Slow Dancing

Margo's steps back into the room were coldly calculated, each move planned as if trapped in a deadly game of chess. Any trace of anxiety all but completely concealed under facade of desire. Her hips swaying gently, her head tilted down only slightly offering submission to the man that had taught her the act he called love. Taking in his well-muscled, if poorly used form, the young lover's big brown eyes narrowed and locked with the hunger that had sparked again in Adam's emerald eyes. Biting on her lower lip as she neared the foot of the bed, Margo raised her hand to the swell of her breasts and let trembling fingers begin fumbling at pearl buttons.

"Let me help you with those," Adam slid across the bed. He was forcing himself not to simply throw her down on the bed and have at it again. The first time had been reckless and passionate, he wanted this to last. He wanted her to need him after tonight. He could make her need him after tonight. She wasn't the first, she sure as shit won't be the last, his thoughts mingled with a deep well of lust. His focus was distracted. Reaching up he brushed the young woman's shaking fingers away from the top of her gown. He was growing tired of waiting for his prize.

Arching her back into him Margo spread her arms, she was giving him freedom to grope and bite as he pleased. With her head falling backward, the brown doe eyes turning to the ceiling, Adam lost sight of her perfect, impish yet innocent looking smile. He focused totally on her form.

Her arms fully extended, Margo's palm brush the metal of the scissors. Soft fingers coiled around the curved grips. Muscles flexed along her arm giving the strength and bracing the makeshift stiletto for the sinister task at hand.

It was as if a safe's tumblers fell into place. The seduction. Trembling fingers. A momentary tensing of the body. Even as Adam began his panicked lunge he realized that it was too late.

The bite of steel pierced his shoulder and neck, a fountain of crimson sprang into a life of its own. With jerk he tore himself from her hurried embrace. He had to get to the pistol.

Shocked at how much resistance his muscles had given her, Margo plunged the bloody tip down twice more, but only the first attack was close to his mark, barely diving into his marbled gut. As her third blow came at him, Adam gave up on his pistol for the moment and back-handed the cheap whore across her face. Bitch, nobody spills my blood and walks away.

His rough nuckles and gold ring caught her dainty cheek halfway through her attack. The force, far greater than what she had been used to, sent her sprawling over the footboard and onto the floor. The scissors flew over the balcony and into the night beyond as if carried by ephemeral angels from hell.

Dammit Adam, focus, it was all he could do stay moving, the loss of blood had begun to make the room spin, the struggle was taking its toll on him. Still he clawed for the nickel-plated life line that had slid tenuously to the edge of its cheap perch.

Finally understanding what Adam was going for Margo shrieked. "No!" Her speed was greater than he thought possible. Still, not fast enough.

The desperate man's anxious fingers reached out and tapped the butt of his goal, but his meaty hands were slick with the stains of his own fast fading existence. Overextending himself, the revolver dropped off the far side of the table.

With a fear unmatched by any ever felt and a rage of hatred to rival it, Margo siezed the fallen pistol and took aim at Adam's chiseled face.

Not yet. Calling upon the reserves of his own personal damnation, Adam forced himself onto his feat in a single fluid movement. And as Margo raised up to face him across the bed he realized that it was likely to be his last.

Both hands holding the small bits of metal and mechanisms as if in a vise, Margo squeezed the trigger. Once. Twice. A third f0r good measure.

It wasn't needed though. Adam had dropped like a forgotten doll as the first bullet began its shrill cry out of the barrel.

"I did it," she hadn't even realized that the words were spoken aloud, "I did it."

Somewhere in the hidden corners of the night Margo seemed to thing a siren had called out declaring her sins for all the world to witness.

The anger was gone as quick as it had came. Only the fear held her close, so that it might stave off the loneliness that was sure to follow all too soon.

Not thinking too clearly she snatched up her victims overcoat and buttoned it up, hoping the sin-soaked gown she still wore would not be seen by any she might pass. Scooping up his keys from the dresser as she skipped over Adam's unmoving body and dropping the still warm pistol into the coat pocket, Margo fled into the night.