Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana) - Completed Story

"You need to call in Lila."

Detective Tom Reilly let the photo slip from his fingers, and ran his palm over a scalp adorned with brown hair, shorn in a buzz-cut, then lifted his blue eyes to stare at his colleague. "I'm not sure, Jarrod," he replied slowly, and drew his gaze back to the image of the bruised, battered and naked woman that had landed face-up on his desk, located in an office on the second of the Police building in the ninety-sixth precinct. The woman who, by appearances, could be his wife's sister. Not that you could tell from the crime-scene photo.

In that, Stephanie Davis barely resembled a human being at all, however, beside it sat another, obtained from her next of kin, and taken two years prior, where she stood on a beach, dressed in a modest blue sun-dress, with hair flowing in the wind, and smiled into the lens as if she hadn't a care in the world. Now she was dead. Stalked, sexually assaulted, hounded, harassed and toyed with for months by some psycho, who'd eventually brought his sick game to a conclusion by brutally raping the woman, and throttling her to death.

Just as he had with the previous two, Nina Ross, and Angela Pattinson. All in their thirties, with medium length black hair, green eyes, and curvaceous bodies reminiscent of Scarlett Johansson. Thomas had identified the pattern, and now, for the first time in his career, the thirty-eight year old, who'd investigated multiple homicides, suicides, violent crimes, and accidental deaths, had a serial-killer to contend with.

"He needs to be profiled, and she's the only expert we can trust to keep her mouth shut."

Tom once again looked to his friend and partner, and arched a brow as the man continued.

"You know as well as I do, that if this gets out, the FBI will storm in all guns blazing, and you'll be doing nothing but fetching coffee, and watching your career ambitions go down the drain. But, catch this guy yourself, and the sky's the limit." Jarrod, though ten years younger than Tom, and a relative rookie, didn't have to stress that his ambitions were also at stake. "I don't know what you're worried about, anyway. They look a little like your wife, so do three million other women." His partner jabbed a forefinger on three of the photo's that lay on Tom's desk, in turn. "Nina Ross, separated. Angela Pattinson, never married. Stephanie Davis, divorced. All single, and lived alone. The guy prefers easy prey."

Tom realised his colleague was right. It had simply been the connection between the crimes, and the eerie resemblance of the latest victim to Lila, that had momentarily spooked him, however, with Jarrod's persuasion, he quickly swept his concerns aside. Reilly had been brought up the hard way. Raised by a sadistic and alcoholic Father after being abandoned by a cheating whore of a mother at age three, he'd scrapped his way through childhood, and escaped home at age eighteen by joining the army for a tour of duty, then applied to the force when he returned; forever proud of the commendations he garnered, and the fact he'd outrun the genetics of his Father. Except for one trait. Tom was also a fighter, and this asshole had gotten on his nerves. There wasn't a snowball's chance in Hell that he'd hand the investigation over to the Feds.

With a nod of agreement, he motioned for his younger colleague to vacate the office, then stretched his six foot two inch, athletic frame, and reached for his cell-phone to text his wife. "Hey babe. Whenever you've some free time, can you call by. There's a case I'd like you to take a look at."

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Dr. Lila Ryan looked over the case file she was supposed to testify on the following week. A woman who had thrown her infant child from a sixth story window. Postpartum psychosis was the diagnosis the defense attorney was pushing for, and she would going to have to evaluate the woman before then. She pushed the file back on her desk sipping at her tea, looking for a distraction, an excuse to put off the case for another day. Fortunately for her, distraction came in the form of a text, from her husband.

"Hey babe. Whenever you've some free time, can you call by. There's a case I'd like you to take a look at."

Wasn’t quite the flirtatious or romantic text she would have hoped for, but it appealed to her all the same. Tom was a practical man, and dedicated to his work, as much as she was to hers. It worked well for the couple. Their first date was actually predicated on Tom inviting her out to dinner to talk about a case. She was surprised to find out that there was no pretense to his invitation, and they spent most of the evening discussing the psyche profile of a kidnapper. Had she been anyone else, it would have been considered a lousy first date, but for Lila, it was a dream. They married a year later and things had been great ever since. Well, one occasionally got swept up in their work, but they could work it out, regardless.

Lila had grown up relatively privileged, two parent home in suburbia, went to a good college and received her PhD in Psychology by age 24. Published in the American journal of Forensic Psychology three times before she was thirty, she was already a rather successful forensic psychologist.

So what drove a good girl from the right side of town into studying the darkest of the dark? A position of safety and privilege, most likely. Such threats were far away from her life, and married to a respectable further isolated her form the kind of the (mostly) men and women she profiled.

Dressing in her typical business casual attire, she wore a white button up blouse, that only just clung to her breasts. She paired it with black slacks, fitted to her curves and modest heels. She wore her hair in a half up style, letting her bangs fall over her pale green eyes. Picking up food on her way there, she arrived at the precinct giving the impression she was just meeting her husband for the lunch. She stepped right into his office, placing the takeout on a nearby table giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“I guess it is a good thing I am good at what I do, otherwise you would never have an excuse to call me during the day,” She teased, sitting across from him at his desk. “Are you hungry? I thought we would try the Korean BBQ that just opened on Main. I picked up some short ribs, bbq chicken, cold spicy noodles, and steamed vegetables over rice.” She explained, picking up each container to read off its contents. She served herself a bit from all four, and pulled a water bottle from her bag, wasting no time before digging in.

“So, what can you tell me about the case?”

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Tom wondered for what seemed to be the millionth time why Dectives were required to dress like wall-street bankers or stock analysts. At least that was the expectation in public, however the moment he had the office to himself, he unknotted his tie, slipped off the linen suit jacket, and undid the top button of his shirt, then sat back in his chair, raised his eyes to the ceiling, and tapped the tip of a ballpoint pen against his teeth. That was Tom's usual mode of concentration and contemplation, and so intent was the man's focus on the new case that all else slipped from his mind, even the recollection that he'd texted his wife. Therefore, the sudden familiar sound of her voice, accompanied by the enticing aroma of barbecue, startled him, and he immediately shot upright. The sight of Lila elicited a smile that only widened with the greeting and kiss. "Sorry baby."

He was aware that he wasn't the most romantic man on the Planet, and that Lila accepted it, which was one of the reasons he loved her more than he'd ever loved any other woman. The Detective was too practical, and dealing with death and grief all day made flirtation and romance even more difficult. However, he did try, and occasionally even succeeded. "Next time I summons you in the middle of the day, I promise, it will be for no other purpose than to cuff you to the desk, and fuck you silly. Exactly what I intend to do tonight." A teasing expression momentarily lit up his features before his demeanour and tone became serious.

"Thanks for the food, I haven't had time to worry about eating." Tom helped himself from the cartons, and appraised Lila. The concerns from earlier lingered in the back of his mind, but Jarrod's words had put him mostly at ease, and he decided not to mention the victims uncanny resemblance to her. His colleague wasn't acquainted with Tom's wife, and it was possible it had only been a projection of the Senior Detective's own insecurities and fears. Instead, Tom speared a piece of chicken with a fork, and answered her question. "Three victims, all early to mid-thirties, attractive, black hair, green eyes, single, lived alone." The Detective spoke in short-hand as was his custom when outlining cases, and to Lila in her guise as a professional forensic psychologist, rather than as his spouse.

"The connection only came to light today. I caught the latest, ran the details through the database, and visited the previous scenes. Too many similarities not to be the same guy. He likes to play games, and I don't see him as a pure rapist. They were all stalked for months. Phone calls, letters, petty thefts, Email accounts and computers hacked, explicit images stolen, and each complained to friends at some stage about being sexually harassed by a stranger. Nothing major, groped on a train, inside a club, everyday incidents, but there could be more we're not aware of. Once he's bored with terrorising them, he enters their homes, rapes them as savagely as I've ever seen a woman be raped, and throttles them to death. What do you think?" Tom tossed the photograph's he'd placed in a brown envelope across to Lila's side of the desk, then added vegetables to the chicken, and forked both into his mouth.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Some fear caught in her throat as he mentioned the physical description. It sounded the way he might describe her to a friend who hadn’t met her. She pushed down the unease, flashing a smile to hide her apprehension. “Sounds like you have similar tastes,” Lila teased, and then immediately regretted it, finishing her bottled water to avoid having to see the reaction on his face. He continued, ignoring her remark for the time being.

She looked over the case file, green eyes briefly taking in the vast amounts of information. She analyzed quickly, while she worked on her food. By the time she finished her lunch, she had a solid profile working through her mind.

“A lot of work to put in just t rape and kill. It’s almost like…courtship. Like he sees himself as part of their life. Delusional, on top of being a sexual sadist. His choice of victim supports this. These aren’t necessarily easy targets. He could have chosen prostitutes and he would have twice as many kills before anyone would have caught on. The choice of victim is more important than going under the radar, and is obviously a major driving force behind his actions. He is extraordinarily confident, toying with them for month before making his move, never actually afraid of getting caught in the ensuing time.”

“Based on victimology, I am guessing white male, mid-thirties to late forties. This dedication to stalking means he has considerable free time, so he is most likely single. He is intelligent and organized, highly aware of how far to push the inappropriate behavior and escalation, without actually attracting attention from law enforcement before he completes his routine. I wouldn’t rule out someone knowledgeable about the law.”

The main thing that jumped out at Lila was how…fascinating this killer was. Oh, he was a terrible person, little doubt about that, and she was more than happy to lend her considerable skillset to Tom so he could take the man down, and lock him away for the rest of his life. But him being a terrible person did not take away from his ability to fascinate and entrance her. She knew, suddenly, that he was what she was looking for. He was the case that would cement her career. She would publish a book on him and his crimes, and she would be at the apex of her career. And Tom, if he could catch this man before the FBI caught on and took over, would see his ambitions realized as well. At this point in time, it was in both of their best interests to keep this among themselves.

“Three kills, with a common M.O. and a cooling off period. Tom, this is a serial killer. You are supposed to call this in,” She explained, her eyes meeting his now, testing his resolve. She collected her things, giving him another kiss as she readied herself to leave, “I have to go and interview the Jennings woman now, before I testify next week. I might be able to get you a written profile by tomorrow afternoon, if you like.”

