Welcome to this new short story and thanks to everyone that voted!

This is dedicated to SimGirl as she requested the story.

First the legal stuff: I do not own and am not associated with Epitome, DeGrassi, Fatal Attraction or Parmount Pictures.

All the important things to know before reading:

*This is based on the movie Fatal Attraction, I'm flipping things a little bit.

*This is an A/U future fic.

*Clare and Adam have been best friends since childhood.

*Clare and Owen met in college, there is no DeGrassi.

*The entire story will be told in Clare's POV.

That should do it, the rest will be revealed in the story. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter.

Ch. 1 Straight is the Gate, Narrow is The Walkway

Releasing a sigh as I look at the picture of my family sitting on my desk, and wishing my husband would come home.

I've been happily married for the last seven years, and have a beautiful son that turned four last month. I love my husband and my son very much, I just don't get to see them very much. Owen is on the road a lot, he's a pro hockey player with the Maple Leaf's, and so he's gone for training two weeks a year for pre-season training. Then out on the road for games almost all season, and sometimes after the season for various things. Lucian is a wonderful child, but with my job as a journalist (there was no way Asher was going to stop me from becoming a journalist), I can't always take care of him when Owen is on the road. Right now he's with Owen's parents, and I'll pick him up tomorrow, I hope. My job often means some pretty crazy hours, which works great when Owen isn't on the road. Not so well when he is. I don't do a lot of traveling, at least not traveling far. However, I can be working until after midnight when there's a deadline, or attending events until all hours. Thankfully, Owen's parents love to babysit, especially as my parents no longer live in the city.

"Clare," Amber, my boss calls to me, "I need you to read this."

"In his grasp?" I question looking at the novel she handed me. The cover is dark other than the raised silver lettering and a sinister looking pair of eyes. "I don't generally read horror novels," I remark setting the book on my desk.

"Just published by a promising young author, his manager sent me the book and this packet," she comments setting that on my desk. "We have an exclusive with the author, we'll do a feature next issue and I'm giving it to you."

Amber turns and starts walking back to her office. I look through the packet, basic information such as his name, age, interests, his contact information. It includes other things he's published; short stories and essays mostly in magazines, graphic novels, story collections. The last thing in the packet is an 8x10 black and white photo of the author himself. He's very attractive, dark hair, a sweet smile, and his eyes, even in a black and white photo his eyes capture me. There's just something about them, something I can't explain just now.

I take the book and the packet and go home, I have the option to work from home. I do take advantage of it, though I generally get more work done at the office. Especially if Owen and/or Lucian is home, it's often hard to get work done with them here. Today however, both are gone and I have a book to read, something that's much easier to do at a quiet house.

I turn off the alarm, unlock the door and step inside slipping off my shoes. I take my purse, the packet and set them on the coffee table by the sofa. I get some water and then sit down to read the book. I really don't like horror novels, but Mr. Goldsworthy is a very talented writer. It's also not just any horror novel, there's a wonderful story arc and complex characters. Each character has a background and is written so well I imagine them all as real people. The story is suspenseful, and keeps me reading. I finish the entire book in a little over an hour, and pick up the packet to find Mr. Goldsworthy's contact information.

"Hello?"

"Elijah Goldsworthy?"

"Yes."

"This is Clare Milligan with Today in Toronto."

"Of course, my manager told me to expect a call from your publication. He said he just sent over the book and the packet today, told me to expect a call tomorrow at the earliest."

"I'm a fast reader, I just finished your book. I'd like to schedule an interview with you."

"How about now? You can come to my place," he offers.

"Sure, what's the address?"

He gives me the address and I put it in my phone. I grab my purse, his book and packet , put my shoes back on and put his address into the GPS in my car. He lives in the Distillery District, it's very popular with young artists. I have to park on the street and the building has a security door, I find the buzzer for Mr. Goldsworthy, press the button and the door buzzes open. He's on the fourth floor, the building is a converted factory and has one of those open elevators, kind of like an old cargo elevator.

