For zapsflake
Title: Moving On
Author: Crystalnymphetamine/ molotovcoqtiz
Recipient: zapsflake
Fandom: Clue: the Movie
Pairing: Yvette and Miss Scarlet
Rating: NC-17 - Character death, sexual thoughts and memories
Word count: 1440
Disclaimer: I do not own the chars, the story of the movie of Clue, nor the game it's based on.
Summary: Scarlet remembers while Yvette pays
It's for:
Name/LJ Name: snowfie
Listed fandoms I request:
1. Bring It On - Big Red/Isis
2. Harry Potter - Ginny/Hermione
Wildcard fandoms I request:
1. Catch and Release: Gray/Maureen
2. Clue: Yvette/Miss Scarlet
3. The Holiday: Amanda/Iris
"I have told you before, I am no longer working for you. I have a better job." Yvette made a face at the telephone in her hand though the woman on the other end could not see her. It mattered little to her as she bristled with indignation, her skirt shaking with the motion so that it swayed like a bell.
A job that you hold because of me. And it would seem your "boss" has invited me to dinner. I will arrive early so we can have a moment to talk. Won't that be delightful, Sweet? Just like old times.
"It will not be delightful. It will be..." Anything else she had to say was cut off by the phone going dead, a tinny voice instructing her to hang up and try her call again. "Hmph." Turning up her nose, she wiggled off to do her job and ignore the threats that had subtly been hinted at.
____________________________________________
The best laid plans of mice and men... usually end with insanity in a barn. Or, in the case of all that she'd thought through, it was water in the transmission that did her in. Not even a dog should have been out in that rain, never mind one as elegantly dressed as she. Velvet and satin and shimmers of tulle saved by a fellow with more passes than a football player and just about as much couth. Professor Plum, he'd said, and she nearly forgot it the moment he said it.
Even now, standing in the foyer with the bug eyes stare of the butler and the noxious scent of dog excrement, Professor Whatever was still trying to make with the cheap tricks. But her eyes were on someone a lot more entertaining. All dangerous curves and legs that went from here to heaven. Even as she struck a nonchalant pose to highlight the extravagant gown she wore, that predatory gaze was on her prey.
"Miss Scarlet,' she purred, stalking past the rodents with their beady eyes focused on her to slowly circle the gazelle. Yvette.
Accepting the glass the statuesque girl offered, the lethal madam couldn't help but let her gaze stray. The tight, abbreviated outfit accentuated all of the French girl's best assets. Corseted to bring the eye, and mind, to her cleavage and yet short enough to offer something for every man's tastes. Or every woman's for that matter. Yet by focusing on the physical it hid the one thing that truly made the girl a star, the most beautiful thing about her. Her mind. Play as she might the innocent, virginal whore, she was as bottom line as Scarlet. But then, in the end, what dame wasn't?
It was hard keeping her hands to herself, knowing as Scarlet did that Yvette's skin was as velvety as it looked. She knew the way the french girl sighed when you kissed her neck, or that you could make her whimper by biting softly at the inside of her wrist. Scarlet knew it all, from where Yvette dabbed her perfume to just what sort of naughty bits of lace and silk lay beneath that flounced skirt. If one were to judge by the flush to Yvette's cheeks, perhaps she was thinking on the very same things. But such things would have to stay thoughts until later, until they were alone. Now there was dinner to be devoured and secrets to consume. And, in the end, lives to be destroyed.
_______________________________________
Getting away from Colonel Mustard was proving harder than Scarlet thought. For a doddering old fool, he was certainly too hung up on actually finding the killer. Shame she'd been stuck with one of the few, him and the fruit, who couldn't be bought off by her natural charms. It was going to take a better distraction that a tight dress to get away from the stalwart military man. It made her smile to think about using Yvette for such a moment. Not that she choose to imagine the Colonel with her darling, even if she'd seen the film. Even once she'd watched the live action show. That was a horror show Scarlet had no desire to revisit. Not even the sight of her lovely was enough to make her endure that again.
Her lovely. The words hit her deep, a soft blow that left Scarlet breathless. Even now, after all this time, she still thought of Yvette as hers. Not merely an employee, or working girl that knew all the tricks to rake in the bucks, but something of Scarlet's that she treasured. Like her client lists and that personal vault full of pictures and film that she coveted so. Like the souls of the men whose secrets she sold to the government. All belonged to her. Just as Yvette always would.
The door opened with the faintest of creaks, barely more than a whisper of metal on metal where the lubricant had worn thin. In the dark it sounded like a gunshot, eliciting a squeak from the curvaceous blonde.
She could still remember the first time, back when the girl truly had been as innocent and pure as she now pretended to be. Back when it hadn't been a show of good acting but the mark of a protected childhood. Back when she had come to Scarlet, demanding to know about the art of pleasing men, the art of espionage. Yvette had been her first protege, the first that truly saw the truth behind everything Scarlet did.
