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Before you read this chapter, I recommend you have a quick glace over the end of chapter 8. (Yes it's been awhile, but who really wants to hear excuses?) It's probably best, just how we start off in the right mood.
I'm not a persistently earnest person, I needed a bit of a humorous intermission. Besides, it happens to the best of us ;- P
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'At the End of the Game'
Part Nine: Cheating
...Clarice Starling, Special Agent of the F.B.I, self-confessed stoic, farted, emitted gas, let one rip, a complete one-cheek sneak!!!
They stood gazing at each other for what seemed like two eternities, before Hannibal Lecter's steel mask cracked as his mouth open widely in a deep cackle. Yes that's right, Hannibal Lecter. MD, was weak in the knees from an extreme fit a laughter. She had never seen him like this, or even presumed him able to express so much vocal amusement; he was very much out of character.
Clarice was thoroughly mortified. Her cheeks grew a shade pinker as she listen to the melody his voice provided. Never in her life had she reached such a point of embarrassment and humiliation. This exceeded being stitched up completely naked, it even topped walking out of the Baltimore Forensic Hospital with her face and hair coated in semen.
Of all people, It HAD to be in front of Hannibal Lecter
She found herself fighting for a re-action. Complete shock had wrapped her up in a tight sheet, she couldn't even move her arms up to brush away the pieces of hair which were a considerable annoyance to her vision.
After a few occupied moments passed before Dr. Lecter could see that she wasn't moving, she hadn't even blinked. Certainly his laughter had not intended to make her feel uncomfortable or inferior. Nevertheless he fought to re-gain his composure, something he rarely had to do.
" Well that's one way to avoid an intense conversation, my dear." Through his smile, she could see, that he was nowhere near over the initial amusement.
Still, she couldn't form a sentence; not even an apology to excuse herself for such a rude interruption, she knew that he limited patience for the rude.
Oh, excuse me Dr. Lecter! It is so horribly distasteful for a lady to expel gas in the company of others
He inhaled and tried again, this time replacing his smile with a far more subdued expression.
" My slippery little Starling, I do believe we were discussing more pressing matters." His right arm returned to her hand as he stepped closer.
Standing from the outside, Clarice could imagine that what just happened may have been funny, even laughable. But here, as she stood within inches of Dr. Lecter's rock-hard body, such an uncontrolled, humane action, seemed horribly inappropriate. In fact anything remotely uncontrolled seemed inappropriate in the company of the most precise, calculating man she knew.
I need out of this RIGHT NOW
She swayed to the right to make a quick exit before he was able to move closer. He was on her as soon as she moved, a heavy arm barricading the door's exit; the other encircled her petite silky waist.
" Dr. Lecter" She groaned in protest, her glittering eyes met his as she attempted a search for answers.
She found much of what was expected, absolutely nothing.
His infamous pokerfaced glare pinned her against the wall with more strength than any physicality he had ever exerted upon her.
" Are you tired yet, Clarice? Tired of our little game?" The sudden drop of his voice enhanced the sharp turn of events. Like stepping off the edge of the world, she was falling...falling into the unforgiving abyss.
She wondered what exactly he wanted from her... from the game. Ten years ago it had been obvious, he wanted a room with a view, his freedom. They could exchange information, shift the conversation from one to other, with a distinct, definite direction. She had convinced herself after his escape that their civil exchanges were of a strictly business-like nature, despite what her heart sang to her...the towel... the touch...
People will say we're in love. Hell, they've said plenty more than that
If she hadn't gone to visit him that night, things may have been different. She had juggled the idea of going to see him for hours. She had his drawings...and a worthy explanation; she still needed answers. But. That's not why she went. No. That's most certainly abusing the truth. She was addicted, obsessed, infatuated, she had do go. Even if it were to be the last time...
When the letter arrived, all thoughts arguing 'business arrangement' we're silenced. What they had exchanged in those brief meetings was much, much, more than either had fully come to comprehend. But they did have the time in between then and now, a long, lonely 10 years, to form a good idea.
Unfortunately time had been neither the teacher nor the healer. It had haunted her, HE had haunted her. Time had been a deadly consumer, though they had been physically separated by gallons of ocean and miles of land, he had never left her, time had engulfed her soul and moulded it to his.
Still, she was left confused, she had stuck her head so far into their game that she could hardly find her way out.
Silence. Why is there so much of it?
She tilted her head in bewilderment as to why it had been so long since he had last spoken.
Oh right...he was waiting for an answer. What was it again? Was I tired? Am I tired?
She took a deep breath and tried to catch her thoughts, attempt to put together a logical response. But he was so close, so very, very close. In her mental conversations with him, she had always spoken out, had the exact compliment to his statement. It was the closeness that but her off balance, never before had she been receiver of his gently touch, his warm kiss.... there were no bars now., no glass.
