A Constable's Stalker

Chapter 6: He's A Fiend

This chapter may contain some...how do I say...some weird/sexual stuff! Readers be advised or something like that!

-Harvey's POV-

I keep my eyes and hands on his lesser figure and his eyes in turn; never leaving mine until I turn away from him. I lead him to the elevator, ignoring the jealous glare of Constable Birham. I allow Arthur to step in first as extra indication of no ill intent. I pressed my floor and stood and inch to his side, facing forward. He faced forward as well, sparing a couple of glances in my direction. His eyes filled with uncertainty and a hint of intrigue.

He's wondering if I'm gonna slaughter him in this elevator. Like a rabbit trapped in a cage with a wolf. How cute. Different from most other reactions, but cute.

I've tried this stunt a couple of times on my prey, men and women alike. The jealous and the queer as well. When used, they become utterly bewitched by my gaze and charming smile, or they'll be unsettled by it. Either one works in my favor.

"This way." I say once the doors open, grabbing his hand to pull him along.

He tries to keep up with me, as if slowing down might have bad consequences, yet he doesn't put up a struggle. That's good. Nor does ask any questions. That's also good. Glancing back at him, I notice his head turn towards the chipped red door with scratch marks on it's corners. My Punishment Room.

No, not yet. I have all my tools in my office for a reason.

I glance over to him with a smile. "That's not my office, lad."

He seems to be more settled by this and makes a nervous smile back. "Uh..yes, I didn't think so."

It's funny how something so basic in practice can have so much effect. Though I must admit, I am quite ravishing compared to others. Most civilians around Wells don't mind courting a bobby, some even lust after the idea. But not many bobbies are seen as suitable suitors. Not that they are picky, but officers who are pleasingly aesthetical or sophisticated enough to interest them first hand are slim pickings. I, however, seem to possess both of those qualities and therefore catch the attention of the picky and not so picky. I can tell this one's not so picky.

I open the door to my office, allowing him to enter first once again. He quickly steps inside and takes a gander at the setting. "This place seems well furnished."

"Indeed. I like to keep things rather tidy, with all the paper work an' such." I reply innocently as I shut the door behind me. Luckily he didn't notice the *click* once I did.

"Yes, I can imag...." He notices my investigative tack board covered in pictures. His pictures. "Um...what a n..nice...er..collage of me! You've really...gotten my good side."

He's trying to play along, how cute. But it's no use. I have him now, to with as I please.

"Oh yes, quite beautiful isn't it?" I walk past him to my closet of gadgets. "Though I must admit, it doesn' really capture the true essence of one's being. To far to see it."

"Oh...um..r..right! Like my brother would say, it's always better to snap a photo in person. You'd really catch the details."

I open the door, revealing him my gadgets. Drill saws, nail guns, cable wires, electric batons; cleaned and brandished as if new. I can hear him squeak and go quiet as I pull out a needle and some rope.

"And um..wh..what a sophisticated collection...of trinkets! C..can't imagine w..what they could be for!"

I turn to him, tapping the needle, to get rid of bubbles in the fluid inside. "Well, my dear...Arthur wasn' it? We're goin' to make a pretty picture!"