Rage

Pay for things in cash. Don't keep receipts. Account for your whereabouts with half-truths. Give your lies an element of truth and they will be easier to maintain.

In her time as a private investigator, Simone had seen the same repertoire used time and time again, ad nauseam. Cheating husbands and cheating wives spinning webs of deceit and misdirections in an effort to, what? Feel alive again? Feel whole? Feel anything? What a joke. Her favorite part was when the cheater would say, "I never wanted to hurt you." Often enough, Simone had gotten close enough to hear the visceral hatred, contempt, and scorn these people had for the one they left at home. The worst one for her was indifference. No hatred. No love. Their spouse is just...there.

How do you reconcile that with watching someone with their partner, perhaps on a phone call spouting measures of love and desire and devotion. And the faithful ones, they believe it. Or they lie to themselves because the alternative means they're unloved...or unlovable.

Simone recalled a case where she was following the wife. She sat across the room from the woman and her lover and watched the woman pick her phone up and look at the screen. She rolled her eyes and showed the screen to the man. They laughed. It was her husband. The wife pressed a finger to her lips, instructing the man to stay quiet. The man moved his chair right next to hers. As the wife sweetly lied about what she was doing and who she was with, Simone watched the lover's hand disappear under the woman's dress. Her hand immediately moved to push his away, looking around the restaurant in case someone was watching. Someone was.

Simone fought the urge to look away. Her clients don't pay her to be modest. She was paid to be thorough.

The wife wasn't as chatty now, her "Honey, this" and "Honey, that" reduced to Mm-hmms and one word responses. Simone watched the wife's lover, the man literally invading the space between a wife and her husband, wedging himself between them, not unlike how we was currently wedging himself between her thighs. The wife closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, smiled, and Simone read the words, "I love you" on her lips before she ended the call. No guilt on her face. No remorse on his. She watched as he withdrew his hand from between her legs and brought the fingers to his mouth while the wife laughed about the "buffoon not knowing a thing." They laughed. Simone cringed.

That day, Simone ran her thumb over the base of her ring finger, feeling the cold metal band that encircled her soft tan flesh. Today that ring was gone, but her thumb reached for the same spot all the same. The sensation remained foreign to her and she wondered if she'd ever get used to it.

She resisted the urge to look down at the bare finger, the light band of skin still there a testament to how recently she wore the symbol of love, honor, and obedience. She didn't come here for self-pity. No, tonight she had a different mission, a more personal one.

"Looking for someone?"

The voice came from behind her unexpectedly. She didn't like people sneaking up on her. This guy was lucky her elbow didn't find its way into his solar plexus but he was bold. She could appreciate that. It was a different approach from the men seeking an introduction through the bartender by sending over a drink. It was also a definite improvement over those using that liquid courage to strike up a conversation with her. She turned in her seat and found herself looking in to the hollow of a strikingly muscular neck. Lifting her gaze, passing the way past 5 o'clock shadow on a chiseled jaw, her eyes connected with a pair of the lightest brown eyes she had ever seen. Set in deep olive skin and crowned with dark sable locks, Simone's train of thought jumped the track. The stranger lifted his hand in front of her, palm up and outstretched, and without hesitation Simone slipped her hand into his.

His head descended as his fingers closed around hers. She savored both the softness of his lips as well as the bristle of his stubble as he placed a kiss just between the index and middle knuckles. Savoring the warmth of his breath on her skin as he pulled away, she could not recall the last time someone kissed her hand. The slightest spot of his saliva remained, cooling in the air between them that grew more electrified by the second. She imagined the wetness between her knuckles mirroring the wetness growing between her thighs. He closed his free hand over hers and she understood one thing very clearly. Now that he had her literally in the palms of his hands, she would be hard pressed to get away.

A thought that never crossed her mind.

His name was Philip. Within 20 minutes, they shared their first kiss. She lied and told him she was a school teacher. Her hand landed on his thigh and squeezed, traveling up towards his crotch and then down again towards his knee.

