A/N: I have been wanting to write this story for a while, and suddenly became inspired when a poll I released on twitter also favoured the idea. This will be a small multi-chapter fic, which I will be writing alongside LAFC. I hope you will like it. Rated M for later, steamier chapters.
Warning: This story will contain strong adultery themes from the beginning. If this is something you do not want to read the I suggest you do not proceed.
For those who do wish to proceed, please do let me know what you think of the first chapter of 'A Siren's Call'!
She likes married men, and she knows she shouldn't. It's a sin. A delicious sin, nonetheless. It does wonders to her ego, knowing that these men are willing to risk their entire relationship, marriage or family for her. She's been called a sin on numerous occasions, as she swirls her tongue around a married man's cock or rides someone else's fiancé into the mattress.
She enjoys the challenge. Loves the challenge of seducing them to the point of erring. Adores it when they moan in defeat, accepting their fate as they fall into her poised talons. And then she shows them exactly what they are missing out on in a relationship; incredible sex. Because sex is so much better when it's forbidden; it's rushed, passionate, sweaty, often in a place where they could get caught—that's the biggest thrill of them all.
Oh, the way her heart pumps with an addictive adrenaline when the wife comes home and finds her husband in between another woman's legs. She often moans loudly for theatrics and almost laughs aloud at the devastation on the other woman's face. She even likes it when she bares scratches of jealous girlfriends across her wrists from where they have torn her away from their boyfriend, or a bruised cheek from the hearty slap of a devastated wife.
What she doesn't like is the declarations of love. Those take away all of the fun, they make her skin crawl and her heart shrivel in distaste. She doesn't do love. She has sex. And only sex. It's why she has a second phone, goes by a second identity. So that she can't be chased down by the men who decide they want more with her, that they will drop everything they have for her. Because then it's no longer scandalous, and that really is no joy. So she only ever takes these men back to their houses or hotel rooms (if they aren't fucking in a bathroom stall or in a dark alleyway someway down the street). Never to her house, though, that's far too personal.
Mila Slinger. That's her stage name. An acronym for her real name: Regina Mills. No one knows about this double life of hers. She keeps herself to herself and is honestly a bit of a loner. She has no friends, only acquaintances. No family, either, but that's another story. She likes it this way, though—no baggage.
Friday nights are when she wanders into town and prowls the bars and clubs, searching for her next bed partner. Sometimes she steals them for the night, sometimes she scores them for longer, weeks; months even—though she often tires of them when the novelty runs out. And sometimes she's altogether unsuccessful and goes home to her vibrator and vivid imagination.
Though, on the rare occasion, she scores a 'maybe'. These maybes are the ones she can't quite convince to sin on the first night they meet, yet they intrigue her enough to make her want to chase them down until they are practically down on their knees and begging for her to strip them of their morals. Those are the most fun; she feels like she has earned the sex this way, and it's so much more rewarding to watch them crumble and to witness their last shreds of dignity ebb away before they launch themselves at her and fall into her dangling trap.
She's been referred to as a siren on more than one occasion and, honestly, Regina could not put it more perfectly herself. She's beautiful on the outside, sexy and alluring, though she's rotten on the inside, evil to the core and void of all things pleasant. She enjoys corrupting others almost as much as she enjoys the forbidden sex. Almost. The sex is awfully good.
It's past midnight when she strolls into The Arrow and Apple. She never goes too early; the men are too sober before this time, thinking too clearly. They can be better manipulated further into the night with a few more drinks in their system. She is wearing a low V-neck, black cocktail dress. It's one of the most effective at getting her laid, and since it's been a few weeks since she's fallen into bed with a taken man (his name was Graham, she had been fucking him for a few weeks when his girlfriend Emma had found them with his cock trapped between Regina's teeth) she's really rather hopeful of finding one tonight.
The brunette saunters to the bar whilst expertly surveying the room for attractive faces and wedding rings. There aren't many. Wedding rings, that is. Until one a few yards away catches the light and glints like a tempting gemstone. As she takes her seat on the bar stool she orders her usual martini before following the line of the man's muscular arm all of the way up to his broad shoulders.
She can only see his profile but he is delightfully scrumptious with a mop of dirty blond hair on his head and a rugged splatter of stubble along his jaw. And boy, those dimples are almost blinding as he laughs at something the man adjacent to him says. She has to get a closer look.
