Rachel Ford

Nathan St. John (yes I know it's typecasting, so what?)

Also Featuring 

Casey

Seth (how hot is he getting?)

Adam

Peter

"Hey Green how's Jane and the baby?" Rachel said, nodding at the police officer that had been waiting for her.

"Hey Doc. Everything's all good, the rug rat's getting bigger by the day, already time to buy him new clothes and shit. Gotta buy clothes for me too, kid threw up all over my Pats jersey, you don't think he could grow up to be a Giants fan?" Officer Green said frowning.

"In New England? Not if the kid is smart. You're dressing him up for Halloween?"

"Yeah Jane had this brilliant idea that a year old would be cute dressed as a pumpkin, but to me it's like putting a sweater on a dog, shit just ain't normal." Rachel laughed.

"So talk to me about him. What has he said?"

"He hasn't said much of anything to anyone. He just sits in the corner staring off into space, murmuring about something unintelligible. Then he goes into these violent rages, last week he bit off the ear of one of the guards, we've had to keep him in isolation under careful watch. Defense is trying to push this whole insanity thing, but if you ask I think the guy should get an Oscar for his performance, it's clear the weak bastard is just trying to keep his ass off death row."

"Yeah well, I'll be the judge of that Green." Rachel replied as they walked down the hall together. Though she had been brought in by the State of New Hampshire to counter the insanity plea and she agreed he was probably faking, she wanted to at least keep up the pretense of being impartial. Plus curiosity had gotten the best of her; she wanted to see this man every therapist on the planet would have clamored to be the one to get to talk to in the flesh. She opened the manila folder in her hand, reviewing its contents for the third or fourth time.

His name was Nathan St. John. He was on trial for murder, 3 murders to be exact. Those were the only ones they thought they could pin on him, but newspapers were labeling him as "quite possibly the most prolific serial killer in US history." Over the last 10 years he had made his way up the east coast racking up a body count that police estimated to be at least 90 women though this was a very conservative estimate, off the record the police thought the number could be well into the hundreds. Unfortunately most of the bodies they had dug up from the woodsy locations, the terrain had the achieved effect of wiping away most of the forensic evidence. That, plus the fact that they had found thousands of limbs that they had yet to reunite with the rest of the body. They had only managed to get a little bit of evidence from a few of the bodies, and circumstantial evidence linked him to a few of the others. The man was clearly guilty, when they searched his house they found the belongings of several women, some whose bodies they were able to find, others not. They also found what police called a standard "rape and murder kit" in the backseat of his SUV which included rope, duct tape, shovel, garbage bags and a chainsaw (meticulously cleaned of course).

His arrest had sent shock waves through New England and the rest of the United States. He had been a beloved philosophy professor at Tufts University, a small college outside of Boston. A well respected former Rhodes Scholar, he had traveled around the world and published several books on Greek philosophy. He was good looking, social, charming, liked, came from a normal family, and everything else that didn't scream "serial killer". He had managed to evade capture because he was so far from the criminal profile that he was never once considered a suspect despite having plenty of opportunity. He had even been pulled over for speeding a mere 45 minutes after he had killed and dismembered one of his victims and never once aroused suspicion. In fact it was only because one of his would be victims got away that he was actually captured. Even though he committed most of his crimes in Massachusetts, they decided to try him for the crimes they could convict him on in New Hampshire so they could go for the death penalty.

Rachel stopped in front of the cell. She stared at the door, she didn't know what to expect on the other side. She felt almost giddy with excitement but she covered it up instead turning casually to the other younger police officer standing in front of the door, must've been a new guy. She looked around.

"Where's his attorney?" The officer shrugged his shoulders smiling mischievously.

"Heard he's a bit tied up at the moment." Rachel just shook her head, this was the game they liked to play in order to buy some time alone with a suspect. She didn't like it, it violated all sorts of ethics codes, still she couldn't lie there was a part of her that relished being alone with the infamous Nathan St. John and digging into his brain without interference.

"I'm going to need to see him alone, no tape recorder." Officer Green frowned at her.

"I don't think that's very safe-. "

"Look he's been non responsive with you and everyone else that has tried to talk to him. He will never open up to me with you guys standing around listening, especially if he's faking." She said pointedly to the police officers. "We do this my way or not at all - you can observe through the glass but I insist on being alone with him." The officers looked at her doubtfully. "Just give me 10 minutes." Officer Green looked at her for a second before nodding quickly at the officer guarding the door. He opened the door and she went inside, shutting it carefully behind her.

He was hunched in a chair, wrapped in a straitjacket. She could only see the top of his brown hair.

"Mr. St. John. Or may I call you Nathan?" She called out cautiously to him. He didn't respond, she walked towards the table in front of him. "My name is Rachel Ford, I'm a therapist."

He stared down at the table in front of him but he could smell her, the scent of vanilla and something else like peaches or maybe mango. The scent wafted into his nostrils, he could hear the click of her heals as she slowly approached him then suddenly stopped, the table their only barrier. There was a long silence, it was clear that he had no intention of breaking it.