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

A sense of trepidation hit Tom again as Lila's teasing comment reverberated in his ears, however the Detective wasn't a superstitious man, and he swiftly put it down to the coincidence that she'd just expressed what he'd earlier been thinking. Or had he projected it by his own description, without consciously being aware he was doing so? Whatever the case, the feeling passed as they got down to business. The real victims.

He remained silent, except for the sounds of chewing, and carefully watched Lila mulled over the information. As far as he could see, she didn't react to the images, and when she'd finished, he grasped the blue pen he'd earlier tapped between his teeth, and twirled it between two fingers whilst he appraised her initial conclusions. "Makes sense. All of the victims were white, and lived in white, middle-class neighborhood's, so he wouldn't stand out, especially as I'm positive that he entered their homes, possibly more than once, prior to the final rape. Also, although two of the women reported harassment, there was no formal investigation as none of the matters were regarded as serious enough to warrant one, so you're right. He knows just how far to push it."

Tom shrugged. It was a fact of life that the Authorities didn't possess the resources to investigate every minor complaint, and that it was often considered women over-reacted. "In fact, half of the incidents didn't even come to light until friends and acquaintance were interviewed after their deaths, and I believe he may have used the threat of releasing stolen explicit images to keep them silenced." The Detective had been glancing at the case file on his desk as he responded, before his blue eyes met Lila's green ones with her final words, and he sat back to stare at her as she prepared to depart.

This was the case of a lifetime; one that could make or break his ambitions, and result in his name headlining the papers and television news bulletins, and it was fine for Lila to say he call it in, for she was already successful and well-known within her profession, whereas he wasn't. That, although Tom had never spoken of it aloud, was cause for a touch of resentment. However, there'd also been something about the phrasing that had perked his interest. Not that he had to report it, or that he should, but that he was supposed to, and he thought it possible that Lila had been intrigued by the man and his acts, just as he was. "I'm off to interview the latest victim's ex-boyfriend, so I'll walk you downstairs. Not likely he has any knowledge, but he needs to be crossed off as a suspect."

The Detective momentarily averted his gaze to stand and grab his jacket and utility belt, then gently touched Lila's arm and spoke softly when his focus returned to his wife. "We don't know that it's a serial-killer yet, so let's just keep it between us for the moment. If it turns out to be what we believe it is, then I'll report it, but I'd rather not run off half-cocked, and make a fool of myself." His first lie. Tom was certain that it could be only be the same perpetrator, and that he already possessed enough evidence to at least arouse the FBI's curiosity. "Just get me that written profile by tomorrow, and I'll keep you updated every step of the way. Okay baby?"

All concerns of Lila's resemblance to the previous victims had been forgotten in the excitement of imagining himself pitted against such a formidable opponent by the time he completed the question with a kiss, and motioned for her to exit the office before him.

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That may have changed if he'd known the database search of the three cases that morning had triggered an alarm, and the perpetrator had swiftly set to finding out who'd uncovered the link between the dead women.

My my, hadn't the killer been pleasantly surprised when his research had led to discovering the Detective's wife's profession, and then to an image of Dr Lila Ross. So much so that he'd followed her from her practice to the police station, and when she exited with her husband, he keyed her so easily obtained number into his cell-phone.

Detective Reilly is a very lucky man, Dr Ross. He should be careful someone doesn't try and steal you away. Dark hair, green eyes, just my type.

Text sent, the man relaxed in his vehicle, and smiled. He'd become bored with easy targets, so hopefully this one, and her husband, would present a greater challenge than the last.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

The rest of the afternoon was spent working on her current caseload, spending a couple hours interviewing her postpartum psychosis case. The whole thing was incredibly draining, and she still had to go through the five pages of notes she wrote down in the interim and get a write up done. Lila was positively drained, and it was hardly 3 pm. She pulled out her phone, to text Tom to bring home some dinner tonight.

There was a message waiting for her, form a number she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t so strange, she used this phone for business as much as for personal use, so she often got message from the various detectives, attorneys, prosecutors and even the occasional FBI agent. It wasn’t hard to get a hold of her, if one knows who she was. Of course, the text she received was not anything she would have been expecting.

Dark hair, green eyes, just my type.

It sent cold shivers down her spine, freezing her in her tracks. She stared at it for a few minutes longer, rereading every word until they were meaningless collections of letters. It was ominous, but not in any way that way obvious, or clear to understand. It was flirtatious, in a predatory manner, in a way that saw her as a prize to be won, an object to be claimed, instead of a person with her own agency.

Immediately her mind went to the case she had discussed with Tom. The serial rapist and killer. No it didn’t make any sense. How could he know Tom was on to him, or that she was called in? Her rational mind swept about the fears, none of it made any sense. It was merely coincidence, someone would text her like this on the day she consulted on that case. It was unrelated, surely. Some pushy guy who didn’t think her having a husband made her off limits. She was attractive, still hit on regularly, mostly when she was alone. She blocked the number form texting her again, writing it off. She sent out her message to Tom, debating telling him about the message.

Ultimately, she decided against it. Tom was a jealous man, and telling him about the text would only cause him to launch off into an investigation into who might have sent it to her, and what her relationship was to them. It was a far cry to say he was paranoid, but he inquisitive about any men she might have been friendly with. It was one of the few things that triggered him, so she avoided doing things that might upset him in that way. Including deleting the text form her phone, figuring what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. It was easier that arguing.

She went home now, locking herself in her office while she worked on the write up for her case, ignoring the outside world for the meanwhile. She wrote for three hours, well after Tom should have been home, unable to move on to the next task until she finished this one.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Tom occupied himself for the remainder of the afternoon with face-to-face interviews of acquaintances of the third victim, starting with her ex-boyfriend, Steve Harmon. As he'd suspected, the man held no knowledge of the crimes, and had a water-tight alibi for the night she'd been murdered. Tom then spoke to her best friend, and gathered that the incidents had started four months previously ago and gradually increased in intensity, however had not been reported to the Authorities.

He eventually prised from the woman that this had been because the stalker had blackmailed Stephanie into silence by the threat of emailing a stolen explicit home-video to her co-workers and acquaintances, and uploading it to the internet. A woman's pride could sometimes be her downfall, and Stephanie, convincing herself that she could handle it alone, had subsequently moved to a double-deadlocked apartment, and had a high-tech security system installed. Still, the killer had breached her defences, and Tom recalled Lila's words. The man was intelligent and cunning.

On the way to the interviews, he'd called Jarrod and requested his partner arrange for the three dead woman's phone logs and information obtained from their computer hard-drives to be delivered to his office. The advantage of Seniority was that he could keep the other man out of the loop, and order his mouth to stay shut, whilst still using his help for menial tasks. As long as he promised that he'd received part of the credit when the serial-killer was captured, Jarrod would play along, and for the moment, as far as his Superiors were aware, Tom only worked the one homicide.

"Shit." So engrossed had the Detective been as he'd reviewed the records on his return to the office, that he hadn't realised night had fallen until he'd stopped momentarily and glanced at his watch. Nine O'clock. He should have been home three hours ago, and hadn't even called Lila. That wasn't unusual, it was part of being of being a Detective and, for her, a Policeman's wife. Tom swiftly bundled the documents away, and departed, hoping to arrive before Lila went to bed, and briefly wondered if she'd found time to work up a full profile.

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The killer had returned to his place of employment for the afternoon, once Tom and Lila had gone their separate ways. There was no need to follow either of the two, as the man had placed a tracking bug under the side of both their cars. Lila's vehicle had been easy to locate, it was the one she'd driven from her practice, and as for Detective Reilly's Department issued Ford? The internet was a wonderful resource, and no data was safe if you knew where it was stored, and how to gain access.

As Nine O'clock struck, he sat at home and scrolled through images of Dr Lila Ross obtained from Google, some of which she may not have known had even been taken, then his head shot up at the sound of a beep that told him one of their vehicles was on the move. It was the husband's, and he tracked it on the global positioning system application downloaded to his cell-phone, until the blinking red dot came to a stop outside Tom and Lila's residence.

Two minutes later, he switched to the Settings app, hit Phone, then slid the Show My Caller Id setting to Off, so that her cell wouldn't recognise his number if she'd blocked it after the initial text, and messaged Lila for the second time that day. It'd show up as from an unknown caller, and sit in her received items until either read or deleted. The man hoped she'd display enough curiosity to do the former.

You don't respond to your text's, Lila? Tut, tut, that's rude. Tell me, does Detective Reilly always work so late, or was he really working? I have my doubts.

No harm in creating a touch of friction between husband and wife.

The message sent button lit up the man's screen just minutes before Tom stepped through their front door. "Hey honey, sorry I'm late. Got caught up with the case, and lost track of time. How was the rest of your day?"

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

It was seven before Lila left her office, mildly surprised that Tom wasn’t home yet. It wasn’t that unusual for him to work late, but he hadn’t even called. She sighed, making her way to the fridge, putting together chicken caesar salad, figuring Tom would have gotten takeout while working late. She ate dinner while watching some mindless show in front of the television, needing to decompress after her stressful day. One episode of trash TV turned into three, and glancing over to the clock, it was already ten till nine, and still no call from Tom.

Lila stretched and turned off the TV, deciding to head off to bed early tonight. She took her phone with her as she went to the bathroom, stripping out of her clothes and running the shower. She was standing nude in front of her mirror, looking at her figure, mostly happy with it, but like any woman, she had some trouble spots she couldn’t help but criticize. Her hips were wider than she liked and she could see the faint lines appearing around her eyes. Of course growing older was inevitable, or at the very least, preferable to the alternative, but even the successful doctor could feel insecure about her looks. Even though Tom was too polite or engulfed in his work to notice her imperfections, she couldn’t help but hate them, and contemplate how she would fix them, and she would be perfect if just for that one thing.

She was distracted from her self-criticism by the buzzing of her phone. No doubt it was Tom apologizing for work so late or-

You don't respond to your text's, Lila? Tut, tut, that's rude. Tell me, does Detective Reilly always work so late, or was he really working? I have my doubts.

Lila shuddered as she read the text, feeling momentarily apprehensive about receiving yet another mystery text, this time with no identifying information. She swallowed hard, unnerved by the knowledge the texter seemed to have about her situation. It’s just a coincidence, it means nothing. Maybe she would tell Tom about this one, He would assure her that it was nothing. Dammit, where was he? He should have been here, with her. Could there be some truth, to this text? That Tom wasn’t really working?

