"I told you you'd come back, cherie." Sandrine sat on the couch opposite him as though her body were water. "What can I do for you?" Her eyes were full of suggestion but no promises.
Wolfe took his bijou coat off and sat opposite from the woman. "I'm on the clock, Krásná. No fun, tonight."
"You say that, but I'm getting hungry." Sandrine still kept her hands hooded in her lap, for now. She could get what she wanted with a touch and she knew that he knew that.
"Perhaps we could make a trade? Tit for tat. Whatever these boorish New-Worlders call it." He loosened the floppy tie around his neck and crossed a long leg over the opposite knee. "I'm wondering if you have information about a woman."
"I have information about _many_ women," she replied silkily. "Did you have a particular one in mind?"
"Always." Wolfe pulled a cellphone from his pocket and found the appropriate picture, one with the dead hooker. He handed it over and leaned back, sharp eyes focused on his hostess' reaction.
"Ahhh." It was the kind of ahhh which could have meant just about anything. "She is not looking so well in that photograph."
"She's looked better before?" The tacky makeup and trashy clothes did nothing for him.
"She's looked more lively before," Sandrine replied.
"That's for sure." Wolfe sniffed and took the phone back. "Can you tell me more about her? Where she's from, who she belonged to?"
Sandrine shrugged languidly. "I only know what I've been told. The truth may differ." Of course no one could lie while under her influence, but they have been lied to.
"The truth is always different. What have you been told?"
"Do you know of Ishtar?" Sandrine asked, she was starting to look bored of this line of conversation.
"I've heard of her. She's become rather popular, her holiday with chocolate rabbits and eggs." His disdain for the commercialization of religious observances was apparent.
"No one needs an excuse to chocolate," Sandrine agreed. "This woman, she calls herself Susan. She does her business out there, on the street. I'm sure she has some, how do you say it, agenda?"
"I'm sure she does. Did. Does." English language was so tricky. "Her body disappeared last night. She smelled dead to me, but I came back for her and she was gone. Broke the lock on the freezer from the inside."
Sandrine laughed, low and husky. "She probably was dead. And then she wasn't. It happens."
"But how? People don't often wake up from the eternal slumber." Wolfe stood and began stalking the room. "She belonged to Ishtar, then? Why would she wake the girl?"
"Maybe she was horny," she suggested.
He stopped and rolled his eyes. "Sex isn't always the answer, even if we wish it was."
This made Sandrine laugh. "It is when you're a succubus, cherie. Is there a chance someone helped this girl escape?"
"Not from outside. And not while I was there. Didn't smell anyone else in the area."
"Maybe they didn't have a scent? Surely not everyone does?"
He was behind Sandrine in a flash, a finger wrapped in a lock of her hair. "Everyone has a scent: not everyone smells as good as you."
"Oh? And what do I smell like?" She looked at him through her hair.
Wolfe delicately sniffed the spot behind Sandrine's ear. "Sex. Blood. Power. A few of my favorite things."
"With a little hint of vanilla?" she asked, smiling.
"One of the few good things about the new world." He licked the edge of her ear and smiled. "Alright, tit for tat. What may I do for you, Sandrine?"
She raised a hand to touch his cheek. Skin on skin conveyed just what she wanted. That was all it took to make someone desire her to the exclusion of everything, including common sense.
He made a sound that may have been a growl. Wolfe's sharp teeth caught her little finger for the briefest moment before letting go. "The Little Death... It's too good with you."
"Are you complaining, cherie?" she asked teasingly.
Wolfe responded the only way a man could.
Erin Y - Mr. Wolfe
Mirren H - Sandrine
Wolfe took his bijou coat off and sat opposite from the woman. "I'm on the clock, Krásná. No fun, tonight."
"You say that, but I'm getting hungry." Sandrine still kept her hands hooded in her lap, for now. She could get what she wanted with a touch and she knew that he knew that.
"Perhaps we could make a trade? Tit for tat. Whatever these boorish New-Worlders call it." He loosened the floppy tie around his neck and crossed a long leg over the opposite knee. "I'm wondering if you have information about a woman."
"I have information about _many_ women," she replied silkily. "Did you have a particular one in mind?"
"Always." Wolfe pulled a cellphone from his pocket and found the appropriate picture, one with the dead hooker. He handed it over and leaned back, sharp eyes focused on his hostess' reaction.
"Ahhh." It was the kind of ahhh which could have meant just about anything. "She is not looking so well in that photograph."
"She's looked better before?" The tacky makeup and trashy clothes did nothing for him.
"She's looked more lively before," Sandrine replied.
"That's for sure." Wolfe sniffed and took the phone back. "Can you tell me more about her? Where she's from, who she belonged to?"
Sandrine shrugged languidly. "I only know what I've been told. The truth may differ." Of course no one could lie while under her influence, but they have been lied to.
"The truth is always different. What have you been told?"
"Do you know of Ishtar?" Sandrine asked, she was starting to look bored of this line of conversation.
"I've heard of her. She's become rather popular, her holiday with chocolate rabbits and eggs." His disdain for the commercialization of religious observances was apparent.
"No one needs an excuse to chocolate," Sandrine agreed. "This woman, she calls herself Susan. She does her business out there, on the street. I'm sure she has some, how do you say it, agenda?"
"I'm sure she does. Did. Does." English language was so tricky. "Her body disappeared last night. She smelled dead to me, but I came back for her and she was gone. Broke the lock on the freezer from the inside."
Sandrine laughed, low and husky. "She probably was dead. And then she wasn't. It happens."
"But how? People don't often wake up from the eternal slumber." Wolfe stood and began stalking the room. "She belonged to Ishtar, then? Why would she wake the girl?"
"Maybe she was horny," she suggested.
He stopped and rolled his eyes. "Sex isn't always the answer, even if we wish it was."
This made Sandrine laugh. "It is when you're a succubus, cherie. Is there a chance someone helped this girl escape?"
"Not from outside. And not while I was there. Didn't smell anyone else in the area."
"Maybe they didn't have a scent? Surely not everyone does?"
He was behind Sandrine in a flash, a finger wrapped in a lock of her hair. "Everyone has a scent: not everyone smells as good as you."
"Oh? And what do I smell like?" She looked at him through her hair.
Wolfe delicately sniffed the spot behind Sandrine's ear. "Sex. Blood. Power. A few of my favorite things."
"With a little hint of vanilla?" she asked, smiling.
"One of the few good things about the new world." He licked the edge of her ear and smiled. "Alright, tit for tat. What may I do for you, Sandrine?"
She raised a hand to touch his cheek. Skin on skin conveyed just what she wanted. That was all it took to make someone desire her to the exclusion of everything, including common sense.
He made a sound that may have been a growl. Wolfe's sharp teeth caught her little finger for the briefest moment before letting go. "The Little Death... It's too good with you."
"Are you complaining, cherie?" she asked teasingly.
Wolfe responded the only way a man could.
Erin Y - Mr. Wolfe
Mirren H - Sandrine
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