"Man Ray." She said, playing her trump card. He still didn't respond but she noticed a tensing in his shoulders, she had gotten his attention.

A photograph was set down on the table and pushed into his line of vision, a police photograph of a dismembered head of a female, several nails driven in around the eyes and mouth. Police figured it had been used as a torture technique.

"Tears." She said.

Another police photo floated down before him, and almost complete body that had been dismembered but painstakingly pieced back together minus the bottom part of one of the victim's legs, a metal pole driven through her neck. Police thought the missing limb had been taken by an animal, but Rachel knew better.

"Coat Stand." She called out.

Another picture, a woman with a thick roped tied multiple times around her neck, she was holding it almost as though she had strangled herself. Though it seemed the least violent method he had used somehow it was the most disturbing.

"The Tragic Necklace." Rachel stated. "All Man Ray pieces, I take it you're a fan."

She saw the corners of his mouth turn up in a slight smile, he hadn't expected anyone else to get the joke. He slowly looked up at the feminine voice with the tropical scent. His eyes locked with the warmest pair of brown eyes he had ever seen, framed by thick black eyelashes. Her skin was flawless, a smooth brown complexion free from any marks, she wore little makeup just a light copper lip gloss maybe some eyeliner. Her hair slightly wavy, was coming towards her face. She never looked away holding eye contact, in fact she smiled back at him, it was a silent Gotcha, she had figured out something that some of New England's finest had managed to miss.

"Do you know about Metempsychosis?" She did know, he had written about it in several of his books that she had looked over while doing research on him.

"It is the religious philosophical belief in the transmigration of souls, the idea that same soul can inhabit in succession the bodies of different beings." She said mechanically. He said nothing, waiting for her to look back at him, when she did, he held her eyes for what seemed like almost forever.

"I'm impressed Rachel," he said finally. "No one else gets me."

"I don't feel flattered by that Nathan." She said steadily, not extending any power to him. She knew his type, she imagined his charm and flattery had gotten many a woman decapitated. His eyes drifted down to her black heels and made the slow and leisurely journey up her legs, to her black suit, pausing for a moment at her throat before finally settling on her lips but not her eyes.

"You're gorgeous." She paused, surprised by his constant change in subject, she had hoped to get him to talk more about the murders.

"I bet you say that to all your potential murder victims."

"Only the gorgeous ones." He quipped, still looking at her mouth. "Why do you wear black, so you can be taken seriously?" He asked.

"I wear black because I like it."

"It doesn't suit you, you should wear color." It was only then that he met her eyes again. "I bet you wear black because you don't have a man to love you everyday and tell you that you look beautiful when you wear red. But I bet you'd look beautiful in red." He whispered, his voice was low and hypnotizing. And then he smiled at her, a knowing smile, as though he knew everything about her.

His brown eyes were engaging, the most engaging eyes she had ever seen. They were also the coldest she had ever seen, she didn't know brown eyes could be so cold. It was then that she flinched but she refused to look away, she would not give him that power. It was only in retrospect that she realized she couldn't have looked away if she tried; whatever power she thought she could keep was already given to him. It was as though she was staring into the eyes of a boa constrictor slowly squeezing the life out of her. She leaned forward, falling into his eyes, they were haunting eyes that claimed possession of her without her consent.

"Would you wear red for me?" He asked, his voice low, it sent a shiver down her spine- she would tell herself later that it was fear but in that moment in felt like something else entirely. Suddenly she heard bustling at the door before it burst open. A little man with glasses and a brief case came scrambling through.

"What the hell are you doing trying to see my client without his attorney present?" The man said glowering at her.

"Just having a talk." She said still staring into the eyes of the killer.

"Ms. Ford your time's up, by the way you'll be hearing from my office."

"No she won't." Nathan replied coolly his eyes holding hers captive.

"Mr. St. John as your-"

"Enough." He said, the words calm but deadly he still hadn't turned away from her, nor she from him. She backed away from him; it took everything in her to tear her eyes from his. Finally she turned towards the door.

"Bye Rachel, I look forward to seeing you again." His voice said behind her, it was normal not holding the hypnotic quality of earlier. She turned towards him and nodded slightly before exiting the door.

"Sorry we tried to keep him out of there as long as possible since it looked like you were making some headway. So what do you think?" Officer Green asked anxiously. She looked through the glass window at Nathan, it was supposed to be a one way mirror so they could look in on him, but he wasn't supposed to be able to see them. Yet as he stared out she could feel that he knew she was there, watching him the same way he seemed to be watching her. Even though it shouldn't be possible, his eyes connected with hers, the corner of one side of his mouth lifting in a smirk. She turned away from him.

"I think I would need more time to meet with the suspect in order to make a proper assessment." She said finally.

