Peppermint Red

This story is in serious need of a rewrite, I'll post a new version soon.

Rich charity events had never been Jonah's thing; even as he sat in his car outside the building, he felt out of place. If anything he was meant to stand out, after all he was the than man who'd bested Mr. Mint. Blending in didn't seem like much of an option for the night, he'd been told everyone wanted to meet the man who'd murdered a serial killer.  
So with the company of yet another long sigh he pushed open the car door and stepped out, shutting the door behind him only to turn back, kerchief in hand, and polish the nearly invisible fingerprints left on the car door. Satisfied, he pocketed it once more and looked over the car with a faint smile. The car was an old black Ford without even the tiniest scratch or dent; in fact it looked almost as if it'd just been driven off the lot. After finishing his quick search for any last marks to buff he checked his pocket for his keys, once, twice, three times, then made his way through the hall's expansive entrance.
The hall was so big that despite the large crowd of people inside, it looked almost empty. It was lavishly decorated, tables adorned with gold and silver cloths, marble pillars were wrapped in golden ivy, serving staff waltzed around in finely tailored suits passing out champagne to anyone who wasn't quite drunk enough to laugh at the boring stories being told. Large buffet tables stood against the back walls each covered in silver serving trays filled with various fancy and probably expensive morsels. Soft music cut through the idle chatter, and towards the back a few older gentleman and their young dates shuffled awkwardly to the melody. Jonah was just about to stop one of the servers and ask for the first of many drinks when a petite gloved hand came to rest on his shoulder.
"Mr. Jonah Gladrye, I presume?" He turned, expecting the first of the many ugly annoying woman he'd be avoiding that night, only to be pleasantly surprised. For a brief moment Jonah couldn't help but stare; she was an unexpectedly beautiful woman. She was tall and slim and had the type of body that seemed to exist only in magazines. She wore a slinky red V-neck dress that left little to the imagination. If her body wasn't enough her face sold it, deep brown eyes with ruby red lips just begging to be kissed, all perfectly framed by long curled amber locks. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be as bad as he'd expected.
"I didn't expect anyone to recognize me here." He replied after suddenly remembering to stop gawking long enough to answer the question.
"Really? Your face has been all over the papers, did you really think you'd escape without talking to someone?" she said, chuckling.
"Maybe it was more of a hope than an expectation."
"Now that's a bit more honest. Though I'm sure some part of you must enjoy the attention, having people falling over themselves to hear your tale."
"I can't say I do." he remarked with a sigh. "You wouldn't happen to be one of those people would you?".
"Maybe."
"What makes you think you'll get my story when others have tried?"
At that she grinned and took a step closer to him. "Well I'm sure you've already taken notice, but I am, a very beautiful woman."
"A compelling argument."
"Is that a yes then?"
"Not quite."
"Aw, no fun." She replied, lifting her hands up to loosen his tie while she peered up into his eyes. "Just the beginning?"
"I suppose I could share a bit." The woman's face lit up immediately and with a faint smile he clasped his hands together tightly."Well it was on Christmas night as you probably already know. Although I'm usually at home for the holidays one of my patients called me, he was having some family trouble and needed my support. So instead I was at the office with him, I ended up staying there talking it out for most of the night. I imagine it must have been at least midnight when we finished and I went out to my car to go home for the night. I had just started up my car when I heard a scream from a nearby alley. I got out to investigate, and looked around for the source. When I found the two of them,  I had no idea what to do. There was a young woman, and a man stood over her covering her mouth. At first I didn't know who it was, at least until I saw the axe in his hand."
"How frightening..." the mystery woman commented with a smile, "Well then, what did the Brave Hero do next then?"
