She seethed. It was the only way to describe the roil of emotions flowing through Rebecca as she sat alone in Elysium and read the notices on the message board. How could she have been so stupid! It was happening again, she could feel it. But no, she wouldn't lose control this time. She'd worked too long and too hard for everything she had now to let it go to waste on some little nothing.

As she sat and contemplated some more, a small smile flitted its way across her lips. She had done well, so far, he was out of the clutches of the church, but it was too easy, way too easy. There would have to be more, he would have to show her that he was worthy. She had a plan.

The next evening, around 8pm.

Rebecca rose and performed her evening ablutions. And then she dressed with care, oh, with great care. She'd lain the clothes out before going to bed, choosing each piece with an eye for color and texture, wanting each piece to be perfect. She took her time in washing and styling her hair. It was quite possibly one of her best features. It took almost an hour, but by the time she was finished, an artfully upswept and slightly mussed coiffure was in place. Next came the make-up. "War paint," she thought to herself, "How appropriate that I should be using it." She laughed softly as foundation, blusher, eye liner, mascara and lipstick flew across her face in another, almost artistic masterpiece. "I don't know why I'm doing this," she said aloud, as if there were someone in the room. "He's not going to have that much time to enjoy it." Again, she laughed. To the untrained eye it looked as if she were merely a woman preparing for a special evening at one of the cities finer restraunts, or maybe a trip to the theater. Misconceptions weren't her fault, now, were they?

A light dusting of powder set her makeup and was followed by a liberal application of a very light, very potent perfume. "Pheromones," she giggled, "Gotta love 'em." It was a special blend of perfume made only for Rebecca and a few, select, customers. Having resources is a wonderful thing. She lifted her form from the vanity bench and glided over to her closet, humming a soft tune under her breath. As she opened the double doors to the walk in closet, her breath caught in her throat, as it always did. There, before her, in the first of two such closets, was a vast array of lingerie in every color, shape and style imaginable. She chose a pale ivory corset and matching garter/panty set, taking her time and savoring the feel of the items against her skin.

When it came time to lace up the corset, Rebecca yelled, rather impatiently, for her maid. "Evelyn! EVELYN!" When Evelyn didn't answer, Rebecca became impatient and went looking for the woman, cursing softly under her breath. "Dumb WOP bitch. Doesn't she realize that tonight is an important night, everything hinges on tonight." She stalked into Evelyn's rooms, intending to give the lazy slut a piece of her mind. "You stupid piece of shi..." was as far as she got.

There, hanging from the chandelier was Evelyn's obviously lifeless and stiff body. Rebecca sighed. Another one gone. She glared up at the body "How DARE you! After I gave you work, a good place to live, decent wages...you have the GALL to kill yourself. Didn't I find that little whelp of yours a good place to live after you got knocked up? Didn't I let you keep working, even though you had to sit down every three hours and put your feet up? Didn't I pay the hospital bills and lawyer's fees? You should be GRATEFUL, you stupid cunt, but no, what do you do? You take the coward's way out and hang yourself." Rebecca snorted in disgust and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. "Well you can just hang there until you've learned your lesson. Someone can deal with you tomorrow."

She stalked back to her bedroom and into the closet. The corset was out of the question and now, because of her dead maid, she was running late. She hurriedly donned an ivory demi-bra and slipped the lace dress over her head carefully, her anger only increasing when one of the curls dared to fall out of her carefully prepared coiffure. The invectives became more and more peppered with Gaelic as she worked until she was pleased, finally, with her appearance. The last addition came with the shoes. These were her pride and joy: Antique ladies boots with a five inch heel and buttons all the way up the front, in ivory. She checked her reflection in the mirror and smiled nastily to herself. "I hope you enjoy this," she said softly, "Because it'll be the last thing you'll ever do."

With that, she picked up her purse and strode from the room. She could deal with the body tomorrow. Or something.