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For two months she met with him, she was the only one that he would talk to without breaking out into violent fits. He became obsessed with her, and she with him. She knew everything about him, where he had grown up, how he had grown up, his favorite food, favorite book, favorite movie, what he listened to as he drove up the mountains to dispose of his latest victim, things that she shouldn't know about him. They talked like old friends or maybe two people on a date, not like a therapist talking to a killer. He told her about the things he had done, the acts chilled her to the bone. Yet she couldn't stay away.

"Rachel?" He looked at her. She looked up at him, from her note pad where she had been scrolling notes while he talked. He looked her hair, pulled up in a neat ponytail. "I don't like you hair up, take it down." He ordered.

"Excuse me?" She asked incredulously.

"I said take it down, I like you hair down."

"You're not my boyfriend Nathan." She said huffing. He stared at her smiling teasingly. She looked down at his hands, noticing his long and elegant fingers and the way they ran across the edge of the table between them, instead of being put in a straitjacket he was now just handcuffed.

"Indulge the wishes of a dying man will you?"

"You're dying now?"

"Everyone is dying, some people's death just comes quicker than others." He said winking at her, she tried not to dwell on the implications of a statement like that coming from someone like him. He looked towards the mirror. "I bet the ole boys out there get a hard on just thinking about strapping me down and electrocuting my ass."

"You think you are going to get the death penalty?"

"After your report I'm certain of it." He said smiling easily, it didn't seem to bother him that she was there to make sure that he wouldn't be deemed insane. For some incredibly inexplicable reason she felt a pang of guilt. She pulled at her soft ponytail holder, her hair coming down in a wavy mass around her face. He looked down at the band in her hand. "Can I have it?" He whispered.

She looked around at the security mirror, they could see everything they did, they just couldn't hear them. She placed her hand under the table as did he and she pushed it towards him, her fingers brushing against his. He held on to her finger for a moment, closing his eyes as he took in a deep breath. He quickly shoved the ponytail holder up the sleeve of his jail uniform. She pushed away from the table quickly, trying to break the strange serenity of that moment. How could she find herself being attached to this man, this serial killer, she needed to get away from him. She started packing her notes into her briefcase quickly, her hand shaking.

"Rachel." She looked up at him. "I love you." He said. She shook her head furiously.

"No you don't you don't know what love is."

"I know you, stay with me."

"Stay with you? You're in a PRISON not a Holiday Inn. And this. . ." She said gesturing between them, "This has gone too far. And it's over."

"It's not over Rachel, it will never be over."

"Yes it will be, because I am leaving and soon you. . .you will be dead." She had officially crossed the line as a therapist, well she had crossed it a while ago but she just completely desecrated the line now.

"Look at me Rachel." He said but she refused to meet his eyes, still fumbling with her briefcase. "It will never be over." He said quietly. She left, never returning after that.

She compiled her report for the State:

The day she testified to these findings in court, he stared at her, boring holes into her, smiling, flaunting his possession of her. She couldn't meet his eyes for fear that everyone would see what he already knew. The defense attorney tried to break her down on the stand, suggest she had acted improperly and unethically, suggested that she was on the State's regular payroll making her automatically biased. But she held strong. She stood to leave the court walking past him.

"Rachel." He said as she got nearer to him. She kept her eyes to the ground refusing to look at him. "Rachel." He said again, his voice holding a certain amount of urgency. He tried to come closer to her but the police were swift, holding him back. He struggled to break from them, but his restraints worked against him. Still he managed to pull away a little as he continued screaming her name. "RACHEL!" The court erupted in pandemonium as the normally cool man suddenly lost all control. People tried to get away from the monster looking on in horror as three police struggled to bring him to the floor, the sound of the judge attempting to demand order in the court rang in the background. Rachel turned back looking at Nathan, trembling slightly. He looked at her, his magnetic eyes locking into hers. "I always knew you would look beautiful in color." He said quietly, his eyes scanning over her lavender suit before he stopped struggling, the police threw him down to the ground before carrying him back to lock up.

He was found guilty and sentenced to die by electric chair. Rachel thought the nightmare was over. But then the first letter arrived, on October 31st, the ominous read envelope with the black cursive writing, so sharp and precise it was as though he was slashing into the paper with an ink dipped knife.

She didn't tell anyone and tried not to be so bothered by the ramblings of a man on death row, he couldn't hurt her, he couldn't get to her. This would've been easier if she didn't see his eyes, staring into her, owning her every night, every time she closed her own eyes. Meanwhile the letters kept coming sometimes the letters were threatening, aggressive. Sometimes they were sweet and loving, and so it went on for almost seven years.

She counted down the days until his execution as it began to rapidly approach. the letters, came more and more frequently, almost every day in the months leading up to his execution. She dreaded opening her mailbox and yet she also relished it- a thought that sickened her to the core. The night before his execution he called her. She wanted to decline the collect call, pretend like he didn't exist, after the next night he wouldn't. But something made her accept the charges.

"Rachel." He said her name softly and reverentially, the familiar voice still after seven years able to send a shiver down her spine. She didn't say anything for seconds. "Let me hear your voice." He said, breathing lightly into the phone.

