CHAPTER SEVEN

Lorraine fought the dark pulling her in. She wanted to live no matter what her choice to stay with Mitch might have said to outside eyes. She knew being with him wasn't good for her health, but she ignored the warnings in the back of her head most of the time. Once upon a time she believed the man smashing her face in would die before laying a hand on her. Once upon a time was for fairytale's and her life was anything but. She would have an end and from the looks of it wouldn't be happy. Would she be identifiable after this? He was killing her. He said she would and he was.

She lay still waiting for him to finish the job. She heard sounds—maybe more yelling she was in too much pain to figure out why. There were more loud noises as if he were throwing things. Her eyes were swollen shut so she relied on her hearing, and even then she couldn't concentrate. Pain was something she'd gotten use to. Unfortunately Mitch tested her tolerance with tirades like tonight. She was a reposed bruise unable to stand or defend herself.

She heard the footsteps. She whimpered words that hopefully sounded like stop don't hurt me. Waiting for another punch, it never came. A hand caressed her face. Then her body was being lifted from her place on the floor. She was in pain, but she was floating. Strange feeling, maybe she was dead and this was what it felt like to be lifted from earth. The smile would have been nice, Remy thought as he carried her out, if her teeth weren't coated in blood and vomit.

He disappeared with her through the backdoor. The neighbors weren't sound asleep so he kept in the dark of the backyard until he ducked through a patch of trees and headed to the road on the other side. He placed her in the backseat of his car and placed his jacket over her. It wasn't particularly cold, and she wasn't shivering, it just felt like the right thing to do. He closed the door locking it then headed back to the house to grab Jo.

Remy in his own mind didn't think grabbing Lorraine then jogging back took more than five minutes. When he entered the house Jo in black and in a mask stood over Mitch. Jo in five minutes had ruined the man. Remy eyed the rise and fall of his chest relieved that Jo hadn't killed him. That was another kind of mess entirely. At this moment the Cajun didn't know who would win an ugly contest between Mitch and his wife. Jo stared down at Mitch with rage. Like an angry painter staring down at a macabre masterpiece. Jo took one step back and then another in Remy's direction.

The rage was controlled. If she had gone any further Remy wouldn't have stopped her. The man didn't deserve mercy. Their eyes met for an instant through their masks. Remy saw her rage and Jo saw his understanding. She hadn't felt guilty, the way she saw it she was playing by the rules Mitch were.

There would be no evidence of who gave Mitch Bell the beating of his life. Lorraine would disappear without a second glance to her life before. Whatever friends and family she had would sell her out to an angry husband bent on retrieving his 'property'. Jo would place a mirror in front of her to show how far she had fallen, drunk in her fear and misguided sense of loyalty. Jo would make her cry, watch her weep, and hold her and tell her that life was short and why play with the odds living with a nut case.

Lorraine wouldn't ask what about the police. Jo didn't even suggest calling the boys in blue. When she was ready to travel she would disappear. This would be another thing David could hold over her head, but a woman was alive because of it.

"Thank you," Jo heard the words mumbled out. She didn't bother responding, Lorraine passed out again.

Remy looked at Jo behind the wheel of the car. It wasn't often that Jo drove the car. He hardly allowed it since the car belonged to David Warner.

"You ok?" He asked out of habit. He wasn't particularly concerned with Jo unless she was flirting with the part of her that enjoyed smashing people's heads in.

For a long time Jo didn't say anything. She heard him and felt his eyes on her, but she didn't acknowledge either. Tonight had been unexpected. Remy had been driving her around. They ended up in a rural neighborhood when Jo unconsciously recalled the address aloud. Passing by the familiar home Jo saw a man dragging his wife inside. Outside of her screams and Remy's car the street was dead. Neighbors would eventually call 911 when the noise got too loud, until then they stayed to themselves.