It's easy to find his apartment, he's leaning on the doorjamb, one foot up on it, one arm keeping the door open. He has on black boots, black skinny jeans, a black button up shirt with the top few buttons open. His dark hair looks exactly as it did in his picture, his eyes are even more captivating in person. This fascinating forest of green color that seem to sparkle when he sees me. His lips curl into this scintillating sexy smirk, and I bite my lower lip inadvertently.

"Mr. Goldsworthy, it's nice to meet you," I smile.

"Call me Eli, even my father doesn't go by Mr. Goldsworthy. Please, come in," he says stepping inside and holding the door open for me. His loft apartment is fairly small, but very open, the only thing walled off is the washroom and even that has walls of shaded glass. "Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? Water?" Eli offers.

"Coffee would be nice," I smile back.

"Make yourself comfortable or look around," Eli tells me.

I walk around the living room, he has a lot of books, typical of any writer, and a large collection of comic books. His predilection for black extends beyond his clothing, his walls are painted black, and most of his furniture seems to be black or grey. He has very few pictures up, I do find one that seems to be Eli with his parents. Another from high school it looks like, Eli with a girl, she has long dark hair and is dressed all in black. I don't see any recent picture of the two, it's curious that he has a picture with his high school girlfriend still up and nothing recent. His bed has black and grey bedding, it's unmade, and there's an open book on it.

"The sofa will probably be the most comfortable, I don't really use the table," Eli comments coming over with a tray. The tray has two cups of coffee on it, cream and sugar. The table Eli mentioned is about the only thing that's not black in the apartment. It's red, vintage from the 50s or early 60s, but has no chairs.

"This is fine, I'll tape the interview if that's okay?" I ask opening the voice recorder app on my phone.

"Yes, fine," Eli nods handing me a cup of coffee.

"When did you begin writing?" I inquire, mixing some cream and sugar into my coffee.

"As soon as I could pick up a pencil. Even before that I suppose, I was making up stories in preschool according to my parents. When did you start writing?" Eli questions. He puts some cream in his coffee but no sugar.

"I'm interviewing you remember?"

"It's just a question, the most beautiful woman I've seen comes to my door, shares my love of writing, and I want to know about her," Eli smirks. That smirk is dangerous, I wonder how many women have fallen for it over the years. His words, his smirk, the way he looks at me, I blush and bite my lip.

"My parents tell me I was making up stories as soon as I could speak. I was reading at three, typing on the computer in my dad's office when he wasn't using it. I saw that you published some poems in a collected work your freshman year of high school. The following year you published a short horror story in a graphic novel. Have you always written horror and macabre?"

"No, not always. My girlfriend Julia," he says motioning to the portrait I saw earlier, "was killed in the summer between my freshman and sophomore years. It changed everything, my writing, who I was, my favorite color. If you have been making up stories since you could talk why go into journalism? Doesn't seem like there's much creativity in journalism."

"True, but I haven't entirely given up the creative side of writing. I write poems and short stories still, they get published in the magazine. I submit them and write them under a pseudonym. The death of your girlfriend must have been devastating, was that what inspired the short story you had published in a graphic novel?"

"Yes, it went through many revisions before I finally published it. I suppose that was my true first dip in the suspenseful macabre pool. I've read everything Poe has ever written, studied it intensely, I know them all by heart. You never answered my question; why go into journalism?"

"There's not an easy answer to that one. It's a long complex answer, I don't wish to bore you and have you fall asleep during the interview," I tell him pausing for a sip of coffee.

"Nothing from those exquisitely beautiful lips could be boring."

"Some other time Eli," I respond setting my coffee cup down and he smirks. "Your novel is full of complex characters, are they based on real people?"

"In a way, all the characters in my book are amalgamations of the people I know. Each one carries a little piece of me of course. I never fully base a character in my book on someone I know, if they read it and don't like the character or they way they were portrayed it would ruin a friendship or relationship. The character of Emiline for instance, her caring nature, but tough as nails exterior comes from my mother. Her curiosity and propensity for trouble come from my younger cousin. Her fiery temper comes from my ex-girlfriend, and her physical appearance is a little mixture of them all. What's your favorite genre of book?"

