Femme Fatale
Prologue
“You have thirty seconds to tell me why the fuck you’re on my property,” Marshall demanded in a deadly calm voice.
The woman turned around slowly, camera in hand.
“Tell me who you’re working for.”
“That information is classified,” she spat.
“Is it?” Marshall taunted. “Should I call the cops?”
“Go ahead.”
“You lookin’ for trouble?”
“No, are you?”
“I want to know why the fuck you’re sneaking around my yard with a fucking camera,” he yelled as he visibly shook with anger.
She ignored him.
He whipped out his cell phone and started to dial 911.
“That won’t be necessary.”
Pausing, he looked at her, “Afraid of the cops now?”
“I am a cop, you jackass.”
“Oh, that’s great. That’s one I haven’t heard before.”
Undaunted, she flashed him her badge.
“Detective?”
“Damn straight.”
“Shouldn’t you be knowin’ it’s illegal to trespass?”
“I’m not on your property,” she smirked as she stood on the edge of his lawn. “I’m on mine.”
“Yours?”
“I’m your next door neighbor.”
“Since when?”
“Since today. Paid in cash. Got anymore questions?”
“What’s with the camera? I got a right to privacy, you know.”
“Please, like I’d want to photograph you. I’m photographing the house in case it burns down.”
“That’s…morbid. And weird…very weird.”
“Not when you’re me.”
“Should I ask?”
“I wouldn’t answer.”
“I won’t ask, then.”
“Good idea.”
“You really pay for the house in cash?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve got five million in cash?”
“Yeah. I hear you have your own money, so I’ll hope you’re not hitting me up in order to get into my checkbook.”
He laughed. “I have enough. I don’t need yours, that’s for sure.”
“Good. But I’m sure I have more.”
Marshall rolled his eyes. “This isn’t a pissing contest.”
“Just thought I’d let you know everything upfront.”
“Why?”
“Save you from asking questions later. Oh, and you might want to insure your house. Living next to me is dangerous.”
He laughed again, smirking. “Oh, right. You? Dangerous?”
“Trust me, neighbor. See this house? It’ll be ashes in a week.”
He looked at her funnily, “Ashes?”
“Get your house insured. Everything. And keep an eye out for strange men.”Chapter 1
Marshall looked around, his eyes frantic, as he smelled smoke. He jumped out of bed, and he peered out the window—the house next door was going up in flames.
“Shit.”
And he flew down the stairs, screaming Hailie’s name.
“Hailie! We gotta get out of the house!” he yelled as he grabbed her from her bed and tore out of the house.
“I told you it’d be ash soon,” she stared at him levelly as she watched him shoot out of the house, like he was on fire.
“Did you call the cops?”
“They’re already here.”
“Did you set your house on fire?”
“Please.”
“Do you know who did?”
“Yeah,” she grinned.
“What kind of sicko are you?”
“Is that your way of asking whether or not I’m getting off on this?”
Marshall frowned and put Hailie down. “Hailie, wait in Daddy’s car, okay?”
“Okay,” she smiled sleepily and took his keys.
“Are you?”
“A little.”
“That’s disgusting. I’ve seen some fucked up shit before…”
“There’s a man that’s burning alive inside there,” she said tonelessly.
“Shit, did you tell the firefighters—”
“Why would I? I always said he’d burn in hell. It’s fitting, don’t you think?”
Marshall backed away from her.
“Are you scared, Marshall?” she asked with a smirk.
He didn’t answer.
“Since you’re looking terrified, I’ll divulge some information. The man that’s trapped inside there came to kill me last night.”
“You told me this would happen. How could you know?”
“I make it my business to know everything.”
“Like my name.”
“Let’s suspend the fact that you are a celebrity, yes. Your daughter, Hailie Jade. The pride and joy of your life. The only positive product out of your tumultuous relationship with infamous cocaine addict, Kim. Who you actually tried to get off with a bribe. That failed—thank god. Your monthly mortgage payments are $12,928.37. Want me to tell you more?”
“I want you to tell me who the fuck you are and how the hell you know all that.”
