An Important Notice to Readers...
Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience. Please be advised.
|Cassie and Beckett meet|
The deserted warehouse on Route 23 was just another reminder of the sorry state of the current economy, a hulking eyesore long abandoned when a risky business plan had gone bad. There had been a flurry of talk around Dollyville that a Boston developer had invested a chunk of money into the property, but the fact was, it was simply a tax write off, a purchase suggested by his attorney, and nothing more. It was too far from town to have any real commercial benefit, nearly thirty minutes away, and stuck squarely in the middle of no where. Beckett had little use for either the property or the cavernous building that sat on it, but hoped that the memory of the place would be enough to draw her back.
He pulled the patrol car to the back of the structure, the late evening sun casting long shadows across the rows of rusty loading docks, empty wooden pallets propped up along their sides like a rib cage stripped of flesh. The side door was opened a crack, and his hand automatically went to the gun in his waistband. He pushed at the metal, and it swung wide, letting an arc of light sweep across the
open space. In the corner nearest the shipping desk, there was a pile of tattered blankets and and a collection of Styrofoam cups and containers, proof that the building had at some point become transient shelter.
But it was the desk that brought the memories back, a trigger to which he thought himself immune. He had brought her here on a whim, a last minute thought meant to catch her off guard, and give him the upper hand. Her reaction had surprised them both, a heady mix of fear, anticipation and desire. Cassie's agoraphobia amidst the wide open space of the warehouse added a level of controlled panic to the whole scene, making her enticingly vulnerable spread across the wooden expanse, hands and feet tied to the fours legs. It had been memorable for them both, a fact he was counting on to lure her to him.
A quick check of the place proved that it was empty. He positioned himself a few feet from the door, and went through the operation in his head. The last phase had several options depending on her initial reaction, and he tried to mentally prepare himself for a variety of conclusions, pushing all other thoughts from his head. It was like any other mission, the countless times he'd been in similar situations with similar objectives. He worked at shoving all images of Maureen from his head, the tear stained face and look of absolute betrayal, her red hair like a bleeding wound against the sterile hospital whites, and focused instead on dust particles that floated in the light from the tiny windows.
In the distance, he could hear the static buzz of a helicopter, likely Nolan and his team, on a futile attempt to locate either he or the woman. Cassie was his problem, his shame, and there was no way he wished to involve them further. Whatever went down in the next hour was his burden to shoulder alone, and in time, his men would come to respect him for it. The whirring noise became more distant, moving toward the west, and closer to the town limits. The old warehouse was on no one's radar, non descript and ordinary, making it the perfect spot for this to end.
He didn't wait long. There was the sound of an engine, and the crunch of tires on gravel. Beckett shifted the Shibari rope to his left shoulder, and looked straight ahead, his face calm and still. There were light footsteps outside the door, and then nothing. He held his breath. Wondered if she had changed her mind and fled. Then, the metal door slid open, and she stepped in, the light temporarily blinding his line of vision. He had forgotten how tiny she was, barely five feet, small boned and wiry. The door closed behind her, blocking the setting sun and providing a clearer view. She had gone back to the dark brunette she'd been when they were together, falling into the memory without hesitation.
Cassie immediately honed in on his presence, and he stepped into the dim crack of light from the windows, giving her a better view. Her eyes rested on the red silk rope across his shoulders. There was a slight intake of breath, and she smiled, the reaction he'd been counting on. He could do this. Simply. Easily.
"It's been too long, Sir."
"So it has, Mon Petite. You been a very busy girl."
She shrugged. "One needs a hobby, Sir."
He took a few steps forward, and she pulled the small caliber pistol from the back of her jeans. "Not another step, my love. Drop the automatic, and kick it over here."
He smirked, and dug the weapon from the waistband of his pants. "Your lack of trust disappoints me, Mon Petite. And we both know how much I dislike being disappointed."
