Serial Killer Strikes Again

[RedHairedandFriendly]

NPC Jennifer the wanna be real reporter...

Questions flew all around Jennifer when the officer appeared. Her gaze took a double take, expecting to see Hallenbeck. “What the hell?” she muttered. She nudged the reporter beside her. “Whose the new kid?”

“Some wet behind the ears pup, I guess.”

“Hmm...” She muttered and shrugged her shoulders.

That was the first question someone shouted out. “Are you replacing the Lead Detective on this case? Who are you... and Wasn’t Jordan the man that Hallenbaugh let go a few months back... Was his dismissal because of the reports he has been lax on the job?”

Jennifer waited for the Officer to answer those questions and then shouted out her own. “Who is representing Jordan and Cordial? And is it true that she is now walking the streets, because this office failed to process her properly?”

More questions were fired out by several more individuals. “Do you believe her innocent and perhaps she was framed? And...Rumor is we are seeing the works of a copy cat? Has the Killer ever contacted the station? Or the FBI?”

Jennifer wondered which ones the officer would answer and which ones he wouldn’t. She waited with the rest as camera’s flashed and microphones and pencils were held in tight hands.

 

[poohlive]

Trevor grabbed her by her hair, pulling her back to him. His sweaty hard body pressed tightly against hers, as he made her submissive in front of him.

"Down on your knees, you fucking whore."

That's the way he wanted her. She would bend over and he'd fuck her good and hard. His cock could slide easily inside her, pushing in deeper than before. She was going to take it now.

"Come on baby girl, you wanna be good for Daddy, don't you?" He still held her hair, pulling it taut when she tried to move. He licked the beads of sweat from her neck, and then nibbled on her soft flesh. It wasn't enough, he bit harder.

"Baby girl's gonna get fucked now."

 

[Babette_____]

Angelica did as she was supposed to. She moved onto her knees and presented her sex to her father. Her fingers curled into fists as she felt the pain in her scalp and then his bite. It had been ages since she came from a bite, but she did this time. Years of training herself to come when her father sank his teeth into her paid off and she showered herself with nectar.

“Oh Daddy... Daddy I’m sorry,” she whined and shook as she climaxed again. She was in trouble now. Her memories continued to flood her and she shuddered when she felt her father’s breath against her skin.

“I came Daddy... I didn’t mean to.”

Mom always came to early, Dad had told her and so she prided herself on coming when he told her too. Now she was ashamed, she’d failed her father... but Trevor wouldn’t know this, he wouldn’t know that Angelica was lost. Deep inside her mind the woman was there, but she’d been temporarily shackled to the walls of a prison and only the child inside her was allowed to play.

“Forgive me Daddy... forgive me...”

 

[Steiner]

Martin held up his hands in supplication. "Woah, woah, woah. How about you let me take these questions one at a time?"

He took the time to compose himself and started with the easy one.

"I'm Detective Martin Hollander, Homicide department within the Plainfield PD. I am part of the Daddy's Little Girl taskforce, but I'm not heading it and to the best of my knowledge Detective Hallenbeck is still filling that function."

He turned to the next reporter.

"Mister Jordan is, as they say, known to the police department. The particulars and extent of that history are something I'm still looking into myself. Both he and Miss Cordial are currently represented by a Matthew Whittaker."

Martin prepared for the tricky question now, turning to look Jennifer directly in the eyes as he did so. "It's true that there was a procedural error, and that we'll be bringing Miss Cordial back into custody to have her help us with enquiries again. However, she'd been held for some time, in distressing circumstances, and it was deemed humane to allow her some time to recuperate at home." by the end of his statement his eyes had slipped far enough to notice her open buttons, linger there and pop back up to her face like a cork held underwater and released.

He dealt with the next questions in quick fire manner, pointing at the relevant reporters as he answered them.

"In the words of Poirot, I believe nothing and suspect everything. It'll be detective work that decides whether she's framed, innocent or guilty. That and a Jury of her peers. I believe the killer is trying to communicate with us everytime they take a life - we'll have to elevate our thinking until we get the message."


He sat back.

"A few last questions?"

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Jennifer the NPC... or is she????

More questions were fired at the Officer and then Jennifer took an opening that she couldn’t resist and became the center of the field.

