Ragan’s Twisted Revenge

RUTH CHRIS STEAKHOUSE  
LAS VEGAS, NEVADA    
   
“Greg, I think the bill I submitted to Congress is near passing. Lobbyist Holm assured me Congress would agree to the context of the Emission Bill proposal, and then, he assured me the House will surely pass it by a large margin.”    
“It’s about time. That damn bill should have been passed years ago.”    
“Yeah, don’t I know it, but no, you yuppie limp dick niggas in the Senate think y’all shit don’t stink.”    
“See what happens when you do a brotha a favor.”    
“I think I hear violins playing in the background.”    
“Your favors have been revoked.”    
   
Greg laughed at his friend.    
   
“Naw man. On the real, thanks for getting the bill to Congress.”    
“Just because I’m in the Senate does not mean I forgot who the little man is.”    
“Man fuck you. I got your little man all right.”    
   
Greg and Darnell laughed.    
   
Darnell lifted his glass of Brandy and took a slow swig. He placed it back down on the bar-top and surveyed the restaurant. He elbowed his friend.    
   
“Man, who’s the sexy female over there, shit, she’s fine as fuck.”    
   
Greg placed his glass of Cognac down on the polished surfaced bar-top and swiveled his barstool.    
   
“I don’t know man, but damn she’s a black beauty.”    
   
Two pairs of eyes stared at the cappuccino-skin tone beauty from across the crowded restaurant.    
   
“Well, in order for me to find out who she is, a brotha needs to represent.”    
   
Greg lifted his drink, and took a healthy gulp. He set his glass down on the bar-top and looked down at his wedding band.    
   
Darnell looked over at Greg. He glimpsed where his friend’s eyes settled.    
   
“Don’t do it man. You know the last time you fucked up, Ida had your ass sleeping on the couch.”    
“What Ida don’t know, won’t hurt, and besides, she’s out of town.”    
“All right man, don’t strain yourself.”    
“Man, I haven’t had any pussy in two months. I will definitely let her have the pleasure of straining this dick.”    
   
Greg lifted his left hand and removed his wedding band from off his fourth finger. He placed it inside his back pants pocket.    
   
“Man, wish me luck on this one.”    
“Man, with a face and body like hers, you're going to need a prayer.”    
“I’m religious.”    
   
Greg lifted his glass of Cognac, took a long guzzle, and then placed the empty glass on the bar-top. He cleared his throat and made his way over to the female who just occupied a seat at a booth table.    
   
“Good evening.”    
   
Ragan looked up.    
   
“Hello.”    
   
The mounted ceiling lights spotlighted a handsome man, immaculately dressed in an Armani double-breasted blue suit. From what she could assess, his height was close to six feet two, his muscular weight gave her the impression he earned his brawny physique from playing some type of sport. His hair was short and cut very close to his scalp. His eyes were what drew her to him; they were in comparison to the color of a raven’s wing. His mouth was generous, and she wondered in the back of her mind, what deed his tongue could bring forth.    
   
Ragan glanced down at Greg’s strong hands.    
   
“Do you mind if I join you?”    
   
Ragan looked back up. “Not at all.” She scooted toward the center of the booth.    
   
Greg sat down in the booth; he scooted closer to Ragan.    
   
“Do you come here often...?”    
“It’s Ragan.”    
“Ragan, do you come here often?”    
“Actually, I’m here to attend a business conference, and I’ve heard such nice things about this place. Therefore, I thought I’ll give it a try.”    
   
Ragan looked around the intimate restaurant.    
   
“Ragan, would you like something to drink?”    
“That would be very nice, thank you.”    
   
Greg lifted his hand in the air to summon the waitress.    
   
“You are a very beautiful woman.”    
“Thank you.”    
   
Greg’s eyes settled on the outline of Ragan’s breasts through her sheer silk blouse.    
   
The color of her smooth cappuccino-skin tone complexion turned him on. Her professionally salon jet-black curls were drawn back from her oval face to reveal, large almond shaped grayish-colored eyes, a small nose, and full lips that he would lose his soul in if given the chance.    
   
