At Knifepoint 01

It feels like... a dam bursting under overwhelming force. Like a flood of energy streaming from my body and into hers. And in that flood, I am forced to cling to her, to press her down, to have her body against mine, skin against skin. Because I am almost afraid I might be swept away, obliterated.

I keep thrusting into her, and I am distantly aware of her own orgasm, my climax pushing her over the edge. The world contracts to two naked bodies, hers and mine, in the throes of something that exceeds them both.

**

"I feel like a smoke," she says. We've just finished cleaning up. We're sitting on my bed, both of us still naked, except for her mask of course.

I get up, and dig around in my drawers until I find a pack.

"There's just one left," I say. "We're going to have to share."

She looks up at me, amused. "You sure about that?"

I shrug. "I just want a fucking smoke. But I'll tell you what. Knife-wielding ladies first."

"Fair enough."

I give her the cigarette and light it for her, then plop back down on the bed. We sit in silence for a while.

"So... what now?" I ask.

"I leave, and you never see me again. If you're lucky." She hands me the cigarette, and I take a few draws.

I study her scarred, athletic body. I am a little disappointed I'm still alive. In some dark corner of my mind, I actually wanted her to kill me.

"Can I ask some questions, before you go?"

"You can ask. I might even answer a few."

"How did you get in here?"

"Climbed in through the window."

I glance at the window. "This is the 7th fucking floor."

"I noticed. It was a real pain in the ass, if I'm honest."

"...Who are you?"

She snorts. "You really think I'm going to answer that?"

"How can you climb up to a 7th floor window?"

"I used a rope. Next question."

"Alright. Where did you get the scars?"

She shifts in the bed, suddenly a little self-conscious. Her fingers fall to her stomach, and she traces a long gash. "All sorts of places. I'm kind of an odd-jobs girl. For really odd jobs."

"I... see," even though I don't.

"Why me?" I ask.

"Why you what?" She asks back.

"Why did you choose to climb up to my window?"

"Oh, I've been stalking you for a few days now."

"Why?"

"Just saw you on the street and thought you were hot."

I snort. "Am I?"

She looks me over, a lecherous smile settling on her face. "Oh yes. Definitely."

I laugh, oddly warmed by her compliment.

"And now I know you're crazy too. Great boyfriend material." She adds.

My first instinct is to deny that I'm crazy, but... that statement is getting more absurd by the minute.

We sit in silence for a while, passing the cigarette between us until it's all gone.

"Well," she finally says. "I guess I'll be leaving now." She gets up, and starts getting dressed.

"What if I don't want to be lucky?" I blurt out, right before she turns to the window.

"What?"

"Earlier, you said I will never see you again if I'm lucky. What if I don't want to be lucky?"

She smiles down at me. Teeth glint in the moonlight. "I heard sleeping with your window open is very unlucky indeed."