Wicked: Part Three
Sam spent the rest of day thinking of reasons not to hate Gabriel. When the task proved impossible, she cancelled her afternoon classes and she called her best friend and former childhood tormenter, Terry. Terry was a self avowed flirt with a knack for dating inappropriate men. But lately none captivated or frightened him more than Gabriel. One word…one icy look from Gabriel could send him scampering for cover. Putting the dashingly handsome Terry in his place wasn’t easy accomplishment. At over six-two, his tone body and Icelandic features were nothing to frown upon—with little effort he could have any man or woman he wanted and he knew it.
Luckily for Sam she wasn’t his type. Being five-eight and female cooled their fires before they erupted. He’d seen her through playground fights thought at the time he was the assailant and through training bras which he made a point of popping. It wasn’t until freshman year in high school that they became inseparable. Neither could say what the pivotal moment was. They simply stopped fighting long enough for the swelling to recede and Bingo!....facial features. It was difficult for them to attack someone they now viewed as a sentient being. They both attended the University of Avignon before embarking on illustrious careers shaping the delicate minds of future generations—or at least attempt to correct the damage inflicted MTV.
“Gabriel is taking the piss, isn’t he?” Terry said curled up on one end of Sam’s sofa. “Alison is a worthless sack of shit. The sooner we get rid of her, the better.”
“Tell me about it.” Sam shoveled another spoonful of yogurt in her mouth. “He’s serious, alright. I’m stuck with her for three months.”
“You could always sedate her. A bit a heavy sedation never hurt everyone.” He turned his attention to the television where a morbidly old anchorwoman murmured glacially. “Turn!”
Sam grabbed the remote. She and Terry stopped and looked at one another when they heard the sounds of keys turning in the front door. “Hello?” she called out. There was no answer—the door opened and closed. Seconds later Gabriel stepped into the living room.
“Hey Gabe!” Terry said brightly. “Thanks for the appointment. I….”
“Get out.” Gabriel interrupted dryly. “And don’t ever call me Gabe again.”
“Riiiight, Dr. Kelley. I’ll be on my way,” Terry stood. “Sam, dear, call me later…” he glanced quickly at Gabriel. “…if you…have…time. See ya!” He tried valiantly to slide from the house without touching, making eye contact or exchanging any unnecessary words with Gabriel and quietly closed the door behind him.
“Unless you’ve come to apologize, you can leave.” Sam heaved herself from the sofa and visibly stumbled to the kitchen. The trim of her t-shirt barely covered her butt cheeks.
“Are you drunk?” Gabriel followed.
“Unless low fat yogurt has intoxicating properties then no. You’re not worth getting drunk over.” She turned to face him when he didn’t react to her stab. His face registered a small, infinitesimal twinge of hurt. He walked back to the living room. She would’ve regretted her remark hadn’t he deserved it. She chucked her yogurt cup in the bin and placed her spoon in the sink. “You’re still here?” she asked finding Gabriel sitting on the sofa. She stood arms folded over her chest. “Well, start apologizing.”
“I’m not apologizing. I deserve an apology.” He spoke over her. “You overacted, Samantha. Your little scene in my office was unprofessional and unseemly. You acted like a spoiled child!”
“Me!?”
“Yes, you! You thought you could use me to get what you wanted. Well I’m sorry, it doesn’t work that way! There’s a clear separation between our work and our home life. What goes on at home has nothing to do with how I run my department. I made my decision based on the funds available. The fact is your project would’ve exhausted the account—you would’ve taken every dime. And partitioning the Alumni Association for more money isn’t an option I’m willing to consider. I won’t have the department indebted to anyone. I’m sticking to my budget because donations aren’t guaranteed; putting the cart before the horse is what caused this mess. Dr. Phillips’s exhibition is half the cost of yours and my decision is final.”
Gabriel’s reasons were valid. Funding had always been a problem in their department and it had taken him months to dig them out of debt. “That still doesn’t explain why you paired me to Dr. Jacobs. Do you want me to kill her?! Is that where your twisted game is headed? Because that’s exactly what’s gonna happen if I’m forced to work with her and her blood will be on your hands.”
Despite himself he smiled faintly at her melodramatic outburst. “The Time Team dig is important.” He said smugly. “I need you and your graduate students there. It’s in the best interest of the university, the department, and you’ll walk away with more than enough money for you project.”
“What is it this time? What are Tony and the boys exploring now, the ancient ruins in Piccadilly Square?!”
“No,” Gabriel reclined and kicked his feet up on her coffee table. “A team of archaeologist will be conducting excavations at Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle and The Palace of Holyroodhouse,” he gave a self-satisfied grin. “You, my dear, will be digging up the middle of my Queen’s lawn. Might I add that the project will cumulate into a three day live BBC event?” He chuckled at Sam’s unhinged mouth. “You can thank me now.” He beckoned her to him.
“You’re…you’re not taking the piss, are you?” Sam straddled his lap, his arms encircled her.