"Why did you call me?" She said.

"You know why I called you." He responded. She closed her eyes, tears threatening to come down. Were they tears of fear or sadness, she didn't know.

"Nathan. . ." She said her voice drifting off, she didn't know what to say. ‘Go to hell', ‘fuck you', ‘leave me alone you sick fuck' would have all been appropriate and yet she couldn't make her mouth form the words. "Good-bye Nathan." She settled on finally. He laughed dryly.

"I'll never leave you Rachel, you know that."

"Yeah, I kind of do."

24 hours later he was dead.

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"So anyways I don't really think I need to be here. I mean, I don't have a problem really but after that incident at the office party my boss felt that it was in the best interest of me and the company if I, you know talked to someone. But if you're just going to tell me I have some sort of repressed mommy or anger management issues or something like that than you can shove it up your ass. Unless you can prescribe Vicodin for that do you prescribe Vicodin for that?"

"Actually Vicodin is a pain medication so I probably wouldn't really prescribe that to a therapy patient."

"Well what about Prozac?"

"I would really need to talk to you a little bit more before we start discussing medications, but given the fact that you don't seem to feel you have a legitimate problem, perhaps there are alternatives we can explore beyond medication." Rachel's voice never rose above a level, calm tone. The man grumbled to himself as he sat up.

"What the fuck kind of doctor doesn't prescribe medication, what's the fucking point anyways?" She took in a deep breath.

"Well, besides the fact that your boss made it a mandatory condition of you keeping your job with the company, I think this would be a good forum for you to really talk about your feelings."

"Feelings about what?"

"Anything you'd like. What we accomplish Tom is totally up to you." Rachel looked down at her watch, clearing her throat. "Unfortunately, that's our time for today. I tell you what let's table this discussion until our next meeting. I'll see you here same time, next week?" Tom rolled his eyes, standing up.

"Whatever." Rachel handed him his jacket from behind the door as she opened it to let him out. She walked him out of the front door of her office, smiling pleasantly at him as he walked out. She let out a sigh as soon as she closed it. Jackass pees in the punch bowl at the company party and he thinks he's fine, yeah right.

"That guy's a real nut case." A voice announced behind her. Rachel turned looking disapprovingly at the bubbly twenty year old sitting behind her desk.

"Casey," She began in that calm voice. "You know we don't like the term ‘nutcase' around here."

"Yeah well you didn't sit here and watch him try to discreetly stuff a copy of Cosmo magazine and a handful of peppermints down the front of his pants." Casey replied putting air quotes around the word "discreetly." Rachel raised one eyebrow in amusement, as Casey picked up an oversized stack of envelopes, "By the way here's your mail Rach." Rachel reached for the large pile of mail smiling at her.

Casey was Rachel's cousin; she had hired her to work part time so she could pay off some of the credit card bills she had been running up in college. When her uncle had initially approached her about she had been weary, especially after the last horrible temp she had to fire but Casey had been a godsend. She was a hard worker with a good rapport with the clients. Though she could be at times a bit disorganized and politically incorrect with it came to psychological terms, it was nice to have someone she could trust and it had been a pleasant working environment.

"Thanks Casey. What time is my next client scheduled to arrive?"

"45 minutes." She nodded at her cousin before turning to go in her office.

She sat down in her chair, the mail spilling out of her hands onto her desk. She flipped through it nonchalantly bill, bill, oh Psychology Today take a look at that later, invitation, bill. . .her hand froze suddenly as she looked at the red envelope peeking out from underneath her stake of mail. She started trembling it couldn't be, it couldn't be. She looked at her calendar it was October 31st, the exact anniversary of the day she met him. Her heart started to pound and her lip quiver as fear slivered its way through her body. You're being irrational Rachel, it's not like red envelopes are so uncommon. She reached for the envelope slowly, than pulled her hand back, tears streaming down her face as she trembled. She could see her name writing in cursive, the letters like slashes she closed her eyes one hand gripping the red envelope and the other grabbed her head trying push away her anxiety.

It had been four months since he'd died, she hadn't received one red envelope. It had made her feel. . .a little empty but she didn't dare analyze that. But now, in the fourth month, she was starting to feel like she could breath again and move on with her life. She thought she was finally free from these binds that had held her captive for seven years and the psychopath that had somehow managed to infiltrate her life. But now here was this red envelope, had he come back, how in God's name had he come back? The room was spinning as she stood shakily, trying to make her way towards her door but her legs were like jelly and she fell, the room going completely black.

It was like she could hear him, out there somewhere in the darkness, calling her name over and over again like a prayer.

Rachel. . .Rachel. . .Rachel. . .

"Rach. . .Rachel. . .RACHEL!" Rachel woke up to see Casey leaning over her, concern etched on her face.

"What happened?' She asked groggily as Casey helped her sit up, she groaned putting a hand on her forehead.

