Rapture Noir: Blue Eyed Woman

I let the spent hypo fall to the floor. I can remember when I first spliced. It had felt horrible, I nearly vomited from the sensation. But now I've come to welcome it, because now I know what it really means. It means I'm that much closer to getting what I want.

Steadying myself I rise from the bed and make my way to the brightly lit bathroom, the only source of light in my darkened apartment. There I'd find the mirror, there I'd be able to admire new and improved me. I open the door and cover my eyes with both hands. If I didn't put on a bit of pageantry it just didn't feel right.

When I knew I was facing the mirror I uncover my face and stare into my reflection. I cup my mouth with my hand, in awe at what I see. Blue, that perfect shade of blue, now mine. Smiling to myself I imagine Booker's reaction. Booker would have to notice. I bet he'd try and play it cool. 'Did you do something to your hair?' Or something like that. But he'd notice. He'd have to.

I try to suppress a sudden feeling of anger welling up inside me. I wouldn't HAVE to impress him like this if it wasn't for her. Booker wasn't like the other men, he wasn't trying to hurt me or use me. He'd never do that. It was that fucking whore Elizabeth! Someone should just slit her throat in the night. Christ, I didn't mean that...Abigail, calm down. You've got a death grip on the sink...

Focus, it's not about her. This is your moment, okay? Look at how beautiful you are. The belle of the ball, and nobody can take this from you. I smile, flashing my pearly white teeth. Then I turn from the mirror and glance back over my shoulder, giving the mirror my most seductive look. Perfect.

Laughing, I dance my way to the bed and flop down on the sheets. Maybe I should pay Booker a visit later this week? I know he said he wanted to take things easy for a bit, but it couldn't hurt. I could go buy a culinary boost and make him something. Maybe a nice steak dinner? I bet he'd like that...

Guiding my fingers between my legs I begin to visualize Booker. His rough hands touching my body, his stubble tickling my neck. I arch my back in pleasure as I begin to reach climax.

He'd have to notice.