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JellyCrystalsBabe
Dust
- Joined
- Apr 11, 2011
- Location
- Australia
The FBI agent had come across many disturbing things, but nothing like the barely 18 yr old mercenary he had found himself sleeping with.
This was supposed to be a straight under cover mission to catch out this dangerous girl guilty of 22 known murders in the city. How quickly things had changed so drastically. In his defence it still is a mission in which he is to go undercover as the monster's boyfriend. But it kills him every time she comes home late when he knows what she's been doing; but has to act oblivious. The only thing that seems to get him through is that tomorrow he and his team arrest her; a beautiful young 18 year old girl. A mercenary. A killer.
The door opens slowly at 4:30 am and there isn't a sound except the quiet click at the closing of the door. Jayda walks in empty handed, never storing her weapons inside the house in case of home invasions but more to keep the truth of her lifestyle from her 'boyfriend'; and tip toes down the hall way, peering inside the bedroom to see the silhouette of his sleeping form, glad she hasn't woken him.
She continues down the hall and into the laundry, faded camo pants gripping her hips and clinging to her slim athletic thighs, loosening their grip at her calves before disappearing under a pair of boots. A red singlet top clings to her breasts (not exactly small but not too large to hinder her purpose), cutting off to leave a thin strip of flesh just above her pants; which have a gold plated image of a hawk to clip the waist band around he body. A brown, leather jacket clasps her slender athletic shoulders loosely and stops just above the bottom of her shirt, the sleeves stopping just past her elbows to reveal a tattoo of Korean characters down the underside of her right forearm. She sheds her jacket and slips it into the wash to clean it of blood.
Jayda silently walks into the bathroom adjoining the bedroom and washes her face to clean it more, spraying on some perfume to cover the smell of a rotten life style before walking into the kitchen where she sees the coffee machine still holding hot coffee, an affectionate token from her boyfriend. She fills her cup and leans against the bench in the darkness, sipping on the palatable liquid. She closes her eyes and lets the endearing scent surround her even though the ecstasy of her last kill is still fresh in her veins and leaves her with the predictable inability to relax and sleep. But she tries anyway.
This was supposed to be a straight under cover mission to catch out this dangerous girl guilty of 22 known murders in the city. How quickly things had changed so drastically. In his defence it still is a mission in which he is to go undercover as the monster's boyfriend. But it kills him every time she comes home late when he knows what she's been doing; but has to act oblivious. The only thing that seems to get him through is that tomorrow he and his team arrest her; a beautiful young 18 year old girl. A mercenary. A killer.
The door opens slowly at 4:30 am and there isn't a sound except the quiet click at the closing of the door. Jayda walks in empty handed, never storing her weapons inside the house in case of home invasions but more to keep the truth of her lifestyle from her 'boyfriend'; and tip toes down the hall way, peering inside the bedroom to see the silhouette of his sleeping form, glad she hasn't woken him.
She continues down the hall and into the laundry, faded camo pants gripping her hips and clinging to her slim athletic thighs, loosening their grip at her calves before disappearing under a pair of boots. A red singlet top clings to her breasts (not exactly small but not too large to hinder her purpose), cutting off to leave a thin strip of flesh just above her pants; which have a gold plated image of a hawk to clip the waist band around he body. A brown, leather jacket clasps her slender athletic shoulders loosely and stops just above the bottom of her shirt, the sleeves stopping just past her elbows to reveal a tattoo of Korean characters down the underside of her right forearm. She sheds her jacket and slips it into the wash to clean it of blood.
Jayda silently walks into the bathroom adjoining the bedroom and washes her face to clean it more, spraying on some perfume to cover the smell of a rotten life style before walking into the kitchen where she sees the coffee machine still holding hot coffee, an affectionate token from her boyfriend. She fills her cup and leans against the bench in the darkness, sipping on the palatable liquid. She closes her eyes and lets the endearing scent surround her even though the ecstasy of her last kill is still fresh in her veins and leaves her with the predictable inability to relax and sleep. But she tries anyway.