The bartender hands her drink over to her and she lays a ten dollar bill on the bar top, telling him to keep the change before she slips from her stool and sashays through the crowd towards this man. It's perfect timing because his friend is just leaving, heading towards the bar and leaving her target alone. His eyes meet hers when he notices she is approaching him. They are a beautiful sky blue, almost silver they are so pale and captivating. Regina almost forgets her signature line. "Jacob Palmer, right?" she asks with a flirtatious smile.
The other man frowns before offering her a sympathetic smile. "No, I'm afraid not. I'm Robin Locksley," he replies—he's British, and it only makes him more irresistible. She's never bedded a Brit before, would quite like to know what sounds he is capable of making as he fucks her from behind. Mmm, focus, Regina.
"Oh," she says, feigning embarrassment as she blushes. "I could have sworn you were him. You look just like him." She chuckles and shakes her head before adding, "I'm Mila, by the way."
"Mila?" he asks, "What an unusual name." And just like that, she's in. "Eastern European, no?"
Seems this Locksley man is clever too. "Yes," she says, nodding, "My father is from Polish descent." A lie, but it quite aptly explains her stage name. "My mother—"
"Let me guess," he butts in and Regina is more than happy to oblige as she nods and awaits his answer, sipping at her drink. "Dark hair, olive skin…" His eyes dart down her body and she has to suppress a winning grin as he adds in a lower tone, "Amazing curves. Latina?"
She has to admit that she is impressed. Most of the men dumb enough to cheat on their wives or girlfriends are dumb in the head too. This one is switched on, and Regina can tell he's going to be more challenging than the rest. Possibly even a 'maybe'. She hopes not, though. She really wants sex tonight. "Yes," she says and then she steps closer, not touching him, but now she's in his personal space, "I do have my Latina mother to thank for my, how you put it, amazing curves," she purrs, looking up at him through her dark lashes before sipping at her martini.
"Oh, well, I—" he's blubbering now and it's terribly cute how flustered he's become.
"It's okay," she reassures, looking pointedly down at her breasts. "You can look if you want," she whispers loudly over the background noise of the pub. "I don't mind."
But the man shakes his head and closes his eyes. "No. I can't."
Regina frowns. "And why's that?"
He opens his mouth to retort but then his friend is returning and ruining everything as he looks at her and then at Robin, thrusting a pint into his hand. This friend is tall, chunky and (quite frankly) ugly. "Who's this?" he asks, and the way he looks at her makes Regina's fingers clench at her side.
"I'm Mila. Who are you?" she answers curtly, standing up straight and stepping back from Robin.
"John," he bites back. "And Robin is married, so he's not interested. I suggest you flaunt your tits elsewhere."
"John!" Robin scolds.
But Regina is shocked at John's sudden rude bluntness that she barely hears Robin's reaction. She wants to react, to launch her half full martini in his face, or perhaps slap him hard for calling her out on being the whore she is—but no one other than herself is allowed to call her a whore, or even suggest it. Although, as offended and angry as she is, perhaps she can manipulate this situation to her advantage, if she has read this Robin Locksley right.
So she frowns, or rather scowls at the man, and mutters, "I hope you don't speak to all women that way." And she even manages to conjure up a few tears, which remain unshed as they lay along her lower eyelids, before she walks away without another word, rushing into the crowd of people gathered on the dance floor. And just as she had hoped, Robin follows, calling her name as he pushes his way through the throng of people behind her until they are both outside and it is just the two of them.
"Mila, wait!" he calls out one last time as he slips from the side door of the pub.
"What?" she snaps, turning to face him and crossing her arms over her chest. She had finished and discarded her drink on her way out. "Your friend made it quite clear how you feel about me."
Robin shakes his head. "John doesn't speak for me," he replies as he approaches her slowly with a frown. "And I am sorry for the way he spoke to you."
Regina sniffs, tipping her head back and letting her hair fall back behind her shoulders. "Shouldn't he be the one out here apologising?"
"Yes," he replies, nodding. "But he's a stubborn ass so I am afraid you have me instead." She shivers and he reaches for her, rubs her arm softly, innocently, and she almost finds comfort in the touch. "Come inside. Let me buy you a drink to make up for it."
Regina searches his eyes for a few long seconds before she nods silently and follows him back inside. With his best friend now out of the picture all she has to do is convince him to come back with her. And from the conflicted emotions that flitted across his face earlier, she's not sure it's going to be quite as hard as she had first thought.
TBC
