The System - Chapter 4: Approach
Lauren noticed him because he felt familiar.
They were at the overlook, the air still warm enough that no one wanted to leave. The conversation was fun, and the laughter came easily.
He laughed at the right moments.
When he looked at her, it felt comfortable, like being seen without judgment. She was surprised by the small pleasure it gave her.
He didn't interrupt. He waited. That felt comfortable too.
When he finally spoke, it was only to her.
"Do you feel like this is where you were supposed to end up tonight?" he asked.
She smiled.
He nodded.
The group began to splinter. Some left to meet up elsewhere; others went home. Soon it was just the two of them, walking together.
The path grew dimmer the farther they walked from the overlook, and the sound of voices faded behind them. He adjusted his pace with hers. Not enough to crowd and not enough to feel distant. Very comfortable.
She told herself she could turn back at any time.
She didn't.
"Lauren, you don't usually do things like this," he said.
Had she told him her name? She laughed softly. "You don't know me," she said, in a playful way.
"I do," he said, and laughed.
She felt the faintest hesitation. She noticed his breathing seemed off. Then she smiled softly, realizing her own breathing, too, was affected by the anticipation of the moment.
She slowed her walk. He slowed with her.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, staring into his eyes.
He smiled, relief softening his face.
They stopped near the trees, the path narrowing into shadow.
He stepped nearer.
She didn't step away.
When he kissed her, it felt ordinary. Familiar. The soft press of lips, the warmth of breath, the excitement of anticipation.
They both stared into each other's eyes.
He pressed his lips against hers a second time, and her body responded, mouth opening as if to accommodate something that it had already accepted as welcome.
Then something changed.
Not pain. Not immediately.
Pressure.
Pressure where there shouldn't have been any, deeper than a kiss, deeper than touch. Her first thought was that he was too eager, overly enthusiastic.
What had begun as the familiar presence of a tongue no longer behaved as one. The sensation went from warmth to pressure, from anticipation to intrusion. It expanded where it should not have, obstructing her breath, forcing its way downward.
He made a sound she didn't recognize.
The world narrowed. Heat. More pressure. A draining she could feel like strength leaving her muscles. She was unable to breathe.
Her last coherent thought was confusion.
When awareness briefly returned, she was on the ground.
Cold crept in where warmth had been. Her limbs felt heavy, distant.
He was gone.
She tried to call out.
Her body couldn't respond.
_____
The coroner's report on Lauren Jennings would say there was an unidentified black residue inside her mouth, down her throat, throughout her torso, even staining her clothes. Her internal organs were dessicated.
No one could guess what she had experienced in the final minutes of her life.
No one could know that the most dangerous part had been how easily she had succumbed to the attraction.
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