Andrea Shelly was undeniable, and that made her indestructible. Even now, she looked immaculate. Her dark hair was arranged in a perfect coif. They hadn't allowed her make up for this final show, but she’d washed her face and her features were more than sufficient to get the job done. Though the bright orange of the jumpsuit wasn't the most flattering of colors with her complexion, the orange made her blue eyes sparkle, so she chose to focus on that, meeting eyes with the large, tattooed man who strapped her firmly into the reclining chair. She knew she wasn't imagining the glimmer of desire in his eyes as he tightened the tourniquet around her forearm. He wanted her, and that brought a gentle smile to her lips. Even looking out over the small audience through the two way glass that separated her from her audience, the men there wanted her. They thought themselves above it, sentencing her to death by needle, but when she looked out and met the eyes of the men who held their wives hands devoutly, they gave her that same look. Men had been giving her that look since she was thirteen, when her young body had started to mature. Anything she wanted, she received.
She’d learned early that it wasn't always about what you were wearing or lack there of. What it came down to was how you carried yourself. If she walked into a place like she belonged there, it didn't matter if it was off limits. If she wanted a man and approached him as though he was already hers, she got him. Every time. Because she was undeniable. Until Richard, of course.
From the moment she saw him, she wanted him. He was tall, handsome, and self assured. It didn't matter that he had a ring on his finger, because he was already hers. Even now, as she looked through the glass at him, though he wore what he thought was a solid mask of hatred, she saw beneath it. Desire gleamed bright and undeterred beneath the mask he wore for their audience. But he was a stubborn one. He’d denied her, turned her down flat. For a week she’d followed him, just to learn his routine. She didn't usually go to such lengths, but then again, she’d never been told no before, never been told she couldn't have something she wanted. Her observations had brought her to the conclusion that his reasons for denying her were simply his wife and young son. He doted on them with a nauseating amount of attention that made her almost sick to see.
In fact, it seemed faked.
Andrea had seduced married men before, with quite some ease, in fact. She’d come to the conclusion that married men always wanted to cheat, even if they had to have the idea planted in their heads for them. They always gave in eventually, and swaying them was usually half the fun. But this one was different. She’d worked for a month at swaying Richard, and he’d given all the signs of being ripe for the taking. He’d laughed at her jokes, and his eyes had lingered on all the right places when they talked during board meetings or ran into each other at their workplace. But he’d still turned her down. But Andrea knew that all she had to do was remove whatever was stopping him.
Upon seeing the clearly false affection he lavished on his wife and child, it seemed perfectly clear, almost as though it was a message specifically to her. He WANTED her to get rid of them. Turning her down wasn’t a denial, but a clue. She was clever enough to see the meaning though, and had vowed not to let him down. He would let her have him, but only if she proved herself, only if she did this one thing for him first. Her path had been clear, so she’d followed it.
Richard's wife had been a stay at home mother, watching their four year old while her husband was at work. It took two weeks of watching, and she’d had to quit her job, but Andrea was diligent. For Richard, she watched carefully, until she had the routine memorized. Finally, on one otherwise unimportant Friday, she slipped into the house at three in the afternoon. At that time, Richard’s wife was in the bath, as always, and the child was watching cartoons. They never locked the back door. The son had been easy to dispatch, but the wife had been much more difficult. Andrea hadn’t wanted to go through the trouble to get a gun, so she’d gone in with just a knife. It had done the job, but it was bloodier than she’d expected, and Richard’s wife fought like a true bitch when she saw her son dead.
With all the screaming, it shouldn't have surprised her when the police showed up, and there had really been no questions asked. They'd arrested her, but not before Richard had shown up at the scene. Andrea was the queen of masks, but even she had to admit that she’d been impressed by his acting. His grief and hysterics were so convincing that for a moment, even she had almost believed him. But she would never have betrayed him so much as to give in to that belief. One look into his eyes, and beneath that mask of hate and anger, she knew he was proud of her for reading his messages correctly. And when she’d smiled, beneath his façade of disgust, she’d seen that same look of desire. He was hers.
The nurse or whatever he was took out the needle, and asked Andrea if she would like to say anything else. Most people would have been worried about death, but not her. Even if this body died, it wouldn’t stop her. She’d done what she been asked to do, so somehow, she would get what she wanted. She always did. She simply smiled at the man and shrugged, delighting in the moment of want she saw glistening in his eyes.
As the needle slipped beneath her skin, she simply sighed and looked out, through the glass, until her eyes met Richard’s, full of promise. He pretended to shrink from her gaze, but she held it, just like she knew he wanted her to, and spoke to him and him alone.