RE: Scarlet Letters -QuixoticXCandy-
Watching Darcy from beneath her long ebony lashes, Olivia wondered what he could have been contemplating at that very moment with her alluring body pressed firmly against his own; hopefully, it was how quickly he could strip the clothes she had borrowed from his personal wardrobe and how swiftly they could move to his bed. However, she doubted this highly as the look of concentration masked his expression, signifying perhaps he was rolling her issued challenge around in his head. Perhaps he even contemplated the possible positive implication it would have in his particular line of work. The question remained: did he have the resolve to accept or would he fall prey to her enticing offer of heated, passionate fucking.
Her wondering was quieted as she enjoyed watching him squirm beneath her skilled advances. Had her meager physical stimulus caused him so much angst that she could easily feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against her own as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, perchance to clear the haze of lust that fogged his mind. She was enjoying their little game as she felt the soft thump of his heart against her lips as she brushed them gently over the crook of his neck, offering him yet another physical ploy to get him to relent to her.
'He's so weak,' she thought darkly as she sank back down to her original height, looking up at him with a Cheshire Cat grin that curled up the corners of her provocative mouth. She said nothing as words would sully their moment, instead her eyes glittered with her inward desire for him to submit to her will,
'Fall for the inevitable lover, listen with that cock of yours and not your brain.' It was only a matter of time before he couldn't resist tasting her flesh or feeling her silky skin beneath the tips of his fingers or tongue. How long, she thought, would it take him to buckle under the pressure? True, it could have been construed as opportunistic of her to use his mania for carnal pleasure to get what she desired but Darcy was the only man in London that she was directly connected to who could get her close enough to the crime scene without scrutinizing looks.
Her own query was answered in the form a question when he teasingly inquired what she knew of criminal activity and that in her youth she dared to skip curfew. It was a little amusing to know that while yes she had skipped curfew on a number of occasions, there were considerably more sinister things she had committed but those secrets she would sooner take to the grave than divulge to London's most eligible bachelor. She responded in kind as once more she rose up onto the balls of her feet so she could flick her little-wicked tongue against his lips, allowing him but a brief taste of her mouth "I'll never tell," she whispered against his lips seductively, pausing only long enough to draw his bottom lip between her teeth and give it a firm pinch "that is unless you punish me first." As his hands came to snake around her waist and drew her against him possessively, the Ackerman girl grinned impishly as she returned his unwavering gaze. She searched his tempest eyes for the answers she sought after still with her own hypnotic orbs: were her feminine wiles working on him or was he contemplating the nature of her odd request still?
Then came a sigh that signified she had won this bout,
'Oh Darcy-'' she thought triumphantly, keeping her pleasure concealed beneath her devilish grin
'-you handsome, gullible fool.' With a tantalizing moan from her parted lips, Olivia indulged in the strength his fingers demonstrated as his hands glided down to her backside to cup her perky bottom. When his lips came down to claim another kiss, she fought the urge to withdraw, instead, she leaned into the kiss momentarily before shrinking down again.
All her previous disgust and revulsion melted away as he finally announced that if she so had the inclination to observe the crime scene, they would in fact go. It took nearly ever reserve of strength she had not to simply jump for joy. From the very moment the first 'Fleet Street' editorial had been written about the brutal killing, she had desired to observe Jack's insanity!
What had almost caused her to erupt into a fit of laughter was her lover's comment about having to carry her back if she fainted, instead she simply snorted, "You, carry me? Ha! Poppycock!" Gore did not affect her as Darcy implied it should, instead, she found the crimson blood and dismembered bodies compelling. In fact, he had no idea that as a youth she had been naturally curious about death and anatomy after she had overheard the grisly details concerning her Aunt Margaret's untimely demise. Still an innocent child, Olivia had questioned her parents about the topic and received no suitable answer that quenched her naive mind. Instead took it upon herself on numerous occasions to 'learn' what she could from the abundance of dead creatures (mostly rats), that littered the streets. There was still so much more she wanted to understand, but such things were improper for young ladies.
Memories of her dismembering dead creatures evaporated as the tell-tale signs of her lover's arousal pressed against the flat plains of her belly; such a simple fellow. "Mr. Oxenham, I will expect you to uphold your end of the bargain upon our return," the brunette cooed softly as one of her long-fingered hands trailed down her lover's torso to softly grip onto his throbbing length through his trouser,"You can not promise a lady a good time and then cancel such an invitation" already she was devising a way to escape from her unspoken promise of coitus. However, what spilled from his mouth next instantly chilled her blood, as he announced he knew she was tempting him; had she really been so transparent?! Previously she had questioned his brilliance, now she wondered if he could see through the remainder of her acts or how much he actually understood about her strange nature.