Mergers and acquisitions, he mentioned, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear, tracing his fingers along her neck, across her collarbone, and along the fabric of her form fitting red dress. Simone's breath caught in her throat as his roaming finger gently grazed the aching bud, pressing against the fabric of her dress, screaming for attention. Attention he apparently was only too willing to provide. An image of the same warmth and bristle she felt on her fingers given to her breasts assaulted her and a smile spread across her face.

He mentioned an apartment his company keeps being just around the corner.

She paused and weighed her next move carefully. Deciding she had nothing to lose, she reached for Philip's own aching, she assumed, bulge just to make sure she wouldn't be disappointed once they got back to his place. There would be no problems there.

They both closed their tabs and, arm in arm, walked out into the night.

His building was barely a five minute walk away. Walking in the dead of night, alongside a stranger, past dark corners and abandoned alleyways, it was every woman's worst nightmare. And it might have felt like the longest five minutes of her life had Simone not had a history in personal security to grant her some peace of mind. Not surprisingly, people generally don't take the news that their loved one is unfaithful very well. Even when they were the ones that hired her to find evidence of said infidelity. The unfaithful also tend to not take the news that they have been followed, photographed, and videotaped very gracefully. Simone has had to subdue her fair share of enraged people. Mr. Philip Lonelyhearts here didn't look like anyone she couldn't handle.

But common sense was nipping at her heels. To avoid talking herself out of a one-night stand, she encouraged Philips attention again. He could keep that nagging little voice quiet. She bumped him with her hip and looked at him playfully. Immediately his arms wound around her body and pressed her backwards towards the nearest building. Hands cushioning the impact, his weight bearing down on her, common sense took a back seat to pure unadulterated passion.

"So many opportunities to have you while we were walking, take you into any alley and have my wicked way with you," he whispered against her mouth. His lips parted and she followed his lead. The passion was strong and she savored every pass of his tongue against hers and her tongue exploring his. He broke the kiss and continued, "And trust me, the thought crossed my mind one-thousand times over." His hand slid down her back and rested them where her ass just began to rise.

Reaching up and wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, she breathed against his ear. "Why didn't you?" A flick of the earlobe with her tongue sent a ripple through his body that made her almost giddy.

The hands continued down, over her taut butt, and paused while the fingers began to tug the fabric up higher and higher, exposing her skin inch by inch until the cleft of her rear was revealed.

"Two reasons," he whispered. "One, I think you're beautiful." She smiled as he paused. One hand held the fabric while the other grabbed low and hard enough to spread her cheeks open, almost to the point of discomfort. She made no effort to stop him. The longest of his fingers grazed the wetness that had been collecting below since they first kissed in the bar.

"If I had known you were this excited, we wouldn't have made it a single block." She watched as he brought those same fingers to his lips, savoring the flavor of every caress, kiss, and fantasy that had assaulted Simone's imagination since first hearing his voice behind her. "But as I was saying, you are too beautiful and deserve better than an alleyway."

Breathless she whispered, "How much farther?"

He smiled and said, "Reason number two, look up. We're just a short elevator ride away from a claw-footed bathtub and a king-sized bed."

He released her dress and pulled himself away. For Simone, it was the longest elevator ride she had ever taken.

He unlocked the door to the apartment and stepped aside, bowing in exaggerated fashion to allow her inside first. After following inside, he secured the locks and turned to greet his guest once more. She threw her body against his and he fell back against the door, lips crushed by her need for him. Supporting her weight in his arms he still made it seem effortless to get his feet below him and lift her completely off the floor, bringing her legs up and around his hips. He carried her to the living room and rested her on the back of his beautiful black couch. The fabric of his pants were strained to their limit and he prayed that she help him find freedom. Thankfully, as he worked to remove his shirt, she diligently worked to undo his belt and buttons.