"When I was really young it was fantasy, I suppose every girl dreams of being the princess. I love mysteries, and science fiction, those have been my top two since junior high probably. Where did the idea for the book come from?"

"The story idea came from a couple of places. I came up with the villain's character first, I was working on something else, and the vision of the villain came into my head. I worked backwards from the way the villain looked, to the backstory for that character and their personality, including how they would kill. After that, the plot just sort of built itself, and I came up with the other characters. How long have you been married?" Eli asks looking at my wedding ring.

"Almost seven years. You said your characters have different aspects of the people you know; does that include the villain in this story?"

"Yes, the worst parts of people I know, and a few of the best too. That includes myself, I told you I put a little piece of myself into every character. Are you happily married?"

"We have a four-year-old son. D…"

"Having a child doesn't make it a happy marriage, you didn't answer my question."

"Owen and I are very happily married," I assert, and then my stomach growls. "Sorry, I haven't eaten since breakfast, I went home and read straight through your book."

"There's a great little restaurant just downstairs, there's private booths and we can continue the interview over an early dinner. You should really eat," Eli says standing up.

"I am hungry, and I suppose we both need to eat dinner."

I grab my phone and my purse and follow Eli out of his building. As he said, downstairs and a couple doors over is a Thai restaurant, Eli must eat here a lot because they welcome him by name. He requests a private booth and they take us back to one.

"The forward in your book hails you as the next Stephen King, how does that make you feel?"

"It's a lot to live up to, I'm not sure really. James is a friend of my father's he's known me a long time, and of course those forwards are always meant to be glowing. What's your son's name?"

"Lucian, it comes from a book I read when I was young. A romance mystery novel that I had been given as a gift for my tenth birthday by my aunt. It wasn't that steamy, but it was a good story, starting when the ingénue was my age at the time. The boy next door in the story was named Lucian, he was kind and caring, chivalrous, and the picture I had of him in my mind stuck with me. An ideal I suppose, but I always said if I had a son he'd be named Lucian. Your father he's a shock rock DJ?"

"Hi Eli, what can I get you and your lovely date to drink?" A waitress asks coming into the little room where our booth is.

"A bottle of your best chardonnay," Eli says and then looks at me, "you do like white wine don't you?"

"Yes, white wine is my favorite."

"Do you need a few minutes to look at the menu?" The waitress asks while jotting down that we want a bottle of wine.

"I eat here all the time, I can order for us. Is there anything you don't like or are allergic to?" Eli asks. I shake my head and he gives the waitress our order. "Yes, my dad is a syndicated radio host, he and my mom used to live in town. Recently they moved to Vancouver to take care of my grandmother. What's your husband do?"

"He plays with the Maple Leafs, Owen Milligan. Are there other writers in your family?"

"I know my mom did some writing in high school and college, poems mostly. I don't think there are any other writers though, not like me. At least, no one else tried to make a career of it. I don't watch sports, is he good?" Eli asks as the waitress brings our bottle of wine and pours us each a glass.

"He's professional, he's one of the best players on the team. I'm very proud of him and it's afforded us a very comfortable life, but he's gone a lot during the season. He leaves for two weeks a month or so before the season for training. After the season for shoots, and charity work, commercials. Do you have plans for another book?"

"I have my next villain, working on the plot, but it's pretty far from a finished idea. What do you enjoy besides writing?"

The interview continues this way all through dinner and a full bottle of wine. I ask him a question about his book, he asks me a question about my personal life. He pays for dinner and I follow him back to his apartment.

"I think I have everything I need, thanks for the i…"

My sentence is cut off when Eli crushes his lips to mine. The kiss is sudden, passionate, strong, yearning and takes my breath away. Whether it's the shock of the kiss or the intensity of it my mind goes completely blank. Reacting on instinct alone I loop my arms around his neck and part my lips for him. Eli smiles into the kiss and picks me up, he takes me to his bed lying me down and my legs open. His hand goes between my leg, up my skirt and under my panties. His finger slips into my slit evoking a quivering breath from my lips.

