I apologize for the hiatus - I had technical problems getting this site to upload my chapters :-( But I'm here now :-D

CHAPTER 6
Tess

His hands closed around her neck as he thrust into her. The innate need for air made her heart flutter in anxiety, but it was riddled with the taste of excitement. At first, his dominance during sex had frightened her. But the knowledge that she had the ultimate control (after all, he didn't know that she exhibited extraordinary abilities that could kill him if he decided to take this thing too far), always calmed her and made it possible for her to surrender her control to him. At least momentarily.

"You like that, huh?" he breathed, biting into her earlobe hard enough to draw blood.

"Yes," she moaned, gripping the edge of the small utility sink with her fingers to prevent herself from falling off. "Oh yes."

His hands tightened around her neck and she suspected that his control was going to leave a mark this time. She looked up into his dark eyes (he was so turned on) and shivered with the danger she saw in them. Even though his grip was slowly cutting off her air supply, she was not afraid. She knew he would stop; he always had. He liked it rough, he liked to be the man in charge and have his woman subordinate to his demands. And if he didn't stop, she would make him. As simple as that.

She had always been drawn to dark and mysterious men. She had not necessarily been drawn to dangerous men; but the mysterious had always seemed to go hand in hand with dangerous. David Perkins was the latest of her conquests. They had been bumping uglies for about a month now and the sex was still exciting and great. She didn't see the relationship going further than that; David was not the best conversationalist and they didn't have very much in common outside of the bedroom (or the utility closet at his work).

But it was fun and Tess loved to have fun.

The task of balancing her naked bottom on the sink grew increasingly difficult as David increased his speed, getting closer to culmination. As the muscles in his abdomen tightened in anticipation of the release, his fingers tightened around her neck and she instinctively angled her neck backwards, stretching it out in the search of air.

"Please, I can't breathe, please," she croaked, knowing that her helplessness would push him over.

"Yes, bitch. You're loving this, you whore."

Well, she could do without the name calling, but it was all part of the act. And David Perkins sure liked to play.

"Punish me," she whispered. If he didn't come soon, she'd have to bend his mind slightly, which would put a serious dent into the pleasure that was building inside of her now.

A final three hard thrusts and he came with an ugly groan. His body relaxed against hers and his fingers lost their strength around her neck. She took in great gulps of air, like a goldfish on land, and dropped her forehead against his shoulder. Her legs lost their grip around the back of his thighs (he was still wearing his dark grey slacks) and she felt him grow soft inside of her.

There was no cuddling, no pecks of affection or gentle touches, as he backed away from her, rearranged his boxes and zipped up his pants. She slid off the sink that he had pushed her up on just a few minutes earlier, becoming aware of the indention in the soft skin of her ass from the edge of the aluminum sink. She retrieved her torn panties from the floor and sighed mentally. A lot of money went into replacing panties nowadays and she rearranged her skirt around her exposed femininity.

"I guess I'm going commando again," Tess said with a sultry smile.

She watched his eyes darken again as he momentarily looked up from straightening his shirt to let his eyes flicker to her skirt. Tess enjoyed that look more than she should. He could try and dominate her however much he liked, but there was no question who had the power in the end.

"Just don't let anyone see that," he warned with dark jealousy.

"It's not easy to prevent," Tess mused, noticing how the playfulness began to seep out of the room, drowning in the man's possession of her body. "It's quite windy outside. Mishaps are bound to happen."

"If it does, I will punish you like the slut you are," David murmured, walking up to her and surprising her by roughly shoving her up against the wall. The exhilaration was tightly married with the fear. He took a firm grip around her breast through her linen top and twisted her nipple. Not too gently.

Ouch. Just as quickly, Tess lost the interest in playing with the man. That fucking hurt.

"Well, I guess you'll have to come over to my place tonight and punish me." By tonight, she would be desiring his games again, she was sure of it.

He took a firm grip on her chin and angled her mouth to his, pressing down and kissing her possessively and abrasively. Stating his claim. "Count on it."

He stepped back from her abruptly and tore the door open next to her. Without any words of goodbye, he was gone. Tess relaxed against the wall. He sure was a dynamic man.

Theresa Harding didn't particularly approve of the private investigator she had hired. As he slumped down in the chair opposite her at the café, pressing his muddy-colored oily comb-over down in place with his sausage-shaped fingers (Tess shivered) and breathing hard as if he had just run a marathon, Tess was hit with the familiar feeling of disgust. But despite his similarity to an obese mole, with small squinting eyes behind round glasses that made his eyes the size of dinner plates, he was the best in his field. And Tess wanted the best.

With her perfect blonde curls lightly bouncing around her heart-shaped face which was painted to perfection with expensive make-up, Theresa Harding seemingly existed in another universe from the man sitting opposite her. She was a woman with high standards and she had no problem about being openly condescending to what she categorized as lower forms of human beings.