“Officer Hollander, are you saying that you suspect Cordial to be involved with the killings and yet you find her sane enough to let her out in society? That seems a bit irresponsible, doesn’t it?”

She tilted her head and placed her mic closer to the young man and leaned in further. “Also, you say the killer is trying to communicate with you through every killing... tell me Officer how many more lives will it take for you to understand?”

The room went silent as they waited for the Officer’s answer.

She smiled warmly as she waited for the answer to two of his statements made earlier. He was a handsome Officer, she kinda felt sorry for being the new guy.

“How many more innocent people will die tonight? Or tomorrow? Or next month? Could Cordial kill tonight? If she does, would you understand her better?”

 

[Steiner]

Martin shook his head. "You missed your calling, Jennifer, I think the stage would have suited you better."

Martin waved placatory hands at the cute reporter with the plunging neckline.

"No, seriously. If I thought that Miss Cordial was a threat in her current state, I'd not have released her. We have a little thing called Due Process in these United States, and I don't think any of us wants the police to be able to lock you up on suspicion indefinitely."

Martin noticed her face was a little skeptical.

"As it is, I detailed a squad car to keep her under observation. I want to make sure that she stays where she should be, and of course I want to protect her from any of our good citizens who add 1 and 1 and get about 64."

Martin smiled, finishing that question and moving to her earlier one.

"Just for clarities sake, I don't mean that the killer is necessarily leaving us notes at each crime scene. I just mean that each killing tells us something about the killer. When we know enough, we'll pounce."


He stood, smoothing his pants legs down and smiling at the gathered press.

"Now, I really do have to get on with my REAL job around here - catching murderers. No further questions , I'm afraid."

He stood with a smile and a nod for the assembled journalists, lingering slightly longer on Jennifer, before turning and walking away.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Jennifer/Samantha - - - and the author with the split personality. . .

Jennifer followed him with her eyes, a smirk rising to her lips. He’d dodged that last question with some line about “clarification” but he never truly answered her question. She knew this as did he, but what he didn’t know, was she was stubborn and would press him further.

As other stayed and chatted she scooted through bodies of early morning news teams and showed her press pass to several officers, pointed to Hollander’s back and kept whispering, “I’m with him.”

They bought it, then again they were a bit distracted and no one really wanted to be scene with a reporter, let alone Jennifer. She finally reached him and matched his pace before launching her question at him again.

“You never did answer that last question. . . How many more killings before you understand the killer and now in your words. . . ‘pounce’ . . ., I assume now that you are sure it is a female? There was speculation on that a while back.”

Jennifer told herself she’d leave him alone, but there was something about tormenting the young man that she found rewarding. Besides, he really did need to answer her question, she told herself, over and over again.


- - - - -

Samantha had watched the news conference with tears in her eyes as small photos of her and Marc were put on the screen. Her fingers clutched the handkerchief in her hand and several times she’d used it. Eventually she tossed it to the side and grabbed the box of Kleenex. How in the world was she going to face the public again?

She’d already gotten a phone call from the Library Administrator and they said they were “down-sizing” and letting her go. Who the hell down sizes a library for goodness sakes! She had drank some hot tea and made herself a bite of breakfast.

She wanted to call her attorney and see how Marc was doing, but she knew that Whitaker was busy and would call her as soon as he was able. She’d call him by noon if she didn’t hear from him sooner. She was going to need driven back to the station, since she couldn’t even make it out of her and Marc’s apartment because of the reporters camped out at their door.

Thoughts ran through her mind as she attempted to pull herself out of the well of despair she was in. She decided she would finish settling into Marc’s apartment and so that was what she did, ignored the phone, allowing the answering machine to pick up and ignored the banging reporters at her door.

Samantha emerged herself in unpacking her belongings and finding places to put things. If she and Marc got out of this. . .no, when she and Marc got out of this they would have a beautiful place to come and relax.

 

[Steiner]

Martin was already thinking about his discussion with Whittaker to come. He was, at least, happy that THEY had mentioned Jordan and Cordial first, not the Police. His own language had been very much "Wait and see. Due process." too. Not prejudicial.

Suddenly he was aware of a scent that was very much out of place in a police station, it was light, feminine and... right next to him. He abandoned his internal dialogue and turned to his left. It was that damn reporter - now merely inches from him instead of seperated by the lights.

She repeated her question - the teasing tone belying the intense look in her eyes. He thought a little before answering.

