True to his word, Mark picks me up from work that day with a newly dry-cleaned dark suit, protected in a zipped cover. Hanging in the backseat of his car, ready to wear. Paul is quick to intercept my boyfriend's pathing upon entering the building at the end of my official shift, having a few short words with Mark before handing over a blank envelope. I can only observe my employer waving, and wishing me a good night then retreating into the back room. Mark had laughed, while I was concerned about the way Paul was acting. While he was never the biggest people person, he is always polite and great at customer service.

Never had I witnessed him be as short as he is with Mark, then again perhaps it's how my boyfriend behaves; all vulgar and purposely touchy or overly flirty with me when others are around. I've noticed he finds humor in making people nervous, discomfort with words and actions, or making them upset. If there's a reaction, he'll work to increase that emotion. Normally, in public with strangers, I allow it because it is funny to see different people react to him touching and saying sexual remarks to me. I have limits, of course. Stopping him if I deem it too much and if he gains too much attention.

Paul has worked with Mark for a while, I assumed he was accustomed to his behavior and hadn't thought to talk to Mark about toning it down. I definitely will, respecting Paul too much to let my partner treat him like others. I can't control Mark, but I'll try to get him to leave his usual remarks outside the building and away from Paul. It doesn't help that I work for the older man, possibly making it twice as uncomfortable for him to watch and listen to. He hasn't spoken to me about my relationship with Mark, only watching me much more carefully - looking over my legs or arms if I reveal skin, in a worried manner. Telling me in a fatherly moment to be careful and don't let Mark talk me into any trouble, to be safe. That's all he had said and never mentioned again, is normal with me, and still laughs during any of our conversations.

Paul overlooked the embalming of the three bodies Mark brought in today, allowing me a moment with the man to plan our evening quickly while Paul got one of the deceased on the table. My boss watched and demonstrated a technique he learned in college of a quicker way to drain fluids. When we finished the second body, he told me to take a break and that he would do the last one. I saw that body while helping bring them inside, and had to look away, quickly covering them because of the state they were in. It had appeared as if they drowned and left to bloat in the water for days, nearly green in color and bloated in areas with obvious blood on them. Paul surely wanted to save me the sight of the entire body and I appreciate that, even knowing I could use the experience with such a body in the future.

Mark insists I take my time getting ready, reassuring me that he hasn't planned to go to a high-class fancy restaurant. I pressed for more, wanting to make sure I didn't over or underdress and pointing out his suit. I'm told to, "doll yourself up, Darlin. More than usual. Not high class fancy, still fancy suit and tie joint though.", in Mark's words. It wasn't much to go on, but I had an idea of what I could wear that would go well with his suit. I instructed Mark to park next to my hearse in the garage, for the convenience of being closer to my apartment than the front entrance on the ground floor. Tony side-eyes Mark in the elevator, I try to hold a conversation with the older guard yet find speaking with hands wandering on my waist and hips, lips at my neck, and a whispered comment in my ear make it difficult. I can tell Tony isn't impressed, not giving Mark the reaction he could have wanted by being touchy. Instead, the older black man looks me in the eye and simply asks, "Is he bothering you, Miss Paige? I'll take care of him."

The question and implication that Mark was touching me unwillingly forced my boyfriend to pause and glare at the man, to stop any arguments, I quickly cut in. "No, no! Tony, he's okay. This is Mark, my boyfriend. He just likes to annoy people like that, I'm sorry."

Tony sighed, as if disappointed he couldn't kick Mark off the elevator. "Alright. Just checking, you know where to find me if you ever need help."

I smile friendly, feeling Mark's hands tighten on my hips. "I know, thanks, Tony! You'll be the first person to know if I do!"

The serious, blank expression Tony had been wearing breaks into a genuine smile as the elevator stops. "Good. Have a good night, Miss Paige."

Mark guides me out of the metal box, gripping my hand in one of his while holding his suit over his shoulder. Unlocking my apartment, I lead him inside and set keys, bag, and phone down on the table, before I can pull my boots off Mark spins me around. Attacking my lips in a passionate kiss that earns a shocked sound from my throat, unexpected, yet once it processes, I readily return it. His grip is possessive, tight, and restrictive. Keeping us pressed together, a paper couldn't come between us from how flush he is holding me. Accepting the sudden rush of tongue and hand lowering to grasp palmful of my ass harshly, a quiet moan is pushed through my lips. He pulls away at the sound and I'm left blinking, breathless, and in shock at how fast everything happened. He smirks, haughty and playful. "I'll be the first to know if you're in trouble. Not Tony."