Simone released the button and fastener and slowly slipped the zipper down. Gently letting the waistband of the pants go and fall around his ankles, she marveled at his size as well as his choice of undergarments...or lack thereof.

As he let the shirt fall to the ground as well, she remarked, "You're awfully brave to walk around with something like that and not even a pair of briefs?"

He chuckled and pulled her lips towards him, pressing the head of most ardent-looking member dangerously close to the dripping folds of flesh between her legs. "You're one to talk. Basically a sheer dress and a pair of heels?" He shook his head in mock remonstration even as he reached behind her neck to pull the strings holding her dress up. The fabric fell from her torso freely, but he helped it along where he could. The moment her breasts were exposed, his mouth latched to it as though the sweetest nectar flowed through it. He back arched in response and the arms around her waist pulled her closer to the edge and closer to him. They touched again, skin to skin, the pressure of his hardened flesh once again reminding her of the dangerous, bareback proximity of a union they both desired.

But in the same thought, the pressure was gone. His lips were on hers for the briefest second before traveling downwards again, pecking her chin, the hollow of her neck, moving around to her left breast. He left a trail of wet and needful kisses on almost every inch of her skin, particularly where the torso begins to rise and form her magnificent peaks. A sound that reminded Simone of a growl escaped his lips as he nibbled her hip. He looked up into her heavy lidded eyes.

"I could worship your body for days."

Between his physical prowess and his innate ability thus far to always say the right thing, Simone was lost. The moment his heated breath touched her mound she was ready to release anything that anchored her to this physical world, surrendering, floating further away with every stroke of his tongue. As such, she almost lost her balance, precariously seated the way she was and her Don Juan no longer supporting her body.

He felt it and stood up, suggesting they try something else.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, his cock once again rubbed and bumped against all the right places. A voice in Simone's mind reminded her it wouldn't be right but it grew weaker and weaker with every flick of his tongue on her body. Every nibble. Every inch where they connected skin to skin swept her further away from the responsible, accountable Simone she was all too familiar with. What's a few more inches between new friends? she joked to herself.

His voice asked her to trust him as he laid her farther and farther back, making sure not to let her move too quickly but expecting her to feel both disoriented and thrilled at this unorthodox position. Her head and shoulders now rested on the seat cushions while her hips remained positioned on the back of the couch above her. She felt ruthlessly exposed, particularly when he slid her knees into the crux of his elbows. He could finally have his wicked way with her.

But she saw his head descend and his mouth resumed precisely where it had left off. A sharp intake of breath accompanied the initial sensation of his tongue stroking a completely different set of lips. Her hands instinctively went to her breasts, eyes disappearing behind lids that closed in utter rapture and surrender.

He began with a single finger to massage her lips, followed by a second finger encouraging her juices to spread. She anticipated his fingers to press inside her but she was mistaken. Instead one finger slid to the left of her opening and the other to the right, continuing their tandem massage. It was a method she had never experienced before but it thrilled her body in a way she had only fantasized about before today. His left arm snaked around her right thigh, resting his hand on her pubis mound, thumb pointed down. While sorting manipulating her with his fingers, he proceeded to apply kisses to every inch of this juncture. He began where the inner thigh was already slick with her excitement and moved his mouth everywhere...without touching her clitoris. Simone felt engorged. "Stimulated" could no longer describe her state of being. Her clit, he lips, and every inch inside her felt swollen. It ached, literally begging to be filled. Whether by his tongue, his fingers or cock, she didn't care. She wanted it all.

He inhaled deeply. "You smell divine." Words floated past her consciousness. Somewhere in her mind she might have thought having her head below her heart for a prolonged period of time wouldn't be the best idea. She felt his thumb press into the flesh just about her slit as he gently pulled the flesh back towards her. This was when his mouth descended.

10 seconds of almost surgical precision, swirling heat and wetness around an ever hardening nub. He stopped.

"You taste like heaven."