"What happened! I heard a thud and came in here and found you sprawled out on the floor. And then I found this in your hand." Casey held up the red envelope, actually it wasn't red, it was dark pink, with a Nordstrom's logo on it. "Does the semi annual shoe sale really freak you out that much?" Rachel grabbed the envelope out of Casey's hands, relief coursing through her veins as she stared at the perfectly non threatening pink envelope. She started laughing in relief. She found a wave of calmness coming over her. He's dead, I saw it on the news, families of some of the victims witnessed it first hand, I even went to his grave myself. He's gone.

She stood up. "I'm fine, I'm okay now." Casey looked at her.

"Not really. Go home and get some rest Rach."

"But my next appointment will be here-"

"I'm cancelling it, you're obviously stressed from your workload and you are in no condition to be here right now. Go home, I promise the world will still be turning tomorrow. . .don't make me call your mama." Rachel rolled her eyes, that was the downside of working with family. Still she knew Casey was right, she needed to get away.

"Fine." She conceded. "But I'm going to be here first thing in the morning."

"And so will all your files of head cases." Rachel reached for her purse.

She left her car at the office instead opting to walk the ¾ mile journey to her place. It was an unseasonably warm day. She looked around her, all the autumn leaves falling in beautiful colors as the seasons changed. She looked at the pumpkins on peoples front doors, a group of kids rushing home from school in their Halloween costumes almost knocked her over as they ran by screaming and laughing. She couldn't help but smile, for seven years she had been in a dark tunnel, thoughts of him clouding every part of her. But she refused to let this nonsense get to her anymore. She was free, finally free.

She passed by a bar on the corner of her street called Bar Freud. She couldn't help but laugh at the name. It looked like nice place from the outside; it had just opened up about a month and a half ago. She hadn't gone in yet, in the window she saw a flyer.

She laughed as she continued on her journey home. When she got home she went over to the fireplace immediately building a fire, the old brownstone while beautiful, also got cold as hell when the sun started going down. When the fire was properly roaring she went up to her bedroom and pulled out the box from underneath her bed, she took the lid off and looked at its contents. There were close to 100 pieces of red paper staring back at her, the binds that had tied her for 7 years, letters from him she had kept every one. She walked over to the fire place and tossed the letters in the fireplace watching with a sense of finality as they burned. She laid down on the couch in front of the fireplace for a while, drifting off to sleep. It was the best sleep she had had in a long time. No cold brown eyes watching over her, no constant knot in her stomach. She woke up some hours later, to the sound of the doorbell ringing. She looked over, the fire had burned down to embers a couple of small red pieces of paper had floated out around her fireplace.

She yawned as she got up from the couch, stretching out. Rachel looked at the clock in the kitchen, it was 7:00p. She looked back towards the door wondering who could be coming around at this time of night. She didn't have many friends and the ones she did wouldn't pop by without calling first. Maybe it's Casey checking up on me, she thought to herself as she walked towards the door. She peaked through the peep hole but didn't see anyone, her heart skipped a beat but she shook off her moment of apprehension as she opened the door looking out.

"Trick or Treat!" She looked down and saw a group of kids standing in front of her, they were so little she couldn't see through the peep hole.

"Hey Trick or Treat and aren't you all so adorable!" She said as she reached for the bowl of candy she had put near the door the night before. She handed out treats to them and sent them on their way. For the next couple of hours she handed out candy to the kids. It put her in a cheery holiday mood. By nine o'clock the trick or treaters had tapered off but she wasn't tired and decided to hit the town.

She showered, and stood in front of her closet, though she didn't have a costume, she was feeling sexy and liberated and wanted to wear something to reflect that. She choose a deep crimson, fitted dress with spaghetti straps, it pushed up her cleavage and stopped just below her knee showing off her muscular calves. Though normally she wore little makeup she decided to artfully do a smoky eye she thought it gave her a more mysterious look. She let down her hair, loosely curling around her face. She decided to walk over to Bar Freud and clutched her trench coat around her as she walked in the cool night air, her leopard print stilettos clicking on the sidewalk.

She stepped inside the warm, inviting bar a nice change from the autumn night and looked around pleased. The place was jumping she took off her jacket and smiled in satisfaction at the looks thrown her way. She took in the decorum, there were leather sofas everywhere, the walls painted a pale canary yellow, the light smell of incense wafted in the air, with pictures of ink blots on the wall. She laughed at the irony of a bar designed to look like a therapist's office.

"What can I get you to drink gorgeous?" She turned to the bartender, he was tall and lanky with laughing green eyes.

"I'll try one of those Mind Screw things." She said pointing at the sign above the bar. He winked at her and then reached under the bar to prepare her drink.

"Excellent choice, it's a specialty of the house. Never seen you in here before."

"Yeah it's my first time."

"Ah a Bar Freud virgin eh?" She raised an eyebrow at the suggestive tone in his voice. He looked young, a bit too young for her still he was cute and she was feeling loose. She smiled back at him.