Greg glanced down at Ragan’s dainty hands. He stole a quick peek at her ringless left hand.    
   
The waitress walked over to the table.    
   
“What can I get you two?”    
“You can bring me a Cosmopolitan.”    
“And you sir?”    
“A Cognac, no ice.”    
   
The waitress wrote down both orders and walked away from the table.    
   
“Are you from around this area...?”    
“I’m sorry, it’s Greg.”    
   
Greg extended his hand. Ragan shook it.    
   
The man was handsome to her, very handsome.    
   
Ragan scooted closer.    
   
“Ragan, what business conference brings you to the city of Las Vegas?”    
“I’m a corporate attorney?”    
“And a very beautiful one I might add.”    
   
Ragan blushed.    
   
“Thank you.”    
“Greg, what do you do for a living?”    
“I’m the senator for the state of Maine.”    
“Very interesting.”    
“Meaning.”    
“My father was a senator.”    
“I guess we have a lot in common.”    
“I’m sorry, a lot in common?”    
“Politics.”    
“Oh yes, politics.” Reagan smiled very quickly; she relaxed her smile into a slight frown. “Greg, are you married?”    
   
Greg hesitated with a response; he hid his left hand under the table and crossed his fingers.    
“No, are you?”    
“No.”    
   
The waitress walked up to the table. She lifted two napkins from off a silver circular tray and placed one in front of Ragan, and one down in front of Greg. The waitress lifted Ragan’s drink, placed it down on her napkin, and then placed Greg’s drink down on his.    
   
“That would be ten dollars.”    
   
Greg went in his back pants pocket and removed his wallet. He opened it and took out a twenty-dollar bill. He handed it to the waitress.    
   
“You can give me five back.”    
The waitress lifted a five-dollar bill from out of a black pouch she wore around her waist, and handed Greg back his change.    
“Thank you.”    
“You’re welcome.”    
   
Greg stuffed the five-dollar bill inside his wallet and returned it to his back pants pocket.    
   
The waitress walked away from the table.    
   
Ragan lifted her drink and took a sip. She held her drink back and looked down into the glass.    
   
“Greg, this drink is very good, thank you. In addition, since you have extended your generosity, I will buy the next round.”    
   
Greg lifted his drink and clicked his glass against Ragan’s glass.    
   
“A woman who doesn’t mind sharing. You are definitely a woman in my future.”    
   
Greg and Ragan exchanged flirtatious conversation and enjoyed several rounds of drinks. Greg glanced down at his watch.    
   
“Ragan, I do not mean to be forward, but my hotel is not far from here…, and I would really like to continue this conversation.”    
   
Ragan’s mind was in a foggy state of existence.    
   
“I..., I... don’t know Greg, I really don’t know you, and we’ve just met.”    
“No strings attached; I just seriously dig you.”    
   
Greg looked into Ragan’s grayish-colored eyes.    
   
God, he wanted her so bad. He knew he was married, but this was the first time in his life that he felt no regrets about the presented consequences.  
   
Greg scooted out the booth and stood. He reached in his back pants pocket for his wallet and pulled it out. He opened it and took out five single dollar bills. He threw the bills down on the table and returned his wallet to his back pants pocket.    
   
Ragan grabbed her Coach Handbag, scooted out the booth, and stood.    
   
Greg grabbed a hold of Ragan’s hand and both exited Ruth Chris Steakhouse    
   
BELLAGIO HOTEL    
LAS VEGAS, NEVADA    
   
Greg and Ragan entered the Bellagio Hotel. Ragan looked over at the fine brotha who escorted her to the elevators.    
   
“Ragan, I truly hope I’ve impressed you with the brief tour of this city.”    
“I have no complaints.”    
   
I hope your bedroom skills is based upon the indication of the swollen knot in your pants Ragan thought.    
   
Greg pushed the elevator up button.    
   