20 seconds of reckless lapping that all but cleaned her from taint to hood. He stopped.

Still massaging with his right hand, he nudged her exposed pearl with his nose. The same two fingers slid together, meeting again at the renewed moisture gathering at her opening.

Simone could only think about how badly she needed to be filled. If she had felt empty before tonight, this man's prowess highlighted what was missing tenfold. She needed him to take the emptiness away. Fill her. She didn't want to feel empty anymore.

Any other day she might have cascaded into tears at that thought but her mind was assaulted by the sudden invasion of two rather thick fingers that began to aggressively stoked the upper wall inside her. The moans she managed to keep behind pressed lips escaped and her nails raked the upholstery. The surgeon had returned, giving her clitoris all the attention it could ever ask for.

In this position, Simone's feet could brace against nothing and his oral onslaught was relentless. He meant to break her, to leave her a mindless, quivering mess of a woman. A shell. A satiated shell, but a shattered one at that.

The familiar pressure began, a heat radiating out from the very center of her being. Her moans grew louder, interspersed with semi-conscious pleas to not stop. Please, don't stop. God, don't stop. And it came, washing over her in waves that she felt from her chest, through her spine, all the way to the tips of her toes. It washed over him as well, splashing his chin and collecting in the palm of his hand as he continues to finger her body.

Still wracked her body, every pulse of the orgasm continued to keep rational thought at bay. And she never wanted it to end. In a sweeping motion she barely registered, she was upright and seated at the edge of the couch again. A kiss wetter than any she'd had before invaded her reverie and she tasted herself for the first time in what seemed like forever. At her core, she knew this was the very essence of her body and the joy it experiences when connecting with another. She felt the fingers leave her but they were soon replaced by something new. Something thicker and filled with a need that more than matched her own. She smiles at the feeling of being filled, stretched, repeatedly and with desire she had not felt in months. Her legs wrapped around his body tightly, giving tacit approval that he should use her to the fullest degree.

The waves of orgasmic bliss that surged through her body spiked with every thrust of his lust. She heard his breath quicken and she knew he would join her there soon. His grip on her hips suddenly tightened and he buried himself inside her to the hilt. He spent himself and clinging to his form, she felt every pulse. She imagined his seed collecting inside her...

Her blood ran cold. Her breath shook with realization. What have I done...

She was startled when he kissed her neck. She continued to cling to him, not out of passion, but out of fear because the moment they separated, what had transpired thus far only in her mind would become a reality. If Schroedinger's fucking cat was stupid enough to eat the radioactive agent in the box, then she was the equivalent of that fucking cat. Until he pulled out, she could fool herself into thinking he slipped a condom on while he was eating her pussy. Until he pulled out, she could tell herself she didn't have unprotected sex with a man she'd met barely two hours ago. Until he pulled out, her honor could remain intact.

He whispered in her ear that they still had all night and placed another kiss on her forehead. He curved a finger under her chin to lift her face to his and saw a face paler than any alabaster statue he'd seen. "What's wrong?"

Her mouth opened but she didn't know whether she would cry, scream, or punch him if she tried to speak. She pushed him back and was sick at the sound of his sliding out of her. She noticed with increasing regret that the previous feeling of emptiness had returned and with a vengeance. She finally decided on the path she would take. Lowering herself from the couch, she leveled him with a glare that spoke rage. Incandescent rage.

"You didn't use a condom." The accusation was ice cold. All the passion from before, gone or channeled into her newest objective: shift blame.

She saw him visibly stiffen at her words. He had no immediate reply. Then, "Nothing had been discussed beforehand. Even when I poked you in the beginning, you didn't mention anything. And we finally started fucking, you didn't stop me so I thought you were okay with it."

She flinched at the emphasis he gave fucking and her body shook from the effort it was taking to keep herself from clawing his eyes out. You didn't... You didn't... You... You... You... Tears pricked her eyes. Not from pleasure. Not from guilt. He was blaming her. She should have stopped him. She was the only one there with any responsibility. And if there was any truth to his words, it was inaccessible to Simone.

