He held her tightly, their bodies moving in the ancient rhythm, as the word dissolved around them in a meaningless blur. Mentally, she pleaded that he drown out all the thoughts and worries that assaulted her brain, as he reached between their sweat drenched bodies to stroke her firmly. This was what she needed. She needed that moment of being plunged beneath the wave of pleasure before focusing on the riptides of her daily existence.
Grell knew about the rumors that swirled and twisted around her. She would have had to have been deaf or ignorant not to, but she had long learned to pretend that such tales didn't bother her. She was a deadly efficient actress after all, and she even turned the stories into a part of her act. She flirted openly with the very gossipmongers that so sullied her name and laced her speech with sultry innuendoes. If they thought she was nothing more than a tart, then that's precisely what she would give them. She knew that others might find it foolish to play into these expectations, but she had long since learned that it didn't matter how she acted. The sad and simple truth was that everyone else was going to see what she was going to see. In their minds she was a gender confused, promiscuous freak and not a lady who desperately sought love.
She moaned loudly as he found that magical spot inside her, and she arched her back so that he could hit it again. He whispered something in the crook of her neck, but she couldn't make out his words, nor did she put forth much effort. She might ask him later, but she doubted that it was important.
There were times, however, she worried if all the gossip and cruel comments held just a kernel of truth. She was no virgin, nor had she been for a very long time. While she wasn't nearly as eager to hop into every man's bed as they claimed, there were still times that she needed that connection. She would have loved to have waited for William and gave herself to him alone, but he had shown no interest. Despite her romantic ideal of love, she still had needs and wants.
She was close, and she could tell by his desperate thrusts that he was as well. A part of her ached for this moment to last longer, but her body still sought for its release. She clung to him, her red nails digging into his arms, as she hoped they were able to reach that plateau together.
His name was Gene, and he had seemed like a nice guy the moment they had met. He worked in one of the upper departments, but she knew he had already heard the rumors. The first time he had asked her on a date, she had actually turned him down coyly, but he had been persistent. Even when she had finally agreed, she had made sure that first date hadn't ended with sex, nor had the second or third. She was well aware that there were many who only wanted to go out with her to see if she was as wild and reckless as the rumors claimed. Besides, while she did care for him, she didn't love him.
But she so needed to be loved.
He came just a little before her, but like a considerate lover he made sure to continue stroking until she also released. Smiling, he retrieved a towel beside the bed to clean them up afterwards as he stared down into her eyes and mumbled words of encouragement. She smiled back, but she had to call upon her acting skills to do so as the reality of the situation begin to sink in as she slipped from her high. She didn't love him, yet she had given her all to him.
Did that make her a whore?
((x))
The next morning she dressed with care as she carefully covered up each bite and love mark that was visible as she tried not to focus on the negatives. Gene had been considerate, kind, and caring, so there was no reason for her to think that there was anything wrong with their night together. They were both adults and they both simply had needs that the other one could fulfill. Perhaps she wasn't giving him enough of a chance. He had left last night shortly after but had said that he would talk to her later today. She forced a smile as she gazed at her own reflection. Maybe she wasn't giving herself a chance. Blowing herself a kiss, she left her apartment and hurried to dispatch.
The moment she left the building, she heard the whispers and the soft giggles, but she held her head high as always. This time she didn't stop to flirt as she walked on to her own desk, which she found was covered with assignments. Most would be taken care of before lunch, but she did have one set of records to collect late tonight. Although this case did pique her interest since the murderer was a woman and this wasn't her first kill, she hated the fact that she wouldn't have a chance to see Gene as she had planned. Clicking her tongue disapprovingly, she decided she would go up and tell him in person now instead of waiting for him to contact her. While she didn't know precisely where his office was located, she did know which floor, so it should be that much trouble locating him. Ignoring the stares of her colleagues, she left the clutter on her desk as she hurried upstairs to talk to Gene.
The layout of the upper floor was almost identical, and she started to ask the strict looking woman which office belonged to Gene when she heard his voice floating out of a nearby open. Dramatically tiptoeing in her high heeled boots, Grell crept to the door and was prepared to surprise Gene, but then she heard precisely what she was saying. She froze in place as her heart began to break with each sharp, slicing word that slipped past his mocking lips.
"He really is a freak," he announced, "I was lucky to make it out of there with my skin."
"So Sutcliff is as wild as they say?" asked a voice she didn't recognize.
"Wilder," came the quick response, "but I think I'm done with him." Acidic laughter followed, but it was his final words that truly ripped her apart. "He really is nothing but a whore."
Grell turned swiftly with swish of her crimson hair and left the floor. She held back the tears that threatened to fall because Gene wasn't worth the tears. Just like every other lover before him, he had only used her. She had been a fool to trust him, and she only had herself to blame. Besides, she couldn't even argue that there hadn't been some truth behind his cruel words. By the time she returned to her desk, no one could have been able to tell that anything had ever happened. Her mask was in place and her acting skills were in full force.
Yet, she couldn't get the incident out of her mind. She performed all of her early assignments flawlessly so that even William would have no complaints, but her thoughts were consumed with insults directed at herself. By the time, she reached her final destination, she was almost in tears again as she checked her list.
Angelina Dalles was to kill a woman, a prostitute, tonight, and this wasn't the first time she had killed. Apparently she had snapped as she hated these women for having abortions when she couldn't have any children of her own. Grell's two-toned eyes narrowed as she read those words over and over. Angelina was killing women because she didn't feel like she was fully a woman herself, and Grell could understand the feeling.
Her understanding and interest heightened when she saw Angelina for the first time. This beautiful woman covered in red was like a reflection of the woman that was trapped inside of her own body, and Grell watched the scene unfold before her with interest. This woman, this gorgeous, perfect woman, painted with those glorious shades of red that excited Grell so much. Even before she called down to her, she knew they had a lot in common.
She had already decided that she would help Angelina. Not only did she understand how it felt to be an incomplete woman, beautiful Angelina was killing prostitutes. With each one they killed, Grell could kill another one of those rumors. Each crimson slash would scream a declaration to the night air.
She was not a whore!