The elevator doors slid open. He palmed Ragan’s back and accompanied her on the elevator.    
   
“Ragan, are you hungry?”    
“Yes, and I mean for everything.” She winked at him.    
   
He noticed her dimples softened.    
   
What a sweet temptation, damn, he would have been a fool not to entertain her time.    
   
Greg pushed the number fourteen button.    
   
The elevator doors slid close.    
   
“Ragan, how long will you be in Las Vegas?”    
“For a week.”    
   
Greg smiled to himself. It was just enough time to bed her, and then dispose of her company. Lucky for him, his wife is out of town visiting her mother for the next two weeks.    
   
The elevator doors slid open.    
Both stepped off.    
   
Greg dug inside his back pants pocket and lifted his hotel keycard. He stopped Ragan in front of his hotel suite and inserted the keycard inside the door slot; he pushed the door handle down and opened the door wider.    
   
Ragan walked inside Greg’s hotel suite.    
   
Greg entered and closed the door back. He threw the keycard on top of an armoire near the door.    
   
Ragan ventured farther inside the hotel suite.    
   
“Very nice, and much bigger than my hotel room.”    
“Would you like a drink?”    
“After I get something inside my stomach.”    
“Right.”    
   
Greg sat on the edge of an antique desk, lifted the house menu, and browsed the listed items.    
   
“Would you like anything special to eat?”    
“You can order me a Chef salad, and a bowl of potato soup.”    
“Anything else, like dessert.”    
   
Ragan walked over to where Greg sat. She took the menu from out his hand and placed it on the desk.    
   
“And all this time, I thought you are.” She kissed him on the cheek.    
   
Greg pulled Ragan between his thighs and kissed her on the lips. He palmed her face and kissed her forehead.    
   
“You are a very sexy looking woman.”    
“A flattering remark coming from an extremely handsome man makes us equal.”    
   
Ragan felt blessed her trip to this hotel and casino was not in vain.    
   
“How about we order room service. In the meantime, I have a Jacuzzi bathtub.”    
“I have to admit, yes, I am a little overdressed for such a lovely hotel suite wouldn’t you say?”    
   
Ragan winked at Greg.    
   
“I absolutely agree.”    
   
Where was she at three years ago, before he entered into a loveless marriage? He knew he would have divorced his wife years ago, if it were not for his mother’s association with his wife’s mother.    
   
“Greg.”    
“Yeah baby.”    
“Are you all right?”    
“Yeah.”    
“Where is your bathroom located?”    
“Through that door and down the hall.”    
   
Ragan kissed Greg on the lips. “I will be right back.” She stepped out of her Gucci pumps.    
   
“Ragan, there is an extra bathrobe on the hook in the bathroom.”    
“I will make my presence at home.”    
   
Ragan walked out the living quarters of Greg’s hotel suite.    
Greg lifted the telephone receiver, dialed the operator, and ordered room service.    
   
Ragan sat her Coach Handbag on top of the Formica vanity top. She opened it and took out a white scarf, four white cords, and a roll of gray duct tape. She placed everything down on the vanity. She roamed farther inside her handbag, pulled out a black sheer camisole, and sat it on top of the vanity.    
   
Ragan unbuttoned her white blouse and slid it down her shoulders; she took it off and stuffed it inside her handbag. She unzipped her long black skirt from the side, and let the garment fall to her feet.    
She stepped out of it, picked it up from off the floor, and placed it on top of the vanity. She looked in the mirror and stared at her body. She unhooked her bra from behind and let it slide down her arms; she removed it and crammed it inside her handbag.    
   
Ragan fingered the black mole under her right breast, and then glided her hand over her flat midriff. She hooked her thumbs inside the elastic band of her thong and pushed it down her legs. She kicked the thong aside, picked it up from off the floor, and threw it inside her handbag. She tugged on the white silk ribbon that contained her hair and placed it inside her handbag.    
   