"Well, Jennifer, I think you've seized on this concept that the killer is communicating a little too singlemindedly. I'm assuming here that he or she is a classic serial killer. Most of them are socially amoral megalomaniacs and many of them are simply acting out against a world they feel ought to revolve around them and doesn't. They revel in the fact that they're smarter than the rest of us, that they have a secret that WE have to puzzle out. Our unsub might well be doing this - but that's a book idea and we're dealing with real lives here, so I'll refrain from theorising until I have more data to go on."

Here he smiled at her, hoping she'd get the message.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Jennifer the NPC...

Jennifer chuckled. “You know all you had to say was.... Jennifer, we don’t know shit about the killer, but we sure hope it doesn’t take another half dozen killings to find her... or him. I’ll let you get back to work and play with the big boys in the water. I’ve got a story to run and find out some things about you, since you seem to be the big man in town. ”

She smiled and winked at him, “You have a wonderful day Officer Hollander, its been a pleasure.”

She slipped her pencil behind her ear and put away her small mic and tape recorder in the tote bag that dangled from her arm. Her thoughts were no focused on how to write up the article for the afternoon paper and the afternoon news cast, she’d have to see if another reporter had gotten the assignment for interviewing Jordan and Cordial.

“I’m sure if there’s another killing then we’ll meet again,” she grinned and headed to the door. She paused dug in her bag again and pulled out a silver wrapped strip. She opened it, popped the juicy-fruit in her mouth and continued on her way, adjusting her blouse as she went.

 

[Steiner]

Martin cupped his hands and shouted down to the door after her. "Hey, you just spent half an hour asking me questions you know damn well there are no answers to yet. Now you want to know about me and you're going to head out and talk to everyone else? Why didn't you just ask me out for lunch?"

Shaking his head, he lifted a hand in farewell and stepped around the secure door on the way to his office.

 

[poohlive]

He slapped her ass, hard. The red mark came almost immediately to her pale skin. It looked beautiful, he did it again on the other side. Matching marks for his beautiful litte cunt. God, he wanted to do so many things to her. He wanted to fuck her, hurt her, turn her into his own piece of property, mark her, brand her, bite her, make her bleed.

All these dirty painful thoughts ran through his mind as he finally just grabbed her fucking hips and let his cock slide all the way inside her slickened folds. It only stuck for just a second, the head pushing in, and then it was smooth as silk the entire way.

She swallowed his shaft, her cunt eager for more.

"Oh that's right you fucking bitch. Look at you take it. Look at what you're doing for your father. Spread open for him, asking him to rape your fucking little cunt. You are nothing more than a whore, a worthless whore for me to use."

God yes, he didn't know where these thoughts came from, why he felt some inane urge to talk down to her, make her feel like nothing more than a worthless, useless piece of fucking meat with a cunt, but he loved it. He loved everything about it.

His hands left her hips once he started a fast pace, and grabbed onto her hair. He made her move against him, her slick folds pushing back onto his cock, the skin tightly wrapped around his shaft, devouring him, letting him go, and then taking it once more.

He pistoned inside her with surprising ease.

"Come on you fucking bitch. Take it, take it for Daddy."

 

[jushorny]

Marc Jordan

Marc didn’t know what to think when Hollander said he free to leave the station, but must remain in the state and must turn over his passport. Passport, hell Marc didn’t even have one, having never traveled outside of the United States. Hollander did make it clear that Sam and I were both still prime suspects in the murder, but it would take some time for them to build a case that would hold up in court.

Matthew Whittaker chuckled and told Hollander he would never be able to bring his clients to court on this murder charge. He requested Hollander provide Marc transportation back to his place and also requested that Sam be called and told to wait there, that there was no need for her to come to the station, especially with all the press wandering around.

Marc asked his lawyer to ride with him to his place. Marc could not believe they were letting him go and did not trust the police. But, what they had said was true and before long Marc and Matthew were lead down a flight of stairs into the official underground parking garage, used by the police only. Marc’s mouth dropped open when the squad car hit the street and he could see the throng of media out front. His stomach became knotted and turned to look at his lawyer. Whittaker, sensing his panic, told Marc to relax, it would all work itself out.