"What?" It's said confusedly, mind slowly processing he is talking about Tony and the elevator conversation. Sighing, I mentally shake my head to clear it. "Mark, I meant he would be the first to know in the building. Of course, I'd call you first if someone broke in or something. But I trust Tony to tell him after you, so he could help too."

He pauses, then shrugs, unapologetic and unashamed of the possessive nature of his actions. "Was just making sure. Can't have my damn woman running to another man for help."

I roll my eyes that the ridiculous answer, pushing him back with a little scoff. "Go get ready. I need to get in the shower, give me some time."

Chuckling, he listens and goes into the living room after leaving a kiss on my hair. Forgoing taking my boots off at the door, I walk down the hall into my bedroom to remove them. Quickly picked out the dress I was considering and placed it on the bed with some tall platform heels, setting out the makeup I want to wear on the little vanity by the window as well. With that sorted out, I take my speaker into the bathroom with me, undressing before I remember my phone. Sighing and slapping a hand to my forehead, I lean out the door. "Mark!"

Appearing at the entrance of the tiny hall, he smirks widely at the sight of me hiding behind the door with a hand hiding my nipples. "Want company, Bats? I'll be more than fucking happy to lend a hand."

"Oh! That's so nice of you! I'd love a helping hand right now!" My response earns him beginning to start towards the door, already moving to unbuckle his belt. The next words make him pause, "Could you grab my phone off the table for me? I need music."

I laugh at the exaggerated sigh and groan he gives, spinning on his heel to childishly stomp to the front door. When he comes back, he has a big pout and is trying puppy eyes at me, wide and sad. Plucking the device from his hand, I grin cheerfully. "Thank you!"

He laughs amusedly at the door shutting in his face, banging once on it. "You're such a little brat!"

"Don't be a baby!" I call, turning on the water and playing a remix of my favorite songs on youtube.

My shower is fast, as quick as shaving everything could be. I despise my own body hair, I can't stand my legs or arms having hair, even less tolerant of pubic hair. On other people, body hair is decently attractive in my opinion, in moderate amounts. Mark has a light covering of hair on his chest and that's about it, his armpits as well, yet he keeps anything else trimmed or shaved. It's the perfect amount to find attractive, not too invisible, and not overly thick like animal fur. Exiting the bathroom, I can hear Mark moving around in the living room, catching a sound of metal, assumingly the belt he wears, falling on the table. In my room, I rub lotion onto my skin before pulling on the lace bra and underwear laid out on the bed. I don't remember setting them out but, don't have the time to worry about that. The dress is dark velvet, soft and light, cut similar to Morticia Addams's dress. The sweetheart neckline is deep, the point ending at my breast and revealing cleavage the bra emphasizes. It's tight, and nearly painted on. Unlike Morticia Addams, the fabric allows me to walk comfortably as it loosens into elegant and soft ruffles at the knee down. The neck has a cute collar to hold the sweetheart cut and the shoulders to a coffin shape. The sleeves are long, the elbow giving way to black rose-designed lace that is wide, graceful and flows with movement.

The dress is the perfect length for the shoes I picked, the heels have black roses embroidered on the sides and the platforms. They match the dress and the height of them hides the heels, yet stops the dress from dragging along the ground. I do my makeup, going for a toned-down simple bat eyeliner tonight with a cute smokey eye with some soft red blended in at the inner corner of my eyes. Matte black lipstick, with gloss over it. Adding a long blood-red crystal necklace to add color, the crystal hanging at my breast. As well as dark ruby crystal earrings to match, hanging with two crystals and styled similar to Victorian. I blow dry my hair, before using a straightener to calm the few annoying curls that had taken over while air drying, brushing it out to get a smooth finish to set on my shoulders. Mark is dressed in the handsome black suit he brought, just buttoning the middle as I walk in. He looks striking, it fits his body perfectly and highlights his arms and torso. Giving an air of importance, as if he could walk into a room and intimidate everyone. There's no white undershirt, black instead with a red tie.

"I've never seen you in a suit, I like it. You're handsome." My compliment gains a grin, his eyes studying my outfit as he moves closer.