"You asshole," she hissed. Straightening herself, she pulled the dress back up and tied it around her neck, feeling rage and shame in equal measure in every movement.

"Oh, please. You knew exactly what you were doing. Don't give me that shit. You're a grown woman and more than capable of speaking up. I didn't make you do anything you weren't already prepared to do."

The pressure in her jaw went through the roof and she contemplated any number of insults to hurl in return. A image flashed through her mind. She saw him doubled over on the floor from having been kicked in the balls. She debated making the fantasy a reality. But it was that last sentence that stung the most...the underlying truth of the evening laid bare in all its ugly glory.

Then she felt it. Cold air hit the stream running down her inner thigh. Some of it was her, but most of it was his. It was the last straw for her. The last straw in her descent into disgrace ands humiliation of her in the aftermath. She saw her heel, tossed onto its side a couple of feet away from her. She bent to pick it up and held it in her hand, weighing it and her options. She hesitated for the briefest second before sending it flying in his direction. She had intended to hit him in the back of the head as he had turned away from her, but at the last second he turned and the heel landed just above his left eye. She heard the thud and watched the shoe fall to the floor once again.

Philip cursed and immediately brought his hand to his face. Simone quickly scanned the room, looking for the other heel only to find it just under the couch. She went to reach for her next projectile when she felt a hand grab her by the hair with a strength she had not anticipated.

"You bitch," hissed an increasingly unfamiliar voice.

Anticipating his intentions and not willing to give him the chance to show her what he had planned for her, she reached up to grab the his wrist, holding it in place. Not skipping a beat, she pivoted on the balls of her feet, turned to him, and struck him immediately in the jaw with her fist. He let go out of sheer surprise and, using his shock to her advantage, proceeded to deliver a straight kick to his still exposed groin. Philip collapsed to his knees, spittle and curses flying from his mouth and onto the teak hardwood floor.

Simone braced herself for the next attack but noticed something was different about Philip as he stayed low, appearing to console himself. The olive tan skin she had once admired looked darker, almost the color of the hardwood he was kneeling on. It appeared in splotches around his body and appeared to be spreading, giving his skin a mottled look until it was barely recognizable. Muscles bulged and grew out of proportion with the frame she until recently been enjoying until his mass had all but doubled. Simone shook her head in disbelief. What was happening to him? Her feet involuntarily moved to put more distance between herself and whatever this, this...this thing was. Yet, in her move towards the door, she bumped into the furniture. The leg scraping the hardwood floor might as well have been her requiem bell.

The creature's head came straight up and a low, deep growl began deep in it's throat. It scanned the room, seeking out the disturbance and Simone saw the honey brown eyes were completely gone. The iris and the sclera black as pitch and beyond anything that could be called human. He...It? The creature formerly known as Philip finally set it's eyes on her, rooting her to the spot with one singular message that was so clearly communicated from those infinite pools: You're dead.

It's claws scraped against the floor as it rose, bracing itself in her direction. It's face distorted into a snarl, two elongated protrusions jutting out from its lower jaw reminding her of a wild boar and their thick razor sharp tusks. Simone knew he would charge at her, striking her soft belly and disemboweling her or hitting her jugular and letting her bleed out. If he could get his hands on her, he might just beat her to death or break her neck. The thought of watching her own intestines spill out of her body as she lay dying...the thought of her throat being ripped apart and feeling the life drain from her with every beat of her fading heart. The idea of her warm blood drenching every inch of her body. Her blood ran cold with each possible death scenario in a multiverse that screamed: Tonight is the night you die.

Time stopped. Simone did not want to die tonight. She would not be disemboweled, bleed to death, or be bludgeoned. Simone would decide when and how she would die. Tonight was not going to be that night.

