A soft smile hiding gritted teeth -- OohLookShiny
He called her Mona, for the smile that echoed the legendary painting. She never talked. Never opened her mouth. Never made a sound. The only communication he ever had from her was her soft and mysterious smile, and the glint in her eyes.
Not that he cared. He took his pleasures from her and left the money with the man who ran the House. But there was just something about Mona.
He came back every week. Then every day. And he decided that it had to be the twinkle in her eye. The smile, the perpetual, gentle smile, could mean anything.
But her eyes spoke of love. It said she wanted to be his sole source of pleasure.
He started coming at every free moment. Sometimes, he would sit and talk while she gently massaged his stresses away. Sometimes, it would be rough and ready rutting like sweaty animals.
She was good luck, he knew it. He got promoted. He had enough pay to take her home with him for a day. To his new home. With all its wonderful new bells and whistles. And a fancy new kitchen with everything she could want in it.
As always, Mona smiled. He saw her teeth, only once. When she found the carving knives. He didn't even know that he'd made a mistake when he saw how tightly they were clenched together. He didn't recognise the fire of anger in her face.
And he never understood her shrieks of rage as she sunk the knife into him again and again and again, until all there was of his white home was red.
He'd been good to her.
Why did she have to be so angry?
It had never occurred to him, nor to any man in his world, to give Mona a choice. But now she could choose.
She chose to run free for the rest of her life.