Jonah feigned a chuckle before continuing "To be honest I wanted to run away, I'm not a fighter and I had no interest in fighting a serial killer. But just as I considered running away and calling the police the woman turned and saw me, and when ours eyes met I didn't have the heart to leave her there. I just ran at him, I hoped that my presence would be enough to scare him away. Sadly, it wasn't. I don't remember much of the fight and before I knew what was going on I was on the ground, and something hard hit me from behind before--"
Out of no where a tall, lavishly dressed woman broke through the crowd, "Jonah, there you are, I've been looking all over for you." She snatched Jonah's arm as she went and effectively pulled him away before he could say a word. When she finally stopped he opened his mouth to complain, only to have two  fingers pressed firmly against it.
"Hush! No time for talking, I have so many people interested in meeting you." Again Jonah found himself dragged away before he had a chance to protest. Although this time, already aware that he was fighting a losing battle, he let her pull him along without complaint. Elly Devoy was not an easy person to say no to; he'd only known the woman for about a week, but in that time she'd convinced herself they were the closest of friends. Jonah found he hadn't had the heart, to tell the woman what he really thought of her; boorish, rude, loud, and that piercing voice of her's certainly didn't help her case much either.
"Margaret there you are. Dear come and meet Mr. Gladrye. You know he's the man who fought Mr. Mint." The more she spoke the more Jonah found himself drifting further and further out of the conversation. Fortunately that wasn't too much of a problem; Elly was more than happy to do all the talking for him. In fact when he finally did speak up he found one of her heels landing squarely on his foot. She claimed it was an accident, but he had his suspicions.
It seemed like hours had passed before the opportunity for escape finally arose. While Elly was distracted scolding the poor man who'd spilled wine on her dress, he took that opportunity. Blending in with a small group of men that passed he made his brave escape. After recovering, Jonah calmed himself with a glass of champagne and sat at one of the empty tables, taking care to duck his head whenever he saw anyone who resembled that deplorable woman.
It was on one such occurrence, just as he was considering an early exit, that his peaceful hiding place was invaded by a familiar face.
"Boo."
Jonah jolted up, expecting the worst and ready to make a break for it. Who cared about public embarrassment? If he spent another moment with that woman he was sure to become a killer himself. Yet before he got to his feet a small hand grasped his shoulder, and he looked up into the familiar brown eyes of the evening's mystery woman.
"You..." he murmured, relaxing as she lifted her hand from his shoulder and rested her chin upon her intertwined fingers.
"Me..." 
"I expected you'd have gone looking for a new story by now."
"Well I'm still here aren't I?"
"I guess I shouldn't bother asking what you're doing here then."
"Well I'm sitting with you."
"You don't give anything away."
She shook her head and laughed. "It's bad business to give things away for free."
"So you're a business woman then?"
She laughed again and shrugged. "Sometimes."
"Could I at least get your name? My story must be payment enough for that."
She paused a moment and thought, lips curving up into sly smirk while she thought "It could be." She began, leaning forward as if to divulge some marvelous secret only to sit back again a moment later. "If it were finished."
"The entire story for just one name? Isn't that a bit costly?" he asked, and once again she was forced to stop and think.
"True," she replied, then once again leaned across the table, reaching up to toy idly with his scarlet tie. "How about, the middle of your story for my name, and the end of your story for a kiss?" The light tug on his tie that followed made it clear that a kiss might not be all he'd receive from her if he played his cards right that night. Jonah found himself choking down a rare nervous cough as he nodded. After all, what man would turn down an offer like that? 
"Well... uh where was I?" he wondered.
"You were knocked out by our killer, I believe. Though just a moment, I have a request."
"What sort of request?"
"For you to tell me what really happened, no more of this dumbing it all down with boyish commentary as if I were a twittering old woman or a childish young girl. If I'm paying you for your story I want a good one, with all the details, no matter how terrible. Especially now. Understand?"
Jonah found himself stunned a moment but gave a slow nod. "I guess that's resonable." he replied. "I'll give you the story you want."
To his slight dismay the woman laughed, but he chose to ignore it and instead began. This time taking care to tell her the true story, beginning from his imprisonment at the hands of Mr. Mint.   