Marc entered his place through the back way, steering clear of any reporters that might be camped out waiting for Sam to emerge. When he walked in he saw Sam, placing things on the mantle of the fireplace. He stepped over the flattened boxes, making his way towards her to let her know they would be alright. He called out her name.

“Sam…Sam I am so sorry,” He said as she turned, their arms enveloping each other.

 

[Babette_____]

Angelica felt every slap he delivered to her soft skin and every word he uttered brought her past rushing back to her. The driving force of her father using her young body, her mother’s glare when she caught them. Even the memories of Angelica’s jealousy when she learned her father was still fucking his wife and had lied to her, telling her she was the only slut he needed.

“Come inside your bitch, Dad,” she begged her lover. She refused to look back at the man taking his own needs and wants and placing them before hers. If she did it would be over. Dad would no longer be there, right now the man pounding his way through her was simply the same man who did if for so many years she’d sometimes pray to lose count of them.

As he took possession of her, pulling her hair, slapping her, degrading her with his sex and his words, Angelica felt the heat of her pussy again light up and flare to life.

“Fuck me! Oh fuck I’m going to come again Daddy. Please come with me Daddy. I want to come with this time.”

She pushed back into him, her muscles squeezing his cock and locking him in tight inside the warm blanket of her sex. Every throb that was felt, ran through her sister at a frenzied pace.

 

[poohlive]

It wasn't until he came for her, driven by rage and power and her own silken words guiding him forward, as her cunt guided his cock, that he realized just what he was doing.

He erupted inside of her. The cum rushed from him, spilling into her womb. At once he pushed in deeper, his body spasming involuntarily from the moment. Every part of him weakened, as he fell on top of her. His cock buried inside her, still twitching, still releasing spider's tendrails of cum inside her.

There was nothing he could have done. She had pushed him soo far, and his own mind created this sick fantasy. What else was there, to keep going, to find out what would happen, to push it even further.

And yet, where did it all leave? A fantasy, a sick fantasy that wasn't supposed to happen? Making it a game where hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of little girls experienced such horrors themselves.

God, and he was the instigator. People like him, people who started out with these simple little fantasies, and then went further. He would need someone younger, someone who'd just turned 18. Someone he could pretend was another age, a younger age.

And then?

And then he would be the creepy guy with a newspaper, hanging around parks and playgrounds. Only to disappear the moment Missing Posters started popping up everywhere.

Good god, he was no better than Daddy's Little Girl. Here he was, some fucking super hero, trying to solve the case with a few xeroxed police reports, and in the end, he had turned into her. A damned and poor excuse for a human being.

When he gathered his strength back, Trevor moved to Angelica's side, holding her, kissing her forehead.

He could see satisfaction in her eyes, and was glad.

But, only frustration remained in his own.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

The morning press conference was long over and Samantha was in the arms of her lover, by noon. She melted against him, holding him closer and then smothering him in kisses. It took him some time to calm her down and explain that they were under 24 hour surveillance, and would have to stay in the city, but for now they were out of jail. She stayed in his arms as he pulled her to the bedroom.

“Lay down and rest with me,” she whispered to him and lay down on the thick mattress and warm blankets.

“You need to rest. I know you have been up longer than I. I’ll stay and hold you.”

Her arms opened wide and she pulled him to her. “Sleep baby. I don’t want to think of what is going on right now in this sick fairy tale, I just want to breath in the scent of you.”

Samantha scooted over, and rolled toward him to bury her face in his chest. “I love you,” she whispered.

 

[jushorny]

Marc & Sam

Marc awoke a few hours later with Sam still in his arms, her face still on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair, not wanting to wake her, feeling very lucky they were together. He wondered how he was going to get them out of this situation. He hoped the authorities would eventually figure out that neither Sam nor himself had anything to do the murder of Deb and Brian, but he also wondered if they would actively look into the case in that manner.

He slid from her side, making a coffee before heading to the shower. The hot water felt good on his body as Marc tried to sort everything in his head. Both were out of a job, at least until their names were cleared, the media would be actively seeking them out, there didn’t seem to be many options.

Finishing his shower he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed to his cell phone. It was much longer of a conversation with Ken, his boss, than he wanted, but Marc knew it had to be done. Marc explained everything he knew about what was happening, even that he understood why Ken had to let him go, at least for now. Marc and Ken had become quite close over the last year and Ken completely believed in Marc, letting him know he would do anything he could to help.