Yvette had also been one of the first to betray her, turning on Scarlet and revealing her secrets to a third party.
Squinting into the dark, Yvette struggled to make out the shadowy figure before her. Tense, backing up until a shaft of light shone just right, revealing a familiar face. "Oh, it's you."
In the dark it was easy to remember those nights. The velvety feel of Yvette's skin, taut and supple at the same time. Scarlet had spent hours that first night merely tracing the girl's limbs with sharpened nails, watching the way her skin reddened. The trails of pleasure showed in stark relief against the alabaster perfection skin that seemed to never have been touched by the sun. Scarlet had done nothing more that night than explore the girl's body, focusing on those places so many ignored. The crook of the elbow, the hollow of the throat and the back of the knee.
Most, too many, rushed to the known erogenous zones rather than truly exploring the sensual aspects of the human body. The body was designed to bring pleasure but not many truly understood that. Scarlet had taught Yvette all of it.
The tender art of using teeth in all the right ways, pleasure brought from the tingle of the bite rather than the pain. How a lick needed to be more than just like a lollipop or ice cream cone but in depth with the curl of the tongue and the generous application of lips.
Yvette had been an apt pupil, one with whom Scarlet enjoyed dallying for hours. The day the blonde had taken her first client, Scarlet had felt the first tinge of jealousy she'd ever known. One she quickly overcame when she realized just how well Yvette had learned her trade, and how eagerly she plied it. With a simple word in that heavy, honey sweet accent, she often learned more than most of Scarlet's girls did after a night of pleasure. Yvette was a prize, a jewel, a prized possession. And as such, she was Scarlet's to punish, to correct for turning on her just as she had.
The next squeal, shriek, was cut off suddenly as the noose closed about Yvette's throat. She bucked and struggled, very nearly losing her footing in the stiletto heels she wore. Clawing at the rough rope, the girl's own nails left thick, red tracks against her porcelain skin. Her skin marking perfectly as the life faded from her eyes.
Laid back over the pool table, the rope gone, the markings on Yvette's throat reminded Scarlet of those days so long ago. Yet she said nothing as she followed the others out of the room, jaw tightening as she watched the others closely. One of them had taken away what was rightfully hers. Whomever that was would pay. No one, but no one, stole from Scarlet and lived. No one.
Author: Crystalnymphetamine/ molotovcoqtiz
Recipient: zapsflake
Fandom: Clue: the Movie
Pairing: Yvette and Miss Scarlet
Rating: NC-17 - Character death, sexual thoughts and memories
Word count: 1440
Disclaimer: I do not own the chars, the story of the movie of Clue, nor the game it's based on.
Summary: Scarlet remembers while Yvette pays
It's for:
Name/LJ Name: snowfie
Listed fandoms I request:
1. Bring It On - Big Red/Isis
2. Harry Potter - Ginny/Hermione
Wildcard fandoms I request:
1. Catch and Release: Gray/Maureen
2. Clue: Yvette/Miss Scarlet
3. The Holiday: Amanda/Iris
"I have told you before, I am no longer working for you. I have a better job." Yvette made a face at the telephone in her hand though the woman on the other end could not see her. It mattered little to her as she bristled with indignation, her skirt shaking with the motion so that it swayed like a bell.
A job that you hold because of me. And it would seem your "boss" has invited me to dinner. I will arrive early so we can have a moment to talk. Won't that be delightful, Sweet? Just like old times.
"It will not be delightful. It will be..." Anything else she had to say was cut off by the phone going dead, a tinny voice instructing her to hang up and try her call again. "Hmph." Turning up her nose, she wiggled off to do her job and ignore the threats that had subtly been hinted at.
____________________________________________
The best laid plans of mice and men... usually end with insanity in a barn. Or, in the case of all that she'd thought through, it was water in the transmission that did her in. Not even a dog should have been out in that rain, never mind one as elegantly dressed as she. Velvet and satin and shimmers of tulle saved by a fellow with more passes than a football player and just about as much couth. Professor Plum, he'd said, and she nearly forgot it the moment he said it.
Even now, standing in the foyer with the bug eyes stare of the butler and the noxious scent of dog excrement, Professor Whatever was still trying to make with the cheap tricks. But her eyes were on someone a lot more entertaining. All dangerous curves and legs that went from here to heaven. Even as she struck a nonchalant pose to highlight the extravagant gown she wore, that predatory gaze was on her prey.
"Miss Scarlet,' she purred, stalking past the rodents with their beady eyes focused on her to slowly circle the gazelle. Yvette.
