Eviscerate and Dismember...
To: Bernard Hill < bhill@iceberg.co.uk >
From: Harry Sinclair < isildur@gondor.co.nz >
Subject: Re: Your Message
Bernard,
You have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, mate, but you're on dangerous ground here. Do the smart thing: back the fuck off!
Harry
To: cate blanchett < galadriel@goldenwood.co.nz >
From: miranda otto < shieldmaiden@rohan.co.nz >
Subject: RE: Our Wager
Cate,
No reservations are necessary. Not just yet. I mean, sure, I like Dave. Like him lots. He's fun and wicked clever. And before you ask, no, I still don't believe he has been flirting with me this whole bloody time.
Ah, but he has those eyes. Those deft fingers. That great ass. And his mouth.... Fucking Christ, Cate, his mouth.
However...there is a world of difference between some friendly snogging and well, something that goes a bit beyond the friendly snogging. And there's no indication there is (or will be) anything happening beyond that.
So I may still win the bet! Though the prospect pleases me a bit less today than it did yesterday.
Miranda
PS When are you going to be back in town? There's been so much going on. Things are buggered ten ways to Tuesday, and I'm going to shoot, stab, strangle, drown, electrocute, eviscerate, and dismember Harry-fucking-Sinclair. Then I will set the remains ablaze and dump the ashes in a sewer.
[Letter slid under door in spare bedroom]
Sean,
If you didn't want me to pick you up from the airport, you probably don't want me to come in there, though it's getting harder and harder for Dave to restrain me. Because right now I really want to shake you and tell you not to be a great a sodding fool!
Viggo's lying in the next room, Sean. Alone. He's sleeping-did I mention the ALONE part?-wrapped in your bloody jacket. While I'm sure the jacket is toasty, it's nothing to curling up next to a warm body (especially when one's feeling out of sorts). Perhaps that would also help with the little shivers that run through him every now and then. Perhaps then he wouldn't be tossing about, murmuring your name over and over.
Just a thought.
Miranda
PS Love you. Am certain Vig does too.
[Letter--addressed, stamped and sealed, but not posted-acting as one of several similar bookmarks in a journal of chocolate-brown leather.]
Karl,
After you hung up on me, I stopped by to see how you were doing. You were out cold, Karl, didn't twitch or stir at all. And you left the bloody door unlocked, you daft bastard. Anyone could have strolled in. You're lucky it was just me.
There are days and nights (especially nights) when I wish for just a portion of your easy forgetfulness. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier. Like today, looking down at you, I wouldn't have to remember all the times I fucked you from sleep to wakefulness, and I wouldn't be tempted to slide my hands between your thighs, spreading them and lifting you up as I pressed down and into you. I wouldn't have to remember how your brow furrowed and you'd look almost anxious the closer you got to the edge.
I don't know how you can forget things like that without even trying, while I can't forget them no matter how hard I try.
Harry
[Written in a shaky hand on a slip of paper and slipped under the door of spare bedroom]
I don't... We should... I need... We need to...
Please, Sean... Why...?