Jo reacted. When she told Remy to go around the corner she closed her hand around the handle when Remy held her shoulder. She glared at him not willing to be stopped. He handed her a mask. If she had been of sound mind she would have questioned why he had masks on hand, but she took it in stride. She wanted to get into the house as quickly as possible. There was a back entrance to the house that annoyed Bell, because the neighborhood kids would get in and mess up his yard. Bell's 'feud' with the neighborhood kids was notorious and he made sure anyone within hearing distance knew about it.

Getting in was easy enough. There were still some skills from her 'gang days' that she used when they came in handy. Tonight, she needed to break in. Fortunately the lock wasn't tricky enough to cause her any trouble. She mused about the street wise kid she used to be and the complicated adult she had become. The thoughts didn't last long when a crash had triggered an urgency to hurry inside.

Her heart was still pounding against her chest. Her fingers were shaking from adrenaline. She willed them to stop by gripping the wheel of the car tighter. They were heading to an apartment that David gave her. She never used it. When David offered anything there was a catch. This one time Jo would relent. The woman needed somewhere clean, comfortable, and discreet. If there was anything rich people did well it was discretion.

"Jo," Remy called quietly but kept his voice firm. He didn't want to disturb the woman in the backseat.

"Yea…" she worked on calming her temper. It wasn't her intention to bark, so she worked hard not to do it. It would imply that she had little control over what she did next. Control was important to her. More so now than any other time she could think of. It kept her from turning around and finishing what Bell started on his wife. She kept her eyes trained on the road, satisfied by the quiet breathing from the back as the only signal that the battered woman was ok.

"What now?"

Jo relayed the plan in her head testily. When she was done he sat back placated for the moment.

Watching Bailey off sent a chill of sadness through Blair. Her mother had sent for her like a package to be returned unharmed. Blair obliged with a promise that she would visit soon. The sisters embraced at the terminal. Blair giving strict instructions that her sister is looked after with great care. The impression that if the child were to even receive a lukewarm meal, jobs would be at stake was duly noted.

Her mother could make an art of poor parenting. Bailey had stayed for two weeks. Blair had uprooted her schedule to accommodate her sister's arrival. She had anticipated her stay would be longer than two weeks. Blair could only assume that their bonding had been cut short by mother's mood. Maxwell would have responded in kind, by taking away what her mother coveted most, attention. Explaining why her sister was being shipped across the world to attend to Monica's flights of fancy.

Her thoughts were purely speculative, but they were plausible, because Blair's knowledge of her mother was absolute.

Sighing at the speck of a plane flying in the distance Blair checked her watch. She wasn't in the mood to return to work. She took very few liberties. Being the president's daughter she was subject to expectations to act like a privileged brat. Sticking her hands in the pockets of her thigh length purple coat today she wouldn't disappoint. A hint of a smile curved her mouth upward at the corner. She had something more interesting planned for the rest of her day.

She made the necessary call to Vesper cancelling everything. She made sure that the meetings she needed to attend could be pushed back or she could just be briefed later. Nothing on the list of things to do was urgent and she was pleased that playing hooky wouldn't set her back too much. After more calls to Natalie and her favorite restaurant, she was stepping out of her car looking at a god awful building that made her stomach swell.

She let herself in with a copy of the copy of the key Jo asked returned when they broke up. She let Jo think that she was being magnanimous about their break up.

She had to pay extra for the restaurant to deliver in this part of town, but she didn't mind. Making herself at home, the apartment was clean and neat and all Jo. She smiled at the smell of Jo wafting from every surface. Memories came with the smells. Sensations came with the memories. She started the bath first. The candles were where she left them in the pantry under the shelf with the bath cloths and towels. Jo wasn't one for candles, so she had plenty to litter around the bath tub. Padding around in thin black stockings she turned on Jo's stereo. The volume loud enough to hear Peabo Bryson in the comfort of the bath she was running.