No, it was absurd. She knew Tom to be workaholic, a trait she shared with him. It was the drive they shared that brought them together, and that allowed their relationship to work. Tom wasn’t stepping out on her, no way. He was probably caught up at the station with his case.

She slipped into the steamy shower, but still should couldn’t relax, the text still running through her mind. Did she have a stalker? Two texts hardly seemed like enough information, but he seemed to know quite a bit about her. And Tom. Probably nothing. Some creep, looking to get a rise out of her or some kids pranking her. She showered, trying to let the massaging heat of the water soothe her, but gave up after a while. She doubted she would be able to relax until Tom was home.

As she stepped out of the shower, she could hear the front door open. The sound made her stiffen, her heart race. Someone was here, with her. And she was naked, still sopping wet from the water running over her. She tried to breath deeply, push down her fear, but she could hear the heavy footsteps coming down the hallway.

There was a pistol, in the night stand. Tom had made her get it, and took her once a month to the shooting range, to use it. She wasn’t very good with it, always hesitating pulling the trigger, instead of squeezing it, or whatever it was Tom told her to do. She wouldn’t need to use it, though, would she? Just brandish it, scare off whoever was in the house with her. So she wrapped her fluffy cotton robe around her wet nudity, cinching it tight at the waist.

She moved quickly to the bedroom, long swift strides right to the nightstand, shaking as she pulled open the drawer. She heard the knob turning on the bedroom door, as she looked for the pistol, her moist hand too slippery and trembling to get a grip on it. All she could do was freeze, as the door open, and Tom stepped through.

“Jesus!” Lila cried out, relieved, but still reeling in the aftermath of her terror. She threw herself into her husband’s arms, needing to felt safe in his strong arms, at least for a while.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Tom realised he'd been speaking to himself, a second after he'd stepped through the door, and hanging his jacket and tie on the foyer wall-hook. A glance into the darkened and silenced living-room adjacent had told him that Lila wasn't present. It was still barely nine o'clock, and his immediate thought was that she'd be must be in her office, possibly working up the profile on his killer.

Actually, that wasn't Tom's next thought, but the one he wanted to believe, as the other possibility that had crossed his mind was that his spouse was irked he hadn't called to advise that'd he'd be late, and subsequently retired early to avoid his company. There was nothing the Detctive disliked more than coming home to an angry wife, pretending to be asleep, with her back turned to him, and who did not even acknowledge his presence when he slipped into next to her.

It was ironic that a man who'd seen the worst humanity had to offer, and stared down the most hardened criminals without pause or fear, had his stomach coil into knots at the concept that he may be in trouble with his wife. Not that Lila's anger frightened him, it was just she'd taken a long, long time for Tom to find, and for many years, immersed in his career and not a suave Casanova type, he'd resigned himself to the fact that he'd never discover his other half.

Then they'd met, and immediately connected. Lila had been the one woman who appeared to understand and appreciate his dry wit, and the fact that he was not always as serious as he appeared. His sense of humour was just different. She'd also forgiven his lack of natural romanticism, and occasionally even teased him good-naturedly about it. Tom had never loved anyone as he did Lila, and that resulted in his greatest dread. That the jealousy and temper he kept hidden in the depths of his soul would make an appearance during one of their arguments. Tom had never struck Lila. Yet.

Still hoping that she was in the study, he padded quietly across the carpet, then halted with teeth clenched in disappointment when he noted that only darkness emanated from under the door. It was at that moment he was distracted by a noise that caused him to jump, and for his head to swivel just in time to catch a white robed figure scurrying across the hall, so swiftly that it could almost have been a mirage. "Hey babe..." Tom's words stuck in his mouth, and his brows furrowed when the sound of the bedroom door shutting echoed up the hallway. No mirage, it was Lila. Was she that pissed?

"Baby." He called out again and moved to follow, in readiness to query her when he opened the door, however, before he could, her reaction stopped him dead in his tracks, and he instinctively opened his arms to accept her. "Honey, are you okay?" Tom arched a curious brow as he scanned her face, and gently rubbed her back, then his gaze shifted to the dresser, and a cold finger of fear shivered its way down his spine. The gun. He'd almost walked into being shot by his own wife, and the Detective's tone held an accusatory note when his shock-widened pupils returned to Lila. "What the fuck's going on?" It was obviously more serious than the sight of a spider, or after effects of a scary movie.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Lila wanted nothing more than to seek the sanctuary of Tom’s embrace. To have him wrap his arms around her and shield her from the darkness of the world. She just wanted to feel safe, safe from the terrible things she knew all too well happened to people. She was about to tell him about the mystery texts she received, and how she received them this evening, this same evening her husband told her about a serial killer and rapist who targeted women who looked like her.

Instead, he yelled at her. For being scared. His tone accusatory, as though she had done something wrong. As though she was in the wrong here. As though he hadn’t come home late from work, without even a call or a text to let her know what was going on. The adrenaline pumping through her body refused to let her see reason. Refused to let logic through. Refused to let cooler heads prevail. Five words were all it took to flip the switch from flight to fight mode.

In the five years of marriage, Lila and Tom argued very rarely. They had fought only once, and it was before they married. Lila had never forgotten that fight, never forgot the rage he had demonstrated that night. The look in his eyes, when she thought he was going to hit her, the sound of the hallway mirror shattering and flooring to the floor, as he took his rage out on it instead. How she screamed at him to leave, and he stormed out, nearly tearing the door off the hinges as he slammed it shut behind him. It was three months before their wedding, and she had sincerely considered breaking off their engagement. She would have, had he laid a hand on her then.

What had incited his rage that night? She had brought up his estranged father, and tried to talk Tom into reconciling with him, for the ceremony. Even that far into their engagement, she didn’t know how bad his relationship with his father was. That even bringing up the conversation of possibly forgiving him would turn the man she loved into a wrathful beast, was not something she was prepared for.

A few days later he can back around, after both of them had a chance cool off. He opened up about his painful childhood, and how hard he had work to distance himself from the abusive drunk that raised him. They had reached a new level of trust that day, a higher degree of connection and intimacy. So Lila took him back, married him like she had promised, but in the back of her head was that one night where his fury was monstrous.

Since then she had taken steps to be conscious of his anger. Fortunately for her, there were only a few issues that incited his rage to that extent, so it wasn’t hard to avoid it. Usually. Despite the fear that she hadn’t forgotten in all this time, Lila wasn’t back down this time. She couldn’t, her pride and fear wouldn’t let her.

“It’s after nine, Tom,” Lila spat venomously, pulling away. “You don’t call, you don’t text. Where the hell were you? Why couldn’t you just let me know?” The text came back to her.

Was he really working? I have my doubts.

“What were you doing, that you couldn’t let me know you would be gone? Who were you with?”

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Tom had been on the go since six o'clock that morning, had confirmed that the brutal rape and murder of a woman was the work of a serial-killer, interviewed her friends and acquaintances, and spent hours perusing telephone phone and computer records, without coming up with one iota of substantive evidence, or feeling as if he'd located a direction in which to turn. The only break, and sustenance, he'd had all day was the quick lunch with Lila, and the Detective was mentally and physically exhausted, frustrated, and impatient. Not a great combination.

The words that accusatory tone that accompanied them his words was unintended, and he was about to apologise for it, when Lila reacted with anger of her own. To Tom, in his current state, that was akin to a red rag being waved at a bull, and the apology stopped in his throat as he broke the embrace, and stepped back. "Where have I been?"

When was the last time he'd reacted with such instant anger, to an innocuous beginning? Oh, Tom knew the answer to that; the argument before they were married where, for the only and only time he'd come close to striking his wife, but at the last moment had managed to redirect the punch at the hallway mirror instead. Lila's reaction to his loss of self-control, had scared Tom, and he'd been depressed for days afterwards with thoughts that he may have lost her, until she'd relented, and he'd promised it would never happen again.

In the years since, it never had, and Tom had put that down to his own ability to maintain his temper, without possessing the slightest awareness that Lila deliberately avoided bringing up the subjects that could incite him. When the man did find himself angry, there were other targets to vent his rage on. A suspect who fell down the stairs, and fractured his arm, one who resisted arrest, and had to be forcefully subdued. Self-defence. Self-preservation. The Police Department provided the perfect cover for those with anger issues, and the majority of time all pent-up emotions were released before Tom arrived home.

However, this night was different, and as he stared down his wife, the man's hands curled into fists by his side, and heat roiled inside him. His fingers pressed into his plans, and he winced at the scratch of nails against flesh, totally aware of what was happening, and attempting to control it. Tom's entire body tensed, then he quickly turned away, to break the intense eye contact, and almost ripped the drawer completely free of the night-stand when he stepped over to reach in and grab the gun. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Tom hissed as his gaze found Lila again, and he thumbed the safety back and forth. "I don't why I bought you this. If there was an intruder, you'd be dead, or raped by the time you managed to get the damn safety off. Or end up shooting yourself. Or me." All confusion about what had elicited Lila's fear left his mind as Tom jumped to his own conclusions about a possible intruder, and approached her again, eyes red and narrowed. He didn't stop until his body touched hers, and he was right in her face, so close that were was no need to raise his voice, however he still did. "Where have I been? Who was I with? I was at the office, Lila. Alone. Attempting to solve a rape and murder. Next time you're more concerned about my dinner going cold, than a woman's life, why don't you fucking call?"

Tom could feel the veins pulsing in his neck, and the man took a deep breath as he held her gaze, with one fist clenching and unclenching by his side, and the knuckles of the other turning white from the pressure with which they gripped the gun. Then suddenly, he lifted an arm to shove her roughly aside, and his tone turned ice-cold. "I'll sleep in the guest room, and try not to think about what you really meant by those questions, otherwise I might just do something I'll regret." As with the argument before they were married, the door slammed shut with enough force to shake the foundations, but at least this time, he had the common sense to leave before he'd become angered enough to put his fist through a pane of glass. Or Lila.

The killer would have been pleased with the results of his night's work.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Lilia threw herself on the bed, muffling an irritated cry into her pillow. Whoever the mystery texter was, they had succeeded in getting under Lila’s skin, and the knowledge made her angry. How could she let this happen? She was normally so calm and rational; she was quite embarrassed about how she reacted tonight. She wanted to go after Tom, to apologize for overreacting, to admit what had her so rattled. But he was so angry, going to him now would only make things worse. The fury in his eyes, it made her blood run cold. He obviously had to get away from her before he let his anger erupt once more.

