I tipped her head back and forced a hand over her mouth. I could have hit myself! I usually crept in and killed the target before they became aware of me, but I had screwed that up. I felt her heart beating hard through the thin night-dress she wore as I pressed her softness up against my body. ‘What’re you?’ She said clearly. I was so startled, I dropped my hand. ‘Well? You definitely aren’t human.’ She wasn’t asking. ‘I have to get on with killing you.’ I almost sounded apologetic. She nodded. I happened to glance down at what she was working on. It was a painting, and a skilled one at that, of the ocean. I couldn’t do it. My trusty knife fell from shaking fingers. Her knowing green eyes met my own yellow ones. ‘I can’t just leave you here. Come on.’ ‘Can I help you with something?’ James demanded in a strong English accent. I looked into the face of two very pissed off men. I ignored the bantering, it would only distract me. Although she must have been terrified, she. She just looks, returning his stare with no emotion or sign as to what her day has been like. She turns quickly and goes into the bathroom. From the sounds he gets the impression it has been rough. The cupboard slams and water splashed. She reappears in the doorway and her hair is released from its upsweep. Her blouse is pulled from the waist band, wrinkled from being tucked in but holding enough form to show her natural womanly curves. He glance has become a full body scan before he breaks the silence, ‘How was your day?’ Her eyebrows arch at the question and then she rolls her eyes a bit. This can only be bad he thinks as she walks toward him. There is purpose in her step, and he steels himself for her vocal eruption. There is none. As she moves closer he notices that her hands are working the buttons of her blouse loose. She walks over to where he is sitting, right up against his knees. Their eyes remain focused on each other while she straddles his legs but doesn’t sit. This.
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