"Thank you, Bats. Maybe I should take you out more often if I get to see you dolled up like this. Fucking beautiful, gonna keep you so damn close to me tonight." He kisses my cheek, hands moving along my body to feel how tight the dress is. Humming, "you gonna be able to get this fucking thing off afterward?"

I chuckle, pushing him away to grab my phone off the table and a cardigan to wear to the car. Flirtatiously, playful, "Who said you'll be here when I remove it?"

His eyes narrow at the slight tease, coming up behind me to grip my hips and lean around to speak against my hair-covered throat. Sensuous and deep in the tone he uses. "Darlin, you know I gotta get pay back for the bratty attitude you've been giving me."

"What attitude?" There's a laugh in my voice, and I turn to smile slyly. "The only attitude I've noticed is how horny you've been. Are you okay? You're not taking any pills, are you?"

Mark growls, an amused smirk on his lips as he bear-hugs me to stop my movement to the door. "I have a mind to take your ass to that fucking bed and teach you a lesson for that damn question." It's a husky thought spoken into my ear, arms restrictive and lifting me off my feet for a moment. He chuckles deeply at the surprised gasp I make at the action of having the floor taken from under my feet. Then he sighs dramatically, "But. I told you we'd go out, and we will. So, get your pretty ass out the door before I change my fucking mind."

Laughing, I kiss his cheek and open the door, remembering to lock it from the inside. He double-checks it's locked as he steps out with me, closing it firmly and then wrapping his arm around my waist. Tony isn't in the elevator after sunset, and another security guard I've only interacted with a few times is in his spot. Mark takes pleasure in loudly telling me how gorgeous I look and what he wants to do when we get back, purely to mess with the guard. I don't stop him, yet I elbow him softly to get him to tone it down when I notice the man is paying much more attention to areas Mark points out. My chest, for example. My boyfriend offhandedly mentions how well the dress reveals some of my breasts, going as far as to kiss my collarbones and look down at the cut of the dress. Him doing this, I don't mind. I'm dating Mark, comfortable with him and know while he's putting on a show to make the man uncomfortable, he means his words. Yet, instead of discomfort, the guard is actively staring and doesn't hide the fact Mark's explicit words arouse him. Once Mark takes notice I won't allow him to put me in front of his body, rather wanting to stay behind him to lessen the chance of the man seeing me more. He pauses, turns his back to the guard, and positions himself against my front, hiding my body with his effectively. It was a quick ride, only a few minutes, yet it felt like forever with the man glancing at us.

Finally, the doors open and Mark is quick to guide me out, putting himself between me and the man. I hear a grunt as we pass and glance back over our shoulder to see the guard wincing, eyes clenched and teeth gritted as he drops to his knee, holding his crotch. Mark smirks at me when my eyes snap to him and a stifled giggle forces its way out of me at how proud he looks. The passenger door of his Camaro is opened before I can do it myself, he holds my hand to guide me onto the seat. The dress restricts my legs slightly, unable to get in one foot at a time. I thank him when he sits in the driver's seat, he just smiles and rests his hand on my thigh after starting the car. I fiddle with the radio while he drives us out of the garage, finding a station to play for background noise. Not being able to tolerate quiet for long before I get jittery, needing music to move my fingers or knee too. On the road with a low volume of classic rock, Mark speaks.

"You tell me to fucking stop next time you're uncomfortable, Bats. I mess around, but you damn well set limits with me." He is stern, gripping my knee to keep my attention. "I don't wanna make you feel some kinda way bout me doin shit like that. If someone can't mind their fucking business or sexualizes you, you tell me and I'll handle it."

"Mark. You sexualize me." I have to chuckle at that, but his eye narrow and eyebrows furrow with seriousness and to try to reassure him, I rub his shoulder. "I let you do shit like that because I think it's funny sometimes. This is the first time someone has given that kind of reaction, but I'll tell you if it happens again. I trust you, you're aware I have limits and you stop when I make them known. I appreciate that. You don't make me uncomfortable or feel some kinda way, I love when you touch me and say shit, because I know you mean every comment with the stuff you say to me."

He sighs, relieved, squeezing my knee. "Good. Damn happy I punched that asshole hard-on, fucking satisfying to hear him go down."

This makes me laugh, remembering the face the man had made. "I can't believe you did that! His face was priceless!"

Mark grins devilishly, chuckling darkly. "He was getting his cock hard staring at you, the only cock allowed to do that is fucking mine. Of course, I made that shit hurt in the worst way."

