She lay on the bed in the dusty and airless room, her hands and feet bound, watching the man in black and wondering just what she had got herself into.
He had been standing at the window for a long time now. She had no idea of the time, although it was still light outside, but he was obviously watching and waiting for someone or something.
Honestly, she thought, rolling her eyes, it wasn't as if she was exactly a beginner at this game and she'd always prided herself on being able to spot a dodgy punter a mile off. When this one had glided past in a black limousine and pulled into the kerb, she'd leaned in as usual and asked him if he wanted to do business.
She should have known that a bloke who looked like him wouldn't need to pay for it, unless he was into something really kinky, but he had a nice smile and a reassuring, deep voice with a northern accent. She'd even thought his face and voice were familiar, but she was sure she'd never been with him before. Him, she would definitely have remembered.
She had expected to be taken to a classy hotel room, but he'd brought her to this creepy old house, which should have really set her alarms off, only she was under the spell of that voice and his presence. When they'd got up to this bedroom, he'd fucked her in a perfunctory way, without undressing, his mind clearly elsewhere. She was expert enough at detaching her own mind from the act to recognize it in a punter, but she'd been a little disappointed not to have this man's undivided attention.
He'd paid her up front and over the odds, with no arguments, which had pleased her at the time, although now she wondered if he'd known he'd get it back with her cold and disposed of. She shuddered, but dare not speak, for fear of provoking him. He'd taken a can of black paint from his pocket and sprayed something on the yellowing wallpaper above her head, but what it was, she couldn't tell.
Suddenly, his back stiffened and he turned to the door expectantly, his face set in a rigid mask. She heard footsteps run up the uncarpeted stairs and a cold trickle of fear ran down her back, as she realized that another man was about to join them.
The door burst open and she turned her head to see a striking-looking man, dressed in jeans, scruffy boots and an ancient dark green fleece. He gave a small cry of distress and froze, as the man in black stalked over to him.
"Liar!" The accusation hit the almost solid air like the crack of a whip and she was so terrified that she couldn't breathe. She remembered having fallen into a pond as a small child and fighting to surface through a sloshing, slurping slurry of mud and now she experienced the same sensation. Maybe there would be two bodies to dispose of when this was over.
The second man sank to his knees, desperately throwing his arms around his accuser's legs and pleading, tears running down his face,
"No, no, I didn't mean to lie to you, never to you. I love you. I lied to the police. I had to. It was a compulsion to pick up those women. I couldn't help myself."
"And was it a compulsion to strangle them too?"
The whispered, "Yes" was barely audible. She found her voice and moaned, making two heads turn to her in unison.
Leaping to his feet, the second man hurried over to her.
"Hey, you okay?"
She found herself laughing hysterically to his evident consternation. He began to untie her, shaking his head.
"Sean, she seems really scared. You're sure this is the right woman you picked up?"
The man in black appeared over his shoulder.
"Oh shit! Sorry, luv. You're not Lucy, are you?"
She shook her head dumbly, rubbing her chafed wrists as they helped her to sit up.
"But it was all set up, Vic. She told me over the phone she'd be wearing a platinum blonde wig and black PVC mac and she'd be working Cranley Road."
"Cranley Avenue," she croaked. "I'm Sally and my beat is in Cranley Avenue. That's where you were kerb crawling."
"Fucking idiot!" scolded the man called Vic, massaging the circulation back into her feet and ankles. "Look, we are real sorry about this. We're actors and he was helping me get into a role. We were both in character as lovers, but my character had murdered a string of women. His character had found out and was confronting me over the next potential victim. We'd hired a working girl like you, who was in on what would happen." He was gently putting her boots back on for her as he spoke.
The other man blushed and took one of her hands. "We wouldn't have pulled a stunt like this and scared you for the world. We'll recompense you of course. It was really my fault, I'm so sorry. ‘Course, if he wasn't into this methody bollocks, the misunderstanding would never have arisen." He glared at his friend, who sighed indulgently.
She had more money pressed into her hand and was ushered from the house and back into the big black car and before she had rearranged her thoughts, she found herself back in the Avenue, being thanked, before the car swept away, leaving her a little dazed.
She watched as it turned the corner and disappeared. Well, now she understood that Sean bloke's lack of real interest in her. Those two were in love with each other all right. Nobody was that good a bloody actor.
Summary: Nobody was that good a bloody actor.
Rated: G
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: No
Word count: 964 Read: 823
Published: 13 Nov 2010 Updated: 13 Nov 2010