Tassia: EvesongMature

Tassia watched the clear Mediterranean waters below her, accustomed to the sound of the helicopter’s blades cutting through the air. The wind was picking up slightly, but the pilot had made sure they would arrive before the storm.

The island was growing more and more visible now, dotted with those stupid black flowers.

She adjusted the hem of her similarly-colored dress, resisting the urge to smile. She had dressed as a mourner. If only to give the sickly old bastard something to think about.

For all of the years she had spent forgetting Linden, a small sadistic part of her wanted to see him again. To watch him rot for all of the shit he had given her. Surrounded by people that wanted to see him suffer.

It was still just as difficult to believe the man’s nerve. Offering the use of his jet and yacht. As if he didn’t foresee her finding her own way to the damn island. She had the money for it, thanks to him.

Truthfully, Tassia couldn’t stand the idea of being in one of his yachts again. There were far too many buried memories. The lavish parties. The booze. The other women. The other men.

Besides, she knew very well that Linden would expect her to make an entrance. There was no point in letting him down.

“Preparing to land, ma’am.”

She watched the villa approaching, hoping that the helicopter would destroy a good portion of the manicured lawn.

“Thank you.” She replied into the headset, “If you see a dying old man, feel free to land on him.”

There was laughter on the line.

“Noted, ma’am.”

The helicopter touched the ground, the blades slowly whirring to a stop. Tassia removed her headset, waiting for the pilot to give her a hand as she stepped out.

To her pleasure, her arrival had gathered a few spectators.

A young woman with a parasol approached her, wearing a red dress that left little to the imagination.

“Welcome, Ms. Tassia Murray?” she asked with a thickly accented voice, holding out her free hand.

Tassia shook it, realizing quickly she was meeting Linden’s newest whore. Victim was a better word, actually.

“It’s Evesong, please. Tassia Evesong.”

The End

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