At least he was home. Whatever had her so fearful earlier this night could be pushed to the back of her mind. He might not share her bed tonight, but having him home made her feel safer. So she fell into a fretful sleep, and when she awoke, Tom had already left for work. It was a disappointment, but to be expected, given the fight, So she ate a small breakfast and dressed for the day, throwing herself headfirst into work, as was her normal coping mechanism when life was stressful. Lila devoted the first couple of hours of the morning to working up the profile, knowing the best way to win Tom back was to help him with the case currently occupying his mind. Once she was finished, she built up the courage to reach out to her husband.

Hey Hun, I finished that psych profile you needed. I can email it, if you like. Or bring it by, if you wanted to see me.

She got up to stretch her legs, and refill her tea, returning to hear the message tone form her phone going off. Even if Tom was still mad at her, he was committed to his job, and part of that included her.

Hey babe, now isn’t a good time, but I’ll check it out later. Thanks again.

Lila sighed. He didn’t seem so mad, but was still avoiding her. Maybe he needed more space. Maybe he needed that more than she needed the comfort and assurance from him. She weigh her options for a bit, before send off another text.

I want to apologize about last night. Obviously, we are both stressed out over work, and it came out at a bad time. I just missed you, last night.

She sipped at her tea, looking over the words on the screen, revising and rewriting the text several times until she hit just the tone she wanted to convey. Understanding, but not deferential. Compassionate, but not passive. She still wasn’t sure she was supposed to apologize first, but her desire to put the fight behind them was winning out over her pride. Tom was stubborn, and she didn’t want to wait a couple days for him to get the nerve to say sorry. So she hit send. She put the phone down, giving herself a chance to distract herself on Facebook, mindlessly scrolling over her feed. She was surprised to hear her phone go off again, so quickly.

How much did you miss me?

It wasn’t an apology, but it brought a smile to her face none the less. Flirtation from a man who rarely flirts was always a welcome diversion.

I was cold and lonely all night. I missed your arms around me.

She could hardly put her phone down, before the next message came up.

What are you wearing?

She could feel herself blush, smirking to herself at Tom’s unexpected forwardness. Maybe that was why he was so mad? Looking forward to coming home to see her all day, only to find her scared and angry when he got home. A girl could dream, couldn’t she?

A white button up and a black pencil skirt. You?

And underneath?

He didn’t respond to her inquiry. He must have had something in mind, some goal he was driving towards. She found that she liked him like this, forceful and determined. So she stoked the fires some.

Lacy black bra and panties. Can’t wait to let you see them.

Send me a picture.

She hesitated, for a moment. This wasn’t like Tom. This wasn’t the stern and serious man she married. But, he was a man, wasn’t he? With needs and urges, just like any other? Maybe this is what they needed. What he needed. Some sexy surprise from his wife, to get him eager and excited to see her this evening. Get him primed to ravish her the moment he walks through the door. So she unbuttoned her top, letting it fall open to expose the push up bra she wore, holding her breasts together to create a pleasing valley of cleavage for him to enjoy. She took a couple pictures, and sent him the best one, surprised by her own brazenness.

Very nice. And the panties?

She could feel her heart racing at this request. Biting her lips, debated it in her mind for a minute, and slipped out of her skirt. The panties were tiny little things, revealing more than they covered, highlight the curve of her ass and the width of her hips. She took the picture from a couple angles, and sent him a few, so he could enjoy every inch of her body. She could hope he would return the favor this evening.

I want you so bad babe. Maybe I could see more of you?

The text brought a proud smile to her face. She knew Tom loved and desired her, but it was nice to hear, or read in this case, every now again. The thought of Tom, alone in his office, looking at naughty pictures of her and getting aroused made her own arousal build. It got in the way of her better sense, as she slipped out of her blouse and bra, taking pictures of her bare breasts, the nipples erect in obvious desire. She him a couple, feeling her body grow hot at the thought he was getting as turned as she was.

Touch yourself. Touch yourself while you think of me.

Lila bit her lip at this last invitation, the demanding nature of it, thrilling her more than she could have anticipated. She hardly wasted any time, stripping off her panties, leaning back in her desk chair and letting her hands explore the smooth planes of her body. It was a bit awkward, to hold the phone in position, while he fingers worked at her hungry slit, but she made it work, capturing several picture of herself masturbating for her husband. A few full body ones, her head thrown back in bliss, breasts heaving in pleasure, hands playing at her sex. She even got a few up close ones, where he could see her slim digits teasing her clit and sliding into her cunt. She sent him all of the pictures, not shy about letting him know how much she was enjoying this game between them.

You look so good baby. Call me, I’ll send it to voice mail. I want to hear you come.

She built up a rhythm, closing her eyes and fantasizing that Tom came home early, lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom. He would throw he down on the bed, hold her wrists down as he kissed her neck and mouth, pinning her down with his body. He would tear off his own clothes, engulf her mouth in a hungry kiss as he shoved himself in her, fucking her hard and raw with the craving that had built up between them. This was not a tender, gentle love making. This was a needy fuck, an animalistic yearning to feel skin against skin, to reconnect after the tension of their fight. They wouldn’t even speak, just grunt and moan and sigh their shared pleasure, until they were spent, sweaty and tired and sore. Lila was fucking herself hard now, fumbling over her phone as she tried to fulfill his request. She held back as moans as the phone rang, waiting until his voicemail message came up to lose herself in the act. The sound of the message tone was a signal for her whole body to find its release. She cried out her climax, an emotional response as much as physical, calling out his name in breathy rasps, as her body shivered in euphoria. She stayed on the line for a few moment as she finished, just breathing hard as she came down from her orgasm.

“I’m waiting for you, babe.” And she hung up the call.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

I'm waiting for you, babe.

Oh yes, indeed she was, although Lila had no concept of who she was waiting for. Not that it mattered, because in time, she'd discover who, and come to know the man. Just as he'd come to know every inch of the woman's body, and relish the pain and humilation pasted across her features when he plunged his invading cock in to Lila's unwilling cunt, and raped her as brutally as he had the others.

Mark Dubois glanced up the empty corridor visible through Tom Ross's office doorway; left ajar so that if he was noticed, he could simply state that he'd been searching for the Detective, and attempted to ignore a raging hard on as his thumbs moved rapidly to transfer the images of the naked woman who'd just cum for her 'husband', to his own cell-phone. The dark hair, green eyes, swaying tits and voluptuous body on display excited the man, yet also caused his features to screw up in distaste and anger. "Slut." She was like the other three, and just like Rebecca. That teasing whore, so aware of her own beauty, who'd loved nothing more than to play games, and taunt men with what they could never possess. It had been a decade since Mark had graduated College, but he'd still never forgotten, nor forgiven, Rebecca. Now he was the one in control.

The timing had been impeccable. Aware that for an hour in the morning, the Detective and his colleagues would be occupied with their daily Squad Room briefing, the thirty-four year old forensic computer technician had walked straight through the front entrance of the Station as if he had every right to be there, which he did, and headed directly for the Detectives Office. His intent had been to locate any paper records and notations that Tom hadn't placed on his computer - some of the Detectives remained old school, and didn't fully trust technology - and install a listening device. He'd just completed those tasks, discovering nothing of concern, when a shrill buzzing noise had made him tense, and he'd lifted piercing grey eyes to the source. A cell-phone. Tom's.

"Hey Hun, I finished that psych profile you needed."

That message elicited a smile; he'd need to obtain a copy and see what she thought of him; which only widened as he scrolled through the rest.

I want to apologize about last night. Obviously, we are both stressed out over work, and it came out at a bad time. I just missed you, last night.

It appeared the couple had argued, and Mark had wondered if his messages had been the cause as, perched on the edge of Tom's desk, with ears open for the sounds of company, and an eye locked on the doorway, he replied.

She made it almost too easy. With the other women, Mark had been required to hack in to their home networks, and on one occasion, enter her apartment, to obtain the material he required to buy their silence, and to use for his own self-gratification, but here was Lila, with just a little prodding, providing it to him of her own volition. As he became entranced in the scene taking place on the screen before him, Mark emitted a growl of frustration at the realisation he could nothing here to fully ease the erection that throbbed more urgently with each revelation of her body as she fucked herself. For him.

Mark's eyes had briefly fluttered, and his breath became slightly heavier as a hand slid down to grip his cock through the fabric of his trousers; his arousal brought about as much by the imagining of how the Lila would react if she was aware of who was on the other end of the phone, as the sight itself. However, despite his excitement, Mark Dubois, maintained control of his faculties, and awareness of his surroundings, prepared to move at any moment, even through the voice-mail where she came, and when it was over, immediately snapped back to the present.

A couple of minutes after transferring the images and messages to his I-Phone six, and deleting them from the Detective's cell, he entered the Starbuck's adjacent to Police Headquarters, and once more messaged Lila from the unidentified number. This time the message was accompanied by an image; that of the Doctor, legs spread, head thrown back, mouth open in bliss, with fingers buried in her pussy; and Dubois sipped his double-shot Latte, and bit into a blueberry muffin as he typed.

As I stated, Lila, your husband is a very lucky man. Tell me, how does he like to fuck you, how do you like it? Hard and fast, or slow and gentle? Personally, I prefer to take my time, to build anticipation and ratchet up the tension. Make a woman want it so bad that she can't even think straight, before I eventually give her what she's aware is coming, but never when. Foreplay, I believe it's called. All women enjoy foreplay, don't they Ms Ross?

Whether she'd discussed his previous texts with Tom, Mark was unaware, but even if so they could have come from anyone, however this latest message would leave no doubt that it was the same man as the one her husband was chasing, so he added a rider. Hopefully she'd comprehend the implicit threat.

PS: Have you ever considered modelling? I'm certain I'm not the only stranger who'd love to jack off to the sight of you masturbating, though your husband may not be of the same view. You've ignored me twice, Lila. Do not make it thrice.