When Marc hung up he felt much better. Ken had agreed to let Marc and Sam stay at his lake house until things had calmed down. Next Marc called Matthew Whitaker to inform him of where they would be heading, being only on the outskirts of Plainfield, Matthew thought it was a good idea. He said he would be in contact with Marc as soon as he had new information.

Having finished his business for now, Marc headed back into the bedroom, crawling under the sheets and back against Sam’s warm soft body.

 

[Babette_____]

“See baby, not that bad is it?” she whispered, pulling him down and kissing him hard and fast. Her hands moved up his spine and back down again. She glanced at the time and sighed.

“Trevor, stay the night, its way to late or is that early??”

She kissed him again and whispered, “Thanks babe, I needed that.”

Slipping from the bed, she stretched her neck muscles and headed to the bathroom. She showered, washing away the essence of their fuckfest and brushed her teeth, gargling with the harsh and burning mouthwash. When she stared back at the woman in the mirror it was no longer Daddy’s Girl, or his Slut, it was simply Angelica Winters, entrepreneur of her own antique shop, former Museum Curator.

Walking back into the room, she smiled over at the man on her bed. “Shower’s yours. I can grab a few winks before I have to open the shop and I’ll drive ya back there if you want.”

She slid back into bed, kissed him again and ran her fingers down his length. “There are other kinks I have. I like you Trevor. I say this because I want you to know one other thing about me. You are my only lover. I don’t have a need for another man in my bed, if you keep satisfying me. But that comes with one condition,” she gripped his balls, letting her nails bite into them, “don’t cheat on me.”

Her hand came away and slipped back up to his neck. “Okay? You don’t cheat on me with another and we can keep fucking. Deal?” she asked, her lips just inches away from his.

 

[Tseranc]

Bruce had made it to the station just before 1pm, after having finally drank and smoked away the memories of a dream. A dream where he was alone again….and oddly enough it bugged him.

Pulling one long last drag on the third cigarette of the day, crushing it out just before walking into the station’s foyer. He remembered the desk sergeant from some months ago…and it seemed he remembered agent woods too…and quickly found some other place to be. Urgent business Bruce was sure.

Proceeding on, it sure looked like the Martin kid had gone home, so Bruce took his desk and started thumbing through the files. He could use another coffee, but too many busy bodies were around for him to properly flavor it, so he’d have to suffer for now.

“What a damn mess…” he muttered to himself as he looked over the latest chapter, involving Ms. Samantha Cordial and Mr. Marc Jordan. They weren’t guilty last time, not a shred of evidence to link them to the earlier break in, but now they had an abundance of perfect little proofs.

He waved down a passing uniform, looked her up and down, smiled, “Hey, could you be a sweetheart and go down to the evidence room and bring me the everything from the break in about 3 months ago…yes the one where the bodies were just found murdered.”

She didn’t fall for his charm…and promptly told him if he had clearance he could go look his damn self.

Fine. He grabbed a cup of ‘coffee’ on his way down to the evidence room, at least that was in a more remote hall, where he could put a little kick in his drink….

 

[Steiner]

Martin surfaced from a bad motel bed at about 14:00 and quickly showered. The business with the press was bothering him and he was feeling a bit shellshocked by his first day.

He'd caught enough sleep to look human, and he figured it was probably time to show the rubes how homicide worked downtown. Dressing quickly he leaped in his cheap station issue car and drove the 8 blocks to work.

Sauntering up to his office he was surprised to find his meticulously organised desk looking like a Grizzly bear had searched it for food. There was no shortage of people happy to tell him the culprit - and it took Martin less than two minutes to track down Agent Woods.

Martin stuck his head around the door and was surprised to see the agent hard at work. Taken by surprise, Agent Woods almost looked competent and Martin began to feel a little happier about his situation.

"Afternoon, Agent Woods. What are you working on?"

 

[Tseranc]

“Hey kid, just getting spun up on the case.” He flopped some manila folders back into a box, and closed it. “So, you have a man and woman, who were never charged with a break in, but are now being held, barely, for suspicion of murder. We didn’t have evidence for shit for the break in, and it’s the only time that the serial killer out and out claimed the work – a break in. So months later they get killed, horribly in their own apartment. That story doesn’t add up worth shit.”