He woke up tied to a metal folding chair in the middle of an empty room. The room, lit by only by a single florescent light that shook and flickered maddeningly along with each footstep from above. He struggled to get free and looked down at the ropes tying him down only to find his shirt covered in blood. For a moment he panicked thinking it was his own, but with no severe injuries to speak of he soon realized the blood was not his, but that of the young lady he'd seen before. If the blood on his own shirt didn't prove it, the blood on his host's did as he discovered when the shaking light above him stilled and the man finally stepped through the door.
Mr. Mint wasn't an ugly man, if anything he was normal looking, and had a pleasant smile tainted only by the drops of blood that had fallen beside his mouth. He was, if anything, friendly, or at least more so than anyone would expect a serial killer to be.
"I'm sorry you got caught up in this. Mr.... uh?" He spoke as if it were all nothing more than a simple fender bender.
"Mr. Gladrye sir, Jonah Gladrye." Jonah answered, trying desperately not to sound as scared as he really was.
"Ah Mr. Gladrye then, nice to meet you." As he spoke the man offered a handshake, only to pause a moment later and take it back with a sheepish grin. "Oh sorry about that, I'd untie you but with the way you attacked me earlier that seems like a bad idea. Not like you fared very well in the first place."
He kept on like that for awhile, as if he was a friendly neighbor instead of a terrible killer, and Jonah let him do it too afraid to say anything else. He couldn't help but hope Mr. Mint might forget about the entire thing and just let him go. He avoided the subject for so long, they talked about the weather, sports, even women. However, eventually treading on eggshells turned out to be more maddening than anything else, and he finally asked the question he'd been avoiding all night.
"Why are you keeping me alive?" Considering the suddenness of the question, he must have caught him off guard for he took a long time to answer after that, but when he did he still had that bizarre neighborly act to him.
"Why it's Christmas, Mr. Gladrye, can't a guy show some compassion on Christmas?" he asked with a smile. "Though if you want to die now I suppose I could go upstairs, wash the blood off my axe and come back down with it in a few minutes." 
"No!" Jonah replied, probably faster than he should have. Mr. Mint was silent again, before he walked over to the corner of the room behind Jonah and returned with another metal fold up chair. He opened it in front of him then sat on it backwards with his arms crossed over the headrest.
"To be honest, I'm not really keeping you alive just out of some misguided Christmas spirit. You're a psychologist, right?" he asked.
"Well yes, but how'd you know?" Jonah asked.
"I'm actually quite interested in the field of psychology, I've read quite a few case studies in my day, some of them yours. They're not bad."
"Why would you read case studies?"
"Is that so odd? Everyone wants to know more about themselves. I just take the easy route and learn about other people instead." 
"Other people?" 
"Other killers, Mr. Gladrye. Other killers. I figured that'd be pretty obvious given my profession. Anyway I've strayed from the point. For all I learn from them case studies can only teach me so much about myself, and I want to learn more. So... why don't you take a crack at me?" He asked with a grin.
"What do you mean?"
"Well I've never had a real therapy session before. Or at least, not one where I could be honest that is, and from what I've read you're pretty good at what you do, you are, aren't you?"
"I'd like to think so."
"Well then, lets have a session, just you and I."
Jonah stopped, confused. Mr Mint just smiled at him, a light hearted smirk incredibly ill-suited for a serial killer asking his victim for a free therapy session before he brutally murdered them. Despite himself Jonah couldn't help but be irritated by the killer's calm amused grin, the grin of a man who knew he was in complete control of everything, the grin of a man who didn't have a care in the world, the grin of the man who was thoroughly enjoying himself. While Jonah was made to sit and squirm, and play the killer's games, until the man grew bored and finally separated him from his head. 
""Why would I want to give a free therapy session to the man who's going to murder me?" Jonah asked irritably.
"Well..."Mr mint stopped there, tapping his chin thoughtfully a moment as he searched for his answer.  
"Well, wouldn't you like to know how I work?"
"Why would I want that?"