She unintentionally left a trail of clothing to the bathroom. She hummed happily stepping into the warmth of the water enjoying the calm of flickering candles. She could question the ethics of breaking into her ex girlfriend's apartment to escape from the world, or opt to ignore societal perceptions of normal behavior. She didn't expect Jo to come home. That didn't stop her from imagining Jo, in her fantasies, arriving home happy to see her. Lust filled eyes drinking in her body, with curious hands leaning closer to break the blanket of bubbles hiding her womanhood.

Blair smirked at her own imaginings. A hand slid between her legs while they parted easily acquiescing unconsciously to the lawyer's need. She rubbed teasingly, in the way Jo would tease. She flicked a finger over her clit jumping at her own touch. She could smell the brunette. She could see her eyes staring at her with reverence and lust. "Jo," she moaned biting her lip softly moving her hips to the fingers that played with her opening. She moaned again. Her hips moved to the rhythm of the music while her fingers teased in the way Jo use to.

"Please baby…" she moaned to the apparition she desired, more than anything, to be flesh and blood.

She rocked back and forth her eyes closed imagining Jo pumping in and out of her. She bit her lip harder, her moans becoming a throaty growl too primal to be lady like. She was close. Jo's smell pushing her beyond the brink of simple imaginings to a living breathing woman standing in the doorway watching Blair pleasure herself. Hooded eyes popped open and the moan of climax turned into a scream of horror and more horror.

Immediately jerking from her reposed position she pushed candles to the white fluffy mat she gave Jo to girly up her bathroom. Jo jumped into action when the rug caught on fire. Blair stood still screaming holding the shower lining to her forgetting the material was transparent. Jo stomped out the fire dancing on the flames until the smell of burnt rubber and rug surpassed the scent of apple cinnamon. Stepping off the rug, it was ruined with dark spots and holes where it had burned through before Jo could get it out.

Settling water and heavy breathing loaded the room with tension. Jo stared at the rug ready to pounce as if it was going to spontaneously combust. She didn't dare look up at Blair. The blondes' sounds had sent her reeling when she realized what she was hearing. She drank her beer pausing when she realized she wasn't going crazy. The sounds she heard were indeed human and female. When she started toward the bathroom the trail of clothes made her even more curious and then she heard her name being moaned. The shadows of the dancing candles fell on the part of the hallway parallel to the open door. She'd stopped to listen and then peeked in leaning one arm against the door biting her finger listening. She knew if she made a sound Blair would stop. She hadn't counted on the woman opening her eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Blair yelled.

Jo reacted, "What the hell are you doing here?" her retort was a lot huskier than she would have liked.

"Taking a bath!"

Jo scoffed, "I see we were being thorough."

Blair glared her body heated from embarrassment and anger, "get out!"

"This ain't your ivory tower princess, my place," Jo pressed her thumb to her chest. "You get out," she finished smugly.

"Joanne Marie so help me I'll…."

"What?" Jo smirked challengingly, "deflower the rest of my furniture?"

Blair opened her mouth to respond but no words came out. Propriety hadn't prepared her for situations like these. What should she do with her lust when all her anger did was feed it? Even as she stood there clinging to her anger and the lining she wanted physical closure.

Jo walked out self satisfied that she hadn't ripped through the lining to get to the body behind it. Groaning into her bottle of beer she leaned against the counter for support. It would be so easy to take Blair, to kiss her lips and worship her body with feathered kisses. Feathered kisses? What the hell Polniaczek? Jo groaned again finishing her beer in large gulps.

Jo heard the door slam shut. She glared in the direction but decided to keep quiet and grab another drink. The knock at her door was unexpected, but she figured that was the theme of the day. Pushing off the counter she looked through the peephole and frowned.

"Delivery," the boy on the other side yelled.

Sighing heavily Jo looked around the room for Blair's purse. She didn't see it. Growling she opened the door asked how much and providing exact change and tip. He smiled happily at the tip like the courier from the other day. A pleasurable aroma wafted from the plastic container through the confines of the paper bag to Jo's nose. She looked to the bathroom again and then set the food out.