“Like I said, I make it my business to know everything. I’m Vixen Johnson. If you ask me what I do, I’d have to kill you. And I mean that.”
“I don’t think I want to know anymore.”
“Good.”
He sighed.
“The ashes of the man inside are worth twenty million dollars. He was a Russian assassin that was part of a network of agents moving to kill the president.”
“Jesus. I thought you couldn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t. You don’t know a thing, do you?” she winked.
Playing a long, he nodded, “Did you say something?”
“Let me take you and your daughter to breakfast,” she said suddenly. “A concession for all the havoc from this morning.”
Warily, he shook his head.
She gave him an inquisitive look. “It’s a sincere offer.”
“We don’t dine out much—celebrity status and all.”
“Hmm,” she murmured thoughtfully, “Why don’t you let me cook you breakfast, then? I promise I won’t set your house afire.”
“Is it safe to stick around?”
“Yeah, they have it contained. Then the fire marshal will come in and go through the remains, determine that it was arson, and my insurance company will have a field day. So, show me to your kitchen.”
“Let me get my daughter first,” he replied.
“Of course,” she nodded and followed him to his car, parked on the street.
“Everything’s all right now, baby. Breakfast time, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy. Was that your house?”
“Yep,” Vixen replied.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the little girl said sadly.
“It’s fine, pumpkin. I needed to do some redecorating anyway,” she said cheerily, offering the child a smile.
//
“You don’t have much,” she remarked as she made inventory of the fridge.
“The housekeeper’s supposed to go grocery shopping today.”
“Then we’ll have to make do. I’d offer to supply the food, but it’s a bit burnt.”
He gave her a wry smile.
“French toast?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
//
Marshall leaped when he heard a cell phone ring. He grappled for his, only to realize it wasn’t ringing.
“Good morning, Ivan,” Vixen said happily as she flipped open her phone. “Yes, it is a very good morning. I expect the delivery to be prompt, as it has cost me my house.”
Marshall listened keenly to her words, feeling very much in the dark and almost worried.
“Don’t worry, I’ll find myself a place to stay. Yes, they’ll probably find me there. No, Ivan, you know I always land on my feet. Exactly, like a cat. Nine lives? No, just one. Of course I’m making good use of it. Why wouldn’t I? Ivan, I must go, there’s breakfast to be made. I am a resilient woman… Goodbye, darling, and make sure to send that package soon.”
“What was that all about?” Marshall asked in a whisper.
“It was…a friend.”
“Want to clue me in?”
“Not a chance, Marshall. You haven’t earned that right. Be nice, and maybe you will,” she winked and turned her attention to flipping the cooking toast.Chapter 2
“That right?”
“Maybe if we were exchanging bodily fluids, you’d need to know who Ivan was. Even then, probably not.”
“You’re in my house. I’d say that gives me a right to know.”
“How about you guess? If you get close, I’ll let you know.”
Marshall sighed in annoyance.
“Really, I’m not going to tell you so easily. You have to work for what you want.”
Disgruntled, Marshall rolled his eyes. “Boyfriend?”
She laughed softly before answering. “I don’t have boyfriends.”
“Husband?” he asked, hoping for a no.
She laughed again. “Oh, Marshall, I don’t stick around long enough to get that attached to any man.”
“Love ‘em and leave ‘em?”
“Not quite so neat and tidy as that, but essentially, yes.”
“My kind of woman,” Marshall replied dryly and took a hard look at her. He noticed the rich mahogany of her hair, that fell to her elbows, the subtle flare of her hips, and the soft beauty of her face. Her feminine appearance matched with her appalling confidence put her into a new category of attractive.
“Oh, really?” she questioned.
“I was only half-serious.”
“Too bad. It could have been…interesting,” she gave him a flirtatious wink.
//
“Bye Hailie,” Marshall said as he waved to his daughter at the door, watching his housekeeper, Liza, take his daughter to school.
“The only thing that surprised me about you is how much you love your daughter—how obvious it is,” Vixen remarked as he reentered the kitchen.
“Of course I love her, she’s my child.”
“You should know it’s not that simple. But regardless of how jaded I am, it is nice to see such tender moments between father and daughter.”
