Disclaimer: No money being made, purely for enjoyment of fans, etc.

GIVE AND TAKE

Chapter 4

Okay, she shouldn't have chuckled as she'd shut the door, but the sight of him tangling up in his own ankles and ending up unceremoniously on his butt had been too funny to resist.

It had certainly kept her going throughout today's little funfest with Mr Grab 'n' Grope here. It was true that though Piven being a dick as well as the slave to his rather than it's master (and she had known that despite deep character flaws Dean Winchester could be relied upon to think with the head between his ears not his legs when you needed him to), had made him easy to control, there were limits. She couldn't just cut and run without arousing Piven's suspicions as well as his lust and the last thing she needed was him going to the police in an attempt to make trouble for the 'realtor' who'd had the effrontery to blow him off instead of just blow him. If the cop lumbered with the checking uncovered enough to pique his or her curiosity, it could lead to all sorts of complications, and complicated was such a drag.

Not that it was a problem, since she'd perfected her M.O. into Oscar™ winning material when it came to ditching the unwanted male fondly believing he was on to a sure thing: pain. Loud, vocal, whiny, girlie squawking. It was the audio equivalent of an ice-cold shower and worked a lot faster and better. And these killer heels were perfect for her pseudo-agony.

She favoured Piven with a smile as sweet as candyfloss and as fake as a three dollar bill, a smile that had the man possessed any empathy or even one single perceptive cell in his body, would have made him blanche and run for the hills. "I just have to stop off for a moment at my room, if that's ok?"

"No problem, honey."

Ruby felt suddenly cheerful at his laughable belief he'd hidden his telegraphed intent for them to never get around to leaving her motel room. The fun she was going to have getting rid of him more than made up for the complete wash out today had been. And once he'd scuttled out of earshot of her histrionic pained performance, she would use all the water available in the bathroom's happily quite large shower and get a good night's interrupted before she had to drive back tomorrow to lock horns with Whiny Winchester again.

Smoothly she pulled into her parking space in front of Room 20, momentarily 'fumbling' with the car keys as he jumped out of the car with alacrity to cover the fact that she locked the vehicle, despite supposedly intending to 'only be a moment'. It was actually very easy to pull off, and all in the flexibility of the ankle. She would step over the threshold, abruptly 'wobble' and end up crumpled on the floor whinging and crying and clutching at her ankle which would be artfully posed at an 'odd' angle. Every time he so much as breathed she would squeal and complain and be helpless.

She bet against herself – if he lasted ten seconds before he was mumbling excuses and backing out of the door while she nursed her 'injury' then she would be losing her touch. It would be an incoherent mumble about 'grabbing a cab' as he did the backward shuffle to freedom from hysterical females. She'd even been tempted, on occasion, to buy one of those cheesy plastic Oscars™ that tourists could buy as souvenirs at places like MGM or Universal Studios – 'best actress…'

"Here's my key card," she chirruped with another winsome smile that should have had his protective instincts sounding a klaxon, but he didn't realise that the only she would bare for him was what she already was – her teeth, as he took the opportunity to clamp a meaty, sweaty, squishy hand to the left globe of her butt and start what he fondly imagined to be sexy squeezing.

Feeling as if she'd just sat on a giant jellyfish, Ruby instantly re-jigged her plan so that her 'artful ankle collapse' would also include 'accidentally' jabbing her stiletto heel into Pervert Piven's tender foot – heavily.

With relief, she swiped the key card and threw open the door – Showtime – one step, two step – collapse in a -

Oh.

Piven, his perverted daydreams abruptly interrupted, blurted out, "Who the hell are you?"

"Get your fat hand off my ass." Sam Winchester enunciated coldly.

Uh-oh.

Continued in Chapter 5…

© 2009 The Cat's Whiskers