Tables Turning

He stood over her bed in the dark room, thumbing the edge of his knife. She sighed deeply in her sleep and turned from her side to her back. He saw his chance. Bending down, he clamped one hand over her mouth.

Her eyes flew open and she began to struggle, pulling at his wrist. She was stronger than he'd thought she would be. He pressed down a little harder and let the faint light from the streetlight outside her window glance off the blade of his knife. "Are you going to make me use this?" he hissed.

She released her grip on his wrist so he eased up on the pressure. He began to fumble at the front of his jeans, still holding the knife, and cursed under his breath. They hadn't even given him a chance to change before sending him here and button-fly jeans were not a good choice for a quick rape scene.

Not that anything else would improve his own personal comfort with this assignment anyway. His life was becoming more violent every day but he'd never been one to appreciate violence when it came to sex. He was feeling most definitely unaroused and wondering if he could even accomplish this mission.

He heard her try to say something under his hand but he ignored her, concentrating on his stubborn fly and trying to whip up some enthusiasm. She lightly tapped his arm and tried again, "Mmmm...mmm mmm."

He considered. "If I let you talk, you aren't going to scream?" She shook her head so he slowly raised his hand from her face, prepared to clap it down again if she tried anything.

"Do you have a condom?" she asked in a low voice. He stared. He knew he'd forgotten something in his rush to get this over with.

"No," he admitted.

"I have some in the closet," she offered. "Will you let me get them?" He backed away from the side of the bed to let her slip out from under the covers.

Suddenly the room was flooded in light, but any words of protest he would have made died in his throat at the sight of her. She had one of those touch-sensitive lights and had brushed her fingers over it as she got up.

She wore a long, deep blue nightgown. The material was woven in such a way that the light picked out a pattern that he didn't notice because the gown was still settling down over her hips when the light came on.

Her hair was an unusual shade of light brown or dark blonde that could be described as honey-colored and it fell in loose waves nearly to her waist.

When he'd followed her home that evening she'd been dressed in a frumpy overcoat and a big floppy hat, both of which did an excellent job of disguising the figure underneath. Her shrunken posture and head-lowered demeanor had added to the image of Homely Old Maid. Uncovered as she was now, he still wouldn't call her a stunning beauty but she was far better than his first impression. He began to feel a spark of enthusiasm that had so far eluded him.

The light had frozen him in a posture of protest - both hands reaching for her. He still held the knife in one hand and she looked pointedly at it. "You don't need that," she said and pushed his knife hand aside. He felt powerless to stop her. She pushed his other hand aside as well until he appeared to be inviting her into his embrace. She gazed into his shocking green eyes and stepped within his reach. "If you're going to do this to me, will you at least let me pretend to enjoy it?"

She brushed her fingers lightly along his jaw, sending shivers down his neck. He was beginning to feel uneasy about this this turn of events, so, when she leaned forward and her face neared his throat, he backed away thinking she maybe meant to bite him.

They stared at each other a moment and then she turned away. "I'll get the condoms," she said.

She slid open the closet door and reached up to some boxes on the shelf. He watched her nightgown moved over her hips as she stretched and sorted through the boxes and became concious of the knife still clutched in his hand. Vaguely he remembered hearing her say he wouldn't need it. He folded the blade back in and slipped the knife into his pocket.

She was up on tiptoe, straining to reach a box near the back of the shelf. Her fingertips barely hooked the edge of the cover and slipped off. Her efforts only managed to push the box further back out of her reach.

"Let me get that," he said, stepping up behind her. As he reached over her shoulder she shrank from his touch and took a step deeper into the closet. His normally paranoid mind snapped into focus as his imagination supplied him with a variety of objects of defense any normal closet could contain. He roughly grabbed her upper arm and sent her spinning and stumbling into the center of the room. The backs of her legs connected with the side of the bed and she flopped down gracelessly onto the covers.

He gave her a glare as if to say "Stay put" and easliy reached down the box she'd been after. As he handed it to her he felt a stab of disappointment. He'd been working on a nice warm glow that had been put out like a snuffed candle with his brief surge of adrenaline. The Fight or Flight instinct did not mix well with the bedroom atmosphere.

She silently took the box from him, fished inside amongst several various packages, and handed him a small box of condoms - lubed, untrasensative. He scissored it between two fingers being careful not to touch hers.

He felt worse now than when he'd held her down in her own bed. Pent up adrenaline lay like a cold knot in the pit of his stomach and any ability to perform his duty here was out of the question. He flung the small box against the wall at the head of the bed and saw her flinch.

"Y'know you're pretty goddamn lucky they sent the wrong guy for this job," he snarled.

"*Who* sent you?" she asked.

"I think you know who. You're recent paper was too damn insightfull and revealing. You know how much they don't appreciate such leaps of logic."

"Were you sent here to kill me?" she asked in a small voice.

"No, I was sent to cow and humiliate you - teach you a little lesson about employees who get a bit too ambitious."

"Congratulations," she mumbled at the floor. "Mission accomplished. You can go now."

Her sarcasm in the face of this situation brought a surprised twitch of a smile to the corner of his mouth. He suddenly saw a different perspective - they were fellow employees working for the same people but in different departments.

"How can I be sure you've learned the lesson well enough?" he asked.

She caught the teasing tone of his question and leapt to her feet. Anger she hadn't dared show before reflected on her face. "You want me to write an essay for you about it?" she snapped.

A silent chuckle bubbled in his throat and he couldn't resist. Lightening quick he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in for a brief, hard kiss that bruised his own lips not to mention hers. Just as abruptly he let her go and swept past for the door.

Her bedroom was just a few steps from her apartment door. He was out and heading down the hall when her door was flung open again. She stepped out and called snidely, "Why don't you come back again some time when you can kiss me like you 'really' mean it?" With a swirl of deep blue satin she spun back inside and slammed the door with enough force to vibrate the wall all down the hall.

He finally gave in to the laughter he'd been holding back and left the building planning what to tell them about why he hadn't followed orders.

Thanks for sticking with this to the end. Any and all feedback, flames included, would be appreciated as this is my first fanfic of any kind.