Her options were limited. She wasn't familiar with her environment and therefore the layout of the apartment would be more of a liability than an asset. If she took a wrong turn, she might meet a dead end and then there would likely be no more Simone after that. No weapons either. Sizing him up, she knew she would not have the advantage in hand to hand combat. All he would need is one good hit and she'd be laid out and vulnerable. The only thing she could use was the element of surprise. After all, she told him she was a school teacher.

Before he could charge at her, she lunged for him. He was stronger but bigger and slower. If she could wear him out, make him sloppy or over confident, she could exploit it and possibly survive this nightmare. She got in close and began to land kicks and jabs, starting low but making a connection wherever she could. Dodge and strike. Keep moving and you get to keep breathing. Another combination and another dodge.

She finally saw an opportunity and landed a punch at the base of his left ear. His torso exposed, she threw her knee into it. He fell to his knee and for a moment Simone thought she had rung his bell. She had planned to punch his once more to put his down even further when his right hand arced out and up, connecting with the right side of her face and sending her flying into the bookshelf behind her. Sliding to the floor amongst the debris and completely disoriented, she thought twice about getting up. Tonight is not the night you die. Still dazed, she grabbed one of the shelves above her and pulled herself up. She watched him circle around to cut off any path of escape. She saw the window behind her but thought the chances of it being unlocked were slim to nil. But maybe she wouldn't need to. She slid towards it and considered how much force she would need to use to break the glass. This was her only chance and she would need to get him to run at her full speed.

"Fine, you want to kill me? Come and get me, you son of a bitch." The same low growl vibrated in his throat and he lowered his head like a dog waiting to attack. "Are you afraid now? You should be, you freak. What the hell are you? I knew you were anything but a decent human being before," she gestured wildly in his direction, "whatever this is. You're an animal, you're not a man. Throw responsibility on my shoulders for what happened? Fuck you! You gave in to what felt good, like the fucking pig you are. You're a monster but a fucking coward to boot." His eyes narrowed and he snarled and roared, taking one step towards her. No, she needed him to run at her. "You're scared of me? Asshole, you don't get to be scared of me after what you did to me. We finish this now." She began to pick up anything she could find to throw at him, from the heaviest books and pretty, heavy things that looked incredibly expensive. She then snatched a trophy that had yet to fall from the shelf and lobbed it at his head. The marbled base hit his left temple and that was the final blow. He was off his heels in a second, barreling straight towards Simone. She would have to time it just right.

She bent at the waist, dodging his clawed hands just in time. She threw her shoulder into his midsection and used his momentum to propel his body up, over her, and through the glass behind her. In a brief display of her own brute strength, he was gone. Falling down and away, the immediate threat against her became more and more distant until the body struck the pavement with a sickening thud. As she launched him over her, she could feel the heat of his rage against her skin. But she also remembered the man he was in those moments before they both lost their temper. If she were to look out onto the street now, would she see the monster, or the man he had once been?

——————————————————————————————————————————-

She watched the Uber drive away before turning towards the house. Her body had finally quit trembling during the car ride and she knew there would be a soreness in the morning that would cover her from head to toe. More than once she looked into the screen on her phone to see if that spot where the beast had hit her had started to bruise yet. The house was dark. Reaching into her purse, she withdrew a small golden band and slipped the cool metal onto her left ring finger. She prayed her husband was asleep. It would at least give her a few hours of rest before having to face the onslaught of questions regarding her condition.

Removing her shoes before stepping into the foyer, Simone had hoped to avoid making any noise that would draw attention to her. She didn't think she could stand to be seen the way she was and wanted nothing more to hop into the guest shower and let the hot water melt the aches and pain and mayhem and murder away for just one blessed night. She was no fool. Her DNA was all over that apartment. The bartender saw her leave with him just an hour before the incident. Though she was no cheerleader for the brain power of law enforcement, Simone knew the evidence was mounting against her with every passing minute.

