Nordlys: The Northern Lights Orgy Club

18

"DID YOU KILL HER?" Stahri rages, storming into the living room.

Lars turns in astonishment, dropping his bottle on the floor to hold his hands up defensively, totally unprepared. Stahri jumps on top of him, pinning him to the couch, his hands wrap around Lars' neck. Lars fights to remove Stahri's hands unsuccessfully.

"DID. YOU. KILL. HER" Stahri repeats through gritted teeth, throttling Lars.

Lars' mouth works like he's trying to say something, but no sound comes out. Moby taps on Stahri's shoulder, and his fingers ease their grip. Lars shudders and gasps, his face turning from purple to red.

"I don't know... what... you're... talking about" Lars gasps out.

"It's a 'yes' or 'no' question!" Stahri seethes.

"No!" Lars denies vehemently. "I didn't kill her!"

Stahri's nostrils flare, but he does not smell a lie. Fear, outrage, sweat, stale sex, alcohol, old ouid, and Mary's shampoo... but not a lie. The red veil fades from his vision. His shoulders sag as relief hits him, and Lars pushes him off. Stahri catches himself on the coffee table to keep from falling to the floor. He stands up slowly, straightening his suit back to respectability, ignoring the venomous glare that Lars shoots at him.

Lars sits up on the couch, gingerly touching his throat. "What the fuck was that!?" Lars demands to know. "My girlfriend leaves me and you accuse me of killing her?" He accuses hoarsely. "I thought you were my friend!"

"I found her purse in your car. You say she left you, but she won't get very far without her phone or her passport!" Stahri retorts menacingly.

A fleeting look of alarm crosses Lars face, but is quickly replaced by the wounded and indignant expression of before.

"You broke into my car? What bullshit is that? I didn't know she left her purse, she must have set me up" he whines.

"Set you up?" Stahri echoes skeptically.

"She'll use that as an excuse to harass me" Lars complains. "I forgot this, I need that, blah blah! I don't know why you would care anyway. She is getting an abortion! I told you before, I couldn't talk her out of it. She doesn't want this baby! She doesn't care what papers she signed" he takes another swig of the bottle that he fishes up off of the floor, and grimaces, completely oblivious to the malodorous fumes that emanate from him of Lie, after Lie, after Lie. Stahri's hands twitch as he resists the urge to throttle the man again.

"WE will take her stuff, all of it" Moby interjects, waving away Stahri's frown. "She won't bother you again, she'll have to come to us."

Lars' eyes narrow, and Stahri can smell the broiling anger masked by the pleasant smile that erupts across his face. "How's that supposed to work? She won't know how to reach you" he argues.

"That's her problem" Moby replies with just the right inflection of venom to make Lars consider it.

Lars leans back against the couch, visibly relaxed. "You would do that?" He asks with hopeful incredulity.

"What are friends for?" Stahri answers, finally regaining control of his temper, thanks to Moby's timely intervention. He sits down next to Lars on the couch. "Give me a swig of that" he demands.