DISCLAIMER: Same as before ).

CHAPTER 4 #

Hungrily the two devoured each other's mouths as if they hadn't eaten in weeks. Mort and Leslie started migrating towards the old wooden desk sitting at the edge of the room. Placed next to the chair Leslie had so recently been sitting. When Leslie's fanny bumped into the edge of the table she began to scoot back across as Mort bent her back until they were almost laying across it. Mort's hand was moving ever so slowly up Leslie's tight blouse. Leslie could feel a bump on her thigh, she didn't have to guess what it was. Mort dipped his head into the soft sensitive dip on her neck. The pleasure he evoked there was amazing. Then a growl arose, but it hadn't come from Mort or herself.

Mort quit what he was doing and turned around leaving her neck to feel cold and lonely because he left it. Then she heard the growl again as she looked up. Captain Jack was growling and baring teeth.

"Jack, what are you doing?" questioned Mort. "What's wrong buddy?" He proceeded to remove his body off of hers, leaving a longing and an emptiness in it's wake. He began to bend over the dog, but it backed away and continued to growl. It was not a playful growl, it was a frightened growl. Something was scaring the dog. But the dog had been fine five minutes ago, and nothing except the relationship between her and Mort, nothing had changed. So what was scaring him to the point he was growling at Mort. She soon found out.

"There you are pretty girl," mocked a cold southern voice as it grabbed Leslie and pulled her through some sort of small window into some sort of alternate universe. She could see the room and everything, including the handsome Mort as it was, but she only saw it through her window. She cried for Mort to come to her rescue, but he couldn't hear. She was so cold, until she felt someone's wispy breath that was somehow colder than the air around her. Then she heard the 'chink' of metal as a pair of handcuffs were latched around her wrists, she tried to turn around, but just couldn't.

"You can blame that Mort for this maim. I sure am sorry to be having to do this, but Mort brought this on himself. If only he had listened to me, we wouldn't be in this situation now, would we?" The man's Southern drawl was disturbing her, she didn't know what he was doing, but she tried her best to stay cool. All of a sudden his menacing hand began to creep its way up her side before landing on top of where Mort's big, strong, protective hand had been not so long ago. "To kill you would be a horrible waste of women, maybe I could think of a better use for you other than death, but for now I have other things to do so have a seat," he then without making her fall he pulled a wooden dining room chair to rest beneath her bottom. Then he seemed to disappear.

The room with the window allowed her to see into the room where she had almost made love with Mort. Right there on his desk, in front of his dog. She looked around her and it was as if she was just suspended in air because it was just a black thing. No ceiling, no floor, no nothing. What the hell was going on, what had he meant death? What had she done? Was this punishment for what she had done with Mort? Please, she had had sex with men before, thrice in fact and this hadn't happened. What made this so different?

AN: I know this one is super short, but I have had some stuff come up, a funeral, a wedding, plus work interferes, but I wanted to update as much as I could. I wrote as much as I could in 45 minutes. Please forgive me. I hope to get updating in a more rapid succession soon. Please no flames, yet.