For longer than she desired, Olivia was left speechless, unable to find anything remotely intelligent to throw her lover off the scent of her obsession with the Ripper and the macabre, that was until Darcy offered her an out she had to take advantage of. "You caught me red-handed," she admitted sheepishly, sighing inwardly with relief as she eluded detection, "How is it," she began, arranging her words carefully to seem believable,"you see straight through me darling? I must be an open book to you." She teased, her cheeks flushing pink with forced embarrassment as she attempted to feign innocence still. It was horrifying to think that the nitwit in front of her had easily seen through the act and noticed that something was amiss. If Darcy had seen through her, others would as well; she needed to be more careful. "To see you faint in front of the majority of Scottland Yard would indeed make my day dear-" she had more to comment on the matter but the words were lost to her as his hand came down across her ass, leaving her skin pleasantly stinging with feverish delight.
As Darcy removed himself from her and their conversation died, she watched him cross the room and begin to rummaging through stacks of seemingly important papers. What exactly was he searching for with such fervent determination? "Might I inquire as to what you search for? Maybe I could offer my assistance?" When he said nothing in response to her and instead continued to search, Olivia's manicured brows knitted in frustration. After several more moments of frantic hunting did he return with a card that was like the equivalent to the keys of Heaven's gates. She didn't need to scrutinize the card to understand its purpose, she knew exactly how much power that single piece of pressed paper possessed. That was their ticket.
At his command to dress in her Sunday finest, Olivia beamed excitedly, "Of course!" She squeaked,"I would hate to disappoint any of your superiors if they were present." She didn't speak another word as she rushed past him quickly, eagerly collecting her coin purse which she had brilliantly placed atop the warm cherry wood entryway table by the front door the previous evening, and saw herself out. If he wished her to look the part she would have to do better than simply donning a pair of his trousers and one of his fitted collared shirts or the evening gown the maids at her families estate had struggled to squeeze her into. No, she needed something that spoke volumes of who she was and who she was with.
Nothing could compare to the crisp, cool air that licked her skin the moment she stepped out of the stuffy flat Darcy resided in and out into the pleasant morning. Olivia greedily sucked in a deep breath and sighed contently as she made her way carefully down the stairs to the cobblestone street that was already filled with the hustle and bustle of London's finest scurrying off to social engagements that had to be kept. As she became a part of the crowd, she delighted in the skin puckering feeling as her bare feet padded softly against the path, eyes of passersby judging why she had decided on a lack of footwear. She blamed it partly on having no desire to wear the shoes she had worn to the soiree that previous evening but mostly because the idea of seeing the handiwork of dear ol' Jackie had simply caused her to forget. She was beyond excited, elated even, to know that within the perceivable future, she would actually be standing before the disembodied whore Jack had so painstakingly ripped to pieces.
What would it be like, she wondered, to see the dried blood or the whore's frozen expression of terror? Would she be able to look at the body and admire the craftsmanship and detail of each cut left in her flesh? Or would she be revolted and look away from the thing she stared at, that was once a living breathing creature?
'She was just a trollop after all,' Olivia reasoned, having momentarily felt a pang of guilt for thinking another 'human' was no more than an animal destined for the slaughter house. It was tragic that the woman had lost her life but the whore should have considered herself lucky, fortunate even.
'If Jack had not found you and used your body as a painter would a canvas, you would have been forgotten to the ravages of time. You will forever be remembered, famous for your sacrifice.' As the young woman continued to envision just what possibilities she might uncover at the murder scene, she began to hum mostly to herself a gentle little tune. Silently she came to a stop at the edge of the cobblestone sidewalk, her doe-like hazel orbs flicking to and fro in search of a cabby.
~Half an Hour Later ~
Darcy had instructed his lover to dress in her Sunday finest and comply with his wishes she had. When next the Ackerman girl reentered through the same doorway she had departed from over half an hour ago, Olivia was dressed to kill. In exchange for the loose slacks and button down shirt, she returned wearing a
black dress with sapphire blue silk inlay she had had specially tailored for her body. Atop her head was fastened a
hat of the same black material; within the blue and black band were set a handful of the same colored feathers all attached with a pale white cameo and black ribbon. Beneath the hat, the young woman had arranged her long brunette locks into a messy
updo in order to keep her long chocolate tresses out of her face. Olivia had even pulled out her stash of fine jewelry as this sort of occasion called for beautiful finery. Around her slender, pale neck was a
pearl choker she had acquired from her mother as a birthday gift. Lady Ackerman had instructed her only child that the necklace was only to be worn on her wedding day, having stated that it had been passed down from mother to daughter, as a symbol of their purity. She had long since been sullied and presumed that with her dirtied innocence, the choker would hold a different symbolism for her specifically.