"Well, I mean, personally I know I'd want to know all I could about the guy who was going to kill me, wouldn't you?" Jonah couldn't help but wince at the word kill, his nerve shrunk at the sound of what he had already known finally confirmed. He didn't want to play into the deranged killer's game, he wanted to spit in his face and stand proud. Unfortunately he also wanted to live, but maybe this was a good opportunity, a chance for escape, or at the very least a few more moments of precious life. Not to mention Mr. Mint had a point, Jonah was in actuality, a bit curious about his future murderer, and so with a nod he agreed. 
"Excellent!" The killer exclaimed, and clapped his hands together once before standing. "Well I suppose you want to know why I do what I do, correct?" He asked but didn't give Jonah a chance to reply before answering himself. "There are so many reasons I do what I do. So many particulars in every little action, every little decision, the tiniest details can make such a large difference in the whole grand scheme of things. Whether it's a victim, a set up, or even life itself. How can I explain all that?" He asked, calm demeanor lost to his own sudden excitement.
"Perhaps, you should start at the beginning?" Jonah asked.
"The beginning?"
"Yes. Your childhood perhaps? That's where most of my patients like to start."
"My childhood? Oh yes, of course. Well I was an only child, raised by two parents in a low income family. My father was a drunkard, and abused my mother when the mood hit him. I--"
"Wait, stop stop." Jonah interrupted, much to Mr mint's apparent surprise. He gave him a questioning look, and Jonah was quick to explain.
"Didn't you say you wanted a real therapy session where you could be honest?" He asked.
"I am being honest."
"Yes but you aren't telling the truth either." Again all Jonah got for an answer was another confused look.
"It's like you're reading your history out of a book, you're disconnecting yourself from it, most likely because you don't want to lose your cool here, and your afraid if you tell it as it really was you won't be able to handle yourself." Jonah found that even as he spoke he wasn't entirely sure of what he was doing, but what he did know was that if he wanted even the slightest change of escape he had to had to break the killer's eerie calm, even if only for a moment. Yet despite his determination he couldn't help but regret his outburst when for a long moment after all he got for an answer was a blank stare. Then just when he was about to bumble out an apology, much to his surprise Mr. Mint began to laugh.
"Wow, when I said you were good I didn't think I'd get to see so soon. Very good. Alright you've caught me, how do you per-pose I share my tale?" He asked. 
"Well you were the one who said that life was full of tiny particulars, tell me about those. Not the big picture that made you, but the tiny particulars that made you instead."
"Alright then, lets start again." he commented with a smile, stretching in his chair before continuing.
"As I mentioned my father was a drunkard, it seemed like the only thing he loved more than his liquor was beating my mother. Sometimes he liked to give reasons for it, sometimes she was too loud tucking me into bed, or sometimes she was too slow getting him a drink, but most of the time he wouldn't even bother with a reason. I remember one of those times I asked him why, do you know what he told me? He said he did it because he liked it, because it was fun for him to see her cry, to see her hurt, to see her bleed. My father was a monster, a raging beast who haunted my mother's every step and made her shake at the boom of his every call. But once a year, for one special day, he wasn't his monstrous self. On that day there were no beatings, no tears, just a quaint peaceful  happiness that I imagined most other families shared each and every day. Can you guess what day that was Mr. Gladrye?"
Silently Jonah shook his head no.
"Christmas, Christmas was my mother's favorite time of year, a time where she was allowed to ignore all that was wrong in her life, in our life, and just be happy for one day. She would dress herself up and wear her favorite lipstick as she decorated the house in holly, hung mistletoe, put up our little plastic tree, and best of all hung peppermints everywhere she could. Not that they lasted long, as a child I would eat them up any chance I got."
He paused a moment then and looked up from the floor and at his captive. "Do you like peppermints Mr Gladrye?" He asked.
Jonah shrugged his shoulders in response. "I suppose so."
"Really? I adore peppermints, I always have. In fact I think I might have a few in my pocket." As he spoke he reached into his coat pocket smiling like a kid at Christmas when he pulled out three peppermints. "Would you like one?" He asked.