" I...I don't know what to say" A mumble of truthful words formed to make an honest sentence.
" Let me help." His raspy voice shrouded her attention, as did the slow downwards movement of his head toward hers.
Oh my...not again
She stoped any further intrusion by placing her hands against his chest.
" Doctor, you can't do this" Her quiet plea forced the withdrawal of his hand from under her jaw, maroon eyes hinted at a sudden displeasure, perhaps she had insulted him. Perhaps he was disappointed...
" I assure you I can, Clarice. I'm a killer, a cannibal, a monster" His cultured voice made the titles seem insignificant. Discredit of himself sounded far cheaper on his tongue than it did on any other. " I've done much worse than demand a simple kiss my dear" With that he was back on her, with the deadly reinstatement of his capabilities.
Barriers were crushing at her feet one-by-one. He was overtaking what control she had left of her body; she was the host of his morbid desires. In hers eyes he could see that she fought hard to disgrace and suppress the knowledge that he was equally the host of hers.
His urgency conquered her weak protests, as his inviting lips re-claimed her mouth.
Her groan of evitable approval produced what could only be described as a primal hum from the Good Doctor. Simultaneously their eyes shut at the brutal force of their untamed passion. For the purity of those beaded moments, Clarice Starling was corrupted with consent and Hannibal Lecter, for the first time in his adult life, felt incredibly vulnerable.
Their shared moment of impunity was compelling, yet brief. Clarice tore her disobedient mouth from his in a sudden burst of panic.
He has my mind, he's had my body, but he will not have my deliverance
In moments of complete fear, the physical body is subject to phenomenal change.
With the power of fear, Clarice pushed back forward on his chest, and sent Lecter stumbling backward. It was fear of self that sent her running out of the joining door into the hallway. Watery eyes distorted her vision as she frantically made it to the front door.
As he heard the door slam from the dining room, Dr. Lecter sighed heavily, still slumped in the position to which she had shifted him.
" That's cheating my dear. That's cheating" He shook his head as he hastily made his way to where his Little Starling had made her exit. He listened to the rhythm her feet made as they thumped against the wet grass. She had already made into the forest area across from the house. He couldn't see her.
A strong verbalised curse was the last he heard from Clarice Starling.
Before you read this chapter, I recommend you have a quick glace over the end of chapter 8. (Yes it's been awhile, but who really wants to hear excuses?) It's probably best, just how we start off in the right mood.
I'm not a persistently earnest person, I needed a bit of a humorous intermission. Besides, it happens to the best of us ;- P
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
'At the End of the Game'
Part Nine: Cheating
...Clarice Starling, Special Agent of the F.B.I, self-confessed stoic, farted, emitted gas, let one rip, a complete one-cheek sneak!!!
They stood gazing at each other for what seemed like two eternities, before Hannibal Lecter's steel mask cracked as his mouth open widely in a deep cackle. Yes that's right, Hannibal Lecter. MD, was weak in the knees from an extreme fit a laughter. She had never seen him like this, or even presumed him able to express so much vocal amusement; he was very much out of character.
Clarice was thoroughly mortified. Her cheeks grew a shade pinker as she listen to the melody his voice provided. Never in her life had she reached such a point of embarrassment and humiliation. This exceeded being stitched up completely naked, it even topped walking out of the Baltimore Forensic Hospital with her face and hair coated in semen.
Of all people, It HAD to be in front of Hannibal Lecter
She found herself fighting for a re-action. Complete shock had wrapped her up in a tight sheet, she couldn't even move her arms up to brush away the pieces of hair which were a considerable annoyance to her vision.
After a few occupied moments passed before Dr. Lecter could see that she wasn't moving, she hadn't even blinked. Certainly his laughter had not intended to make her feel uncomfortable or inferior. Nevertheless he fought to re-gain his composure, something he rarely had to do.
" Well that's one way to avoid an intense conversation, my dear." Through his smile, she could see, that he was nowhere near over the initial amusement.
Still, she couldn't form a sentence; not even an apology to excuse herself for such a rude interruption, she knew that he limited patience for the rude.
Oh, excuse me Dr. Lecter! It is so horribly distasteful for a lady to expel gas in the company of others
He inhaled and tried again, this time replacing his smile with a far more subdued expression.
" My slippery little Starling, I do believe we were discussing more pressing matters." His right arm returned to her hand as he stepped closer.
Standing from the outside, Clarice could imagine that what just happened may have been funny, even laughable. But here, as she stood within inches of Dr. Lecter's rock-hard body, such an uncontrolled, humane action, seemed horribly inappropriate. In fact anything remotely uncontrolled seemed inappropriate in the company of the most precise, calculating man she knew.
