Thread: Scarlet Letters -DEAD RP-

RE Scarlet Letters -QuixoticXCandy- How much longer could she continue to pretend to be asleep? Five minutes, ten maybe if she was lucky? The truth of the matter was that she had woken the moment the body beside her own had stirred to life she had remained as still as a corpse as she listened to him wake, heard him sit up and clear his throat and then clamber out of the room. It had been the procession of receding footsteps that drew her lithe form erect, her large hazel eyes, fanned by long ebony lashes, fixated upon the closed oaken door. In that fleeting moment, Olivia didn't know what was worse the pounding headache that caused her to wince with each steady thump of her heart, the sickening tempest that raged in her belly or the lingering taste of her lover's mouth. True he was handsome and could have been easily considered the epitome of male beauty but the fact remained that he had little to no work ethic. So why did she stay, what possible future could there be with a man who was more interested in spending money than the growth of his company. You stay for the sex Olivia. Was it so wrong for a lady to admit to herself that she was a creature of carnal pleasure or that she too possessed needs that needed to be sated? That she too enjoyed the throngs of fiery passion that she too hungered for? As she lay there silently, she could recall the heated touch of a phantom lover the way their fingers ignited feverish trails down her body or how those same fingers spread her creamy thighs. 'Breathe girl, just breathe,' the brunette thought, forcing the thought from her mind she needed to calm down. For those actions alone she could have been called a strumpet, a whore but did that make her any worse than her betters? The same men who pointed her out were those who sought the same pleasures in the arms of a common whore. Unlike the men who hid behind their fancy titles, who degraded women for being sexual beings, she could at least admit to herself that she enjoyed her earthly pleasures. ' Though now's not the time to dwell on things you can't change,' she thought as she loosed a sigh as she fell back into the goose-feather mattress with a soft thump . If there was one thing she truly loved about him, it was how the scent of his skin was like a natural paralytic for her. It was like her own personal brand of opium that soothed worry and dissolved stress into vividly colored daydreams. Slender, pale arms extended towards the head of the bed and long fingered hands collected one of the many pillows he slept with. Olivia drew it tightly to her supple breasts and drew in a deep, shuttering breath, locking the scent within her expanded lungs until she once more sighed in contentment. Minutes passed by like seconds and while the urge to lay in bed all day seemed all too appealing, she knew that wasn't plausible. 'He'll be expecting you soon anyway' she thought begrudgingly as she kicked back the heavy duvet from her legs. Instantly she regretted having been so rash as the cooler air assaulted her exposed calves, causing a shiver to tear through her body like a knife every fine hair stood at peak attention, her body instantly alive with the sudden shock. Setting her feet firmly on the polished wooden floor, Olivia stood slowly, reaching those same slender arms high above her head in a generous stretch. Muscles ached sweetly and bone popped deliciously as the stiffness of sleep left her as she stretched. When next Olivia emerged from the room,she wore a simple button down that drown most of her figure except her breasts,and a pair of gray slacks that hung loosely around her hips. While she could admit to herself and strangers that she enjoyed the more carnal delights, Olivia Ackerman had a reputation to uphold, a false front to continue to keep intact her true self would cause chaos for more than just her. As the young woman rounded the corner from the long L-shaped hallway, her eyes locked on a figure within the informal dining room, his back towards her Darcy. Morning, she greeted, having intentionally left out the 'Good' portion as the throbbing in her head felt as if she had fallen down several flights of stairs, I trust you slept well? She didn't wait for a response and instead reached across the table for the morning paper, hopeful that there was more news about him . Hazel eyes flicked across the front page, the bold text instantly making her heart leap into her throat with excited curiosity, 'Ghastly Murder in the East-End. Dreadful Mutilation of a Woman. Capture Leather Apron.' . A look momentarily crossed her face, a look of disgust at the nickname the media had chosen for the brilliant mastermind killing in the East-End. Olivia could still recall the first time she had read in the papers about a killer who had taken it upon himself to 'thin the herd' as it were over in Whitechapel. The papers had reported that his first victim had been a woman by the name of Mary Ann Nichols, a common whore that no one really would miss nor cared about. According to the papers she had been found Friday morning early with her throat slit wide open and her belly torn open. 'Which came first I wonder,' Olivia wondered as she read quietly to herself, quickly reasoning that he had probably slit her throat first and then started to gut her like a pig. Another thought popped into her mind as she wondered if this madman was depraved enough to keep the harlot alive long enough to see the life drain from her eyes as he tore into her belly. What was it like to watch the life fade out from someone's eyes, to know that their last breath had been at her hands, to watch the fire flicker and then be snuffed out? He's killed again, Olivia cooed, folding the paper and setting it back down to press her finger against the bold-faced text, He's really quite something, isn't he? To have alluded the police twice now if she had been alone with her thoughts, joy would have instantly brightened her features but in her lover's presence she remained emotionless. Do you think he'll ever be caught?