The Seduction.
(Author's Note: First…this is out of my normal script style of writing. Second…this is going to be a look into the psyche of a crazed fan. Third…this is written on a dare by an author who will go anonymous until I decide to tell you. Not sure which chapter it'll be.)
***
I've watched them from a distance. Observed their supposed "happiness". Seen how they are with each other. Watched scornfully at their silhouettes in their curtains as they screw each other. That's really the only euphemism that can be used for what they do in there. It's not tender love making, it's not passionate fucking. It's just simple sex. And I know that if it were up to him, he'd either make love to, or fuck her. He loves her too much to simply take her because of boredom, but he respects her enough to allow her to dictate the pace.
But that's the only reason she ever lets it happen. Because of her boredom. She doesn't appreciate his beauty like I do. She only sees him for a halfway decent lay, while he sees her for her soul.
How dare she rape him like that?
I'll make her pay tonight.
***
I follow her after the show is over. They travel and live separately because they don't want anybody to know about their "relationship". Well…she doesn't want anybody to know. But he wants to tell the world about it. He's so happy to have her that he's blind to how little she cares about him. He's blind to the fact that she doesn't care about his happiness. He's blind to the fact that she only cares for herself. She doesn't want a meaning in their relationship. She only lusts for him.
As do I…but it's not only lust to me.
I could make him happier than she ever could.
I will make him happier.
***
She pulls off into a parking lot. It's a bar.
"More cheating I see," I say to myself.
She always does this after a show. Finds a bar, picks up a random man, or woman, and goes off to a nearby motel to fuck them. She'll fuck those strangers, but she won't let him give her the full power of his passion. She has no realization of what she must be missing out on. He must be amazing.
I look in my purse to check if all my needed accessories are there. I pull out my lipstick, black, and put some heavy layers on my full lips. The slut likes her ladies a bit on the "freaky" side. I adjust my fishnets and collar, and step out of my car into the cool November air. I must be a strange sight for some people. A young woman, barely old enough to drink walking around in the Autumn air in high heels, a mini-skirt, fishnet stockings, whorish make-up, a collar, and a tank top with no coat.
I know she won't be able to resist me.
***
My nostrils are invaded by the terrible stench of cigarette smoke as I walk into the establishment. I wave some of it away, and look for my target. I see her sitting on a stool at the bar that just happens to have two empty seats beside it. I select the one to her left and slink into it, making sure that she has a clean view of the treasure between my legs as I sit. I know I'm fucking gorgeous, and she must have a dozen images going through her mind by now. If I indeed do have too much weight it is certainly in all the right places. And what I'm wearing accents my entire figure.
I order a beer. I don't even like beer, but it's what she's having. And I already know that I'm going to have to kiss her to ruse her into my trap, so I drink beer as well, so I won't be sickened by her taste in addition to her.
I immediately go to work. Making small talk, sharing some observations. Finally, after twenty minutes and more rounds than I planned on, I ask her what she's doing here. She leaned in and whispered in my ear. "Looking for a good fucking. And I'm not particular about gender," was her response.
I looked her in the eyes as she pulled away. I've been told that I have a very sexy look when I'm being devious. And I see that she seems to agree.
I lean closer to her and let my lips touch hers, giving her the kind of passion that I wish I was giving to him. Letting her think that I'm enjoying it, when in reality the only thing keeping the bile down is the knowledge of why I'm doing it.
I'm doing it for him.
I pull back and whisper: "I'm not particular about gender either."
She doesn't say anything. She simply leans back in and lets our lips touch again.
"She's mine," I think to myself.