Mark took another bite of his muffin as the message sent icon popped up on his screen.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Lila figured there was a reason she didn’t often masturbate in the middle of the day. Obviously it was rare to find to time or the mood, and even rarer that the two might overlap. But eve more than that, it meant she had to take a break from work to shower again, the scent of her perspiration and arousal rather obviously sticking to her skin. At least this shower was more relaxing that her last one, as she indulged in further fantasies about Tom, and how they might make up from their fight.

She imagined him coming home now, joining her in the shower, pushing her into the wall with his body against hers and his tongue filling her mouth. When was the last time they relished in Shower sex? Maybe that’s where they should start this evening. Since she was already in the shower, she went ahead and fingered herself to a second orgasm. Whatever resentment or hurt she had felt last night transformed into need. A need to see her husband, to fuck away the anger and pain. She wrapped herself in a towel, and looked over her phone, happy to see a massage waiting for her. Without wasting a moment she opened it, eager to keep the pleasant interactions with Tom going for a bit longer.

As I stated, Lila, your husband is a very lucky man. Tell me, how does he like to fuck you, how do you like it? Hard and fast, or slow and gentle? Personally, I prefer to take my time, to build anticipation and ratchet up the tension. Make a woman want it so bad that she can't even think straight, before I eventually give her what she's aware is coming, but never when. Foreplay, I believe it's called. All women enjoy foreplay, don't they Ms Ross?

A picture, one of the pictures she had just sent Tom, accompanied it. One of her, mostly nude, legs spread wide, one hand on her breast and another on cupping her slit.

Lila read the words, several times, processing them. It wasn’t anything she was expecting, and for a moment, it didn’t even seem real. She was still trying to figure out what it meant, when the nest text came in.

PS: Have you ever considered modelling? I'm certain I'm not the only stranger who'd love to jack off to the sight of you masturbating, though your husband may not be of the same view. You've ignored me twice, Lila. Do not make it thrice.

She swallowed hard, fear sharpening her senses, and bringing her out of her pleasant fantasies. Fear, and disgust, that a man who was not he husband was looking at her, looking at the provocative and intimate photos she had taken for her husband’s pleasure. The message was a threat, a twofold threat. To release the pictures to the public and to her husband. She knew which one scared her more.

How did he get the picture? She sent it to Tom. Did he hack Tom’s phone? She wasn’t well versed in hacking, but she was sure such a thing were possible. But the timing was too perfect. It wasn’t even a full thirty minutes since she sent the picture. It didn’t seem likely he had managed to hack her husband’s phone just after she sent her husband a naughty photo, something she had never done before.

No it was more likely that Tom’s unusual request hadn’t come from Tom at all. This man had manipulated her into sending him nudes, while masquerading as Tom.
Whatever he expected form reaching out to her, she wasn’t sure, but she knew she didn’t want more trouble with Tom so quickly after their fight last night. So she went through the blocked numbers on her phone, finding the one who sent her that first threatening yesterday.

Who is this? What do you want?

She knew the answer to the first question. At least she knew about as much as she expected him to tell her. It wasn’t a coincidence that she received a predatory text the same day her husband started investigating a serial killer. He was the one Tom was looking for, and now he knew Tom was onto him. And what’s worse, he seemed to have his newest target lined up. Her.

Yet, for whatever reason, he was reaching out to her. Taunting her, letting her know she was in his sights, even as he was in her husbands. Perhaps because she already knew what he planned to do? She had several advantages over his last victims, with his methodology laid out before her, her own psychological insight into his madness, and a husband to watch her back. Was all that not enough challenge for him? Did his ego need stroking as well, taunting her all along while he tormented her? Well, she could play too. If he was feeling overconfident, he might slip up. Every text was further understanding, and chance to discover the man, and his identity, before she became victim number four.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Twenty minutes, thirty minutes the man sat in the Starbuck's, ordering another coffee, and he scrolled through the images of Lila Ross, then started again. His wandered over her body, and appraised it inch by inch, stopping to linger on the sight of her fingers buried in her dripping pussy before they returned to her face. The fingers of once reached out to trace her jaw line, and Mark pressed the pad of his thumb to her neck as he imagined the sensations as he closed his hand around it to cut off her airway, and her pussy clenched even tighter around his invading cock, would feel.

Would she scream or cry, and beg him to stop when he released his grip? Would there be tears stream from her eyes, and would she drop to her knees when he was done, and plead for him to at least leave her alive?

His erection throbbed more intensely, and the man squirmed in the booth as his gaze wandered to the clock at the top of the screen, and noted the time elapsed since he'd sent the message, and Mark's cheerful demeanour transformed in to a scowl. "Fucking bitch," he hissed under his breath, as he'd began to think that, once again, she wouldn't respond. Although Mark worked for himself in a one-person office downtown, contracting his computer forensic expertise to private citizens and Law Enforcement Authorities, he still had appointments to keep, and couldn't remain there all day, however just as he slipped his wallet from his back pocket and rose from his seat, the cell buzzed, and he dropped back down.

Who is this? What do you want?

Did she truly not know? Mark didn't believe so, and he smiled in satisfaction as he rested his back against the booth cushions, and responded to her text.

I'm an acquaintance of your husband, shall we say and as to what I want, I believe you're already aware of that. If not, you could ask Stephanie Davis; if only the dead could speak. I want you.

On your knees, eyes brimming with tears, and my cock shoved down your throat. However, that's in the future, as first I want you frightened, and looking over your shoulder, not sure who is friend or foe each time you step outside, or walk down the street, scared that every man you pass could be me; your future rapist. Fear, Ms Ross, pure, unadulterated fear. And I'd also like for you to answer my question, how do you like to be fucked? Or better yet, show me.

Ensure the living-room drapes are open tonight when your husband returns home, so that I can obtain a nice view. Do not even contemplate attempting to find me, as with high-powered binoculars I could be located anywhere within a ten block radius, or revealing our liaison to Tom. Disobey me at your own peril, because, be warned, if you do, these lovely images of you with your fingers in your cunt will be splashed all over the internet by morning, and your husband's superiors advised that he's disobeyed protocol and become a lone wolf.

How do you think the great detective would handle a demotion and his wife's naked body displayed for the entire world to see? Would your marriage survive, Lila. Would Tom? Would you? Is he intelligent enough to capture me before we reach-end game or do you lack faith in the man you married, and you're prepared to jeopardise his entire career and happiness because you don't trust his capabilities? If the latter is the case, then maybe me bringing that to light is a favour to you both.

Dubois scanned her message again before he continued. It was only short, but displayed no evidence of fear, and neither was it pleading, and he'd have expected nothing else from a forensic psychologist than a worthy adversary. It was why she, and Tom, had been chosen.

Oh, and here's a clue, as I'm certain you'll be updating your profile after this conversation. Wear something nice, I'm a man with a penchant for lingerie.

Message sent

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Lila was dressed by the time she received the text form the killer. More like letter than text, with paragraphs detailing what he wanted to do to her, and what he had hoped to instill in her. And his demand, that she fuck her husband for his viewing pleasure. Damn, this son of a bitch was cocky as hell. And why shouldn’t he be? He had done this with three women before her, rather successfully.

Still, she would play his game for the time being. Already he was giving her so much information about himself, information she could use to narrow down his identity. The first thing to consider was how this man knew Tom was investigating him, and how he gained access to Tom’s phone, for nearly an hour while he manipulated her into sending him nudes. He even said he was an acquaintance of Tom’s. Her first thought went to Tom’s partner, Jarrod Leery. He was likely the only person Tom told about the case, other than her. And as Tom’s partner, he would have easy access to Tom’s phone.

She went over the profile, comparing her notes to Jarrod. He was younger than she projected, but not by much. He seemed smart enough, form the times she had interacted with him, but he looked up to Tom as a mentor, which seemed at odds with the man she portrayed in her profile. And lastly, she knew he wasn’t single, having gone with Tom to his engagement party just the month before. It didn’t seem likely that the junior detective and fiancé would be able to find the time to harass and stalk three women. And his fiancée, Sarah? A petite blonde, fresh out of college. Nothing like the women the killer targeted. None of this completely exonerated him, but it made his involvement unlikely.

It didn’t change the fact that this man was a man capable of moving through the police department unnoticed. A police officer was possible, even likely. Someone who noticed that Tom was looking into the latest victim, and happened to see her with him. But it wasn’t the sole option. Independent consultants, such as herself, were at home at the station. Prosecutors and defense attorneys as well. Even media personnel. While she might have narrowed down the possibilities slightly, the number of potential suspects was too huge to consider.

She considered telling Tom about everything. They should tackle this as a team. But, if she told him he wasn’t going to play along with the killer tonight. Then her nude body would be plastered over internet, to the shame of both of them. But if she told him after the fact, he would be just as furious, furious about being lied to and used for a psychopath’s sick game. Could Tom understand the terrible dilemma before her?

No, she was going to have to leave Tom out of the loop for now. There just wasn’t a good way to tell him, at least none she could think of. Of course, the longer she took, the harder it would be to say something, but she needed more time to think of a plan.

For now, she prepared herself for tonight. She wasn’t sure she would actually go through with it, fucking her husband for another man’s pleasure. It made her feel dirty. Yet, wasn’t she just fantasizing about him earlier, when she masturbated twice to the thought of fucking him. It was different when she thought Tom wanted her, and not some deranged psycho. With intimate photos of her as blackmail, she would follow his instructions, until the demands became worse than the fear of the world seeing her masturbate.

She pulled a fine pink box form beneath her bed. The words Agent Provocateur were emblazoned in fine script upon the top. Within were a silk kimono robe, a black and peach colored corset and lacy black panties. They were supposed to be a surprise for Tom to discover on their anniversary, a month from now, but she would wear them tonight, for the gratification of a monster. She thought she would be sick, but she pushed it down. He would fuck up, eventually. He was overconfident in his abilities, and it would be his downfall. What was a bit of humiliation in the mean time? So she cooked a romantic meal of steak and roasted summer vegetables, pairing it with a fine red Bordeaux. Once that was complete, she dressed in her lingerie, and dolled herself up as she awaited her husband’s arrival from work.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

The ease with which Mark Dubois had controlled his previous victims had led to the man becoming more and cocky with each act and request. In the exchanges with Lila, he'd gone further with his demands in a shorter space of time than he had with the others, however he was confident that she’d not reveal their contact to her husband. Not yet, anyway. Lila Ross may be a criminal psychologist, but Mark's arrogance caused him believe that he was more than a match for her when it came to human psychology, and he'd concluded that a professional woman such as Dr Ross would be one with a large amount of self-pride. Combine that with a husband in Law Enforcement, where peer respect was so important a part of being able to perform your duties, and she’d want neither her nakedness revealed for her own sake, or to have Tom become a laughing stock amongst his colleagues once the images had been plastered all over the internet for them to view and comment on. She'd submit to his demands.