"Long walk?" she asked unkindly, lifting the wine glass to her full red lips.

She ignored the look of disdain that passed over the face of the overweight PI, knowing that his thoughts of her were probably equally low. But he had quickly learned that she wasn't just a beautiful airhead, he couldn't treat her like the perfect Barbie he had been tempted to when they had first met.

He didn't grant her with a reply, instead cutting to the chase. "Let's get down to business, Ms. Harding."

She put the wine glass back on the table, nodding. "Sure. Do you want me to order something for you?" Even though she could be obnoxious, Tess Harding wasn't raised in a barn. She still had manners. Some at least. You hardly need any food.

As if hearing her silent thought, private investigator Louis Mitchell shook his head. "No, thank you."

He pulled his briefcase onto his lap, wiping a tendril of sweat off his forehead with his free hand. Tess grimaced and had too look away. Her attention was drawn back to the man as he placed a document holder onto the round table. It hardly made a noise when placed, being too thin to contain anything relevant.

Tess felt her disappointment grow tight in her gut. "That's it?" Her tone was bitter and acidic.

The man leaned back in the chair, his breathing still slightly labored. Pressing the briefcase to his chest, he pointed at the documents. "Take a look."

Having zero expectations, Tess snagged up the folder and opened it. On the front page a photo of a young man was staring back at her. Her heart jumped a beat. Forgetting her surroundings and the watchful eyes of the PI, she traced her perfectly manicured finger across the top of the glossy photo surface. The man looked familiar. Why did he look familiar?

Lifting at the edge of the photo, she looked at the document attached to the photo with a paperclip and read out his name.

Maxwell Theodore Evans.

The advanced class of Twenty Questions started to unfold in her mind as she skimmed the information.

…found on a desert road outside of Roswell, New Mexico…

…adopted by Philip and Diane Evans and moved to Boston…

…a girl of approximately the same age, presumed to be the boy's sister, was found in the same state on the side of the road…

…no parents have been found or have stepped forward to claim the children…

…strange phenomenon…

…described as a prodigy…

…current occupation: EMT at Massachusetts General Hospital, Boston

Finding herself speechless, Tess turned page after page. The life story of a Maxwell Evans ended and instead she found the photo of an Isabel Sophia Evans, the assumed sister of Maxwell. The account of her life was very similar to that of her brother.

Tess was about to turn the page to the next person of interest when a sentence at the end of Isabel's biography caught her attention.

Current occupation: Administrative assistant at Elkus Manfredi Architects, Boston

Her current relationship with the not-really-sure-what-to-classify-him-as man David Perkins, had given her entrance to that same firm several times over the last few weeks. In fact, she'd been doing the nasty in the maintenance office of that exact firm not two hours earlier.

She looked up at the forty something man that was trying to be cool about the vivid emotions displayed across the young lady's face. He fought not to let his elation at shocking her with his investigative capabilities show on his face.

"Where did you find this?"

He shrugged, shrouding himself in a mist of mystery. "I have my ways."

Tess really wasn't up for his evasive tactics. She leaned across the table and sneered, "Where did you find this?"

The man hesitated, taken back by the sudden animosity on the woman's face. How a woman could turn ugly so quickly… "I have contacts…" he let the sentence hang, unwilling to reveal his sources. Particularly this source. What he didn't know was that Theresa Harding had ways of persuasion that was unknown to the human race and he was about to experience it first hand.

Tess closed the document folder and smiled softly. A mean, frightening smile which had Mr. Mitchell squeeze the briefcase tighter against his chest. He had the errant thought of needing to find an immediate excuse to get away as his thought was interrupted. Actually, all of his thoughts were interrupted. Something was cutting into his brain like a butter knife slicing through butter. But the process was precise and less messy. This was not Theresa Harding's first time. She would make sure that the man remembered nothing of the incident. After all, she didn't want to end up in one of those document folders, her whole life on display.

She sifted through his thoughts, jumping from one irrelevant thought to the other like someone would surf the channels of their cable TV. She was disgusted by the more private thoughts of this man who was the last man she wanted to experience TMI with, but it didn't take her long to locate the information she was after. Mr. Private Investigator had after all been thinking about what she wanted to know the exact moment she forced her way into his mind, sending out a beacon for Tess to follow.

She couldn't help but be a tad impressed at what she found. Mr. Louis Fucking Mitchell had connections high up in the food chain. The source he had been unwilling to name was a man called Joel Martin, an FBI agent. Not one of the big shots though; young Joel Martin was the equivalent of an office's coffee boy, but he had the opportunity to acquire information and was because of that slowly climbing the career ladder. Joel Martin's gambling addiction, however, required a constant influx of money, which nosy private detectives could assist him with.

