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We'll Look At Them Together, Then We'll Take Them Apart

Suzanne basked languorously in the heat of Simon's body, her gaze drifting across the blue floral draperies of the four-poster bed. Her fingertips moved absently over the flawless brown satin of his hip. She considered her previous lovers in light of her current life, and silently bemoaned twenty-five years of believing that those ham-fisted lunkheads knew the least thing about how to make her skin sing.

Her lazy train of thought was disrupted by an explosion of triumphal music from somewhere near the floor. She was glad that Simon's phone had not sounded that particular ringtone -- the victory music from one of his favorite videogames -- a few minutes earlier. He would have been insufferable.

It went off again and she nudged Simon. "See what it is," she said into his ear.

He muttered something, but rolled to the edge of the bed and leaned waaaaay off it to reach his trousers on the floor. The bed and breakfast liked the really high old-fashioned beds; Suzanne needed the provided stepladder, though Simon just bounded onto the mattress. Ah, youth.

Gravity began to overcome friction as he fumbled and cursed, and so she grabbed hold of Simon's legs to keep him from sliding off onto his head, not relishing the potential emergency room stories.

Simon rolled onto his back and sat up with no assistance from anything except the remarkable abdominal muscles he'd been developing. She couldn't resist kissing them; all of them. "Hey!" he said, then, "Mmm," as she got distracted with her proximity to other body parts, and there wasn't much talking for a while.

Finally, she said, "So who was that on the phone?"

Simon scrabbled under the sheets, the blanket at the foot of the bed, and finally found the phone inside Suzanne's pillowcase. "A text from Tom," he said. "He says Jeshri's gotten an anonymous threat."

Suzanne's journalistic instincts started digging themselves out from under the tingling in her toes and other portions of her anatomy. "How anonymous?" she said.

Simon's fingers flew over the tiny keyboard. Suzanne had got quite good at texting recently, but she'd never match up to the younger generation's speed and dexterity. She restrained herself from kissing his fingers, because she knew that it would only lead them astray from the topic again.

The phone buzzed in his hand a moment later -- apparently he'd taken it off ringtone -- and his lips pursed attractively. (She had to stop looking at him!) "First there was a comment on her blog. 'You won't like it if the others get out.' And a link. The IP address goes to some dead end in Nigeria. The link goes to a site in Russia, and it's a photo of Jeshri dancing."

"Let me guess," Suzanne said, sitting up and peering over his shoulder at his phone. "It's one of a set of photos."

"Got it in one," Simon said, still exchanging texts while talking. "Three boyfriends ago took photos without her knowing -- he showed her afterward -- and some of them are compromising. Really compromising."

"I don't want to know, do I?" Suzanne said, remembering some photos from one of her own college relationships that fortunately never followed her because she grew up in the era of rotary-dial telephones and vacuum tubes.

Simon gave her a shrug. "I dunno. I can probably imagine worse things than whatever was in those pictures. Tom says that clicking the photo took them to the next comment, which was on a Wonderful House forum not sponsored by PARABI," he said. "The subject was 'Jeshri' and the content was a date and time in UTC and a location in longitude and latitude."

"Also anonymized somehow?" Suzanne said, snatching up her tablet from the bedside table. "Have they looked up the location yet?

"No," Simon said, and read them off from his phone.

Suzanne brought up a lookup and entered the coordinates. Somehow she wasn't at all surprised by the result. "Staybird Park," she said heavily.

"At least he doesn't think we're onto him?" Simon said. "Otherwise, why tip his hand like that?"

"Anyone looking into this?" Suzanne said, tossing her tablet back onto the table.

"The forum owner is cooperating with Jesh," Simon said, "but of course the producers think this is the best thing since sliced bread. So they aren't doing a damned thing."

"The killer's not such an idiot that he'd think she'd go alone," Suzanne said. "Maybe he thinks he can handle you and Tom and Lizzie?"

Simon bit his lower lip and stroked his Van Dyke. "If he's superstrong and invulnerable, like you think, of course he could take us. Tom can challenge him by not sleeping! Jeshri would be limited by access to electricity. Lizzie... doesn't do much without kitchen implements. I'd be the biggest problem, but if he took me down fast, the others would be cake." He exhaled and rubbed his face. "I'm just trying to think of who to call to bring in on this."

They looked at each other for a long moment, then both said decidedly, "Megan."


Note from the Author:
I'm sure it was obvious to all of US, but you have to make allowances for their scrambled brains. ;)

Date: 2011-08-03 06:39 pm (UTC)
kore: (Default)
From: [personal profile] kore
She was glad that Simon's phone had not sounded that particular ringtone -- the victory music from one of his favorite videogames -- a few minutes earlier. He would have been insufferable.


Megan! FUCK yeah.

Date: 2012-01-28 08:40 am (UTC)
the_leaky_pen: (Default)
From: [personal profile] the_leaky_pen
Victory themes are the *best* ringtones. :D :D :D


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