"Looks like you're the one to pop my cherry." She said leaning forward suggestively, it was far more brazen than her normal behavior but what was the harm in flirting with such a delicious bartender. His hand paused for a second, and then he slowly smiled at her.

"Well it's a pleasure to do so." He said finally. "Name's Seth by the way."

"Rachel."

"Rachel." He said trying the name out on his tongue. "The name, it suits you. Lovely name for such a lovely lady." She laughed.

"I would think someone as young as you would have some more up to date material than that."

"Hey the classics work! Besides I'm older than I look."

"Well you must be because you barely look old enough to be working in a bar!" He handed her the drink.

"Trust me, I'm old enough." She reached into her purse to pay him but he shook his head. "Drink's on the house, the least we could do, you know for donating your cherry and all." She laughed blushing.

"Thanks Seth."

She took her drink then went off to mingle with the crowd a bit. About three Mind Screws and a few more playful conversations with Seth later and Rachel was feeling good all over. She made her way on to the crowded dance floor, spinning around and around as she dusted off moves she hadn't used since graduate school she danced with several guys always moving on when she got tired of the lame pick up lines. She was writhing around to the sounds of Jamiroquai when she felt a pair of large hands on her hips. They guided her body commandingly she closed her eyes and threw her head back against him enjoying the feel of their bodies meshing. He smelled woodsy and fresh. They danced like this for a while, their bodies moving in synchronicity as though they should know each other. She didn't know anything about him but the way his hands moved across her body made her feel alive again. She turned around and opened her eyes, connecting with his.

He had the most engaging brown eyes she had ever seen. . .well perhaps the second most engaging. The drinks were making her woozy, or was it his eyes? She couldn't tell only that she felt like she was falling into them. He held her steady, his thumb gently stroking her arm as they continued swaying to the music. He leaned into her, his mouth moving to hers, and kissed her lightly on the mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and thrust her tongue into his mouth kissing her again with full intensity and passion her breast pressed against him firmly he ran his hands down her hips enjoying the feel of the material of her dress. He playfully took her bottom lip between her teeth pulling on it lightly before moving lower biting her neck gently as she threw her head back he loved the taste of her salty skin.

Somewhere in the back of Rachel's mind she knew she should stop. She didn't know this man, even if her body felt like she did. It wasn't like her to let some stranger run his hands all over her in this way. But she couldn't stop as though a magnetic pull was drawing her to him. So instead she gave into it.

"I'm Rachel." She said as ran his tongue along the length of her collar bone.

"Rachel. . .come outside with me." He said, she laughed, her head spinning the lethal combination of the Mind Screws and the feel of his fingers lightly stroking the back of her thighs through her dress.

"But I don't even know you, I don't even know your name." He leaned back, his hands sliding up the length of her body until they rested on the side of her face, forcing her eyes to meet his, then he smiled at her.

"Adam." He said simply.

"Nice to meet you Adam."

"I really want to taste you Rachel." His hand drifted down to hers and suddenly he was leading her out of the warmth of the club. The cold air hit them as they went out into the alley behind a garbage can, but Rachel could barely feel it. He pushed her back forcefully against the brick wall, his hands all over her, in her hair, on her face, across her stomach. His brown eyes looked a shiny bottomless black in the shadows of the alley. "You're so beautiful Rachel." Something about the way he said the words seemed vaguely familiar to her, before she could grasp it however, he was on his knees pulling up the material of her tight dress.

His fingers ripped the tiny scrap of her g-string from her body, the scent of her arousal driving him to fringes of insanity. He lifted up one of her legs, draping it over his shoulder as he inhaled her. Rachel bit her lip as their eyes locked, it had felt like too long since she had felt that desired. Her hips rocked begging for his tongue to give her the relief she was seeking. He ran his hands up and down her outer thighs.

"Oh god oh please." She needed him, she needed his tongue on her and her hips operated with a mind of their own, rotating as she pushed towards his sensual mouth. Finally he leaned forward tasting her, one long lick from her slit to her clit. She sucked in her breath, as he pulled back again smiling teasingly at her, his eyes never leaving hers. His tongue lightly traced her outer lips. He explored her leisurely, both savoring and salvaging her as though it were his last meal. He French kissed her lower lips, his hands stroking her ass and the back of her thighs. He gently licked her clit with the tip of her tongue increasing the pressure gradually. She was ridiculously wet, her juices flowing as she gasped incoherently. She grabbed his hair riding his face as he feasted on her. He pulled back, looking up at her.

"Rachel," He whispered. "Fuck Rachel you taste so fucking sweet."

He inserted a thick finger into her juicy slit crocking her finger against her g spot, then he inserted another one, both applying pressure to the rigid area of her g spot as he continued licked her clit keeping the pressure steady, sucking it in his mouth. She banged her head against the wall, as she held a fist full of his hair, cursing and speaking in tongues, he could feel her swelling against his fingers as she rapidly approached her orgasm. She screamed out into the night, the pounding beat of the music inside drowning it out, leaving the bar goers unawares. He drank every drop of her juices, feeling like he could dine on the taste of her all night long.