I need out of this RIGHT NOW
She swayed to the right to make a quick exit before he was able to move closer. He was on her as soon as she moved, a heavy arm barricading the door's exit; the other encircled her petite silky waist.
" Dr. Lecter" She groaned in protest, her glittering eyes met his as she attempted a search for answers.
She found much of what was expected, absolutely nothing.
His infamous pokerfaced glare pinned her against the wall with more strength than any physicality he had ever exerted upon her.
" Are you tired yet, Clarice? Tired of our little game?" The sudden drop of his voice enhanced the sharp turn of events. Like stepping off the edge of the world, she was falling...falling into the unforgiving abyss.
She wondered what exactly he wanted from her... from the game. Ten years ago it had been obvious, he wanted a room with a view, his freedom. They could exchange information, shift the conversation from one to other, with a distinct, definite direction. She had convinced herself after his escape that their civil exchanges were of a strictly business-like nature, despite what her heart sang to her...the towel... the touch...
People will say we're in love. Hell, they've said plenty more than that
If she hadn't gone to visit him that night, things may have been different. She had juggled the idea of going to see him for hours. She had his drawings...and a worthy explanation; she still needed answers. But. That's not why she went. No. That's most certainly abusing the truth. She was addicted, obsessed, infatuated, she had do go. Even if it were to be the last time...
When the letter arrived, all thoughts arguing 'business arrangement' we're silenced. What they had exchanged in those brief meetings was much, much, more than either had fully come to comprehend. But they did have the time in between then and now, a long, lonely 10 years, to form a good idea.
Unfortunately time had been neither the teacher nor the healer. It had haunted her, HE had haunted her. Time had been a deadly consumer, though they had been physically separated by gallons of ocean and miles of land, he had never left her, time had engulfed her soul and moulded it to his.
Still, she was left confused, she had stuck her head so far into their game that she could hardly find her way out.
Silence. Why is there so much of it?
She tilted her head in bewilderment as to why it had been so long since he had last spoken.
Oh right...he was waiting for an answer. What was it again? Was I tired? Am I tired?
She took a deep breath and tried to catch her thoughts, attempt to put together a logical response. But he was so close, so very, very close. In her mental conversations with him, she had always spoken out, had the exact compliment to his statement. It was the closeness that but her off balance, never before had she been receiver of his gently touch, his warm kiss.... there were no bars now., no glass.
" I...I don't know what to say" A mumble of truthful words formed to make an honest sentence.
" Let me help." His raspy voice shrouded her attention, as did the slow downwards movement of his head toward hers.
Oh my...not again
She stoped any further intrusion by placing her hands against his chest.
" Doctor, you can't do this" Her quiet plea forced the withdrawal of his hand from under her jaw, maroon eyes hinted at a sudden displeasure, perhaps she had insulted him. Perhaps he was disappointed...
" I assure you I can, Clarice. I'm a killer, a cannibal, a monster" His cultured voice made the titles seem insignificant. Discredit of himself sounded far cheaper on his tongue than it did on any other. " I've done much worse than demand a simple kiss my dear" With that he was back on her, with the deadly reinstatement of his capabilities.
Barriers were crushing at her feet one-by-one. He was overtaking what control she had left of her body; she was the host of his morbid desires. In hers eyes he could see that she fought hard to disgrace and suppress the knowledge that he was equally the host of hers.
His urgency conquered her weak protests, as his inviting lips re-claimed her mouth.
Her groan of evitable approval produced what could only be described as a primal hum from the Good Doctor. Simultaneously their eyes shut at the brutal force of their untamed passion. For the purity of those beaded moments, Clarice Starling was corrupted with consent and Hannibal Lecter, for the first time in his adult life, felt incredibly vulnerable.
Their shared moment of impunity was compelling, yet brief. Clarice tore her disobedient mouth from his in a sudden burst of panic.
He has my mind, he's had my body, but he will not have my deliverance
In moments of complete fear, the physical body is subject to phenomenal change.
With the power of fear, Clarice pushed back forward on his chest, and sent Lecter stumbling backward. It was fear of self that sent her running out of the joining door into the hallway. Watery eyes distorted her vision as she frantically made it to the front door.
As he heard the door slam from the dining room, Dr. Lecter sighed heavily, still slumped in the position to which she had shifted him.
" That's cheating my dear. That's cheating" He shook his head as he hastily made his way to where his Little Starling had made her exit. He listened to the rhythm her feet made as they thumped against the wet grass. She had already made into the forest area across from the house. He couldn't see her.
A strong verbalised curse was the last he heard from Clarice Starling.