“Kill Kill,” the voice swarmed around her foggy brain.    
“Please go away,” she whispered to the mirror.    
Ragan combed her fingers through her shoulder length curly hair. She lifted the camisole from off the vanity, stepped into it, and pulled it up her legs. She placed her arms through the spaghetti straps and adjusted it to emphasize her C-cup breasts size.    
   
“Kill Kill.”    
“Oh please not now, please.”    
   
Ragan held her head down and closed her eyes, she gradually reopened them. She lifted her head and studied her reflection in the mirror. For once, she would like a man to love her, an honest man. Although, she saw the whitish ring shadow on Greg’s left fourth finger.    
   
Ragan placed everything else back into her handbag. She looked down into her handbag once again and removed her dagger; she unzipped the side pocket and stuck it inside. She closed her handbag, lifted it from off the vanity, and walked to the door. She opened it and walked out the bathroom.    
   
Greg placed the two covered dishes on a small wooden table. He turned around after he heard the bathroom door open. He watched Ragan walk up to him.    
   
“You are...”    
   
Ragan threw her handbag over on the bed. She grabbed Greg around the back of his neck, pulled his face downward, and kissed him.    
Greg’s arms circled Ragan’s lower back. He pulled her closer and returned the kiss. He backed her up to the bed.    
   
Ragan inched back. “Wait. Let’s make this night worth remembering.”    
“Anything you want.”    
   
Ragan took off Greg’s suit jacket and let it drop to the carpet. She kissed him while she unbuttoned his shirt.    
   
“Greg, I want you to make kinky love to me.”    
“Oh baby, you do not have to ask me twice.”    
   
Ragan unbuckled Greg’s belt and released the pants button through the opening. She stuck her tongue inside his mouth.    
   
“Umm,” Greg moaned. He palmed Ragan’s face and held her head still while he kissed over her face.    
   
Ragan hugged Greg and boosted the kiss.    
   
“Kill Kill,” the voice screamed at her.    
“No!”    
   
Ragan bit into Greg’s lower lip.    
   
“Fuck!” Greg pushed Ragan back.    
“I’m... I’m sorry.”    
   
Ragan lifted Greg’s shirt from off the floor and shoved it into his hand.    
   
Greg held the shirt against his lips; he tasted his blood inside his mouth. He spit the reddish glob into his shirt and wrapped it up. He threw the shirt back down on the carpet.    
   
“I’ll understand if you want me to leave,” Ragan whispered.    
   
She wanted him to back out. She did not want the voice in her head to win again.    
   
Ragan turned around.    
   
Greg grabbed Ragan’s upper arm.    
   
Ragan turned around and faced Greg.    
   
“Look, it was a mistake, come here.”    
   
Greg kissed Ragan.    
   
“Here let me make it better.”    
“Yeah baby, make it better for me.”    
   
Ragan swindled her tongue inside Greg’s mouth. She tasted the residue of blood.    
   
“Uumm.” She licked over his lips. Her pussy pulsated for the taste to kill.    
   
Ragan inched back. She rubbed her palm over Greg’s protruding manhood.    
   
"Wow Mr. Superman, you sure know how to stir up an intimate party."    
   
Ragan kissed Greg on his lips and caressed his dick. She inched back and looked up into his eyes.    
   
“And it’s waiting for little ole you beautiful.”    
“Well let me help you out.”    
   
Ragan unzipped Greg’s pants and divided them.    
   
Greg stepped back and took off his shoes, and then socks. He pulled down his pants and kicked his legs out of both.    
   
Ragan palmed Greg’s manhood through his boxer shorts and fished inside the opening. She pulled out his dick through the slit in the material.    
   
“What a good wait.”    
   
She kissed him on the chin; she swaged her tongue up and down the length of his neck.    
   
“Oh, Ragan baby,” Greg moaned. He covered her palm. “Uhh baby, I want to stick this dick inside you all night long.”    
   