“I guess,” he shrugged. “You have any kids?”
“Not that I know of. You know me, love ‘em and leave ‘em. I can’t afford to have kids.”
“You have millions.”
“My life is far too dangerous to provide a safe environment for a child.”
“Yeah?” he said in disbelief. “Why don’t you enlighten me about this ‘dangerous’ life of yours?”
“Nah, I don’t think so. Suffice to say, I’m more than you can handle.”
“I think I’ll be judge of that,” he replied angrily as he pushed out his chair.
“Yeah?” she retorted mockingly. “You think you can handle anything I throw at you, don’t you?”
“Pretty much.”
“Really?” she murmured as she stood beside him. “Anything, you say?” she challenged as she moved to stand directly in front of him—between him and the tabletop’s edge.
He looked at her, meeting her challenge with his eyes.
“So I could straddle your thighs,”—she sat on his lap, putting one leg on each side—“and kiss you like this,”—and she kissed him, pressed her lips against his, coaxed his open and thrust her tongue inside his reluctant mouth; she heard him groan as her hand squeezed his thigh—“but—”
“Shut up,” he growled and attacked her mouth, leaning forward and pressing her back against the table’s edge.
Marshall cupped her bottom and propelled her back against him, pushing her to feel his hardness between her thighs.
As they broke apart—panting and gasping for air—she gave him a cutting look. “Are you trying to teach me a lesson?”
“Maybe.”
“That you can handle anything?”
“Could be,” he replied cryptically.
She put her hand on his belt buckle. “Do you think you’re man enough to handle true no-strings attached sex? The kind where I tell you all I want is your cock. That I just want to use you for my pleasure. I’ll get off, and I won’t care if you do.”
“Yeah, I can handle that,” he said gruffly.
“Good, because even if you couldn’t, I’d still fuck you.”
//
“Where are you taking me?” she asked with her legs locked around his waist. “You don’t want to fuck in the kitchen?”
“As much as I’d like to have you wet and writhing all over the kitchen counter, Liza’ll be home, and I don’t need her to suffer from a heart attack.”
“Your humor improves my opinion of you,” she said sweetly, as if her praise were priceless.
//
“Hurry,” she whispered as she eagerly watched him undo his belt buckle.
She keened and moaned, locking her eyes with his, as she pressed her breasts together; she ran her fingertips across the planes of her stomach, skimming her thighs as she arched her back in anticipation.
Transfixed by the tantalizing display before him, Marshall deliberately slowed down his movements.
She laughed huskily. “If you don’t get over here soon, I’ll have to start without you,” she taunted as she crawled to the edge of the bed. “And I’d much rather have you at the starting line than the finish line.”
He pretended to mull over his choices until she felt him grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him on top of her.
“If you’re not going to acquiesce me, I’ll just have to take what I want instead,” she teased.
“I’ll oblige you in any way, sweetheart,” Marshall volleyed.
“Good,” she smiled as she pushed his jeans past his knees.
She appraised him with her eyes, skimming his body with her look of approval. “We’re gonna fit perfectly,” she remarked as she felt him nudge himself between her thighs.
Marshall grabbed her hips, pulled her towards him, and thrust himself within her welcoming heat in a single, fluid movement. “Yeah, I think we do,” he murmured as he smashed his lips against hers, battling her tongue for supremacy, finding it to be a losing—but pleasurable—battle.
“Mmm, yes,” she groaned as she felt his tongue lave the underside of her breast.
Her hands moved to clasp his blonde head at the valley of her breasts as she arched into his seeking mouth. The faster her gasps came, the quicker his strokes were; her hips undulated and moved with his, constantly urging his speed to a feverish pitch.
They climbed together—higher and higher and higher yet—towards some peak above the clouds of heaven and then fell into a dizzying abyss of the most potent pleasure.
//
“You do justice to your name,” he commented as they lay together and their breaths evened out.
She sat up, staring at him with a devilish glint in her eyes. “No, not yet,” she laughed as she straddled his thighs. “Not until I have you begging me to stop.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t think I’d ever beg you to stop.”... to be continued
Author: zines@aol.com
These stories are for entertainment purposes only. They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.