He stood up suddenly and she pulled as his zipper, pushing her hand down the front of his pants. Her eyes widened in surprise at his girth, he smiled at mischievously as he grabbed the backs of her thighs, pulling up her legs so the were wrapped around his body. In one smooth motion he had entered her, one hand holding her up by the waist while the other griped the brick wall. He fucked her up against the wall, so hard she felt the skin scrapping off of her back as she slammed up against it, but it felt so good nothing else mattered in that moment. Their eyes stayed married to each other, as his long, thick cock pumped steadily in and out of her. He was so huge. She had never felt so completely filled to her core as he continued owning her in that dark alley. Their bodies intertwined as though they were long lost soul mates reuniting after being a part for years.

"Fuck me harder." She cried out feeling so brazenly wanton. He drove in and out of her at rapid speed, impaling her with his enormous dick. She screamed out coming upon orgasm number two at the speed of a racecar. He just kept reciting her name over and over again.

"Rachel. . .Rachel. . .Rachel" He said it as though it was a prayer. Something about it both moved her and almost repulsed her. She stared into his eyes, the coldest brown.

He rammed in and out of her the slick sounds his balls slapping against her ass filled the air along with their primitive grunts. As she clenched him tightly he knew that she was right there. Both of his hands grabbed her hips pushing them back and forth faster and faster and he begin to feel her milking his cock. They came together as he pumped his release inside of her. He held on to her tightly, his arms wrapped around her waist as they both needed a moment to come back down to earth. She didn't trust herself to stand, sure that her legs would be as useless as standing on Jello. He kissed her shoulder softly, as pulled out of her. He started zipping his pants as she pulled her dress down, feeling the contents of him dripping down the insides of her thighs.

"Beautiful little Rachel in the red dress." His voice rang out. She gave him a strange look. He smiled at her.

"You look so beautiful in red."

I bet you'd look beautiful in red.

She started to slowly back away from him, fear creeping into her senses. He cocked his head as he looked at her smiling.

"Rachel."

Rachel

"Oh my God!" She cried out moving away from him. He walked towards her calmly.

"Rachel."

"Fucking stay away from me!" She fell back on her heels as he steadily approached her.

"Are you going to try to say I raped you Rachel? I felt that tight little pussy of yours contracting when you came don't act like you didn't want it. Come here." He gestured to her to come forward, she shook her head.

"No, no, no, no, no." Suddenly she turned trying to run away from him, but he was quicker, grabbing her arm.

"Rachel, get back here Rachel." He called out to her, she screamed out and slapped him in the face, scratching him near his eye, he cried out and pulled away from her. She tried to turn and run but she slipped in her heels falling to the ground. She struggled to get away from him but he griped her ankle. "Get your ass back here Rachel we need to get something's straight."

Tears crowded her vision as her nails dug into the gravel, bleeding as she struggled to pull away from him. She saw just a little bit ahead of her a rusted lead pipe with the end sawed off, if only she could reach it. He turned her over and climbed on top of her, holding her to the ground. She stuffed her knee into his groin in desperation, he screamed and she pushed him off of her quickly grabbing for the pipe.

"RACHEL." He cried out as she lodged the lead pipe into his left eye, stopping him cold. Blood gushed from his face as his body slumped over on top of her. She laid there frozen for a moment, the tears streaming down her face. Then he was being pulled off of her. She looked up, tears rolling down her face. She looked up, the tears slowly clearing away as she looked at the face staring down at her. It was Seth the bartender.

"Rachel are you okay?" He said. She threw herself into his arms, crying and gasping in relief. She looked over at the lifeless form of the man beside her.

"Do you think he's. . .is he?" He looked at the lead pipe protruding from the guy's eye and then looked back at her grimly.

"It's likely. We should call the-"

"NO! No please."

"He was the one that attacked you not the other way around, the police will understand that."

"He's a killer, I can't be next to him, he could still come after me." She said bordering on hysterics, she just had to get away from him. He looked at her for a long moment before he reached in his pocket.

"Okay um my apartment is just up the street. I can just call 911 from my cell phone."

"We can call 911 from your place but we have to get out of here now." She looked at the body, fearful that it would start moving again. He looked doubtful, then he let out a sigh.

"Okay Rachel." He said, holding her up. He took her down the street to his car and then brought her to his tiny apartment up the road, locking the door behind them much to Rachel's relief. She shook and twisted back and forth as he wrapped a warm blanket around her shoulders. He went to make her some tea while she sat there staring off into space.

"You okay?" He asked her again.

"I think so." She looked up at him. He gestured behind him.

"Bathroom's in the back if you need it." He said. She nodded gratefully and then went into the bathroom. She looked in the mirror, her mascara and black eyeshadow had run all over her face and her hair was like a rat's nest, she was covered in blood. She moved in robotic motions, washing her skin, carefully brushing down her hair. She looked in the mirror, other than some dried blood she looked like something approaching normal. "You hungry?" He called out to her. She wasn't but she needed something to sober her up so she could think.

