of the month, let alone keep a steady paycheque, so dropped by to inform her of a job posting at Carson's Skate-a-Bowl as a server on wheels.

And maybe just maybe Tru wanted to catch a glimpse of the blonde in that rocking mini skirt.

Good intentions should be rewarded, and what not.

The wonderful establishment that employed the young blonde was conveniently located adjacent to the hostel Tru stayed at every so often.

So, on the night of Spencer's first shift, Tru happened to be there with some inconsequential guy, who bolted the second the first tear was shed- the first time Spencer dropped a ten pound bowling ball on Tru's toe.

It was the 14 pound ball later that landed Tru in the emergency room for four hours with Spencer faithfully by her side vowing to nurse Tru back to health.

Spencer took Tru home that night and held her hostage till this very date.

Spencer Carlin saved her life.

That's All Folks!

Preview: Next time

"Guess who I bumped into at the cafeteria!"

Betty continued working, as Spencer began making her way back to her room.

"Paula Carlin."

Spencer stopped and stared at her hospital wrist band, 'Carlin.'

"What she doing in town?" Betty asked distastefully.

"Apparently she had to get some blood work done," the other nurse answered. "I don't see why she bothers, she's going straight to hell anyways. I saw her go into Dr. Thompson's office…"

Loadsa Luv

*ShyGirl1988