14 > Gallery of Femininity: Yarns of Suspicion.
"Lessee..." Shale flipped through his notebook, while standing in the middle of the front lobby of the male dorms. Nearly all of the residents were assembled. They were huddled in groups around eachother, and aside from the odd whisper, the room was almost completely silent. The building was an old rickety thing that wanted to collapse under the weight of the drunken parties and test stresses. Shale looked up from his notebook with a smirk on his old face.
"Okay kiddies, this will be just like school. I'm sure you remember what that is... When I call your name, raise your hand." Shale paced for a second, going over his list for a second until he finally found a name he liked.
"Dale Weatherby."
A hand barely raised. A kid with a leather jacket and scarf around him, as if to say 'hipster' or some other bullshit, walked more into the center of the room. He had an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. Dale stopped right infront of Marcus Shale, and raised only a single, disinterested eye, up towards the detective.
"Come with me," Shale barked through smiling teeth.
The pair walked out of the building, and about fifty feet out towards a collection of flora and fauna designed to 'decorate' the school grounds. In truth, they have turned into a place for predators and for people to fuck in the dark.
Dale quickly rested against a tree and started fishing through his pockets for a lighter. Shale smacked at the cigarette, breaking it off at the filter. The filter was still between the teeth.
Dale's wide eyes looked up at Shale's grin before spitting the filter to the ground.
"Your father Dayton Weatherby? Big media tycoon?"
"What if it is?" Dale tried to retain his calm composure that otherwise seemed to be his usual attitude.
Shale just smiled for a second. Trying to turn the kid uncomfortable. "Where were you four nights ago?"
Dale shrugged and looked to the garden floor. "Partyin'."
"Yeah? Would you have been partying with one Claire Simpson?"
Dale looked back to Shale for a second, his face partially paler for just a second before he shook his head and looked back to the garden floor. "Never heard of her."
"Well that's awfully funny coming from someone whose name and number was in her address book." The light footsteps of Marcus' partner, Carl, began approaching them slowly.
"Hey, man, I give out my number to lots of people. Specially at parties. I barely remember the name of the chick I banged last night, even."
"So you'd say you get around a lot, then." Marcus' eyes narrowed.
"uhh... no, not necessarily... just that I don't care, man." Dale smiled now. "They're just holes. I've had any kind I wanted since I was twelve. Why would it be any different with this chick?"
"How many women have you paid to sleep with you, Dale?"
Dale's eyes narrowed for a second. "You pay for sex every time, in one way or another."
"Money, smartass."
Dale seemed to like looking at his feet an awful lot. "Don't remember."
Marcus lit a cigarette, his eyes never leaving Dale's. Carl arrived and watched in silence. "Funny thing, about money. Occasionally you can lift fingerprints off of it. Did you know that? Course, did you know that semen's basically a fignerprint too?"
"huh?" Dale seemed shocked out of his attitude. Back into the real world.
"We know you had sex with Claire Simpson four nights ago. We also know you paid her money. So you best tell us what happened."
Dale was shaking slowly, now. "I was one of Claire's... clients.... I mean, I liked her. She was really good, y'know? So I booked some time with her.... Yeah, we had sex a couple times. Claire seemed to like me, I guess. Let me have more fun with her.. I mean, she was wild, but..."
Dale slumped down the side of the tree. He was wringing his scarf back and forth in his hands. Marcus could see his sweat in the sunlight.
"I was gonna leave, when there was a knock at the door. Claire wasn't dressed yet. Was sitting up in her bed. She asked me to get that, so I did...." Dale started crying.
"What happened?"
"This... this guy came in... He had... this, white suit on. He was carrying this big bag... He spoke to me... oh god, his voice... it didn't seem human!"
"What'd he say?"
"He said... something like.... 'playtime's over, kid. get lost.' I think... Claire freaked out and was sorta panicking. Telling him to get out.... The man, he was wearing sunglasses.... He, he turned to me as she was freaking out and pulled them down.... and STARED at me! His eyes, they were like a fucking black hole, man!" He started rocking back and forth. "So... so I left."
It was a long while of the two cops just looking down at Dale Weatherby rocking like a broken child. Even longer before the asked him if he could identify this man he saw. His response?
"It'd be pretty fucking hard not to."(GALLERY OF FEMININITY: Fourty Stories. Short blurbs that are introspection into how Women affect men, society, and vice versa, spawned by images of various women from the LiveJournal Random Image Generator.)
[01 > Night Cap.]
[02 > The Road to Metamorphosis.]
[03 > Defining Perception.]
[04 > One of Many.]
[05 > Locked in Stasis.]
[06-07 > Wide Eyed and Hopeful (parts 1 & 2).]
[08 > A Pill to Make You Numb.]