Ragan dropped down to her knees. She wrapped her hand around Greg’s manhood and skimmed her tongue over the fatten flesh; she kissed up and down the towering length. She tenderly squeezed his scrotum sac and opened her mouth; she took his member within and suckled the pre-cum juices inching down the taut skin.    
   
“Kill Kill.”    
   
Ragan closed her eyes to block out the voice that refused to abide. She kissed Greg’s manhood, shook his testicles with the tip of her tongue, and then stood.    
   
“Greg, I need for you to lie down on the bed.”    
“I’m there.”    
   
Greg laid down on the wrought-iron Canopy bed.    
   
Ragan straddled Greg’s groin.    
   
“Ooh handsome, I have a very naughty surprise for you.”    
   
Greg eased the straps off Ragan’s shoulders.    
   
Ragan lifted her arms out the camisole; the material sagged under her breasts.    
   
“Magnificent.”    
   
Greg lifted one of Ragan’s breasts; he leaned his head upward and kissed the mole under her right breast. He looked up into her eyes.    
   
“I would love to see your surprise.”    
   
Greg palmed Ragan’s upper back and pulled her chest in front of his face. He kissed one breast, and then the other. He suckled on a nipple.    
   
Ragan held her head back. She bent her head downward and kissed Greg on top of his head. Her vaginal walls craved the excitement of his dick inside of her.    
   
“Are you ready for my naughty surprise?”    
Greg inched back, and focused on Ragan.    
“Yes baby.”    
   
Ragan reached over for her handbag and opened it. She took out the four white cords with two long coiled locks attached to the ends. She placed them at her side.    
   
Greg looked at Ragan’s purpose.    
“Are you sure about this?”    
   
Ragan leaned down and kissed Greg on his shoulder blade. Her tongue drifted through a patch of hair that roofed the center of his chest. She looked up into his eyes.    
   
“I’m very sure.”    
   
Greg palmed Ragan’s head and pushed it down to his stomach.    
Ragan lifted off Greg’s groin, palmed his manhood, and kissed the tip of his penis. She reached over for the two cords. Ragan kissed down Greg’s leg, and whirled her tongue around his toes. She wrapped a cord around one of his ankles; she locked the two ends around the bar of the wrought-iron bedpost.    
   
Greg lifted his head from off the pillow. He tried to move his ankle.    
   
“I hope you have a key for that.” He winked at her.    
“After I’m done with you, no key will be needed.”    
   
Ragan locked Greg’s other ankle to another bar of the bedpost. She crawled between his thighs, leaned her head downward, and kissed the beady coarse hairs that dominated his groin region. She slowly climbed on top of him. She positioned her bent knees on the sides of his neck.    
   
Greg pulled aside Ragan’s camisole. He placed his palms on her lower back, and scooted her pussy up to his face. He stuck his tongue inside her womanhood. He sucked her vaginal juices and kissed over her clitoris.    
   
“Oh baby, I could eat your pussy all night.”    
   
Ragan grabbed the top of the headboard.    
   
Greg lifted his head from off the pillow as he furrowed his tongue inside of her.    
   
“Woo… th... that’s enough.”    
   
Ragan scooted her body back. She leaned down and kissed Greg on his lips.    
   
“Ohm, you are so very handsome.”    
   
Greg licked her lips.    
   
“Thank you, baby.”    
   
Why did she hear sincerity in his voice? She cannot go through with this.    
   
“Kill Kill, he made a complete fool out of you. He has a real woman at home who loves him,” the voice echoed in her ears.    
   
Ragan closed her eyes to the harsh voice. She hopes when she reopens them, that she was not back in New Orleans with her adoptive mother and her adoptive abusive father. Ragan opened her eyes. She looked down at Greg’s chest.    
   
“Are you all right?”    
“Yes, I just made a secret wish that you will enjoy this as much as I shall.”    
“Well don’t keep my naughty surprise waiting.”    
“Umm, I won’t.”    
   
Ragan locked Greg’s wrist to the bar of the headboard. She grabbed the last cord from off the bed, and locked his other wrist to the other side of the headboard. She reached inside her handbag and removed the scarf and duct tape. She took out a lighter and a red candle.    
Greg looked on.    
   