"What are you doing?" Blair had commandeered Jo's blue robe. Blonde tresses fell to her shoulder making her too sexy to look intimidating.

"Eating," Jo stared back at her plate diving into the pasta with her fork.

Blair frowned snatching the fork to take a bite. She moaned at the taste and Jo's sex jumped at the familiar sound. The lawyer's smell didn't help matters much either. "Good?" she questioned focusing on the lips the fork slid out of.

Nodding in answer Blair sidled closer for better access to the food. They ate in silence, Jo was too lazy to get up and get her own fork, so Blair willingly shared. The duo didn't speak for fear of breaking the companionable silence. It was easy and familiar and it felt so damn good.

The Warner heiress ever aware of how she looked eyed Jo, who wiped at her own mouth, gesturing for her to do the same. She wiped dumbly until Jo, frustrated, pushed her hand away. Jo's thumb wiped at the white pasta. She licked her finger clean. Blair moaned audibly and Jo's eyes flickered back to the willing woman within her reach. If she closed the distance between them Blair wouldn't object.

Blair was hers if she wanted her. And while Jo desperately wanted her, she wouldn't close the space. Getting up awkwardly she opened the fridge. The motion was more to cool down than actually finding something to eat.

Whipping around angrily Blair pushed the door closed and then the woman who would dare put it between them. Jo's back pressed hard against the wall. Her eyes were wide with surprise then lowered in lust when she saw the fire burning in Blair's gaze.

"What are you doing?" Jo clung desperately to words.

"Jo you watched me touching myself in your tub moaning your name and you haven't mentioned anything about it since." The woman spoke slowly, closing the small gap between them. "As if this kind of thing happens all the time," Blair took another impossibly intimate step.

"How do you know that it doesn't," Jo decided to provoke her. If a pissed Blair couldn't end the mood then she didn't know what could.

"Because I'm a regular in that tub Jo," Blair admitted "I would have noticed."

My tub? With naked Blair? At that moment so close ready to give in to the primal urge to ravage Blair she noticed Blair had her father's eyes. Those eyes that demanded and wanted in the same way Blair demanded and wanted and usually got. Jo hardened her resolve. It was one thing to be at the mercy of one Warner let alone two. Her mind and body reacted to the privileged spoiled life sized 'I get what I want' Barbie ogling her.

"You should go," Jo's voice lowered dangerously. She was no longer in a lustful stupor that Blair could manipulate.

The lawyer pulled back. She looked into Jo's eyes looking for love, compassion, anything resembling the friend and woman she fell for. She saw nothing. Her Jo was gone. Replaced by someone she didn't understand.

"You love me Jo," she stated with conviction. The logic in her said that she should walk away—get on with her life, Jo had. But her heart was being pulled in all directions that ultimately led to this woman.

"I don't think so Princess," Jo pushed passed her. She didn't want to be suffocated to death by the smell of Blair.

"I love you Jo," Blair said weakly.

Jo shook her head, "you don't know me anymore Princess." The last word came out softer than the others.

Blair looked at the resigned back of her former lover, "let me know you."

The silence lasted for moments in an illusion of eternity. It could go one of two ways. Blair hoped for an outcome that included Jo berating herself for her behavior over the last ten months.

Without warning Jo turned. She grabbed Blair roughly and kissed her hard. She nipped at Blair's bottom lip with her teeth and she could feel the blonde whimpering. She thought the blonde would push her away. She handled the princess roughly, probably more than she should have.

The kiss was raw and hard. There had been gentle kisses. There had been passionate kisses. Though all their lips knew were that each meeting was born of something beautiful and transcendent. This kiss was not. Jo pushed her rage and anger into the kiss. It wasn't fair to Blair, but her whole damn life hadn't been fair to Jo.

"You wanna know me still?"

Jo's hand pushed insistently at Blair's center, barreling through the fabric of the robe. Her fingers sank into to the wet need.

The slap that came after wasn't unexpected.