[09 > Sides of the Coin.]
[10 > Sexually Transmitted Virus Detected.]
[11 > (Phone Post) Voices in Passing I.]
[12 > GuiltPictureBook.]
[13 > The Abyss and What You See.]
"Okay kiddies, this will be just like school. I'm sure you remember what that is... When I call your name, raise your hand." Shale paced for a second, going over his list for a second until he finally found a name he liked.
"Dale Weatherby."
A hand barely raised. A kid with a leather jacket and scarf around him, as if to say 'hipster' or some other bullshit, walked more into the center of the room. He had an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. Dale stopped right infront of Marcus Shale, and raised only a single, disinterested eye, up towards the detective.
"Come with me," Shale barked through smiling teeth.
The pair walked out of the building, and about fifty feet out towards a collection of flora and fauna designed to 'decorate' the school grounds. In truth, they have turned into a place for predators and for people to fuck in the dark.
Dale quickly rested against a tree and started fishing through his pockets for a lighter. Shale smacked at the cigarette, breaking it off at the filter. The filter was still between the teeth.
Dale's wide eyes looked up at Shale's grin before spitting the filter to the ground.
"Your father Dayton Weatherby? Big media tycoon?"
"What if it is?" Dale tried to retain his calm composure that otherwise seemed to be his usual attitude.
Shale just smiled for a second. Trying to turn the kid uncomfortable. "Where were you four nights ago?"
Dale shrugged and looked to the garden floor. "Partyin'."
"Yeah? Would you have been partying with one Claire Simpson?"
Dale looked back to Shale for a second, his face partially paler for just a second before he shook his head and looked back to the garden floor. "Never heard of her."
"Well that's awfully funny coming from someone whose name and number was in her address book." The light footsteps of Marcus' partner, Carl, began approaching them slowly.
"Hey, man, I give out my number to lots of people. Specially at parties. I barely remember the name of the chick I banged last night, even."
"So you'd say you get around a lot, then." Marcus' eyes narrowed.
"uhh... no, not necessarily... just that I don't care, man." Dale smiled now. "They're just holes. I've had any kind I wanted since I was twelve. Why would it be any different with this chick?"
"How many women have you paid to sleep with you, Dale?"
Dale's eyes narrowed for a second. "You pay for sex every time, in one way or another."
"Money, smartass."
Dale seemed to like looking at his feet an awful lot. "Don't remember."
Marcus lit a cigarette, his eyes never leaving Dale's. Carl arrived and watched in silence. "Funny thing, about money. Occasionally you can lift fingerprints off of it. Did you know that? Course, did you know that semen's basically a fignerprint too?"
"huh?" Dale seemed shocked out of his attitude. Back into the real world.
"We know you had sex with Claire Simpson four nights ago. We also know you paid her money. So you best tell us what happened."
Dale was shaking slowly, now. "I was one of Claire's... clients.... I mean, I liked her. She was really good, y'know? So I booked some time with her.... Yeah, we had sex a couple times. Claire seemed to like me, I guess. Let me have more fun with her.. I mean, she was wild, but..."
Dale slumped down the side of the tree. He was wringing his scarf back and forth in his hands. Marcus could see his sweat in the sunlight.
"I was gonna leave, when there was a knock at the door. Claire wasn't dressed yet. Was sitting up in her bed. She asked me to get that, so I did...." Dale started crying.
"What happened?"
"This... this guy came in... He had... this, white suit on. He was carrying this big bag... He spoke to me... oh god, his voice... it didn't seem human!"
"What'd he say?"
"He said... something like.... 'playtime's over, kid. get lost.' I think... Claire freaked out and was sorta panicking. Telling him to get out.... The man, he was wearing sunglasses.... He, he turned to me as she was freaking out and pulled them down.... and STARED at me! His eyes, they were like a fucking black hole, man!" He started rocking back and forth. "So... so I left."
It was a long while of the two cops just looking down at Dale Weatherby rocking like a broken child. Even longer before the asked him if he could identify this man he saw. His response?
"It'd be pretty fucking hard not to."(GALLERY OF FEMININITY: Fourty Stories. Short blurbs that are introspection into how Women affect men, society, and vice versa, spawned by images of various women from the LiveJournal Random Image Generator.)
[01 > Night Cap.]
[02 > The Road to Metamorphosis.]
[03 > Defining Perception.]
[04 > One of Many.]
[05 > Locked in Stasis.]
[06-07 > Wide Eyed and Hopeful (parts 1 & 2).]
[08 > A Pill to Make You Numb.]
[09 > Sides of the Coin.]
[10 > Sexually Transmitted Virus Detected.]
[11 > (Phone Post) Voices in Passing I.]
[12 > GuiltPictureBook.]
[13 > The Abyss and What You See.]