Kidney Pie – Part III
-"Yours Truly…" –
Mr. Lusk,
I am waiting to hear the next joke you give out to the newspapers.
Jack paused, the pen held still so long over the page that the red ink on its tip began to dry. Absently, he dipped it again in the bottle.
They say now that I'm…
What were they saying now? They say I am… The thickening scarlet ink started to run on the page where the pen's bleeding point touched it. I am… He couldn't think of the next word. I am hungry.
He glanced almost guiltily over his shoulder to where the last remaining meat pie sat on the table by his bed. The other he had taken was far too tempting to have lasted until noon. It was now nearly seven o' clock. And I want that pie! But as the same time, he didn't want to run out of pies. He shook his head, snarling, his mussed dark-brown hair flapping around his ears, and crossed out everything he had written.
Mr. Lusk,
No luck yet, old boss. I laughed when I heard they…
When does the pie shop close? Maybe he could eat his pie now and go for the special ones before too long… Curse it! All he could think of was that bloody pastry, the gorgeous gravy, the crust done to perfection, the taste of flesh…
Mr. Lusk…
…the white, exposed flesh of its baker, her rare appreciation for murder and cannibalism, her lovely brown eyes fixed on him as…
"Augh!" He tore the thought away, crumpling up his unfinished letter and hurling it into the corner.
Mr. Lusk…
He began on a new piece of paper, but froze again. Maybe he would leave soon. Around nine should be late enough. There wasn't any need to wait until the dead hours just to drop in for a pie. Although on the other hand, he certainly wouldn't mind paying a midnight call of another kind on the charming Mrs. Lovett.
Grinning wickedly, he crossed the little room and retrieved the baked temptation, not even waiting to return to his seat before he took the first bite. When he did sit, smiling around another delicious mouthful, he looked again at the heading. With a violent slash of is pen, he crossed out Lusk's name and wrote –
My dear Mrs. Lovett…
-"Demons are Prowling Everywhere Nowadays"-
"Now, Toby, I want you to go straight to bed, love. Understand?" The boy nodded reluctantly as he finished sweeping the empty shop. Mrs. Lovett glanced nervously at the door. "And since you've been such a good lad, you can have all the gin you like."
His eyes brightened immediately. "Thank you, ma'am!" He was gone, leaving the old dishrag hanging off the counter wagging in his wake. In half an hour at the most, he'd be sound asleep. Jack wouldn't come before then, would he? Or what if Sweeney came downstairs? That was hardly likely. He hadn't even let her in when she brought him his supper. She'd had to leave the tray on the doorstep. But she couldn't hear him pacing, which made her worry.
From the little warming oven behind the counter, she pulled the three remaining kidney pies. The fourth she'd given Toby to try. At least, after his excited praise, she didn't need to worry about the pies themselves.
That didn't mean she wasn't worried about everything else. Should she leave the door open and the lights on, or would he rather have the neighbors think the shop was closed? Would he bring her more tidbits to cook, or did he intend to see that she wouldn't live to roll another crust? Worst of all, what should she wear? Perhaps, with Jack the Ripper, a more conservative top would be advisable.
Down the hall past her dark parlor, her worries followed her, and caught her as she reached her bedroom door. Out of the heavy silence of the deserted shop, she heard the faint jingle of the bells above the door. It's him.
No, no, not yet… She turned, looking down the shadowy corridor towards the dim light spilling from the kitchen. "Mr. Todd?" Nothing. He just brought down the tray, is all. She could help but feel a cold tingling at the back of her neck even as she told herself it was only the barber. He just doesn't want to speak to me, still. The bells sang again.
Slowly, Nellie made her careful way back towards the kitchen and peered in. "Mr. Todd…?" It was empty, deathly silent, but on warm tray, in the place of one of the special pies sat a neatly folded piece of paper. Her pulse roared through the quiet as she stepped to the counter and opened it, revealing lines of red scrawling cursive.
