Short and sweet today, as my med-ful brain isn't cooperating. (I've slipped a disc and trapped a nerve) Please excuse typos and anything that doesn't make sense...
This is a WIP
A Death Isle story, working title The Cleaner, from my alter ego, Kera Faire. It's Dan and Rhonda's story, where there's a killer on the loose...
"Shit, I must be the only person in the world who fell for such a stupid excuse," she said bitterly. "'Sorry, it's secret', she parroted. "It's a wonder you didn't add that old chestnut, 'if I did I'd have to kill you afterwards'."
He laughed. 'There's more than one way to die, sweetness."
"Yeah, well at the moment I don't want you to do either to me. I feel such a bloody fool." Rhonda stood up and began to pace. It gave her some satisfaction to know how much he hated her doing that. He'd told her often enough in the past when...
Do not go there.
"Any more lies you want to tell me?" she demanded as she swung around to stand in front of him. If she'd hoped he'd feel at a disadvantage sitting down whilst she stood, she now realised she was wrong. Dan sat, left ankle over his right knee, with his well worn, white at the seam denims lovingly outlining every contour, and smiled in that melt her ire, make her want to kneel at his feet and do whatever he demanded way. "You know, 'oh you're the sub for me, I need you only you'."
That did make him stand up. In one fluid motion he towered over her. Six feet four to her five feet three.
"I might have been economical with the truth at other times, but never with regard to that."
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