“I’ll say that’s a very naughty surprise you have there.”    
“And I will make absolutely sure that you benefit from my kinky loving.”    
   
Ragan lifted the duct tape and rolled it out; she tore a small piece off with her teeth and covered Greg’s mouth with it. She placed the tape on the side of her, and then lifted the scarf and tied it around his eyes. She leaned down and kissed him on his lips. She inched her pelvis up, reached under her buttocks, and stroked his manhood.    
   
“Ummmm.”    
   
Greg wiggled his head. He leaned his head back into the pillow.    
   
“I wonder what your wife would say if she knew that you lie to women about your marital status.”    
   
Greg lifted his head back and grunted through the duct tape.    
   
Ragan lifted the candle and lighter. She lit the long wick and watched the flame flicker. She dropped the lighter back inside her handbag.    
   
“Greg, welcome to my naughty surprise. I hope you kissed your sweet wife goodbye.”    
   
Greg tried to break the confinement of the cords from around his wrists.    
   
“I suggest you do not panic. The more you swarm, the more painful the cords will lacerate your skin. You cheating bastard.”    
   
Ragan leaned the candle over and let the hot wax slowly drip onto Greg’s chest.    
   
“Uuh,” Greg groaned through the tape.    
   
Ragan continued to let the hot wax drip all over Greg’s upper torso.    
   
Greg continued to move his body at the painful droplets.    
   
Ragan blew out the candle and placed it near the side of Greg’s face. She dipped inside the side pocket of her handbag and removed her dagger. Ragan slowly pulled the scarf down and ripped the tape from off his mouth.    
   
Greg blinked his eyes.    
   
“Do you have any last minute confessions you would like to say before you die?”    
   
Greg tried to wiggle his wrists loose.    
   
The cords sliced into his skin.    
   
“Fuck!” His head hit the pillow.    
   
Ragan placed the tip of her dagger’s blade near Greg’s temple.    
   
“You do not have to do this, I have money in my wallet, take…take it.”    
“I’m not a whore.”    
   
Ragan rubbed the tip of the blade across Greg’s forehead.    
   
Greg moved his head sideways to escape a potential nick to his temple. He pivoted his head to look at the bedroom door.    
   
“Help me someone,” he screamed.    
   
Ragan covered Greg’s mouth with her hand.    
   
Greg shook his head to escape his covering.    
   
“Greg, I liked you in the beginning, but just like all the men I’ve fucked. You already have a wife in your bed, but no, you still have an itch to climb into someone else’s bed, my bed. Climb on top of me, insert your big dick inside of me, move inside me, and clench my skin as you reach your filthy release.”    
   
Ragan removed her hand and dug the tip of the dagger’s blade into Greg’s temple.    
   
“Don’t do this, please Ragan,” Greg pleaded. “Please.”    
“And I thought you’ll love my naughty surprise, could it be, because I refused your cock!” She picked back up the tape and covered his mouth with it. “Hum. However, you are very handsome to go too swiftly.”    
   
Ragan leaned forward and licked the blood trickling down the side of Greg’s face. She leaned up. “Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted your touch, or the men that you let touch me in all my private places? I never wanted to submit my mouth to the brutal humiliation of you pumping your dick down my throat. No.” Ragan slapped Greg across his face. “I only wanted your love!”    
   
“Kill Kill,” the voice inside her head became deafening.    
   
“I wondered what your wife is going to think when she wakes up and reads that her unfaithful husband saved her from a life of adultery.”    
   
“This is all for the good baby.”    
   
Was the last sentence Ragan heard floating inside her head. She lifted the dagger above her head and pierced the middle of Greg’s chest.    
   
Greg’s eyes enlarged with shock.    
   
Ragan quickly pulled her dagger out the pit of Greg’s chest.    
   
“Ahu,” Greg grunted, his body repeatedly squirmed.    
   