And the motive? There was no motive. There were her juices on his couch. He went out the window completely naked. She would be all over his chin and fingers and cock. And he came inside her. Jesus christ, what if I get pregnant? Her hands went to her stomach. She had never been able to conceive with her husband. Something about his motility. Pregnant off a one-night stand whom she was then forced to kill because he was trying to kill her only after she provoked him. Why? Why had she reacted that way? She knew what was happening in the moment. She had to admit that now. She wanted him to fuck her that way. She wanted him inside her, nothing between them. She wanted him to spill every drop of his seed inside her, deep, balls deep. Pumping every ounce of his climax to join with hers.

And now he was dead.

All the sordid details would be released and everyone would know what Simone had done. Not the self-defense, because honestly, who would believe her when she explained this man transformed into a hideous berserker monster before her very eyes? No, they would classify her as a murderer. An adulteress, first, but also a murderer.

A light came on in the den which startled Simone. Staying quiet and attempting to move quickly towards the guest room, she heard a voice call out, "Babe, is that you?"

Fuck my life. She wouldn't be able to catch a break tonight. The tension returned with a visceral hatred for every muscle fiber in her body. Stretching her neck from side to side and trying to appear loose, she answered, "Yeah, hun. It's me. I'm sorry if I woke you."

"Could you come here please?"

Her eyebrows drew together. That was a first. He normally had nothing to say to her when she got home late because he was always passed out. "Um...yeah, let me just get cleaned up and brush my teeth and all that...it was a long night you kn—"

"It won't take long," came the voice from down the hall. He walked out of the den and stood in the hallway. "Please. I have something to show you." He gestured with his hand towards the spare room they both used as a home office.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me and fuck my life. Shit.

She set her shoes down in the hallway and walked towards the den, still shrouded in the darkness that filled every corner of the house like a sentient, malevolent observer of both her guilt as well as the penance she would have to pay to absolve it.

Emerging from the darkness and slowly stepping into the light that spilled from the open den, her husband's face underwent a parade of emotions. Where initially there was utter calmness, it was now occupied by the face of man who barely recognized the person in front of him. His mouth opened but whatever answer he sought, the question went unasked. He knit his brows together, unsure of how to proceed and settled back on the look of tranquility...even if it was tinged with completed resignation this time. He dropped his gaze to his feet and heaved a sigh laden with a burden Simone could relate with too much.

Her first instinct? Lie.

"It was a client's husband. He didn't like what I had to tell his wife and things got out of hand."

The gaze rose from the floor and met her's with a fury matched only by the inhuman thing she encountered earlier that same night. He lifted his left hand and pointed to the floor in the study.

"You win."

Confused, she took one more step towards the door. Holding onto the door jamb, she looked at the images that had been printed out and strewn about the room, each one depicting her in an act of utter wantonness that paled in comparison to the next. For weeks, he'd had her followed. For weeks, he'd had someone chronicle her every move and every indiscretion. For weeks, or more, he had suspected she was being unfaithful and his first impulse? To not only catch her in the act but then to throw those very same acts back in her face as though she were some common whore. It was beyond the pale. It was beyond words. The gall...the unmitigated gall of this man to do this to her... Pain wracked her body but she showed none of it to him. She would not allow this pig of a man to see any weakness in her. How dare he attempt to belittle her when she could just as easily break his neck and tear him limb from limb?

She tore her eyes from the pictures and stared into his.

"How dare y—", he began but was cut-off when Simone's left hand shot out and away from the door jamb she had been clutching, and struck him against his left cheek. He stumbled and fell against the wall opposite the den. He looked at her in horror.

