Wicked Game
folder
+S through Z › Street Fighter
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
4,448
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+S through Z › Street Fighter
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
4,448
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Street Fighter, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Wicked Game
Disclaimer: Vega and Street Fighter are property of Capcom. I own the rest of the characters in this story.
Chapter One ~
“She truly is exquisite, Jean-Louis,” said Vega Fabio Le Cerna as he flipped through a stack of eight by ten color photographs of a stunningly beautiful dark-haired woman. “A goddess of old come to life.”
The private investigator was delighted that his client was pleased with the quality of his work. “Here’s Mademoiselle Christiansen’s address and phone number,” said Jean-Louis, handing a slip of paper over to the blond bullfighter. “She usually leaves home at seven in the morning and returns by six in the evening. She drives a black Jaguar, the license plate number is also written on the paper.”
“Very good, Jean-Louis,” he replied as he took an envelope from his jacket pocket then handed it over to the PI. “A payment and thank you for your services.” With that, Jean-Louis let himself out of the matador’s home and was off into the night.
Once he was sure that he was alone, Vega picked up one of Rosemarie’s Christiansen’s photographs and studied it carefully, memorizing every minute detail of her beauty. Her long thick dark auburn brown hair fell to her waist in a river of loose waves; long bangs hid her honey brown eyes. Long and thick chocolate eyelashes made a startling contrast against her flawless porcelain complexion.
Vega had been in love with Rosemarie ever since he had met her after a performance of the opera “Carmen”, in which she played the lead role. He even posed in a picture with the young mezzo-soprano. She looked stunning in the strapless wine colored ballgown she wore in the photo with Vega. He had his arm wrapped around her smooth creamy shoulders. What he would give to have her in his arms again! And ever since that night, he wanted to have Rosemarie Christiansen in his bed. He wanted to kiss her full, rosy lips and to caress her sensuous curves. ‘Soon, my love, we will be together,’ he thought as he slowly traced the edge of her jaw in the photograph. ‘Soon I will be making sweet love to you…’
~***~
For weeks, Rosemarie had been receiving baskets and vases of red roses that filled her dressing room day after day from a mysterious fan who always signed the greeting cards as ‘V’ or ‘your secret Valentine’ and Valentine’s Day was months away. Not one to be greedy, she often gave the roses to various coworkers to give to their wives or girlfriends or even to make someone’s day a little brighter. It was beginning to worry her that someone was spending so much money on flowers just for her. Who was this mysterious ‘V’ character and what did he want with her? He never tried to make any other kind of contact with her, so Rosemarie never bothered to call the police. That would be the first of a series of mistakes that the young singer would make. She had become the object of his obsession and little did she know that he had plans for her.
Chapter One ~
“She truly is exquisite, Jean-Louis,” said Vega Fabio Le Cerna as he flipped through a stack of eight by ten color photographs of a stunningly beautiful dark-haired woman. “A goddess of old come to life.”
The private investigator was delighted that his client was pleased with the quality of his work. “Here’s Mademoiselle Christiansen’s address and phone number,” said Jean-Louis, handing a slip of paper over to the blond bullfighter. “She usually leaves home at seven in the morning and returns by six in the evening. She drives a black Jaguar, the license plate number is also written on the paper.”
“Very good, Jean-Louis,” he replied as he took an envelope from his jacket pocket then handed it over to the PI. “A payment and thank you for your services.” With that, Jean-Louis let himself out of the matador’s home and was off into the night.
Once he was sure that he was alone, Vega picked up one of Rosemarie’s Christiansen’s photographs and studied it carefully, memorizing every minute detail of her beauty. Her long thick dark auburn brown hair fell to her waist in a river of loose waves; long bangs hid her honey brown eyes. Long and thick chocolate eyelashes made a startling contrast against her flawless porcelain complexion.
Vega had been in love with Rosemarie ever since he had met her after a performance of the opera “Carmen”, in which she played the lead role. He even posed in a picture with the young mezzo-soprano. She looked stunning in the strapless wine colored ballgown she wore in the photo with Vega. He had his arm wrapped around her smooth creamy shoulders. What he would give to have her in his arms again! And ever since that night, he wanted to have Rosemarie Christiansen in his bed. He wanted to kiss her full, rosy lips and to caress her sensuous curves. ‘Soon, my love, we will be together,’ he thought as he slowly traced the edge of her jaw in the photograph. ‘Soon I will be making sweet love to you…’
~***~
For weeks, Rosemarie had been receiving baskets and vases of red roses that filled her dressing room day after day from a mysterious fan who always signed the greeting cards as ‘V’ or ‘your secret Valentine’ and Valentine’s Day was months away. Not one to be greedy, she often gave the roses to various coworkers to give to their wives or girlfriends or even to make someone’s day a little brighter. It was beginning to worry her that someone was spending so much money on flowers just for her. Who was this mysterious ‘V’ character and what did he want with her? He never tried to make any other kind of contact with her, so Rosemarie never bothered to call the police. That would be the first of a series of mistakes that the young singer would make. She had become the object of his obsession and little did she know that he had plans for her.