She waved the pistol at him again, and he dropped the gun onto the cement floor, and kicked it toward her. Without taking her eyes off him, she bent over and retrieved it, then flung it over their heads towards a spot in the back. It clattered off in the distance, and Beckett forced himself not to turn and watch its location.
He shrugged his shoulders, and then put his hands on his hips. "I chose this place especially for our reunion, Mon Petite, and you are being most ungrateful. I fear some discipline is in order."
She hesitated, and Beckett could see the battle going on in her head. She looked to his face, and then to the rope, her teeth biting down on her lower lip. "I want to believe you, Sir. Honest, I do."
She suddenly scowled, and stepped closer, pointing the gun at his head. "What about her? The red head? Your wife?"
"Done. Over. Never meant a thing...though I fail to see why I need to explain myself to you, Little One. Or have you forgotten all the rules while you were away?"
Her need to believe was stronger than her common sense. Tossing the gun to the side, she stepped forward, and presented her wrists. "I am yours, Sir"
Beckett kept his face a mask, showing not a hint of emotion. "Where is your protocol, girl? Is this the way you present yourself? Disappointing, indeed."
She blinked at him, lost in the memory, and began to undress, folding each article of clothing into a neat square and stacking them in a pile on the floor, while he watched. When she finished, she stood naked before him, and looked up into his face, hopeful. But what she saw there instead he never knew. Maybe she caught a glimpse of revulsion in the set of his mouth? Maybe it was the lie reflected in his eyes? Something in his face must have given him away. Before he could bind her, she was off and running, heading in the direction of where he had seen her throw his automatic.
He went after her, but in the darkness, could only see glimpses of pale flesh slicing in between the stacks of empty pallets and metal drums. The bullet whizzing by his head gave proof that she had found his weapon, and he was glad for the Sig in his ankle holster. He hadn't intended for it to end this way, but she had changed the script. He herded her toward the corner of the building, trapping her between a brick wall and a pile of empty crates, all the while counting the missed shots one by one. He could hear her heavy breathing, and watched her scramble up the crates, her bare ass like a round, full moon rising in the night sky. When she got to the top, she turned and saw him standing at the bottom.
"Don't you come any closer, you filthy, lying bastard! You're dead, you hear me! Dead! I'll put a bullet in your fucked up head, Teddy, so help me God, I will!"
He raised his arms, and smirked, the Sig loaded and ready in his right hand. "Go ahead, Baby. Take your best shot." When she didn't fire, he took a step forward. Frightened, she aimed the gun, and pulled the trigger, the empty chamber echoing in the space. Realizing she was out of ammunition, she shrieked, and threw the weapon at his head. It missed, and tumbled down the mountain of crates like a loose pebble. For a few seconds, they stared at one another, sizing up the moment, plotting their next move.
Beckett began the climb to the top, and with no where to go, and no gun to fire, Cassie disappeared into the darkness. He assumed she would scramble for something to use as a weapon, and thus was surprised to see her calmly standing in the corner waiting for him, hands at her side, and smiling.
"Good for you, Sir. You've trapped me. You win. Come claim your prize."
He pointed the Sig at her. "You are one crazy, messed up bitch, Mon Petite. I pity you. Truly I do."
She stepped forward, narrowed her eyes and snarled. "Don't give me that self-righteous bullshit, Teddy. We're soul mates, you and I. Cut from the same dirty cloth. We don't think like normal people, and we don't play by the same rules. You know it's true, so let's not pretend you could ever have a regular life. You'd die of boredom." She took a step closer. "You want what I can offer. It's really very simple." She reached out to touch him, and he stepped backwards.
"Step back, Little One. I mean it."
"Or what, Teddy? You're going to shoot me?" She giggled, a high pitch girlish sound that made the moment even stranger. "We both know you won't do it, Sir. Even you have boundaries." She smiled, a wide, toothy grin. "I know you better than you know yourself, Theodore Beckett."
"Baby...you don't know me at at" And then he smiled back at her, and pulled the trigger.
Copyright Victoria T. Rocus 2014
All Rights Reserved