“No,” he retrieved the production schedule from his bag sitting beside them and handed it to her. “It’s all there. Tony asked for you specifically. He saw the work you and your students did last summer in Elba.”
Sam skimmed through the folder. “Me? My students?” she looked at Gabriel. “How did you pull this off?”
Gabriel threw up his hands. “I didn’t do anything.” That was only partially factual. In truth, Dorian had worked behind the scenes to secure her appointment in Gabriel’s absence. “I threw Dr. Jacobs in as a sweetener. If all goes to shit at Holyrood at least she’ll be eye candy for the viewers and you’ll be in England, far away from the shit storm in Scotland. Half of your team will be digging at Buckingham Palace whilst the other’s digging at Windsor Castle.”
Sam lowered her eyes bashfully. “Sorry about the whole…you know…” she waved her hand in the air. “…throwing the crystal thingy at your head and acting like a maniac”
He kissed her lower lip. “We’ll let it pass this time.” The rush of blood in his ears signaled the onset of another headache. He held Sam close then he heard “You couldn’t save her. You can’t save this one.” Gabriel put space between Sam and himself and asked, “What did you say?”
Confusion crossed Sam face. “I didn’t say anything. You’re tired.” She came to her feet. “Let’s go to bed.”
“Right…” Gabriel said as Sam left for the bedroom. His skin tingled and the hammering in his head intensified.
******
The gentleman stood at the bathroom sink washing up. As he dried his face he caught a glimpse on the bed behind him in the mirror. He smiled wickedly at the prostitutes blooded bodies laid strewn, ripped apart, their faces frozen in grotesque horror. There was a knock at the door. He ordered them to come in. The door opened and closed.
“Where would you like me to setup your breakfast, sir?” the maid asked.
“On the table.” He waited to hear her scream at the sight of his victims. He fed on fear…it always made the kill more interesting. Nothing gave him greater pleasure than that moment in the fight when his opponent realizes they’re about to die. In this case a helpless panic stricken maid would suffice.
The maid stepped back, covering her mouth, her eyes bulged in horror.
“Shhhh,” The gentleman walked towards her slowly. She began praying franticly as he backed her against the wall and kissed her tear soaked trembling lips tenderly. He whispered comforting words as his hand reached for the hem of her dress, raising it until his fingers brushed against her cotton panties. She gasped…he smiled and moved the fabric aside, kissing her as he stroked her clit.
“Please…I won’t tell anyone.” she pleaded her pussy became wet though she fought to resist him.
He licked her lower lip. “I know you won’t, baby.” His slick fingers circled her labia. “You like it, don’t you?” he penetrated her slit. “You’re so fucking wet.” They kissed heavily. Her fingers ran through his hair. “No one has ever played with you like this, have they?” Whether it was fear or passion, the maid’s staggered breathing excited him. His eyes never left hers; he spoke quietly as he fingered her. “Mmmm, you’re cumming on my hand.” One finger flicked her clit while the other moved between her kips. “Tell me to make you cum.” He said lowly. “Tell me, I want to hear you say it.”
Though the bodies of two women lay in plain sight, the maid rocked against his hand, her legs turned to jelly under her. “Oh God…more.”
“Can I fuck you?” He asked his hand slick with her arousal. Damn, he couldn’t wait to be inside of her. She nodded and in one swift move he ripped off their clothing; lifted her to his waist and slammed her against the wall, his cock laid waste to pussy. Her legs open, she grunted and tore at his hair.
“Go ahead, pull my hair.” His warm breath was at her neck, he plowed into her as hard and fast as he could. She gushed around his cock and begged for more. He gave it to her.
“I’m cumming,” she cried.
“Cum on my cock. It’ll be the last thing you do.”
She screamed and came, he held her ass in place as his cock released deep inside of her. She writhed and gave into him. A slash with his fingernails severed her vocal cord, quieted her cries and sealed her fate with the others. He stared into her eyes, watching the last embers of life flicker to an end.
He dropped her lifeless body to the floor and found his pants. “Time for breakfast.”
******
“How’s your head feeling?” Claire asked Dorian as she turned down the bed.
“Better,” he lied with a shrugged. He didn’t want to worry her. An eerie feeling, the one that he’d felt earlier, was has returned. The air around him was thick with an unidentifiable presence. Claire, going about her day as normal, hadn’t taken notice. “Claire…” he called. “Come here. I bought you something.”
“What?” she went to him. He moved her in front of him at the mirror and lifted a silver necklace affixed with a small garnet encrusted ‘K’ pendant from its box and placed it around her neck. “Dorian…” She admired the pomegranate color against her skin. “Thank you….”
“You’re welcome,” He interrupted and kissed the back of her head, his eyes never left their reflection in the mirror. “Promise me you’ll never remove it.”
“Can I take it off before I go to bed or do you expect me to sleep in it?” Claire snickered.
“Never take it off, especially when you’re asleep.”
Though his face was partial hidden, Claire knew he was serious and she didn’t question him.