"No thank you." Jonah already knew about how Mr. Mint left his victims, in fact after that night he doubted he''d ever want to eat a peppermint again.
"Suit yourself." Mr. Mint said with a shrug, before unwrapping one and popping it into his mouth.
"Anyway, my father always left my mother be on Christmas, except for one year. One year, when I was eight years old, my father came home late on Christmas night, drunker and angrier than I'd ever seen him before. He said nothing, didn't yell or shout, he just grabbed my mother by her hair and dragged her to the upstairs bedroom and locked the door behind them." Mr. Mint stopped for a long moment before, without a word, he stood up and walked across the room, facing the opposite wall so Jonah could no longer see his expression.
"I don't know what happened behind those doors, but I know that my mother screamed the whole night long. I remember hiding curled up beneath my sheets in those hours, wishing so desperately that he would stop, or that she would just stop screaming. By the end of it, I wasn't even sure which I wanted to stop more, all I wanted to do was go to sleep and forget all of it. When midnight came and my father finally slept, my mother crept into my room made me pack my things and took me away. We escaped together that night, took the car and drove as far as a tank of gas would take us and then got out and walked. We walked until we came upon a motel, and behind it's closed doors my mother despaired."
"Why? I thought the two of you were free?" Jonah ventured.
He finally turned around at that question, smile gone and calm mocking demeanor lost to a sudden sadness that had crept up on him as made himself remember what he'd hoped he could forget.
"Because she knew my father better than that. She knew he would follow her, she knew he'd be angry, and she knew she'd be punished. And I think that maybe, maybe a part of her was upset she was leaving him. Somewhere beneath all her fear, and all her pain, I think she still loved him and couldn't bare to leave him, and that's why she went back to him. She didn't take me with her that night, instead she took me to the bathroom and sat me down in the tub, leaving behind a bag a peppermints and promising me more as long as I was silent. I was always a good child so without a word I obeyed. I was silent even when she was gone for hours, even when she came back along with my father, even when I heard him yell and heard her scream, I never said a word."
"So, what did you do?" Jonah cautiously ventured.
Mr. Mint turned to him once more, and his calm sullen appearance fell apart. He paced over to Jonah and leaned forward on the chair, his face mere inches from his face as Mr. Mint's icy mint breath invaded Jonah's senses completely.
"Nothing! I didn't do a thing. I listened to her scream and didn't say a word or move a muscle. I don't even know if I was just obeying her, or if I was too afraid. I just sat and watched as she ran in through the bathroom door, as he followed after her with his big red axe. And while I stared in terrified silence he drove that big red axe into her neck over and over again. And still all I did was watch, watch as her screams died, as she died, as I died." He stopped on those last words suddenly realizing himself. Without a word he let go of the chair, turned, and walked back up the stairs. Leaving Jonah alone wondering whether or not he'd just succeeded in getting himself killed even faster.
The mystery woman stared at Jonah with rapt fascination, engaged fully in the dark tale, still holding his tie gently in her hand. He stopped and smiled, then gently lifted his tie from her grasp. She pouted and leaned back again.
"Well? That can't be it," she complained.
"It isn't, but I was promised a name for my efforts. Besides it's getting late and the end of this story is better saved for a more comfortable place," he said. The woman's pout lingered a moment before she finally gave in and smiled again.
"Well I suppose you're right. My name is Arien, Arien Lemore." She held out a hand for him to kiss. "It's been a pleasure to meet you. Now, can we be on our way?"
Jonah nodded and stood, locking arms with her as the two of them made their way out of the lavishly decorated hall and back into his little black car. As if she had not been clear enough before, now that they were away from prying eyes she seemed suddenly focused on making her intentions for the night all the more clear as he drove them home. Although not entirely disagreeable it made concentrating on the road all the more difficult, even for a focused man like him. Still the two made it to his small home without incident and although her nibbling on his ear did make opening the door in the dark a bit harder than it needed to be, he managed it without too much trouble and finally stepped inside.