Accepting the glass the statuesque girl offered, the lethal madam couldn't help but let her gaze stray. The tight, abbreviated outfit accentuated all of the French girl's best assets. Corseted to bring the eye, and mind, to her cleavage and yet short enough to offer something for every man's tastes. Or every woman's for that matter. Yet by focusing on the physical it hid the one thing that truly made the girl a star, the most beautiful thing about her. Her mind. Play as she might the innocent, virginal whore, she was as bottom line as Scarlet. But then, in the end, what dame wasn't?
It was hard keeping her hands to herself, knowing as Scarlet did that Yvette's skin was as velvety as it looked. She knew the way the french girl sighed when you kissed her neck, or that you could make her whimper by biting softly at the inside of her wrist. Scarlet knew it all, from where Yvette dabbed her perfume to just what sort of naughty bits of lace and silk lay beneath that flounced skirt. If one were to judge by the flush to Yvette's cheeks, perhaps she was thinking on the very same things. But such things would have to stay thoughts until later, until they were alone. Now there was dinner to be devoured and secrets to consume. And, in the end, lives to be destroyed.
_______________________________________
Getting away from Colonel Mustard was proving harder than Scarlet thought. For a doddering old fool, he was certainly too hung up on actually finding the killer. Shame she'd been stuck with one of the few, him and the fruit, who couldn't be bought off by her natural charms. It was going to take a better distraction that a tight dress to get away from the stalwart military man. It made her smile to think about using Yvette for such a moment. Not that she choose to imagine the Colonel with her darling, even if she'd seen the film. Even once she'd watched the live action show. That was a horror show Scarlet had no desire to revisit. Not even the sight of her lovely was enough to make her endure that again.
Her lovely. The words hit her deep, a soft blow that left Scarlet breathless. Even now, after all this time, she still thought of Yvette as hers. Not merely an employee, or working girl that knew all the tricks to rake in the bucks, but something of Scarlet's that she treasured. Like her client lists and that personal vault full of pictures and film that she coveted so. Like the souls of the men whose secrets she sold to the government. All belonged to her. Just as Yvette always would.
The door opened with the faintest of creaks, barely more than a whisper of metal on metal where the lubricant had worn thin. In the dark it sounded like a gunshot, eliciting a squeak from the curvaceous blonde.
She could still remember the first time, back when the girl truly had been as innocent and pure as she now pretended to be. Back when it hadn't been a show of good acting but the mark of a protected childhood. Back when she had come to Scarlet, demanding to know about the art of pleasing men, the art of espionage. Yvette had been her first protege, the first that truly saw the truth behind everything Scarlet did.
Yvette had also been one of the first to betray her, turning on Scarlet and revealing her secrets to a third party.
Squinting into the dark, Yvette struggled to make out the shadowy figure before her. Tense, backing up until a shaft of light shone just right, revealing a familiar face. "Oh, it's you."
In the dark it was easy to remember those nights. The velvety feel of Yvette's skin, taut and supple at the same time. Scarlet had spent hours that first night merely tracing the girl's limbs with sharpened nails, watching the way her skin reddened. The trails of pleasure showed in stark relief against the alabaster perfection skin that seemed to never have been touched by the sun. Scarlet had done nothing more that night than explore the girl's body, focusing on those places so many ignored. The crook of the elbow, the hollow of the throat and the back of the knee.
Most, too many, rushed to the known erogenous zones rather than truly exploring the sensual aspects of the human body. The body was designed to bring pleasure but not many truly understood that. Scarlet had taught Yvette all of it.
The tender art of using teeth in all the right ways, pleasure brought from the tingle of the bite rather than the pain. How a lick needed to be more than just like a lollipop or ice cream cone but in depth with the curl of the tongue and the generous application of lips.
Yvette had been an apt pupil, one with whom Scarlet enjoyed dallying for hours. The day the blonde had taken her first client, Scarlet had felt the first tinge of jealousy she'd ever known. One she quickly overcame when she realized just how well Yvette had learned her trade, and how eagerly she plied it. With a simple word in that heavy, honey sweet accent, she often learned more than most of Scarlet's girls did after a night of pleasure. Yvette was a prize, a jewel, a prized possession. And as such, she was Scarlet's to punish, to correct for turning on her just as she had.
The next squeal, shriek, was cut off suddenly as the noose closed about Yvette's throat. She bucked and struggled, very nearly losing her footing in the stiletto heels she wore. Clawing at the rough rope, the girl's own nails left thick, red tracks against her porcelain skin. Her skin marking perfectly as the life faded from her eyes.
Laid back over the pool table, the rope gone, the markings on Yvette's throat reminded Scarlet of those days so long ago. Yet she said nothing as she followed the others out of the room, jaw tightening as she watched the others closely. One of them had taken away what was rightfully hers. Whomever that was would pay. No one, but no one, stole from Scarlet and lived. No one.