"How honorable you are." My cheerful giggle just makes his grin wider, raising my hand to his lips to kiss.

He laughs, glancing at me with light, crinkled eyes when he stops for a red light. "Only for you, Sweetheart."

The rest of the ride is quiet, he makes me laugh and I question him about the restaurant we're going to. What is on the menu and what they serve, where it's located. He asks what my day was like and tells me of his, of how stupid his clients are or how easy a job was. We sing along to songs that come on the radio, singing loudly with each other and laughing at how ridiculous we sound. Mark mocks having rock glam hair as we do, pretending to sweep hair back from his shoulders. It's refreshing to find a person who doesn't take themselves too seriously, and knows when to let loose and be silly. Mark could be intense as I've seen and heard him on the phone with a few clients, he is downright scary when he's angry. I'm just glad that isn't his entire personality, instead, he is silly and a sweetheart, and he enjoys making me smile or happy. He isn't weirded out by my interests and my style, if anything he is finding new enjoyment in the music I like and the more gory movies I suggest when he comes to my place. While I prefer heavier bands, metal, and subgenres of it, he likes rock and more classic music of that genre. I've introduced him to Goth subculture music, specifically the more traditional from the 80s. It has a special place in my heart, with the mournful and striking vocals of the singers. Mark appreciates the songs I show, yet still prefers the fast and exciting rock.

The place Mark pulls into doesn't appear fancy enough to have us dress up, but looking through the windows as he parks is a different story. While it's not over the top, celebrity-tier high class, it does have an extremely nice interior. I can spot charming lights hanging from the ceiling, dimmed for a warm atmosphere. The space it's located in seems small and renovated considering the unit next to it is being rebuilt as well. There are outdoor plants in large pots surrounding the front outdoor patio, and cute black gates outline the area for guests. Mark assisted me out of the car, once again taking my hand and I slipped my phone and keys into his pocket, forgetting one of my bags at home. The cardigan is left in the car, it doesn't match what I'm wearing and it's not as chilly as I assumed it would be.

An arm is curled around my waist, Mark pulling me closer to his side while we walk to the glass doors. He opens it for us, allowing me to step in before him and while I look around, he speaks to the hostess at a desk that greets us. The dimmed lights give it a romantic feel, flowers sit on white cloth-covered tables and the hardwood floor is light with dark trimmings. Plants sit at corners, soft classical music plays in the background. The tables and booths along the walls are spaced evenly, giving customers relative privacy. I do notice there are tables with divider walls and reserved signs on them. It's a beautiful building, not one I'd normally come to and in my opinion, it's classy in an affordable manner.

We're led to one of the reserved tables in a corner by a window, the divider wall shielding us from the people in front and next to us. Mark pulls a seat out for me and I smile at him, unaccustomed to the action as my previous partners hadn't done it. The menus are set down, the woman politely speaking of giving us time and nodding at Mark's order of red wine. With a smile, she leaves us alone. Mark leans on the table, staring at me with a grin, and pulls a velvet black box from his pocket. Holding it between his fingers and twisting it slightly, making a show of revealing it. The sight of it doesn't alarm me, I know perfectly well it isn't for a proposal. I remember vividly telling him about the one other man I dated in college that proposed after merely four months of seeing each other, and how that had scared me off from continuing to date him. Mark isn't cocky enough to try that also. He sets the tiny box at the side of the table, watching me glance at it curiously and then at him. Wondering why he isn't letting me see what it is after he specifically revealed it.

"You get that after dinner, if you're not a bratty Bat. You damn well know exactly what I mean too, don't play fucking innocent." He smirks at the small pout that appears on my lips, disappointed I can't satisfy my curiosity immediately.

"You're no fun." I lean my chin on my palm, pretending to be miserable with a huff and avoiding his eyes.

He laughs at the childish response, delighted. "That's a lie if I ever heard one! Shit, Darlin, you know I'm fucking fun, remember all that shit I did to you? You do remember, right?" His smirk is back, teasing and evil. "I mean the fuck could you not? I bet your damn voice broke when I-"

"I remember!" My hand swats out at him as if that would make him stop. Laughing and flustered, recalling the night we had sex on my couch. He was rough, so much so that I had to reposition the couch back after it moved during him fucking me. My voice was indeed hoarse from moaning and nearly screaming into my pillow, my body wonderfully achy.

