Thread: Scarlet Letters -DEAD RP-

RE Scarlet Letters -QuixoticXCandy- To Darcy, the killer was nothing more than another depraved human being. Certainly, from what he'd heard, capable of acts more unusual than the standard rape and throttlings which were an occupational hazard for those who worked in the World's oldest profession, but there was nothing special about him. The rumours and gossip floating around Police Stations, Law Offices and the Old Bailey were just that, and, regardless of what Darcy had expressed to Olivia, in his opinion, contained only a grain of truth. Plucking out a woman's eyes, cutting out her tongue, gutting her like a fish and leaving a slimy trail of her intestines coiled up like a sleeping snake over her right shoulder. God Forbid, one man had even claimed that the self-proclaimed, in a yet unpublished letter written to a local newspaper, 'Ripper' had departed with the whore's still beating heart concealed beneath his overcoat. What sane person would truly believe a human being capable of such atrocities? Possibly Olivia, Darcy contemplated when she stepped closer. Has a nice ring to it? And what would you know about the criminal class, Darling? His tone was amused as he briefly tilted his head to press his lips to the hand that touched his face, then arched a brow. Unless there's a dark history that you haven't revealed, the only crime I'm aware of that you've ever committed is breaking your curfew when a teenager? As she moved closer, and the swell of her breasts met the plains of his chest, he placed his hands on her waist, and held her gaze. Having expected her to react to his revelations of the full extent of Jack's purported acts with at least a drop of the jaw, if not a gasp of shock, her response surprised him, and he realised his grave mistake. Darcy Oxenham had not intended to waste his precious Sunday by spending the day traipsing around the East End hovel of Whitechapel, but it appeared his beloved had issued him a challenge that would be impossible to resist. Was she simply jesting with him, as he was with her? Whatever, with her sultry expression, the seductive breath that floated against his earlobe, and those perfect tits squeezed against his chest, eliciting a sigh of contentment, it was difficult to think with the right head. My phallus is capable of many miracles, Sweetheart, he responded, gliding one hand down Olivia's back to clutch her delectable ass, and cupping her face with the other, bringing her lips to his for a soft kiss. However, if you insist, that can wait until later. Having recovered a little clarity of mind, it had struck Darcy that a visit to the scene might not be a bad idea after all. Although lacking in professional ambition, Darcy possessed that quality in abundance in a personal sense, and Reginald Bailey had spoken of being the one to represent the accused if when, according to Darcy, he was brought to Justice. Pro-Bono of course, as the one matter on which both Oxenham and his superior agreed was that any publicity was good publicity, and if he displayed a little initiative on this occasion, Reginald might allow Darcy to sit as second chair on the trial. Where he'd be photographed by Fleet Street journalists, and have his sketched image appear alongside his name on the front page of the papers. If you're up to it, as I don't desire to have to carry you all the way back on my shoulders, we'll go, Darcy continued, as he pressed his hips to Olivia's, revealing that her actions were indeed having an effect down below, and lowered his eyes to the curve of her ample breasts. And finish the remainder of this conversation later. Don't you go thinking I can't see right through your sexy little play act, though why you're interested in this Ripper fellow, I'm not sure. Unless, you honestly believe I'll be the one to faint, and that will make your day? Teasing, Darcy completed the sentence with a sharp spank to Olivia's butt, Not a chance, then released her and moved to a side-table that lay in one corner of the room. Now where is it. The man mumbled as he searched the scattered items on top, then rifled the various compartments, becoming increasingly agitated until, with an an exclamation of glee, he turned to Olivia, displaying a gold-embossed Business card in his hand. Here it is. Darcy Oxenham Emissary To The Honourabe Reginald Bailey Queen's Consul The top left corner contained a Royal seal, or at least a more than passable likeness of one, above a pencil portrait of Darcy, and it had once led to him bedding a visiting member of the Dutch Royal Family. Albeit, she'd been only fifty-seventh in line to throne, but still, the name-dropping and show of his importance had worked a treat, and the man hoped for similar fortune today in it allowing he and Olivia to pass, unquestioned, through the line of underpaid, overworked, and sleep-deprived Policemen, who were certain to have secured the scene. Go change, whilst I wash and locate my Sunday finest, we need to look the part. The gleam in Darcy's eyes spoke of his growing anticipation over their mischievous adventure, although, unknown to him, his self-aggrandising motivations, and interest in Jack-The-Ripper, were of a completely different nature to Olivia's.