Hello. I aten't dead.
During my fairly long absence, I have been researching. Which was enjoyable. Heeheehee.
I've had this one witten for quite a while, but since there seems to be much more femfic popping up lately, I've only just managed to find the motivation to edit it. It's nice getting back to it. I've missed these ladies.
Erm... I don't have much else to say. This is a first, surely.
Hopefully I should be around more soon- we've finally got the landline sorted, so now we just need internet connection. Though if you ever need to steal free wifi in Sheffield, I recommend the Bowery. Reasonably priced, quiet, friendly, nice art on the walls, and a huge model gorilla over the door. And right now, we are being entertained by the drunk man shouting outside. At 6pm.
I feel like making dedications, because I'm happy and am in a mood to shout "I LIKE PEOPLE!" So, this chapter, and the next, are both dedicated to Aphrodite Moonflower (I don't believe I know your name), because I'm lvery much looking forward to your next chapter (will reply to your message at some point soon- not having home internet is an absolute beyatch), and to Tamsin, just generally because you're aceness :-D (also, I feel like doing some Gloomcookie-style fanart for your latest chapter. Can't promise when that'll be, or that it'll be any good, but I'll enjoy doing it.)
No, I can't shut up, apparently.
Enjoy!
Beneath the Black Belts
It only takes one phone call. Just a few short words. Evelyn has asked to meet up.
Meet up. What does that entail? Tea? Coffee? Absinthe?
An afternoon? An evening? A night?
She left Anthrax at home. Whether Anthrax chose to stay at home is none of Ebola's concern. She can go where she likes. Ebola doesn't care.
Evelyn no longer lives in the house she had when Ebola was younger, but she's still in the same area. The streets are wide, imposing and privileged, and the house is large. Ebola keeps her head down and the brim of her hat low as she walks through, fearful that someone will recognise her and call her other name.
She almost hesitates at the gates of Evelyn's impressive house, but swallows and rings the bell. She can't leave now, not when she said she'd come. It would be rude.
"Paulette," Evelyn says, smiling a greedy smile. No one's told her that Ebola is called Ebola.
Ebola smiles back, the sight of Evelyn's greed arousing enough within herself to match it. Her bloodstream is pumping with adrenaline, heart pounding, loins crunching, and she's salivating heavily.
She stumbles as Evelyn leads her upstairs, but she carries on, falling through the hallway as she is pulled into the bedroom. She is thrown down onto the wide bed, and she stares upwards feeling like her chest will explode as Evelyn licks her teeth hungrily, pressing her down with a look. The black belts are unfastened, and Ebola is allowed to gaze on the beauty beneath.
In the end, though, it's quick and clumsy, fantasies fulfilled like those of a teenage boy who doesn't know what he wants. She doesn't stay the night, and flees in darkness, lest Anthrax suspect the happenings that the night has brought.
