Jason had that feeling again. The same one he had in Covent Garden when he first met her. She was just an aquaintance, but it sparked up that feeling.
The first time he experienced it he was fourteen years old. Her name was Sarah. Her hair smelt of danger and she moved the way tigers hunt. He was the equivalent of an antelope at the time, right for the pickings. She pounced and he fell.
But not this time. Now he was conditioned. He wasn't an antelope anymore. He wouldn't be prey. As this new predator stalked him within the shadows of the cocktail party, hiding behind coloumns and guests, her eyes striking him like poisoned darts, he stood and waited, a bait.
Deep inside the left breast pocket of his second hand tweed suit jacket, just above where his heart would be, his stanley knife awaited his call.
"I've seen you before, haven't I?" she said, "Donovan's party at Covent Garden?"
"Yes, you did," he replied.
"I've been watching you," she said, her voice deep and sultry.
"I know," he replied. She talked, he listened, and when the conversation died down he asked her,
"Follow me for a second, will you?"
"Where to?"
"I want to introduce you to someone. Someone very close to my heart."
I just realized the character in this is called Jason, same as the guy in 'The Mark' story I wrote before. And the short script I posted before that. All the main characters in this 'Fiction' section (save for the 'Floppily-Doppily Land' story) are called Jason. Subliminal connection? Maybe. Who the fuck is Jason?
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