“It is a wise father that knows his own child.”

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

You're starting up and I'm winding down;
Ain't it big enough for us both in this town?
Say it's big enough for us both in this town.

When I was your age I thought I hated my dad
And that the feeling was a mutual one that we had;
We fought each other day and night:
I was always wrong; he was always right.

Friday, January 29th

My mood after seeing Gaueko was more sanguine. Sanguine, yes, after Gaueko's gift of flesh and blood, but most importantly of his soul. I can taste the meat of him on my tongue if I think on how I put my lips to his bloody stump, but beyond that I can feel his soul like a small star.

Our conversation has lent me enough calm that I will no longer pose a risk of immediate death to any man I meet, and so I shrug on the fleshsack that is the Kent body, frowning at the ease crease of it around me, and I go off to see my wife. I have a child to look to, after all, and a world of planning.

I stroll down Main Street, and a few people greet me as Mr Whitman. I smile and nod to them, hands in my pockets, and I agree to pass their best wishes on to Wanda. And then I push open the door to the Dormouse. A couple of ladies sit by the window sipping tea, and I smile at them and go up the counter.

"Wanda, my dear," I call out, unzipping my leather jacket as a man would after coming in from the cold. My smile, which the women do not see, is a shard of ice.

[open to Wanda]

Comments

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"I suppose I'll manage. But if a mob shows up with torches and pitchforks I would hope I would have a little backup."

"I am sure you will have backup in those circumstances," I say, and I think about the child, and I smile a little.

Wanda leans into the lie that is this body.

"Are you staying tonight, or did you just come by to check on the work in progress?"

I put my arms around her. I can feel the child's heart beating between us.

"I can stay," I say, because a few hours means little to me but it will please Wanda, and it is easier for me if Wanda is tractable.

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

"I am sure you will have backup in those circumstances,"

Well, if nothing else, he seems confident in my ability to raise our child. That's a good thing, I suppose.

His his arms wind about me. "I can stay." I sigh in something as close to contentment as I can get and settle into his embrace. With my cheek pressed to his chest, I can hear his heartbeat, and at the same time I can hear the baby's... our daughter's echoing in my ears. It is surreal and intimate, and it both the most wonderful and the most awful feeling in the world, sharing this moment with him.

"Thank you." I whisper, pulling away just enough to look up into his eyes. "I do enjoy spending the night alongside you, as you may have surmised by now." I say, lips twitching up a little. "But I should warn you, my moods have been erratic these past few weeks, what with the hormones, cravings and rapidly dwindling wardrobe. I apologize in advance if I get bitchy or throw something in a fit of pique." I warn him good naturedly.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

It is so very easy to appease her. She reminds me of a dog that gets repeatedly kicked by its owner, but as soon as he speaks softly to it, it whines and lies on its belly, wanting to be petted. And so I stroke her hair as she presses her cheek to my chest, a gesture that says good girl, good girl.

"But I should warn you, my moods have been erratic these past few weeks, what with the hormones, cravings and rapidly dwindling wardrobe. I apologize in advance if I get bitchy or throw something in a fit of pique."

My mouth twitches up.

"I hardly mind that," I say. "You can always slit my throat again if it makes you feel better. Or beat me up." I smile at her in a friendly way. "Nothing you can do to this body is permanent, and so if it pleases you, feel free."

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

"You can always slit my throat again if it makes you feel better. Or beat me up. Nothing you can do to this body is permanent, and so if it pleases you, feel free."

Now it is my turn to arch an eyebrow as my lips twitch. "Mr. Whitman, that is hardly the way any expectant mother should act." I reprimand him even as my eyelashes lower and I lick my lips. "But..." I sigh, reaching behind me on the counter to grab a knife. "You are the reason I cannot fit into any of my dresses..." I quickly move the knife and send the top two buttons of his shirt flying, exposing his neck. "And that I have been so ungodly tired and sick..." Touch the tip of the blade to the hollow of his throat and press, just enough to break the skin and see a bead of blood form on the dull silver. "and I think I shall blame you for the inexcusable lack of tropical fruit in this godforsaken town..." I hiss, dragging the blade down to his chest, a thin red line following in it's wake. Oh god....

"It pleases me to be quite pissed at you for doing this to me." I whisper, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling his face down to mine to bite his lower lip.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

There was no hesitation in Wanda then to take up the knife. It is easy to stir her violence into anger. That is all very well, considering she knows she cannot truly hurt me; but it is still a human impulse to hesitate.

She does have potential, still. And so when she bites my lip I kiss her back, and I shrug off my shirt. Blood beads down my chest.

"Show me how angry you are, Wanda."

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

His mouth moves against mine and there is nothing light or gentle about this; this is dark and hungry. I catch his tongue and bite down hard, tasting blood even as he removes his shirt.

"Show me how angry you are, Wanda."

I pause for a moment and allow myself the luxury of raping him with my eyes as he stands before me, bare chested and bleeding. My nerve endings are screaming, for I have craved him. I tried to satisfy the yearning with Derek, but no. No one else could. I step forward, flip the knife in my hand, bring up my arm so that I may slash across his chest in a downward motion---

when the *clink* of a cup against a saucer reaches my ears. My arm stops, mere inches from his chest when I realize I still have two customers sitting in the shoppe.

I snarl in frustration, and wonder for a second if anyone would miss them if I were to go out and---

Shake that urge off quickly and head for the curtain, open it just enough so that I can talk to the ladies, but they cannot see my bloodied husband, nor the knife I am clutching behind my back.

"Ladies, if there is nothing else?" I say sweetly to the loitering busybodies. "Mr. Whitman has the afternoon off and we would like to... spend some time together." I explain with a well timed blush.

They get up and take their leave, and I lock the door behind them.

With a feral grin, I head back to the kitchen, twirling the knife between my fingers.

"Where were we, love?"

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

I see how easily Wanda's appetites take her, and it costs her some effort to go next door and sweetly ask her customers to leave. When she returns I smile at the savage expression on her face.


"Where were we, love?"

"I believe you were about to carve that knife into my chest," I say. "Did you wish to proceed here, or downstairs?"

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

"I believe you were about to carve that knife into my chest, Did you wish to proceed here, or downstairs?"

I study the knife in my hand, the blood staining the edge. With a sigh, I set it down on the counter and pass him to lock the back door as well.

As I cross the small space separating us, I idly pick up the rolling pin from the counter. He is watching me from over his shoulder, and I smile sweetly right before I swing hard and catch him aside the head. His head whips around with the blow and he staggers before dropping to his knees.

"I have wanted to do that since you walked in." I explain, dropping the rolling pin to the floor. I grab a fistful of hair and drag/haul him bodily to the basement door, and Kent manages to move himself forward on hands and knees. I throw it open and bend down to kiss his now bleeding temple. "Downstairs, love, if you can manage. If not, I can push you down." I offer gently, trailing my fingernails over his shoulder.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

Wanda smashes a rolling pin against my head. I welcome the pain; I like to make this body suffer.

"Downstairs, love, if you can manage. If not, I can push you down."

"I can't," I wheeze, because I know Wanda wants to push me.

It is tempting to let myself fall in such a way that I break my neck, but no. It is too early in the game for that. And so Wanda finds me merely badly bruised at the foot of the stairs, and she sets to work...

A long time passes, and I taste blood in my mouth. Sweat has pooled beneath my back on the cold floor, and Wanda crouches over me. I have made my cock hard as she worked on me. I think she will like that.