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Chapter or Story
Story was written for the XXX DSA Challenge. I'd like to thank Raiven for all her excitement about this story and for beta-reading it for me. Thank you. :-)
King of Hearts
by Mareen.
I want you.
And I can watch you, down in your office.
I am allowed to go into the DSA room and I usually do it whenever you believe I'm already gone.
But I'm always there, watching you. Wanting you.
Why do you always have to wear those short skirts?
Why always those high heels?
You must know they are driving me crazy.
You must know how I feel.
I told you once that I think you are beautiful. I still do.
I think you are more beautiful than before I knew you were my sister.
We are of the same blood. We were in our mother together.
Shouldn't we stay like that forever and ever? Forever...flesh to flesh.
We were born from the same cell. We were once bound together. Shouldn't we be like that again?
Blood of the same blood. Together.
You are wearing those clothes now, too, the short skirt and the high heels.
They are clicking with every step you take. Walking around in your office...
You are thinking about something. I can see it. Do you think about him?
You always think about him.
Jarod.
Do you imagine him? How it would be between the two of you?
I know you do.
Maybe you are imagining it right now, as you walk around in your office, looking so restless. Walking from one corner to the other. And back again.
The clicking announces your every step to me...
Suddenly stopping?
What is it? Please go on moving. Please walk. Let me watch you.
But you stop. You turn your back to me.
You bend over your desk...so deep...so deep that I can see your black silk slip.
I touch myself.
I'm glad the DSA Room Sweeper is gone. But even if he was here right now, I wouldn't be able to stop myself.
I have to touch myself.
I can hear the sound of a zipper being opened.
It's mine, and I wasn't even aware that I was opening it.
You do that to me. You always do that to me.
I groan when I touch my own flesh. The familiar heat is building.
I killed my wife because she wasn't you. Do you know that?
I wanted her to be like you. I bought her short skirts and high heels and the right make-up and let her fix her hair the way you wear yours.
But she always made me so angry because she wasn't you.
She could have never been you. Never be... Never.
I had to kill her. She tried to be like you…but she still wasn't you.
That's why I had to do it.
No one can be like you. No one can. And if someone tries to be, I get so angry. So angry…
You got angry at me, too, when you found out about my wife.
But I killed her for you. Don`t you know that?
Do you know I'm here, now, watching you?
The thought that you know makes the world spin around me. The possibility that you know I'm doing this is turning me on even more…
Is that why you always lean over your desk like you do...like you're doing at this very moment...because you know I'm watching you?
You straighten up again. You come up the same moment I groan aloud.
And I can see you smile about something.
Why do you smile about me? Don't you know...
Or do you know?
You are walking around again. The clicking of your heels follows your every step.
Why are you doing it? Why...just why does it have to be like this?
I could melt into you instead and you could melt into me.
Blood from my blood, love. Blood from my blood.
Your hand touches your leg.
As I watch, your hand glidies up and down, then up over your skirt…over your breasts.
Showing just the slightest piece of fair skin.
I want to touch it so desperately and you know it, don`t you?
You are playing your little game.
There is probably even a camera in here with me, just for you to watch. You are going to watch me watching *you* later, don't you?
I need to stop this.
But my own hand is betraying me.
It is going on with gliding up and down, touching, stroking, caressing, in time with the gliding of your own hand.
Can't stop myself.
In my mind, it's your hand touching me, caressing me, not mine.
I am groaning. My head is spinning. The world is going crazy. It`s becoming a world consisting only of bright white lightning. Consisting only of you and me and the image of us, together, melting into each other.
Please.
I scream and I see you smile again.
You turn off the light in your office and leave. Still smiling.
I hate you.
But I want your heart...the heart that's always been Jarod`s.
I want your heart.
And if I can't have it one way, maybe one day I'll decide to get it another way.
Roses are red, just like hearts are.
Hearts are red.
Blood is too.
Blood and roses are beautiful. Like you.
I wonder just what your heart looks like…
King of Hearts
by Mareen.
I want you.
And I can watch you, down in your office.
I am allowed to go into the DSA room and I usually do it whenever you believe I'm already gone.
But I'm always there, watching you. Wanting you.
Why do you always have to wear those short skirts?
Why always those high heels?
You must know they are driving me crazy.
You must know how I feel.
I told you once that I think you are beautiful. I still do.
I think you are more beautiful than before I knew you were my sister.
We are of the same blood. We were in our mother together.
Shouldn't we stay like that forever and ever? Forever...flesh to flesh.
We were born from the same cell. We were once bound together. Shouldn't we be like that again?
Blood of the same blood. Together.
You are wearing those clothes now, too, the short skirt and the high heels.
They are clicking with every step you take. Walking around in your office...
You are thinking about something. I can see it. Do you think about him?
You always think about him.
Jarod.
Do you imagine him? How it would be between the two of you?
I know you do.
Maybe you are imagining it right now, as you walk around in your office, looking so restless. Walking from one corner to the other. And back again.
The clicking announces your every step to me...
Suddenly stopping?
What is it? Please go on moving. Please walk. Let me watch you.
But you stop. You turn your back to me.
You bend over your desk...so deep...so deep that I can see your black silk slip.
I touch myself.
I'm glad the DSA Room Sweeper is gone. But even if he was here right now, I wouldn't be able to stop myself.
I have to touch myself.
I can hear the sound of a zipper being opened.
It's mine, and I wasn't even aware that I was opening it.
You do that to me. You always do that to me.
I groan when I touch my own flesh. The familiar heat is building.
I killed my wife because she wasn't you. Do you know that?
I wanted her to be like you. I bought her short skirts and high heels and the right make-up and let her fix her hair the way you wear yours.
But she always made me so angry because she wasn't you.
She could have never been you. Never be... Never.
I had to kill her. She tried to be like you…but she still wasn't you.
That's why I had to do it.
No one can be like you. No one can. And if someone tries to be, I get so angry. So angry…
You got angry at me, too, when you found out about my wife.
But I killed her for you. Don`t you know that?
Do you know I'm here, now, watching you?
The thought that you know makes the world spin around me. The possibility that you know I'm doing this is turning me on even more…
Is that why you always lean over your desk like you do...like you're doing at this very moment...because you know I'm watching you?
You straighten up again. You come up the same moment I groan aloud.
And I can see you smile about something.
Why do you smile about me? Don't you know...
Or do you know?
You are walking around again. The clicking of your heels follows your every step.
Why are you doing it? Why...just why does it have to be like this?
I could melt into you instead and you could melt into me.
Blood from my blood, love. Blood from my blood.
Your hand touches your leg.
As I watch, your hand glidies up and down, then up over your skirt…over your breasts.
Showing just the slightest piece of fair skin.
I want to touch it so desperately and you know it, don`t you?
You are playing your little game.
There is probably even a camera in here with me, just for you to watch. You are going to watch me watching *you* later, don't you?
I need to stop this.
But my own hand is betraying me.
It is going on with gliding up and down, touching, stroking, caressing, in time with the gliding of your own hand.
Can't stop myself.
In my mind, it's your hand touching me, caressing me, not mine.
I am groaning. My head is spinning. The world is going crazy. It`s becoming a world consisting only of bright white lightning. Consisting only of you and me and the image of us, together, melting into each other.
Please.
I scream and I see you smile again.
You turn off the light in your office and leave. Still smiling.
I hate you.
But I want your heart...the heart that's always been Jarod`s.
I want your heart.
And if I can't have it one way, maybe one day I'll decide to get it another way.
Roses are red, just like hearts are.
Hearts are red.
Blood is too.
Blood and roses are beautiful. Like you.
I wonder just what your heart looks like…