"How dare I?" she yelled. "HOW DARE I?" she roared. "I wasn't the first one to be unfaithful, you little shit." She pointed to the images. "I did this for three weeks. You did this to me for YEARS!" She lunged for him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Simone drew him close while bringing her knee into his chest. She heard a crack and smiled at the thought of his ribs splintering. "How dare you paint me the whore after you crawled to me, begging me for forgiveness, after not one, not TWO, BUT THREE OF YOUR LITTLE FUCKING SIDE PIECES CONFRONTED ME IN PUBLIC?!" She released his collar and allowed him to fall at her feet. "You're worthless. You're a man-child. You don't need a wife, you need a fucking wet nurse!" She cocked her right foot back and kicked him in the face, sending him flying back and sliding down the hallway.

The pain no longer hurt. It felt more like a searing heat that coursed through her entire body. Looking down at her hands, she noted they were black as pitch. Assuming she had walked out of the den's light, the darkness began spreading through her skin. The new pigment leached up her arms and began to bleed across her chest. Her nails were no longer manicured but growing thick and long. Somewhere in her mind, she knew she should have been scared. She knew what she was becoming. But at the same time she also felt a power she had never felt before. So this...condition. It could be spread to other people. Had Philip known? Did it even matter now? She was angry with him at first but he had indeed given her the gift of release, in every sense of the word. He drove her to orgasm. He gave her a mechanism to exorcize her rage. And now, he was giving her the chance to escape her marriage. She really wished she hadn't killed him now.

She heard her husband cough. She looked up in time to see him spit on the floor, blood spraying across the tile and heard the clatter of...a tooth, maybe? She watched him try to get up only to collapse on the floor again, clutching his left side. In long, adamant strides, she soon loomed over him with a manic grin spread wide across her face...or at least what used to be her face. Her husband regarding her with utter horror.

In a voice she no longer recognized, Simone said, "I should have done this years ago."

——————————————————————————————————————————

The rage passed, as it always does, but the damage was done. Simone sat on her front step, looking at her hands dripping red and in some places covered with the hair and brain matter of her recently bludgeoned husband. She expected to hear the sound of sirens any minute now so she'd patiently wait for them right here. She still felt empty but it was a different kind of empty.

No, not empty. That was the wrong word. Unburdened. Simone simply took all the baggage of the last 12 years of her life and used it to beat the ever-loving shit out of her husband. And in all honesty, she had never felt better.

"You should know we are notoriously difficult to kill," a familiar voice said.

Her head rose slowly. She knew her madness was finally complete. It was impossible to be hearing that voice. He was dead.

There he stood before her. Not as refined as when they first met earlier that night, but he stood there nonetheless. How had he found her? She laughed at asking such a stupid question. You could find anyone these days with the right connections and the right access. She noticed he wasn't naked anymore. This disappointed Simone.

"I'm sorry," he began, as he walked towards her and sat next to her on the steps. "I don't know what I was thinking but by the looks of things, I fear I may have overcomplicated your life tonight."

She shook her head. "Actually, this is the simplest my life has been in a very long time. But I do have a lot of questions." She paused and cast Philip a sidelong look. "Are you here to kill me?"

He laughed. "No. You were protecting yourself. School teacher, my ass. But you couldn't have known what would happen. It wasn't your fault." He heaved a sigh. "I have...anger management problems."

Simone displayed her hands in front of her. "It seems I do now, as well." She sighed, letting the hands fall into her lap. "What now?"

Looking out into the darkness, Philip weighed any number of responses to that question. "I suppose I should help you clean up inside. You can ask me the million-and-one questions chomping at the bit in your mind. And...is it wrong for me to say you look beautiful covered in blood? Red really is your color."

She smiled. "Then you're going to love how I redecorated inside."

"Perhaps you can show me. The smell of blood is tantamount to an aphrodisiac for people like me...like us, now. Maybe you've noticed?"

Now that he mentioned it, she did. A literal bloodlust. Her disappointment at seeing him clothed made more sense. "Then I suggest we not clean up right away. Care to come inside?"

"I thought I already did."

She elbowed him in the ribs but couldn't help smiling at the memory.

"Let's have ourselves a little encore then."