In the very back of my mind I know I should stop this now, but I don't. I don't know why I don't, why I give in, but I do. Eli deepens the kiss, working another finger into me, I moan against his lips. He breaks the kiss and removes his fingers from inside me, I whimper slightly at the loss. Eli puts my legs together and tugs my panties down, his head disappears between my legs, his tongue going inside of me and I moan arching my back.

While his tongue licks inside my core he uses his thumb to rub my clit. I moan and writhe, my body quivering, and the build to orgasm growing. It isn't long before I feel I can't take anymore and I beg Eli to make me cum. He adds two fingers into my slit and quickly brings me to orgasm. While I'm still panting and recovering from orgasm Eli gets up and quickly gets naked. I release a breath and he gets back between my legs, his cock at my opening, he takes my lips again as he thrusts in.

He's not nearly as big as Owen, but he lifts my legs and goes in deep. He thrusts fast and hard, kissing me passionately. I scratch along his back with my nails wrapping my legs around his waist. He supports himself with one hand and his knees, his other hand softly fondles my breasts. Already sensitive I'm brought to yet another orgasm, I scream out and tremble as I hit climax. Eli pulls out while I'm recovering, forcing a whimper from my lips and I begin to curl up. He takes my shoes off, then my skirt, he rips my blouse off and then turns me over getting my bra off.

He turns me on my side, gets on his knees and lifts one of my legs as high as it will go. He straddles my other leg, and thrusts in. This is a position I've never done, Eli hits places I didn't know about. I feel another orgasm coming, the tickle building in my depths and becoming almost unbearable. I grip onto Eli, my nails scratching down his arm, and his back. I call his name with every breathless moan, my body quivers and trembles, and I move my hips in tandem with his movements. This time Eli releases with me, I feel his seed shooting into me and he makes a guttural grunt. He thrusts a few more times, pulling out and lying on his back.

"That was amazing," Eli says breathlessly. I can't respond, all I can do is nod while panting, but I'm now exhausted and find my eyes closing. "You should spend the day with me tomorrow," Eli says quietly as he gently caresses my arm.

"Hmm? Mmmm," I mumble half asleep.

I fall asleep to Eli caressing my arm and back, and wake very early the next morning. In Eli's bed, his arm over me, and all the guilt, all the thoughts and alarms in my head that should have fired off last night now go off. I'm sick with guilt, and suddenly become panicked to get out of here. Carefully getting out from under Eli's arm and holding my breath as he stirs a little. He rolls over without waking up, I quietly release the breath I was holding and begin picking up my clothes. I can't really go anywhere private in this apartment, so I go to the living room, by the sofa. I get dressed as quietly as I can, my blouse is ripped, so I tie it together and put my sweater on. Then, retrieving my things I leave Eli's apartment as quietly, and as quickly as possible. My phone is dead, when I turn on my car I see that it's nearly four in the morning. I drive home as fast as I can, placing my phone on the charging pad by my bed.

It's too early to call Owen, too early to call his parents, too early to go into the office. I could get in, but I don't want to be there alone at this hour. The building is secure, and there is always the possibility someone else is there working to finish by deadline. None the less I don't want to go in at this hour, if someone does see me they'll wonder why I'm there so early. I've stayed this late, I've never gone in this early.

I definitely can't get back to sleep, so I sit down and begin working on my article. I write fast, the words flowing from my mind to my fingertips, almost too fast for me to keep up with. I have the entire article written in less than an hour, actually it's three times longer than it needs to be. I'll leave it for Amber to edit, she can condense it down or make it a three-part feature. I e-mail her the article, and look at the clock. It's not quite five, but Owen should be up soon.

I return to the bedroom and retrieve my phone, it's nearly fully charged and when I turn it back on I find two missed calls and a few missed texts from Owen. I have one missed call from his mom and several missed texts from Adam. Too early call the others, but I call Owen, even if I wake him up I'm sure he won't mind. The phone rings a few times before he finally answers.

"Hey Gorgeous, you must have been working hard yesterday."

Chapter 2 is up now!