Fan Fiction by VTW
|Clarice watched the first gray fingers of pre-dawn light filter in her
living room. She had stayed up the whole night and sobbed until she had no
more tears left. What a complete and utter fool she was. How could she have
been so stupid? Why did she always fall for the wrong man? It must
be some kind of genetic defect inside her. She tried to live her life clean,
trying always to be kind to people, always giving the benefit of doubt to
those who treated her cruelly.
Well, she was sick of it. What good did it do her? She still got dumped on. People equated kindness and goodness as a flaw they could exploit. They didn't respect you for it; they hated you and treated you with contempt because of it.
She got up angrily and threw a pair of jeans and sweater on. She was done. She wasn't going to let Thomas or anyone else step on her anymore. She jerked a brush through her hair and grabbed her coat. She needed to get to work; she was opening up the diner, and now was as good a time as any to get started.
She decided to walk off her anger and go to work on foot. She hunched her shoulders against the damp and cold, and started off.
Peter Manning was waiting for her. He silently walked about five hundred feet behind her. He had to admit that dumbass Todd had excellent taste in broads. Her ass was swaying rhythmically underneath her tight jeans. God, look at all that hair. He pulled his lower lip through his teeth sensually. He'd love to feel that black silk flowing over his naked body.
He quickened his pace, feeling his erection grow. Yesiree, he couldn't wait to fuck Todd's woman right in front of him. He knew it would kill him. He smiled slyly. Then, and only then, would he have Todd right where he wanted him.
Clarice felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. A feeling of icy dread came over her. She looked back over her shoulder. Her breath escaped her lungs in one painful hiss. The man was walking rapidly towards her. He was the most ominous human being she had ever beheld. His was dressed in all in black which made his thick, white blond hair stand out in vivid contrast. It was combed straight back from his forehead, Wall Street style. It only made his ice-blue eyes more penetrating; the black, black iris' stood out eerily. She could see them even from the distance she was at. His long topcoat was unbuttoned and swung out from his lean, powerful body like a dark, evil cloud.
He was beautiful in the way that any wild animal was. If you had the courage to look at him at all, you wanted steel bars separating you from it. "Oh my God," she whispered.
He looked at her and smiled a shark's smile. Blinding white and utterly ruthless.
She could see the diner. She rapidly picked up her pace; her heart was pounding in her ears so hard, that they hurt. She prayed she would get there in time. She crossed the parking lot, God she was almost there. A high piercing scream was ripped from her when she felt a big hand clamp down on her shoulder. She was spun around roughly and came face to face with Peter Thomas Manning. "You don't know me Clarice," he purred softly. "But you will intimately."
|To be continued|
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Back to Remember Roger Howarth