He put the lid on the box, finding nothing he didn’t already know. “Our killer, is incredibly intelligent…remember that rooky above all else. They have never left a print, a bit of tissue, or anything. They do their killing off sight and dump the body where they want it to be found. Those are the points you need to keep in your head the next few days son…not that you have two folks being held under suspicion.”

He stomach grumbled loud enough to nearly startle him. “Shit I forgot to eat…you know of anything good around here? You’re driving.”

 

[Steiner]

"I've been here about two days, myself, but I'm sure there's a steak joint on main street. There almost always is in podunk shitholes like this."

Martin led the way out to his car and climbed into the drivers seat. As Woods climbed in, Martin turned to him.

"You know, you're so right. There's never been any proof that DLG was anything other than a highly efficient, meticulous loner. Suddenly we have enough evidence to put OJ away for this killing - and two suspects. The only thing I'm even remotely considering is a copycat - but even that's looking weak.

Still, that says some pretty scary things about our unsub, doesn't it, Agent?

 

[Tseranc]

“Yeah, gotta love the small town charm.” He muttered. The car pulled into a steakhouse…some chain that Bruce didn’t even bother to remember. The food would be adequate, and from the tone the conversation had taken, so might be the company.

Seated, he quickly grabbed a passing waitress, never caring if she were assigned their table, and ordered the largest meal he found in his 36-second inspection of the menu, and a beer.

“We need some room to work this one out…better then the conference room they gave us last time if you can manage. Without a huge task force, we can keep the space smaller, but I Do need to spread my work out so I can take it all in, if you know what I mean.”

He beer came, and he downed half of it in the first swig. “If this is a copycat it’s not another serial event…is a cover up to place the blame on a killer that is in the media’s eye. So, find a list of anyone who might ever want one, or both of our victims dead, and we’ll have suspects. Use the two you have in hand to get more information…we know they at least knew the victims. Maybe they know more about them and might share that with us if their leash were loosened a bit.”

 

[Steiner]

Martin nodded. "The chief is going to try and pressure me to prosecute this Marc guy. I don't think we have enough evidence to do that, that isn't fingerprints and lab samples. We might get lucky - but we can't guarantee a thing."

He chewed and swallowed.

"You know what frightens me? That I'm going to check the detailed lab report and find out that the murders are classic DLG's except for the DNA evidence. Like - the handedness and so forth check out. The idea that DLG knows those two and wants them to tke the heat is a little scary."

 

[Tseranc]

Bruce set down the beer he had just begun to lift to his lips. The kid was onto something….maybe. The thought rolled around for another moment, and he began pulling in the facts to apply to this new wild theory.

“I was too focused on physical evidence to see it….!”

He stabbed at the table with his finger to drive home his words, “I never thought about it actually being DLG who did it, I was too worried about how these two couldn’t be the killer.” He hushed his voice and explained himself.

“These victims and the rest were all killed by a left handed person, in a gruesome way that involved their restraint. We’re pretty sure we don’t have the right folks to because the perp doesn’t leave shit behind. Well if we’re already assuming that the evidence we have was planted, it still fits that nothing of value was picked up either. Your boys found exactly what was needed, and not one thing to deter from it. Not one sloppy print, no extra hairs – only what the police would need and nothing more. Follow?”

Just then the waitress brought the food, and Bruce’s eye lit up. He stopped talking, thanked the woman, and began eating. He was three bites into his steak before he resumed.

“None of this is provable, since you can’t prove shit with out evidence, and this possibility is based on the lack of evidence matching a pattern. I say you left your chief go nuts on those two…since he loves the big media show. Let the world think we think we got the bad guy. No use tipping our hand to this if we are right.”

 

[southern_pixie]

As Shelly packed up her bags for her trip to Plainfield she had a strange feeling, like she shouldn't be going to meet Bruce. She couldn't tell if it was anticipation or aprehension. Was she just running to him because she could.

Shelly wandered around her apartment trying to get her head together.

"he has changed" she kept repeating to herself, although trying to convince herself rather than the non-existant people on the room with her.

She switched all the lights off in her apartment picked up her case which she had packed carefully selecting items of "clothing" she knew Bruce enjoyed her wearing and shut the door behind her. She walked quickly to her car, she was going to enjoy her time in Plainfield going to the bars and clubs and just letting her hair down while spening time with Bruce - She was sure of it!