When his thoughts moved to Tom, the man smiled, then finished his coffee and departed Starbucks. Mark thought he could read Lila’s husband as well, and had heard rumours around the station of the Detective’s propensity for violence. Not only Tom's, but the majority of the officers. Police work was a macho profession, filled with aggressive men, and that, to Mark, meant that they'd most likely also possess a penchant for rough sex. Whether that was true in this case, he couldn’t be for certain, and was aware he was taking a risk if he were to be wrong, but the odds were in his favour. The next stage of his plan would be put in place from his office, however not before he sent one last text to Lila as he hopped in his car.

Oh, and Lila? Enjoy the surprise Tom has in store for you. I know I'll enjoy watching.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Detective had departed that morning without speaking to Lila. He’d been been conflicted, still angry at himself for his impatience and reactions of the previous night, but then placing blame on his wife for having made him so. The latter emotions had eventually taken over, and he'd showered, and dressed in the spare-room, before leaving in silence. The argument had been her fault, and if she wanted to talk, it was up to her to first apologise. Tom Ross had never been one to admit he was in the wrong, and even on the odd occasion he had said sorry, it hadn’t been with real sincerity. He barked at Jarrod when he entered the station, and then locked himself away with a coffee until it was time to attend the staff meeting.

His mood had improved when the phone had buzzed with the text from Lila, and the last remnants of anger had left, and it was with a sense of disappointment that he had to leave the conversation. That disappointment increased when he re-entered his office an hour later to discover no further texts - unaware that Mark Dubois had continued on the exchange in a manner that Tom may have not even contemplated - but then was distracted by the case, and the first piece of positive news. All messages between the killer and his victims had been wiped from their hard drives, or so it had been thought, however, the tech department had discovered one, buried deep that still remained, and along with it, an email address. Tom swiftly grabbed his jacket and tie and sped from the station, forgetting about his wife for the time being.

On his return, he could see why she’d possibly not continued the conversation; it appeared she’d been busy, and, after the initial surprise wore off, Tom grinned when he allowed the set of metal cuffs to fall back in to the box on his desk, and re-read the message on the card that had accompanied the special delivery. This wasn't the first occasion Lila had arranged for a present to be delivered - a watch on his promotion, tickets to the ball-game when his team came to town - but it was one was like no other.

I'm sorry about last night, baby. I was a bad, bad girl.

Recall that fantasy we once discussed? I want to live it out.

Tonight.

No talking, no questions.

Take me, ravish me, and make me yours.

Fuck me and use me as you’ve always desired.

Punish me, Tom. I deserve it.

Love Lila.

PS: I trust you, baby, but for your own peace of mind, ‘Orange’ is the safe-word. I hope you like what I've chosen to wear.

A thrill of anticipation and arousal shot through the man's body each time her read her words, and there was no point attempting to do any further work, his erection wouldn't allow it. It had just gone hit 6pm, and with the night dark outside, Lila would be home, and awaiting his arrival. So the man swiftly stood up, gathered the box, and switched off the lights on the way out.

Twenty minutes later, he arrived home, completely unaware that he was under surveillance from three blocks away, and walked towards their house. An idea had occurred to him on the journey, one which would make the rape fantasy he and Lila had once discussed even more intense and believable, and a smile flitted across his features when he stepped across the threshold, and located his wife.

What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks, and his eyes wandered over the peach corset, visible under the open Kimono robe, and how it drew attention to Lila’s figure and accentuated her cleavage. He whistled in appreciation, then pushed the front door shot and snapped home the dead-bolt before he moved towards her. “Well, well, what do we have here?” The tone was not the friendly one of a husband returning home to his spouse after a hard day at the office.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Lila watched the time, and her stomach twisted into further knots as the minute hand rounded the clock face. Tom would be home soon, and as much as she wanted, no needed Tom’s presence to give her some sense of safety, she dreaded it. She dreaded the idea of fucking her husband for another man’s benefit, taking the most intimate act between them, and playing it out before a deranged audience. It felt so dirty. Would this forever taint their sex life? Would she ever felt at ease and confident sexually around Tom, after this night? Would she even live long enough for any of that to matter?

The last thought threaten to bring up the bile in her stomach. Jesus, this man had a mind to kill her, just like the others, and here she was playing his game. They had excuses for playing along with him, none of them knew what he intended to do to them. None of them had seen the beaten and strangled bodies of three women who resembled them. She was crazy! What were leaked nudes when the alternative and being raped and murdered?

She took a deep breath, trying to get a hold of her situation. The killer played with his victims for months before escalating. Men like him were creatures of habit, rarely diverting from the ritual. Surely her and Tom could find him in that time? Tom was an amazing detective, and she was an expert in her field. This man was certainly underestimating them, wasn’t he? She thought back to the text message he had sent her.

Is he intelligent enough to capture me before we reach-end game or do you lack faith in the man you married, and you're prepared to jeopardise his entire career and happiness because you don't trust his capabilities? If the latter is the case, then maybe me bringing that to light is a favour to you both.

Tom could find this man. He just had to. And the more he tried to toy with Lila, the more he would reveal about himself. She just had to play along, a little longer. Get him to do something stupid, and then he could be caught. She could imagine now, the stupid look on his face he realizes he was brought down by his own hubris. A woman he would have victimized would be the one to bring him in. She tried to convince herself, as the grandfather clock chimed six.

Would Tom come home on time tonight? It was just as likely he would stay late again, working on this case, trying to save her life. Not that he knows it. Would the stalker hold it against her, if Tom stayed late at work again? How long would he give her? Should he text him, find out if he is planning on coming home on time? She looked down at her phone, but the only thing she saw was the last text from the unsub.

Oh, and Lila? Enjoy the surprise Tom has in store for you. I know I'll enjoy watching.

She had no idea what kind of surprise to anticipate, so it only made the apprehension worse. Tom wasn’t one for surprised, not usually, but with the stalker involved, there was no telling what might be instore for her. She paced over by the window, making sure the blind were completely, open, as instructed, peering nervously into the evening darkness. She saw the flash of headlights, pulling into the driveway, and for a moment she feared it was the killer. He had grown bored of waiting, bored of the game, and he would enact his plan now. She stood frozen in fear as the lights turned off the car, and a man exited. But it was Tom, not some psycho angling to hurt her. Not this time, anyways.

She sunk into the loveseat, plotting her next move. What if Tom was still mad from last night? What if he didn’t want to have sex? She was a nervous wreck, and certainly not in the mood to try and seduce him. And if she tried, she might break down, and reveal everything to Tom, which would trigger the unsub’s threat, releasing her nudes and squealing about Tom. This would never work, but maybe that was for the best. If she let him release the nudes, he would lose his hold of her. She just hoped Tom would understand…

Tom came through the door, and the look on his eye told her she wasn’t going to need to try and seduce him. The hunger in his eyes was not look of love and desire she was used to seeing on him, though. It was pitiless lust, a dark predatory gaze that threatened to consume her entire being. The tone of his voice added to the voracious mood being set, and Lila could feel the fear building in her stomach.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

“Tom?” she whimpered, standing now, and backing away from him. He shook his head as his smile revealed his canines, and his dark intentions.

“Not your husband, Dr. Ross. Just your run of the mill rapist. You know, the kind of men you love to study? Don’t you want a chance to study my methods up close?” Tom bore upon her now, his strong hand gripping her wrists as she processed his words. She remembered a conversation, from a few weeks back. Talking about fantasies, and her own admission to wanting to, just once, play out a rape fantasy. He suggested role playing one of her subjects, teasing her about having more than a passing interest in the fantasy, given her chosen field of study. For whatever reason –whatever the reason, she was sure wasn’t a coincidence- he was choosing to role play this fantasy with her now, as a man who expressed desire to rape her watched on.

Well, she was certainly terrified enough.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

The Detective had apprehended and interviewed enough rapists and violent criminals to be able to mirror their moods and aggression without a second thought. In fact, if it hadn't been for his usual business attire and lack of shackles, observers through the one-way glass of the police interview room would often-times have been hard-pressed to guess which was the criminal, and which the Officer of the Law. As a method actor would do, Tom transformed into the character he was to play, on the journey home, and convinced himself that what Lila desired was to be fucked, used and treated like a common gutter-whore. Wasn't that a fantasy that existed in the recesses of every woman's mind, even if at all other times, they wished to be treated as equals, and with respect?

Then he told himself that it was an action he should have taken earlier, and assumed the initiative when Lila had broached the subject. He'd considered it, but his love for his wife had held him back. What if she'd been all talk, and the fantasy just that, a fantasy. Something that she never truly wished to see the light of day, or would regret after the fact. Or worse, that would cause her to think less of him, or look at Tom as other than the good husband he purported to be. Just another Neanderthal. However, those doubts had been erased with the items in the box, and the note that accompanied it. Lila wanted it, and Tom gritted his teeth as he drove, and wound himself up. Eventually the emotions he’d been searching for began to flow, and the man become angered that he'd left it up to Lila to bring the rape fantasy to fruition. It was an insult to his masculinity. He should have taken control. What a fucking man he was. Well, if that's what she truly desired – a real man - , tonight that's what she'd receive, Tom would prove that he wasn't some pussy too frightened to take what was his.

The Detective's focus was so intent when he stepped into the house, and moved his gaze from his wife's body to her face, that he didn't notice the beam of moonlight that shone in through the open blinds of the living room window. A front fence obscured the view from street level, but the interior was completely visible to a 'nature-watcher' perched on a wooded hilltop, armed with a pair of high-powered binoculars and telescopic camera, three blocks away.