Arien still held him as he shut the door behind them, fingers running through the back of his hair while his keys dropped into a small bowl clinking lightly against the two peppermints at it's bottom.
"A little small for such a well off man." she commented as she finally separated herself from him and explored the small living space on her own.
"I live alone, I don't need that much room" He said with a shrug, pulling off his dress jacket and hanging it off a brass hook on the door.
"If I were rich I'd want the biggest house possible..." She mumbled, more to herself than to him while she continued to poke around on her own. It was a simple space and kept very clean, a red couch stood in front of the window while beside it sat a pair of wooden end tables both topped neatly with a three books each. The carpet below was white, without a speck of dirt, and a pair of black arm chairs sat off in the corner by a short bookshelf. Then, satisfied, she sat down on the couch and waited while Jonah shuffled around in the small kitchen and returned with two glasses of wine. She murmured her thanks as she accepted her glass, sliding closer to him after he took a seat before her fingers once more reached up to toy with the end of his tie.
"Now, you were telling me a story weren't you?" she asked.
"That I was." He answered, setting down his glass and continuing where he'd left off almost an hour before.
It took a long while for Mr. Mint to come back downstairs, each second marked by Jonah's own terrified heartbeat. Jonah tried to keep himself calm, convincing himself that Mr. Mint's outburst was a good thing, it meant he had a weakness, that he could get to him. Jonah told himself he could survive, as long as he stayed calm and thought clearly. Yet despite what he told himself when he heard Mr. Mint at the top of the stairs, his heart beat so hard in his chest he was sure that the other could hear it from above.
If Mr. Mint did hear it he made no mention of it when he finally opened the door into the basement. His anger had faded and yet his calm smile was still gone, instead he simply looked worn out, as if he'd suddenly remembered how tiring it was to forget all that haunted him. Cautiously Jonah broke the silence that had fallen between them.
"It sounds like you've been through something terrible. It may seem odd coming from me, but I am sorry for your loss." he said. When Mr. Mint heard him he shook his head and sighed.
"Do you think I told you that for pity? I'm not looking for pity or 'I'm sorry's." he said
Unsure of himself, but willing to try anything to keep him talking even if only for another few moments Jonah ventured a question. "Then... what are you looking for?"
"Understanding!" He snapped. "The people all claim I'm deranged, they think I set up my victims so meticulously 'just because', they don't put any thought into it. I don't claim not to be deranged but there's so much more to my ways than that, saying it's just madness doesn't do it justice."
"Then tell me, why do you do it all?" Jonah asked. Mr. Mint's smile finally returned at that and he seemed to calm as he found his seat again and sat down.
"I first killed to understand. When I grew up, I could never understand why my father did it, could never understand what had driven him to do such a terrible thing. I studied psychology but I found no answers that satisfied me. So of course I did the only thing I could do, and I tried it out for myself. I found a woman that no one would miss, and then I drove my axe through her pretty neck until her head came off. Until I understood, until I felt what he felt, until I felt the joy that comes with killing another human being." As he spoke his grin grew wider and wider until it formed a smile that for the first time that night finally seemed to match the twisted mind behind it.
"I cut off women's heads because that was what my father did to my mother so many years ago and because of that it's the only type of killing I can really enjoy. I leave peppermints in their mouths because I love them, I love peppermints, and in a way I love my victims. Everything has a reason, everything has a meaning, it's not just mindless insanity like most seem to think." As he finished his smile faded, and he stood up once more looking down at Jonah with a short sigh.
"Now, Mr. Gladrye, what about you? Do you understand?" He asked. Jonah looked up at him for a moment, silently contemplating the answer that might have ended his life.
"Yes... I understand."
"Good." He said, then grabbed his chair, turned, and walked out the door he'd come in. Above Jonah the lights swayed and flickered to his heavy footsteps, while pipes in the walls behind him nosily carried water to the second floor while he listened to him washing the axe he knew he would be seeing soon.