"Darling, while there is no important appointment to keep, we continue to dally and the Bobbie will have the crime scene cleaned before we arrive. That thought alone was enough to cause her stomach to twist into sickening knots and the familiar taste of bile to fill her mouth. If they missed this window of opportunity, Olivia could only guess when next Jack would strike or
if he would strike again. For Darcy, this was just an outing to possibly raise through the ranks or even impress his superiors with his extensive knowledge pertaining to this particular killing but to her, it was so much more. This was a chance to understand the gears and working parts of a psycho's mind, to dip into waters that few had the courage to traverse. Olivia needed this, just as she needed air. If she was denied this chance, her body would wither away and a piece of her would die. Words would never be able to aptly describe how fascinated she was by this Ripper fellow, and no one could possibly understand her fascination, perhaps besides Jack himself. What nightmares plagued Jack's mind to cause him to break down and find pleasure in the bloody, sadistic murders he committed?
When Darcy appeared from around the corner, he too dressed in his finest, did the young woman cross the room and take his arm even before he had offered it, practically dragging him out the front door excitedly.
'Remain calm Olivia!' She silently scolded, slowing her pace to appear less eager,
' You appear too excited and you out yourself to your lover! Think of the negative implications!' This was easier said than done! Upon entering the carriage, sitting opposite of Darcy, her hands folded neatly in her lap, Olivia smiled a watered down smile to try and appear anxious, perhaps even give her lover the idea that she was reconsidering her desire to see the gore that awaited them.
As the carriage pulled away from the curb with a jolt and the sound of hooves clomping down the dirty London street filled her ears, the Ackerman girl reclined back against the plush velvet seats and let her mind wander. Thoughts buzzed around her head like a hive of angered hornets; so many thoughts that the sounds of the outside world had faded into white noise within her head. She couldn't think straight, couldn't focus on anything Darcy said, hell she couldn't even still her quivering hands.There were so many emotions filling her form that even her own feelings were beginning to blur into one giant blob of undecipherable sensations.
The ride hadn't taken long at all and when the sights of beautiful London devolved into the dingy grays and browns of Whitechapel did Olivia begin to fidget in her seat. Outwardly her excitement could have been perceived as anxiety and even fear but the young woman was overwhelmed with a slew of emotions. Excitement to understand the Ripper, fear of being found guilty of her sickening obsession, even joy at finally being able to say 'I saw Jack the Ripper's victim with my own two eyes!" It was when the carriage came to a jolting halt and she was stepping out into the brisk morning air did reality begin to set back in. She was actually there, about to look on a sight not many within the world could stomach,
'I'd give my soul to the Devil to meet him.' The white noise that had filled her mind cleared as that single thought rang out in her brain as clear as thunder.
She had scarcely realized that Mr. Oxenham had grabbed a hold of her tightly and the two of them were fighting their way through an enormous crowd of onlookers much like them. Perhaps all those in attendance were like her: hoping to understand why Jack did what he had. Sadly, she knew that those around them had come in order to sate their morbid curiosity.
'They will never be able to understand, never'Olivia thought bitterly as she finally lifted her gaze. Within that moment of clarity did an unyielding desire to meet the one and only Jack the Ripper begin to encompass her every waking thought.
'I have to meet him, have to speak with him, have to...to' and that was when hazel eyes fell upon a sight that instantly drained all color from her face.
Perhaps only a foot away was the remnants of what was once a human woman, now, as Olivia gazed on with glassy transfixed eyes, did she truly begin to appreciate Jack's work. The woman was hardly recognizable! What lay before her was not a woman but instead the carcass of an animal that had been picked clean by a predator far more brilliant than anyone within London fair could dare to outwit. The body lay prone, its belly slit from sternum to pelvis in a single clean cut, internal organs lay beside the sickly pale skin like some sort of disgusting funeral wreath and what skin wasn't the deathly white was a deep crimson red that black magic roses paled to in comparison. "Oh my-" Olivia whispered wide-eyed, mouth agape in astonished horror, her hands raising up to obscure a fascinated grin that was slowly beginning to crack her shocked expression.
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