My dear Mrs. Lovett,
You can't imagine, love, how you have ruined my efforts today. You, and your wonderful pies, and the image of your sweet, beautiful, filthy face have infected me. Don't imagine I won't punish you. I could spend the rest of my life killing you and be well satisfied. Don't forget my pies, my sweet. Till tonight, I am longing to see you, and I WILL HAVE YOU!
I think I may be in love, but might kill you anyway.
Yours Truly,
Jack the Ripper.
Mrs. Lovett stared at the page, stunned, as it started to rattle in her trembling fingers. But if he wanted to kill her, where the hell was he? Was he coming back?
"Evening, love." Leaning close behind her shoulder, as if to read his own letter, her devilish admirer took another bite of his half-eaten pie.
-"You See, Sir, a Man Infatuate with Love"-
Jack felt a part of him spinning as his baking beauty leapt away, turning, to back frantically towards safety. The fear in her eyes was enthralling, something he'd never see in the street women he usually had his fun with. They'd lift their skirts for a penny and a word, couldn't afford any more thought than was required to find the most convenient wall to lean on. He smiled dizzily as he set the pie on the counter and stepped towards her.
"You stay away from me, you hear?" Mrs. Lovett retreated slowly, her voice and sweet, slender body trembling, his crumpled letter clasped to her pale, heaving breast. Grinning, he made for her, but she dodged around the end of the counter. "I said stay away!" She was obviously, and so endearingly, afraid of him, but she snatched up a heavy cleaver and waved it at him as the Ripper followed her around, cornering her.
The scratched blade wavered as she held it up. Rather than menacing, he found it oddly alluring. She had to be the perfect woman for him. Jack, old boy, I think you're smitten!
But now what? At this point, his girl was typically holding back her petticoats with her legs spread. And at this point, he would typically bash her head against the wall she was leaning on and strangle the bitch before he took his knife out. That no longer seemed the best option. But, curse it, that's what he wanted! Isn't it?
He drew his own knife, his favorite, from beneath his coat and pinned her knife hand with his wrist. With his empty right hand wrapping around her pale throat, he tilted the blade in his left so she could see it. "You do exactly as I tell you, sweetheart, and I'll treat you nice, yeah?"
"No, please!" He wasn't squeezing, but he could feel her pulse writhing under his fingers. The tear that escaped her eye as he forced her back against the countertop was almost dried by his own breath. "T-take it easy, love…"
And this is where I…don't cut her throat? Puzzled, he leaned back slightly, giving her a little more room to breathe as he considered the situation. There were the pies at stake. She couldn't die, then. And besides, she was beautiful.
"Um." Jack glanced awkwardly around the little pie shop before he could decide what to do. "T-… Tell me your first name."
Her brown eyes fixed on him, startled. "What?"
"Tell me! I'll cut your throat!" Crushing her again, he released her arm as he forced her chin back and settled the edge of his knife against her soft white skin.
"El- Eleanor."
He had never known any of his ladies names before. That was a start. "May I…" He blinked, glanced away from her, then scowled again. "Say you'll let me… call on you… sometime."
The fear on her features faded somewhat. "You ain't serious!"
"Say it!" He pressed her hard against the wall. "I mean to court you or cut you, Mrs. Lovett, one way or another!"
He tilted the knife, only slightly; a drop of blood welled up gently from the white skin at its point. Only one slash would do it, easy as ever. But, as far as he could remember, he had never intended to do quite what he had in mind now. His eyes left her throat, lifted to her chapped lips, found her eyes.
Behind those eyes, he almost saw her calculating, guessing, deciding. He felt her shrug against him.
He almost dropped his knife in shock as she kissed him. His hand released her slender neck and slid over her shoulders . He pulled back. "I'm still going to kill you." Her own arms reached over his shoulder, the handle of her butcher's knife digging into his back. She kissed him again. "I think."
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I'm afraid I can't/won't get too far into writing smut. So the requested "hot JackxLovett action" probably won't happen. Not with narration, anyway. Sorry. Hope you enjoyed it anyway.