Then Mr. Mint returned downstairs, axe held loosely in hand as he approached Jonah with a frown. "I don't usually kill men, and I never kill people I like. This probably won't be much fun for either of us." He paused again and shrugged. "If that makes you feel any better."
"It doesn't." Jonah replied dully.
"Well... anything I can do for you? I figure I owe you a last request." he commented.
Jonah thought for a moment before replying, this last request also his last chance at living to make many more. "I think I'd like that handshake you offered me before. I think I'd like to shake the hand of the man who's going to kill me."
Mr. Mint paused a moment and looked back and forth from the axe in his hand and Jonah, silently weighing the risks involved before he finally nodded. "Alright, I think I can give you that." As he spoke he stepped forward and began to untie the ropes around the chair. Jonah's heartbeat picked up once more and his finger's twitched at his side, panicked and trying so hard to stay calm. This was his last chance, he couldn't waste it, so as Mr. Mint finished untying him and held out his own hand to shake Jonah took it firmly, then pulled it back towards himself and made a grab for the axe.
The two fought over the axe for what felt like ages, and just as Jonah felt the axe ready to be pulled from his fingers suddenly Mr. Mint released his grip and the axe was finally in his hands. Without a thought he drove it forward blindly and buried it deep in his would be killer's chest. And as Mr. Mint collapsed, and his own breathing slowed, among all the Jonah's feelings of relief and weariness, there came the slightest pang of pity for the man who'd almost ended his life.
While he'd been telling the story Arien had gotten progressively closer to him, and by the time he'd finished she lay against his chest, fingers still toying with the top of his tie.
"How very heroic." She whispered.
"Oh? I always sort of figured it was just dumb luck," Jonah said, smiling as Arien laughed and moved to straddle his lap.
"Well then, maybe I should go. Sleeping with Mr. Dumb Luck for a story isn't nearly as interesting as sleeping with Mr. Hero." She leaned forward and their lips meet, and she laughed faintly into the kiss as she undid his tie and tossed it across the room without a care. While she worked on his collar Jonah found his hands occupied with pulling away the flimsy straps of her dress and undoing the clasp of her bra. When all their suddenly-too-difficult to remove clothing lay on the floor Arien's pushed forward for another kiss.
"So Mr. Dumb Luck, has the night played out like you wanted?" she asked. Then before a reply was made her tongue ensnared his own, and his reply was lost within the heat between the two of them.



"You know Arien there was one thing I left out of my story," Jonah murmured as the two of them lay naked together on his small red couch.
"Don't tell me you cried when he almost killed you?" she asked with a laugh.
Jonah shook his head. "No, not that. He told me how he picked out his victims. Would you like to know?" he asked.
With a sigh Arien rolled over so she lay on top of his chest and nodded. "Haven't you learned anything by now? Of course I do. Tell me."
"You see, Mr Mint didn't just kill any woman he happened to stumble upon, that would be to random. Turns out he'd only kill women who wore the same shade of lipstick that his mother once wore"
"How deranged," Arien commented with a grin.
"So what about you? What shade of lipstick do you wear?" He asked with a quiet laugh.
Arien faltered, hesitating for a moment before finally laughing along with him. She leaned over him and grabbed her purse from the floor, pulling out a tube of lipstick from it and handing it to Jonah.
"So what kind of lipstick did his mother wear wear anyway?" she asked.
Jonah flipped over the small tube and peered at its bottom. A small smile forming as he read it's name. 'Peppermint Red'
"Oh, Arien?"
"Yes?"
"Would you like a mint?"

Author's Note

I know people are going to hate me for this.. but please ignore the grammar problems with this. I've read through it several times and I always seem to miss stuff since I'm terrible at proofreading. I'm trying to improve, for now just bare with me.

Anyway this is something I wrote about a year ago, and has been in constant flux ever since. I really enjoy working on this story, and love improving it so any and all suggestions are really appreciated.

Oh and yeah.. I'm terrible at last names I know.