Tom dropped the box on a side-table, and spoke to Lila in a tone that was husky with arousal, and another, undefinable emotion. He was cognisant that he was play-acting, but at the same time he’d entered the mind of the character he’d taken on in the car, and his expression contained not the slightest hint of humour. The words were unscripted, and when she backed away, he gripped her wrists ever tighter until his nails dug into her flesh, and then jerked her towards him. The movement caused her body to slam against his chest and, as it did, he released one wrist, and gripped Lila’s chin between thumb and forefinger. ‘What’s the matter bitch? Thought you could profile me, huh. Had me all figured out?” Tom sprayed spittle in her face as forced her eyes to meet his, cold and flat with darkened, narrowed pupils, then struck her cheek with the flat of his hand.

He still possessed enough of his faculties to ensure it wasn't with enough force to truly hurt, just stun, and after the sound of his palm striking her skin faded, he resumed his hold of her chin, and placed his lips next to her ear. "You don't have a fucking clue what I’m capable of, and don’t go thinking your big, tough policeman husband is going to ride in and save you. He’s off screwing his eighteen-year-old whore.” Some of the previous night’s argument also came back to encourage Tom’s actions as he then suddenly stepped back, and used his leverage to control Lila’s movements. The man laughed when, two seconds after he’d dragged her forward and hooked his leg around her ankle, Lila Ross landed face-first on the shag-pile carpet.

By the time she hit the floor, and before she could recover, Tom had already knelt to bury his digits in her tresses, and with his free hand, reached into the box on the table. Metal cuffs jangled and fell to the ground in direct line of Lila’s eyesight, and that was where they stayed, as he located another item. When he removed his hand, a nine-tailed leather whip loomed large in his grasp, and the man’s cold smile bared his teeth. “Are you going scream for me, bitch?,” he hissed as shook her head by the hair, and lowered the arm that held the whip to hook his digits under the fabric of the Kimono robe at her neck. “Beg for me not to rape you?”

The man was too engrossed in the scene to hear the material tear as he ripped the robe free of her shoulders, and forced the woman’s – no longer ‘Lila’ or his ‘wife’ - eyes to his crotch, and the erection that threatened to split the seams of his pants. That Tom Ross was enjoying himself there was no doubt, and they'd barely even started. "Come on slut, I want to hear you beg." What was the safe-word again?

Up on the hilltop, Mark Dubois popped another piece of gum into his mouth, and chuckled. This was simply the pre-game show.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Lila looked up at her husband with very real fear as he slipped into his role. It was alarming how well and easily he transformed from loving husband to sadistic rapist, as pulled her close to him, malice in his eyes. It was even more alarming with his hand came across her cheeks, just hard enough to leave her skin pink with the impact. It didn’t hurt, not really, but it so unexpected it threw her off.

His taunt that “Tom” wouldn’t be able to help her struck a nerve, more than it would have if she were a willing partner in this scenario he created. Her deep seated fear that Tom wouldn’t be able to save her from the stalker, not in time, and her own insecurities about aging and Tom’s opinion of her aging combined to make her distraught. For a throwaway line she was sure (rationally at least) that he hadn’t put more than a second’s thought into, it wounded her more than he could have known, or even understood. She was in such despondent shock, she didn’t fight the trip, just confused as to why she was suddenly on the floor, a wordless cry her only means of protest.

Tom was on her now, hold her head in place, a knot of hair tangling in his fist. Emptying the contents of a box he had brought home with him. Where had these things come from? Did Tom purchase them or… The Stalker! He is involved, somehow. There was some sadness in the idea that her husband was so unspontaneous she had serious doubt he would have done with of his own volition. Maybe if the timing weren’t so perfect, what with the stalker’s demands just a few hours ago, to fuck her husband for him to watch, she could have given her husband the benefit of the doubt.

Never the less, handcuffs and a whip came out of the box, and her mind ran wild with ideas of what Tom might do with them. On other day, she could imagine herself enjoying playing with such toys, exploring such kinks with her husband. But with Tom acting the way he was, she could only fear what he might do to her, all while he thought she was playing along.

“Are you going scream for me, bitch? Beg for me not to rape you?”

Lila could only whimper under his husband’s grasp, screaming as he ripped off her robe. “Please!” She cried out now, tremoring with terror. “Please don’t hurt me, please,” She looked up into Tom’s darkened eyes, eyes that didn’t recognize her as his partner and equal. Eyes that only saw her as a piece of meat and a collection of holes to be used.

He dragged her up to her knees, her face aligned with his crotch. His hardness throbbed from within his pants broadcasting his amusement in no uncertain terms. Tom is liking this. He likes treating me like this! Lila fretted as the threat of his cock pulsed before her. Was it because on some level he wanted to hurt her? Did he like lording his strength over her, taking from her what she would willing give, most of the time? She wanted to believe it was just because he thought she was into it, but she could never be sure, not now.

"Come on slut, I want to hear you beg."

Tom was undoing his pants with one hand, while holding her in place with the other. “Don’t hurt me. Please. I’ll…I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, please don’t hurt me,” She whined, looking up at him with eyes full of sincere pleas. She hoped he would get the message, that she would fuck him- she had to, after all- but there was no need to get rough with her. Would he understand her hidden message, or see it as her playing along with the scene?

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

The thump of Lila landing on the carpet startled Tom momentarily and brought him back to reality. However, not fully. The character he'd inhabited on the journey home remained in control, but the noise and the look in the woman's eyes caused her name, and her relationship to him, to flash into his mind, and why he'd thrown her to the floor as he had. Because she wanted it, it was her fantasy, and he was here to provide it to her. In as realistic fashion as possible.

Whether Tom lied to himself subconsciously, or intentionally, would never be certain, however he swiftly convinced his psyche that the expression of shock on her face, and pleading tone of her voice was fake. It was part of the act; their combined performance; and that recognition, whether true or not, caused him to move to release his erection from his pants as he fisted her tresses, and almost tore strands of Lila's hair free of her scalp.

The sight of bare skin and the peach corset underneath her ripped robe only caused his throbbing erection to strain further against the fabric of his pants, and the man panted with exertion and arousal as his narrowed pupils stared into hers. "You want me to stop, huh, bitch?, he hissed between clenched teeth, and momentarily released his grip to issue another slap to her face. The second was harder than the first, and left the imprint of his hand, with the outlines of his digits fading from red to white on her skin when, frustrated, Tom Ross ceased fumbling with his belt and zipper, and simply ripped his pants open. The bulbous purple head of his engorged manhood already glistened with precum as he then raised his whip arm in the air, and a second later, leather struck soft flesh.

The harsh crack was enough to make even the man wince, and for his eyes to widen. For a moment his expression softened and contained a mixture of confusion and uncertainty. "Then just say the word." Orange. It had entered his brain even as the veins in his meat continued to pulse only inches from his wife's face, and he gauged her reaction. Lila appeared truly scared, and that had ignited a deep-seated fear within him. "Come on, say it."

Tom waited for Lila to utter the one phrase that would ensure her safety, whilst at the same time silently praying that she wouldn't. For what seemed an eternity, his arm remained raised, and his eyes wide, however when it didn't slip from her lips, he regained full confidence in his actions, and reprised the role he'd taken on. At least that's what he'd tell himself the next morning, unwilling to admit a third character had entered their home. The Tom Ross hidden deep inside and revealed only occasionally to his comrades, and those he apprehended.

The whip cracked again, and struck her ass with all the force he could muster as he planted the hand curled in her tresses, on the back of her head, and swung his hips so that his thick erection slapped her in the face. "Look at you, you weak bitch. On your knees, where you fucking belong." Tom's laugh was a cold, merciless sound, absent of mirth, that matched the expression on his face as he tauntingly smacked his meat against her cheek again. "You're so goddamn smart, know me so well, got me all figured out," he continued as the sound of flesh slapping against flesh faded, and he forced her head up, and for Lila's body to arch with the impetus with which he tore at her hair. "Why don't you stop me?"

The Detective emitted another evil chuckle, so unlike the rare laugh of the loving husband she knew, then planted his feet either side of her shoulders and humourlessly peered down at the woman he towered over. "Because you're incapable. All theory, can't handle the reality. It's pathetic, as are you." She'd had more than ample opportunity to utter the safe-word, Tom yhought as the cat-o-nine tails arced again, and the leather straps curled around her thigh. " However, Doctor Ross, you are right about one thing. You'll do whatever I want.

Simultaneously as he spat the words out, the man ripped at string of Lila's corset so that her breasts fell free, and grasped one in his palm. With his raging and throbbing hardon at eye-level with the woman, he harshly squeezed her tit, and pushed his hips towards her face. "So open your mouth, whore, and beg for me to fuck it, like your husband wouldn't dare."

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Lila looked up at Tom with pleading eyes. Eyes full of fear and desperation. He looked down at her, yanking her hair with utter cruelty, and still he did not stop. She whimpered as he pulled out his cock, and screamed as he whipped her, the sting of the lash striking harder than she would have imagined.

"Then just say the word."

What word? No? Stop? Don’t hurt me? What was she supposed to say? She had already begged him not to hurt her, but he believe it part of the act. Or, he didn’t care. But there was some softening in his eyes as he watched her, anticipating something.

"Come on, say it."

“Stop…please stop….” She whined, eyes locked on the whip raised in the air. A sharp shriek filled the room as he came down again. She flinched as his rock hard cock smacked her face. Not painful, just humiliating, smearing her made up face with his juices. Mocking her, as he did it again, and all she could hear was the voice of the man who promised to hurt her. A voice she hadn’t even perceived yet, and still she heard this in his voice. The whip came down once more, and it took all her effort not to cry. Partially out of fear that if she did cry, he would stop, and all this humiliation will have been for nothing. Partially out of fear that if she did cry, he still wouldn’t stop.


She had to endure, fuck him and get it over with, to satisfy the sick fuck that watched form far away. The thought of him, watching and getting off on her torment made it harder to hold back the tears, made it harder to keep it all together. So she just trembled as Tom pulled out her breasts, groping them roughly, too roughly for her to find any enjoyment in the act.

"So open your mouth, whore, and beg for me to fuck it, like your husband wouldn't dare."

This was her chance. Suck him off, overwhelm him with pleasure.He’ll drop this stupid act, and then they can fuck and get it over with. It was maddening, how badly she wanted to fuck her husband earlier today, and not all she could think of was how to get him off quickly, how to get past the sex. The stalker took this from her. Tainted something that should have been fun and special between husband and wife, and turned it into something dark and perverse. She was consumed with feeling of hate, even as her lips opened to take the throbbing head of Tom’s cock.