Ragan raised the dagger once again and shoved it deeper inside Greg’s chest again. “You bastard,” Ragan screamed at Greg. She pulled it back out and repetitively jabbed it into his chest. “You can’t touch me anymore!”    
   
Greg’s blood spattered on the wall and into her face.    
   
Ragan wiped her bloody face with the back of her arm and continued with her silent revenge. She finally leveled her dagger; she looked around the bloody scene. She held her dagger up.    
   
A river of blood dripped from the sharp edge.    
   
Ragan looked down at her blood-soaked camisole; she dropped the dagger on the bed. He will never hurt her again. She removed the tape from off Greg’s mouth, bent her head downward, and kissed him tenderly on the lips.    
   
Ragan looked down at Greg’s still body. She pulled the edge of the bed cover over his face to block the open eyes that stared back at her. She lifted her weight from off Greg’s body and walked over to the table; she took a seat and uncovered a dish.    
   
The food on the plate sickened her stomach.    
   
Ragan drew her knees up to her chest and cried.    
   
No matter how many men she let use her skin for their sickening physical obsession, the voice will never allow her to remain free.    
   
Ragan looked over at Greg’s body. She stood and walked to the bathroom. She slid the bloody camisole down her body and kicked it aside. She grabbed a white towel from off the towel bar and wiped the droplets of blood from out her hair, off her face, and down her arms and hands. She threw the soiled towel on the floor, pulled the shower curtain back, and stepped into the shower. She pulled the shower curtain close and turned on the cold-water faucet knob.    
   
The water cascading over her, funneled the blood down the drain.    
   
Ragan lifted a small bar of soap from off the embedded soap dish, tore off the paper, and threw the paper on the floor of the shower; she rubbed the soap over her body with a raw intensity. She took the soap and quickly washed her hair. She returned the soap to the embedded soap dish and braced her palms on the tile wall; she allowed the water to beat down on her head.    
   
Ragan turned off the shower knob and leaned back against the wall. She took a deep breath and slid the shower curtain back. She stepped out the shower, snatched a towel from off the towel bar, and tied it around her body; she returned to the bedroom.    
   
Ragan looked down at Greg’s body. She walked over to his pants and lifted them. She felt his back pants pocket. She removed his wallet and threw it on the bed. She felt something in his other back pocket. She dug her hand inside and removed the object. She held his gold wedding band up, and then looked back down at Greg’s body.    
   
“I guess death will do you apart.”    
   
Ragan walked to the end of the bed and bent over. She divided Greg’s buttocks and painfully shoved his wedding band up the narrow passage of his rectum. She walked around to the other side of the bed and opened her handbag. She took out a pair of shears and cut the cords from off Greg’s wrists, and then his ankles; she stuffed the bloody cords and shears back inside her handbag. She lifted the candle and dagger, and placed both back inside her handbag.    
   
Ragan leaned over Greg’s body. She reached for his wallet, dropped it inside her handbag, and closed it. She dropped the towel on the floor and lifted the handbag from off the bed; she walked back into the bathroom and placed her handbag on the vanity. She opened her handbag, took out an extra pair of panties, and quickly dressed. She looked around the bathroom and lifted the bloody camisole and towel from off the floor. She lifted her handbag from off the vanity and returned to the bedroom.    
   
Ragan walked over to Greg’s body and dropped the bloody items on top of his chest. She got on the bed and removed the smoke and fire detector from off the wall. Ragan got off the bed, lifted the lighter, and flicked it with her thumb. She placed the flame near the edge of the bed cover and lit it. She stood back and watched the fire consume Greg’s body. She grabbed her handbag and rushed out the bedroom to where she left her pair of Gucci pumps. She picked them up and scurried to the door; she opened it and peeked out.    
   
Ragan pulled the door close and quickly ran to the exit stairwell.    
   
“Shit.” She heavily panted. “Nine more floors, fuck.”    
Ragan heard the fire alarms go off. She took a deep breath and continued down to the next floor.    
   
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