Tear You Apart

[luckyrabbit]

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One hand fingered the bottle of painkillers in his pocket, the other tugged the brim of his baseball cap down further over his eyes. He sat in his car and watched other men -and women- dressed like him -hats, sunglasses, whatever they thought would hide their true identities- go in and out. It wasn't like he'd never been to one, always on business, -working undercover- well until recently that is. The first time had been an act of desperation, an attempt to get it out of his system, to get her out of his system. The second, the third, the fourth time...well, that was another matter. He'd been become as addicted to her as he was to the pills.

If anyone found out about this, his newly regained life would be over, Dan and Leah would be disgusted, Drew would turn his back on him and Amanda...Amanda would probably ask if she could join in.

He dry swallowed a pill, wincing when it caught in his throat. The break in the rain he had been waiting for finally came and Peter exited the beat up old Holden, he kept for sentimental reasons.

"Ah, Peter." smiled the Hostess. "We've been expecting you, she's waiting for in room seven."

Peter nodded his thanks and started climbing the stairs. Not just any girl would do, the Hostess found that out during his first visit. Peter had a very specific type.

He opened the door to room number seven, by now he was familiar with the routine. He eyed the girl sitting on the bed, she didn't even come close to the real thing but, then again, none of them ever did.

"So what's your name?" He asked, pulling off his cap and running a hand through his flattened down hair.

"You tell me, sweetheart." She wouldn't talk like that, in all the time he'd known her -even before she turned- she'd never spoken like that. "You're paying."

"Zoe." Peter replied, running a critical eye over her. Her blonde curls were too loose, too smooth. She was too short. She wasn't Zoe, she was an inferior copy, but she was the closest he was going to get. "You're name is Zoe. You know what I want, right?"

The girl nodded and her lips twitched up in a smirk, a pale imitation of the real thing. Her fingers popped the buttons of his shirt open and he swallowed hard, feeling the familiar combination of guilt, self-disgust and arousal curl in his belly.

She pushed him back onto the bed, pining his unresisting arms and fastening the handcuffs around his wrists. "How does it feel to be the one in cuffs, detective?" She taunted, a good girl playing evil, not an evil girl playing good. She leaned in, dragging sharp fingernails down his bare chest -she didn't draw blood, not like he wanted her too-, and whispered in his ear. "I'm going to f*cking tear you apart."

END

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