Tess easily abandoned Mr. Mitchell's mind and watched him relax in his chair as she brought the wine glass to her lips. Only seventeen seconds had passed. To the outside observer, it had appeared as if the young pretty lady and the somewhat overweight gentleman merely had engaged in a prolonged staring contest.

To Mr. Mitchell, those seventeen seconds were lost forever. He would never know that the twenty something woman who was once again innocently sipping on her white wine had seen some of the most intimate moments between him and his wife. To Mr. Mitchell, his business responsibilities to this seemingly unpleasant woman had reached the finish line.

"Is it to your satisfaction?" he asked politely.

Tess lightly drummed her fingers against the cover of the manila folder. "You've done well. But I'm still intrigued by how you got a hold of this information."

Her tone was softer than the last time she'd asked and Mr. Mitchell responded accordingly. By relaxing even further. "My lips are sealed, Ms. Harding."

"I understand," Tess smiled. "Protecting your source and all of that."

Mr. Mitchell nodded, relieved. "Exactly."

Tess finished her glass of wine and took the document folder off the table, fitting it snuggly into her Chanel bag. "Well," she rose from the table with her hand stretched out and Mr. Mitchell followed suit. "It was a pleasure doing business with you. The money should be in your account by five o'clock."

Mr. Mitchell gave the woman a tight smile as he shook her hand. He had a great deal of mistrust for the woman and was unsure if he would indeed find a payment of his services. "The pleasure was all mine."

Tess refrained from rolling her eyes. I'm sure it was.

There was a knock at her door. Tess smiled to herself and put the wine glass down on the kitchen counter. She walked towards the front door, pausing momentarily in front of the full figure mirror in the hallway to admire her work. She pulled at the left black stocking and dragged her finger along the bottom line of her lip to smoothen the painted lip line. With a final bounce to the bottom of her curls, she stepped up to the door and peeked through the peephole. After all, she didn't want to accidentally open the door to her 73-year-old neighbor while dressed in crotchless panties and a lacy black corset with advanced push-up function. That would surely stop the ticker in the old man's chest in spite of the assistance from a peacemaker.

Mr. Perkins, dressed all in black, was standing outside. She felt heat tighten her core.

She opened the door as far as the security chain would allow and put on a surprised stupid expression. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm not alone."

David was not amused. His eyes caught sight of her unclad state (she wasn't really doing a good job at hiding it) and his mouth set into a grim line. "Open the door, Theresa."

It was a command and she shivered with pleasure at his authority. This was a real man.

"Fine," she mumbled, pretending to be annoyed. She closed the door, took a deep breath, unchained the security chain and opened the door fully.

He stepped inside, seemingly taking command of the room. He always did that, Tess observed. He truly did own his space. He had a black duffel bag with him, which he slowly set down on the floor, his eyes never leaving her body. His gaze was really turning her on, just from how his heated gaze kept lingering up and down her body.

He closed the door behind him and pointed to the bag. "Open it."

Tess made a show out of slowly bending down, angling her bare ass towards him as she did, and smiling satisfactorily as he softly groaned.

She was in control.

She slowly unzipped the bag and was slightly impressed that he had, so far, managed to keep his hands off her. Inside the bag she found a brown wig, ropes and a scarf.

"Put the wig on," David ordered, his voice devoid of emotion.

She frowned. He wanted her to be a brunette? Slightly disappointed (she was very proud to be a blonde), she pulled the wig over her head, pushing her blonde hair inside the cap, almost shamefully hiding it.

"And put some more clothes on," David added, which caused Tess' mood to dip further. Now he wasn't only changing her hair color but didn't approve of her body.

Straightening up, proudly straightening her back, she met his eyes without faltering. "Why?" Her tone was sharp, demanding.

He narrowed his eyes, not used to her talking back to him. "Because you're not going to make it easy for me to fuck you tonight. This," he gestured down her barely clothed body, "doesn't put up much of a resistance, does it?"

Tess considered this and mentally took a step back from her self-respect. This was another game. A more elaborate one than usual with all this prop, but still make-believe.

"Fine," she said sourly. "I'm game."

He dragged a lazy finger down the line of her jawbone and gave her a cool smile. "Good girl."

"I guess I'll go and change then," Tess sighed.

"Leave the ropes," David instructed, nodding at the ropes and the scarf that were still in her hands.

"Whatever," Tess replied, dropping the dominating gears on the floor.

As she headed into her bedroom, he called after her, "And your name is Elizabeth. And you are to resist me."

Elizabeth? Tess snorted. He really had thought this through, creating a whole backstory and all. Ah well, as long as it resulted in great sex.

It never crossed her mind that the 'story' David Perkins was making her play out was based on true details.