Carrie
I walk slowly down the steps, the black satin of my dress brushing against my thighs. I wonder if he’ll like me in this dress. Should I have put my hair up? Why do I care? He’s a killer. I should be plotting my escape, but what would I be escaping to? My parents don’t love me. I’ve always known that. I’m just a doll for my mother to dress up and show off, and a success accessory to my father. I’m not a person to them. They don’t care about what I like or what I feel. Jeremy’s a stranger, yet he seems to know more about me than the people who should love me most. Maybe my parents are looking for me, but I’d be lying if I said I wanted to be found.
I reach the bottom of the stairs and stand for minute, uncertain. I know that if I turn left I’ll be back in the sitting room, and see I light flickering down the hall to the right. The door is right in front of me. I wonder if it’s unlocked. Just a few steps and I could find out.
“Carrie.”
I turn my head at the sound of Jeremy’s voice, dark and smooth as velvet. He’s walking toward me, his black suit perfectly accentuating the graceful lines of his lean, muscular body. I feel my pulse quicken at the sight of him. I could say it’s because of fear, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. I’m still as attracted to Jeremy now as I was the first moment I saw him. Of course I’m afraid, but something tells me that if Jeremy wanted to kill me, I never would have left the beach. They would have found me lifeless, lying in the sand with the others. The realization is strangely comforting.
“I wasn’t sure which way to go,” I say.
Jeremy steps forward and takes my hand. and suddenly I feel a little warmer. “Come. This way,” he says, “I often forget how confusing this house can be to newcomers.”
“Did you grow up here?” I ask as I follow him down the hall, past the portraits of what I assume are long dead relatives. I wonder briefly if they all died of natural causes.
“Yes. Well, summers and holidays. The rest of the time I was away at school.”
“I wish I’d been sent away.” The words slip out before I can catch myself.
Jeremy turns and looks at me. “You don’t enjoy your parents’ company, I take it?”
It sounds more like a statement than a question. “I… I love my parents,” I say, suddenly defensive, “everyone does.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who does what everyone does.”
I’m saved from having to respond by our arrival the dining room. The room is candlelit, dark and elegant, a perfect setting. He steps up to the long mahogany table and pulls out my chair. I settle myself on the blood-red velvet seat. I wonder if red is Jeremy’s favorite color. I feel a bit like a princess, and I guess that would make Jeremy my dark prince.
I wait for Jeremy to seat himself before lifting the silver cloche in front of me. I’m greeted by the beautifully presented quail with raspberry sauce. I gasp. “It’s too lovely to eat.”
“Thank you,” Jeremy says chuckling, “but I hope you don’t truly feel that way. I’m starving, and I imagine you are too.”
Jeremy’s right. I haven’t eaten today and the food smells incredible. I take a bite, and it’s all I can do to keep from sighing with delight as my mouth is filled with a symphony of flavor.
“Are you a chef?”
Jeremy chuckles low in his throat. “No. Cooking is a hobby, but as with all my passions, I strive for excellence.”
My heart skips a beat as I wonder what Jeremy’s other hobbies might be.
“Wine? I know you’re not of age, but this is an excellent vintage. It can be our little secret.” He pours me glass.
“So, what do you do?” I ask, taking a sip of wine. It sings on my tongue and somehow, my next bite of food taste even better.
“Whatever I like,” Jeremy replies, fixing me in place with a stare that can only be described as lascivious. It makes me feel naked. I can feel my nipples tighten and press against the satin of my dress. Heat rushes to my face.
“What do you do, Carrie?”
“Mostly what I’m told to do.” I’m not proud of my answer, but it’s true.
“But not always. You didn’t do what Laurel told you at the bar.”
“I suppose it depends on who’s telling me.”
After we’ve finished eating, Jeremy takes my plate away, as well as his, and comes back with the most decadent dark chocolate torte I’ve ever seen. He places it in front of me, returning to his seat and his eyes never leaving me. I take my first bite and my eyes slip closed, savoring the bittersweet richness. When I open my eyes, Jeremy is staring at me.
“I see you appreciate sensual pleasures.”
I look at him, confused. “I’ve never thought of eating as particularly sensual.” I know taste is a sense, but then again, I’ve never eaten anything this wonderful before. Despite my parents’ money, their food choices were pretty bland.
“Oh, but Carrie, my dear, eating is incredibly sensual. I bet you felt that first taste all the way down to your toes.”
“I did.” I say, and it feels like I’m confessing something.
“See? Eating is a delight for your entire body.” Jeremy wears a smile that can’t be described any way other than wicked. “Your torte is beautifully presented and the taste, lovely and bittersweet, thrilling, but more than that, I love the way it feels against your tongue as you devour it.”
I swallow. My fork clinks against my plate as it slips from my fingers. The temperature in the room feels as if it’s gone up a hundred degrees. The way Jeremy is looking at me has every nerve in my body at attention. I look at him and try to find my voice. “You didn’t eat dessert,” I say, and I sound breathless.
“No, you’re right. I haven’t had dessert yet, and I do think I’m ready for it.” Jeremy gets up and walks around to my side of the table.
He turns my chair around so that I’m facing him, and kneels in front of me. It’s such a graceful movement I’m barely aware of it until I feel his hands on my knees, spreading them apart.
“May I?” he asks, looking at me with those green eyes darkened by lust.
“Yes.” I say breathlessly.