She did it sensually, as she had always in the past. Licking the ridge of the crown, slathering it in saliva before slurping down his head. Wet moans escaped filled her mouth as she tried to force herself to do this, even as she wanted to sob, even as she wanted to break down and beg Tom to stop. Inch by inch his meat disappeared in her mouth, as she tried to focus on pleasing him, distracting him from his sadism with bliss. She bobbed up and down, coating his with spit, making his shaft slick as she slid down it. She couldn’t even look him in the eye, as she felt tears stream down her cheeks.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Tom Ross had no idea that his wife was withholding secrets, and this entire episode had been choreographed by the very man he'd identified as a serial-rapist and murderer, who now sat on a hilltop three hundred feet away, watching the performance and snapping pictures. Further material to use against Lila, or Tom for that matter. The stalker had chuckled aloud as he'd contemplated the idea of emailing the images to the authorities and having the Detective himself accused of rape. For wasn't that what he was doing to his wife?

And if Tom had known, would he have stopped? If Lila uttered the safe-word, would he have heard it? Possibly, for even as he spat insults at his spouse, with words drawn from his subconscious jealousy of the attention and reputation she received in her profession, he intuitively sensed all was not quite right with the scene. The pleading tone of her voice, and expression on her face, appeared real, not faked, or a performance that she was putting on to please him. Had Lila, too, slipped on a mask for the show, or was it something else?

Tom Ross didn't contemplate for too long, however as the devil buried inside him whispered encouragement. He had an out, what he had at the station when a suspect accused him of abuse, and he and his fellow officers called plausible deniability. There were no witnesses to deny his story that the criminal had resisted arrest, or fallen down the stairs, and in this case, Lila had taken the initiative, sent him the items in the box, along with the safe-word, and requested that he use her. If, the next morning, she regretted it, then his wife, and only his wife, was to blame. All the man had done is what she'd requested.

So, when her countenance changed, and she took the head of his cock between her lips, he didn't stop for an instant. Nor, apart from a small gasp of pleasure elicited by her sucking, did he allow her to gain control, pause to enjoy the sensations, or lessen his roughness. He didn't want to enjoy it, or just to get off, because for Tom Ross' alter-ego it wasn't about sex or pleasure, but power, control and the exertion of his superior strength. "I told you to fucking beg for it, bitch."

His harsh words echoed off the walls as he drew the whip back to smash it into Lila's thighs, and Tom briefly shivered in pleasure, and from another undefined emotion, as he peered down at her with black pupils and clenched teeth, then planted his palm on the back of her head. The man panted, and his chest heaved, not from exertion, but with the adrenaline that ran though his body. "And fucking look at me; I want to see you take it all, whore." The latter came out as a grunt, and Lila Ross wasn't left with any choice as he jerked her face up, hoping his next action would spring her eyes wide-open.

The man bent his knees, then straightened, and slammed every last thick inch of his meat into his wife's mouth. The impetus forced her muscles to open around his throbbing shaft, and Tom grunted when the tip hit the back of her throat. Shortly thereafter, wet sucking noises, and the sounds of his balls slapping her chin sound filled the room, as he kept her head still, and began to thrust. Tom maintained his grip on her head, and pistoned in and out until small bubbles of air formed at her lips, saliva coated his shaft, and dribbled from the corners of her mouth. "You like that, whore?" Tom screamed at her as he drove his cock ever deeper, throat fucking her without care, or now even a thought, for the woman on her knees.

He taunted, and groaned in arousal with each thrust before, after a minute or so, he finally ripped her away from his erection. His engorged cock glistened with her spit and saliva, which flew through the air as he slapped his sopping head against her cheek as he had previously, bent to grab her chin between thumb and forefinger, and smirked. "Imagine how it's going to feel in your cunt."

Lila's relief didn't last long, however, for the moment the last comment had slipped from his lips. Tom shoved his meat back to the hilt in Lila's mouth and, as his balls tapped her chin, pulled her head forward so that her nose squashed against his abdomen, and restricted her air passages. This time, Tom didn't move or thrust, but simply stood there, panting, with his forehead beaded in droplets of sweat, palms planted on the back of her head, and the full length of his shaft down her throat. He wanted to have the slut gag on it, and be made to scrabble and fight for breath before he put the cuffs at his feet to use. "Or maybe I'll fuck you up the ass."

Up on the hilltop, Mark Dubois was also erect, masturbating as he enjoyed the sight. "Tut tut, Detective. I think you and I could be friends."

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Lila tried desperately to focus on sucking off Tom, to push out all the abuse he hurled at her, to hold back the tears that threatened to streak down her face. It was never enough, though. Even as she offered her mouth, he took more, whipping into her thighs and yanking her hair. It was a struggle to meet his gaze, her own eyes wet with tears, but she had little choice in the matter as he craned her neck up. A muffled cry filled her mouth as his cock filled it as well, the thick meat penetrating far deeper now than she had ever previously accepted him.

Struggling against the girth invading her throat, Lila felt the last remnants of her will breaking away. His insults were breaking her down, affecting her far more in the moment that they really should have. Gasping as sobbing as his cock escaped her lips, she whimpered away as he smacked his glistening cock against her cheek once more.

Imagine how it's going to feel in your cunt

The phrase made her tense her body already bracing against the unwanted incursion. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was to fuck this man, this man was violated her mouth and spewed hatred at her. Worse still that thought of how he might tarnish their love making with cruel and violent sex caused her even more anxiety, anxiety she couldn’t easily push down. She was sucking him willingly, and still this was torment. How much would he hurt her when he forces her to take his cock?

The thought didn’t have a chance to catch in her mind, as he once more filled her throat with his length, this time holding Lila in place as he throbbed within her mouth. She cried against his cock, as he refused to move, and refused to let her up, unable to take a breath with her face buried in his crotch. Her vocalization became louder and more insistent as her body began to shake and shiver against the loss of air.

"Or maybe I'll fuck you up the ass."

She didn’t even have a chance to fear sodomy at his hands. Asphyxiating on his shaft was a more pressing concern, despite the cruel certainty in his voice. Angry hands smacked at his thighs and stomach slapping harder and harder as she began choking, throat tightening against his meat at the need for air. Finger dug into his skin as she fought him, unable to believe her husband thought she was enjoying this. Or terrified that he didn’t care that she wasn’t.

RE: Farewell, My Lovely (Quix & Xana)

Tom's eyes glazed over, and with every sense heightened, and nerve end on fire, nothing else existed except for the woman on her knees. Insults and taunts personally directed at Lila were supplied by his subconscious, and slipped from his mouth without thought. She was no longer his wife, and the woman he loved, but at this moment, of no more meaning to him than the crack-whores he'd dealt with on a daily basis as a uniformed officer. The prostitutes, if they were pretty enough and disease free, he and his colleagues would use for their own entertainment, in payment for turning a blind eye. However, that been when he was a young man, well before he'd met Lila. Tom had almost forgotten about those days, but now all the memories came flooding back. The times when he was free to do whatever he wanted, without commitment, care, or fear of reprisal.

"That's it, take it all, you fucking, whore." Spit flew from his lips, and the harshness of his voice was so unlike any with which he'd ever spoken to her previously, even through the worst of their arguments. The man groaned, and threw his head back in pleasure, then his eyes drifted down to enjoy the sight. Lila's nose was squashed against his abdomen as he pressed down her head more firmly, so that her mouth completely engulfed his cock, and forced her to struggle for air. Her arms flailed and nails scratched in an attempt to breathe and move away from him. Tom laughed.

It was a laugh that emanated deep in his belly, rumbled through his chest, and erupted from his mouth; an evil, almost inhuman sound. "Choke on it, bitch." Tom panted as he gripped her head more violently, and held her there with his entire length stuffed to the hilt down her throat, and balls slapping her chin. Her resistance and reaction only added his pleasure, and Tom Ross reveled in every fucking second of it. As she fought harder for release, he added to the agony by beginning to thrust his hips, and shortly the sounds of her gasps, and that of her hands slapping him, mingled with those of his spit-soaked meat cock ramming in and out of her mouth.

Lewd wet noises echoed off the walls, and long trails of saliva and pre-cum dribbled from the corners of her lips; filling the only spaces where she could draw air. Tom could feel the wetness in her mouth soaking his meat and coating her shaft, which made it easier for the man to throat-fuck his beloved wife with increased ferocity. Even, as Tom believed, or had at least convinced himself, if this was what she'd fantasised about, his treatment of Lila couldn't be simply classified as simply rough, consensual sex between man and wife. Nor as rape. No, because of who she was, and their relationship, it went beyond even that. However, he didn't care, and the consequences of his actions once the night was over were the furthest thing from his mind. "Ohhhhhhh, fuck."

The man's body shook and shuddered, then, as he heard Lila splutter and the slaps of her hands weakened, he ripped her head back by the hair, and pulled his engorged cock from her mouth. What a sight she was. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" One of his hands left her tresses, then without warning, the back of it struck her face. Tom's knuckles grazed Lila's cheekbone, and the slap was issued with enough force to almost knock her off her knees, and onto her back. "A real man?" He stared at her with his teeth bared, and pupils which were nothing but black pits, completely devoid of empathy. If Lila had thought she was due for relief or mercy, they should have told her how wrong she was. "And to know what it feels like to be raped."

The coldness he exuded was one that Tom Ross hadn't even known existed deep inside him, and the brief recognition of it caused the man to experience a sense of foreboding, which was quickly shaken off as he harshly slapped the other side of her face, then released his grip on her hair. "Just like every woman deserves." His gaze didn't leave hers for an instant as he bent down to hook the collect the cuffs at his feet in one swift movement, and stepped behind her. Experienced hands wrenched both arms up behind her back and he dragged her to her feet as the cuffs snapped closed over both wrists, shackling them to the small of her back.

Tom's erection pressed against into her ass, and he jerked her backwards so that his lips met her ear, "You look so fucking sexy when you cry," before he once again hooked her ankles with his leg, however this time threw her face-down over the arm of the sofa rather than onto the floor. Moments later, after his entire body weight landed on top of her, Lila's expensive corset lay in tatters on the floor, and hot, fetid breath hit her neck as he dug his teeth into sensitive skin, and clawed at her thighs with large, rough hands. "Spread 'em for me, bitch."