Respect   
 *By GILDA LILY*
 
 I was wearing my "VICTORIA'S SECRET" T-shirt today and I was
 inspired to write this. Enjoy!
 Rated PG-13 for m/f and m/m 
 Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, Alliance does, more's the pity.
 Comments can be made to: jeanniemarie@sprintmail.com.
 (c) September 6, 1998
 
 Victoria sat in the chair in her nondescript hotel room, one leg
 draped over the arm and swinging back and forth in a gentle cycle, the
 other's thigh lovingly caressed by her own hand as she thought of her
 Ben.
 
 She loved Ben, of course. She loved his body, the way it felt
 against her, inside her, beneath her. She loved his naivete that drank
 in her mastery with every breath, and she loved his passive streak that
 allowed her to take the lead, as it should be. She had bound him to her
 with her body, as she had done to so many men before him. She had
 nearly thrown her head back and howled with laughter as they had made
 love in his dingy little apartment, as he'd been so virginal and anxious
 to please. Passive, but aggressive in the right moments. 
 
 Her supremely-satisfied expression grew dark. 
 That...that...*Vecchio*!...had ruined everything! His interference was
 the reason that her beloved Ben was not with her now, accepting her
 discipline as he was meant to be. Her hand lightly caressed the whip
 that rested by her thigh. Jolly had always loved her discipline.
 
 That balding, big-nosed, loud, obnoxious Italian thought that he
 had some claim on Ben! He could not bind her Ben to him with his body;
 they were just friends, but he thought that gave him to right to take
 him away from her.
 
 What was worse, her woman's body had known what lay beneath the
 baggy coats and shirts and pants. She had hated him from the first
 moment that she had laid eyes on him, and had known he was a rival. 
 Their exchange in his sister's bedroom had shown her that he felt the
 same way, too. ("Listen, you hurt him and I'll kill ya.") And she had
 known, too, by the way he moved and the way he smiled, that there was
 fire and passion to match hers beneath that facade he cultivated. He
 knew power, but was too weak to use it.
 
 Weak like Ben, like all men, but especially Ben. Poor, sweet,
 passive Ben. So eager for the crumbs from her table. So lonely and
 needful and overflowing with romantic love. She laughed deep in her
 throat.
 
 She had kept tabs on him and Vecchio. Her contact regularly sent
 her pictures. Now Vecchio had shorn his head and dressed in dark,
 conservative clothing, becoming sleeker and sexier. She felt it deep in
 her bones. He would be a fine match for her, if he only could put aside
 his tiresome middle-class morality and join her. But sweet Ben was
 hers, and so easy to control. While Vecchio would be a challenge, Ben
 was her devoted handmaiden, pool boy, slave to her every whim. 
 
 As it should be.
 
 Of course Vecchio had to be eliminated. With him gone, Ben would
 come with her without hesitation. She had seen his hesitation that
 night at the train station, him looking at Vecchio before deciding to
 run to her. There would always be a tie here if the Italian lived. 
 Therefore, he could not.
 
 A knock on the door. She rose, wariness in her voice as she asked,
 "Who is it?"
 
 "Bellboy, ma'am."
 
 She opened the door and took the packet he handed her. She closed
 the door and looked at the postmark. A Chicago postmark. Excellent. 
 She returned to her chair, placing the whip between her legs and opened
 the packet.
 
 She shrieked with fury and surprise, letting the first photo fall
 to the floor. For several minutes, her chest heaved as she stared with
 eyes lit from within at the far wall, then a sly smile spread across her
 face. She retrieved the photo. So. Vecchio had finally used his power
 and had bound Ben to him.
 
 Rivals of the body as well as of the heart. She looked at the
 other pictures, avidly running her gaze down the Italian's body. She
 had been right. A panther, a gazelle, a man of grace and elegance who
 knew how to use his attributes. He probably had Ben on his knees,
 eating from the fruits of his table, feeding him just enough to leave
 the beautiful one begging for more. A pity that such power and strength
 worthy of her had to be destroyed.
 
 Because now, Ben's grief would be that of a lover torn in half at
 the death of his mate. True, Vecchio was only a diversion while Ben
 waited for Victoria to return and claim him, but she knew her
 possession. He was a Commitment Forever kind of guy. She chuckled and
 began the pleasant task of entertaining notions of how her rival should
 die.
 
 Should it be some terribly poignant death, so very romantic as Ben
 held him in his arms and weeped, covered in his dear one's blood? Or
 perhaps a swift bullet in some random act? But then Ben would have that
 romantic memory of his lover dying in his arms, or the endless dizzying
 of a senseless death. It would be more difficult to get him to forget.
 
 Perhaps an illness? One which the doctors would be helpless to
 cure, with the proper suffering. After all, Vecchio deserved her
 respect, as one rival to another. There would be great angst to his
 dying, and time for heartfelt goodbyes. Combining romanticism with
 senselessness might just be overwhelming enough to numb Ben completely.
 
 But how to do it? She thought, then the mad light went on in her
 eyes. Of course! Rudy, who worked in the Medical Research Center, was
 bound to her by her body. He worked with dangerous viruses and had told
 her one night after making love (how men loved to brag while in bed,
 their cocks still hot against you, their semen drying on your thighs and
 belly!) how a new virus had been discovered, one that was deadly and
 extremely painful. Instead of burning with passion, Vecchio would burn
 with death.
 
 She squealed softly as she clutched the packet to her chest, her
 tongue licking her lips. Dear Ben with her once again! And her rival
 dispatched with the proper respect. Yes, yes, this would do.
 
 She picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Hello, Rudy?"
 
 Ray Vecchio was dead. All that was needed was for her to pick out
 the flowers for his grave and drag a numbed Ben away from it.
 
 Her body shuddered as she threw back her head in
 ecstasy.*
 
 
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