"How did you find me?"

"I saw you leave with that guy without taking your purse. When you didn't come back for a while I started to worry especially since it seemed like you were kind of out of it when you left. That's when I saw him on top of you." She nodded slowly staring down into her cup. He went into the kitchen.

"Thank you Seth, for helping me." He smiled at her as he picked up a large butcher knife from the drawer and laid it on the counter. He opened up the refrigerator and began pulling things out. She stood up and started walking around, adrenaline pumping through her body. She took in all the boxes.

"Did you just move in?"

"About a month ago, still haven't gotten everything unpacked."

"I live just across the street, you can actually see my place through the window." She said in surprise as she looked out of his large window. "Funny how we've never seen each other around."

"I've seen you around before, you just always seemed in a hurry."

"You saw me? I don't ever recall seeing you."

"It's a guy thing, a beautiful woman never goes unnoticed." She looked at a stack of books on his coffee table. She picked up a large photography book.

"You like Man Ray?"

"Yeah," He replied. She watched him wearily as he skillfully cut through a piece of meat. "You said that guy back there was a killer, why did you think that? Did say something to you Rachel?"

"Um, I don't know just a feeling I got when he attacked me." She lied.

"You don't think he attacked you because you were acting like a whore?" Her head whipped around towards the kitchen.

"What did you just say?"

"I asked you if you ever remembered seeing him before."

"We should call the police now."

"I already did while you were in the bathroom but maybe they're just slow moving. Department might be stretched a bit thin with Halloween, all sorts of crazy people prowling around out there." Rachel's eyes drifted to the fire poker a couple of feet away from her. His back was too her as he prepared something that she couldn't see.

"You seem awfully calm Seth, are you okay?"

"No Rachel, I would say I'm pretty un-okay but what else can we do but sit here and wait for the police."

"Are you sure you called them. . .Nathan?"

"Wh-" He started turning towards her but he didn't get out the rest of the word before Rachel stabbed him in the back with the sharp fire poker.

He let out a blood curdling scream, staring at her in wide eyed shock. She ripped it out and stabbed him again. She did this repeatedly, her eyes glazing over as the fire poker continued to slice through his skin until she finally lodged it into his throat. She couldn't pull it out again. It seemed as though everything was happening in slow motion she didn't even cry she was barely aware of her own screams.

"FUCK YOU NATHAN. . .I HATE YOU. . .I HATE YOU. . .NEVER AGAIN. . .DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME NATHAN NEVER AGAIN!" She felt arms around her but she struggled against them, thinking it was Nathan still staking his claim. She kicked and bit still screaming everything around her blurring all she could see in sharp focus were those eyes those damn brown eyes cutting into her, laughing at her, possessing her. "NATHAN!" She screamed out as she felt herself being restrained, she couldn't move, she couldn't feel, and then everything went black.

"He Doc. Everything's fine, Keri's getting bigger by the day. Kid's grow up so fast."

"Well enjoy her now, I hear they're a pain in the ass when they hit their teens."

"Yeah John's already polishing the gun for when the boys start coming around." The two shared a laugh as they walked down the corridor.

"So talk to me about the patient. What has she said?"

"Not much. Sits in a corner, stares off into nowhere. She mumbles something about metem something or other. Sometimes she thinks people are out to get her, she stabbed one of the other patients with a pen last week."

"Seems like she's faking?"

"I don't know she seems pretty loony toons to me."

Doctor Peter Wallace stared at the door of the cell, curiosity burning inside of him. He wanted to see the woman that could potentially be a therapist's wet dream. He opened the manila folder in his hand sifting through it's contents.

"Where's her attorney?" The officer smiled back at him.

"Tied up." She responded, he just shook his head.

"I need time alone with the suspect, no taping." The officer looked at him skeptically.

"That's not a very good idea."

"She's a former therapist, if anyone would be good at faking insanity it would be her. She's not going to crack with you all standing over her but maybe I can get her to slip up. Just give me a few minutes that's all I ask." She looked at him before rolling her eyes and opening the door. He walked through and shut it behind him.

She sat hunched over in a chair, her long black hair covering her face. She was wrapped in a straitjacket.

"Rachel?" She didn't respond. "I'm Doctor Wallace, but you can call me Peter."

She stared down at the table in front of her but she could smell him, a fresh woodsy scent a too familiar scent. She looked up at him, he looked young, too young to be a doctor. Her eyes met his, they were a deep brown, engaging, the most engaging eyes she had ever seen. She laughed wryly as her eyes moved up the length of his body.

"Peter why do you wear gray, is it so you can be taken seriously?" She asked. He frowned at her.

"I don't know, I guess I wear it because I like it."

"It doesn't suit you, you should wear colors." She said staring deeply in his eyes. "I bet you'd look beautiful in blue."

And then she slowly smiled at him.

The End.