Mark grips my hand and holds it, smoothing his thumb over my fingers and black nail polish. Chuckling, "that blush proves my fucking point, Doll. I can be fun, you just gotta be good to get it."

A little giggle escapes me, deciding on one more brat response before I comply, purely to open the box. "You can't make me be good, I always am."

His eyes darken, gaining a predator-like intensity that has me clenching my thighs. The grasp on my hand tightens barely, and his voice lowers into an attractive rough husk. "I can make you, fucking will when you let me."

"Eventually, I will let you. Will let you show me so much fun." My answer brings a bright smile to his face, eyes lighter, and genuinely happy to hear the words.

He kisses my knuckles, chuckling at my grin. "I can't fucking wait, Bats. You won't regret it, I promise."

A waitress appears at the table before I can respond, pouring deep red wine into tall wine glasses. Asking for orders as she does, glancing at the menu, I decide to order whatever Mark will have since I have no clue what would be good or how to pronounce some of the dishes complicated names. It's English, but it looks alien to me. We ended up with Smoked Salmon, a dish I didn't even consider, fish always gave me an odd feeling. I don't like how the pictures or shows I've seen, cook and eat fish with the bones and all, eyes still staring up blankly. Mark encourages me and reassures that there are no bones or eyes, just a slice of fish with some sides.

While we wait a short time for our food, Mark teases how I ask about the little box mocking me in the corner of my eye. We tell each other stories from our childhood, laughing and playing around. I mention what courses I took to gain education for my job and he marvels teasingly about the subjects I was required to take. I learn a lot about him, that his father trained him to grow up into an investigator and that his Mother passed away shortly after Mark was born. He tells me his father was killed, Mark was twenty at the time and had worked hard to find the murderer. The killing made him determined to be the best at his job, and I'm proud of him when he tells me he had accomplished that goal.

The Salmon is great, not delicious, but that's because of preconceived notions I had. I can admit the taste wasn't horrible, rather pleasant and I would order it again. Mark is delighted and proud even, I gave it a try and announced that I liked it when asked. We finish quickly, taking the time to eat in peaceful, comfortable silence with Mark playfully nudging my arm or foot. After the plates are taken away, I question the box. "So? Have I been deemed worthy to open the box now?"

Mark chuckles, nods, and slides the object to me. "Fucking course you have, Sweetheart. Open it then."

With a pleased smile, I pick it up and open the lid to reveal a set of beautiful Victorian-style earrings. Cameo frames surrounding 3D bat skulls are heavy and the quality is amazing. The curves of the frames are elegant, refined as the way the era was known for and the skulls are absolutely gorgeous. I can tell instantly they're not real, simply replicas of skulls, but it doesn't lessen their beauty or my excitement and glee. "Mark! I love them! This is so sweet!"

He grins sweetly, pleased and proud of himself. "Found it a few weeks ago, thought you'd like it. The skulls couldn't be real, unfortunately."

"No! No, this is perfect! Real bones should be respected, not made for jewelry unless it's with a purpose other than vanity. I'm happy these are fake. Thank you so much!" Closing the case to protect the earrings, for now, I lean over the table to kiss his cheek. He steals a longer kiss when I go to pull back, holding my chin. I'm still grinning when I sit back properly when moving from my peripheral vision makes me glance away from our table behind Mark. A nervous-looking man is walking in our direction and at first, I think nothing of it, going back to thank my boyfriend again, but the man keeps coming towards us at a fast pace, reaching into his pocket and I do a double take.

Mark looks over his shoulder, following my eyes, and curses. "Fucking shitting me?" Standing up, he turns to me and leans to press a short kiss to my hair, hand on the nape of my neck. "Hold on, Hun. I can't catch a break, damn client found me. Let me handle this motherfucker, and we'll go back to yours to see how damn good you look with those earrings on. Yea?"

I nod, wanting him to handle whatever he needs to. Watching as he approaches the man with fast steps and how the client goes pale, flinching and seemingly stuttering out words when Mark demands him to. I can tell Mark is upset at us being interrupted, his fist clench and his shoulders are tight with tension. They're too far to hear words, but the man is sweating and red when Mark responds to him. I can only imagine how intimidating and humiliating it would be to have a man with such a vulgar way of speaking, talk with anger toward you. No doubt Mark is using all the nasty words in his vocabulary to make the man regret finding him. It's proven when he once again flinches and wipes sweaty hands on his slacks. The stranger avoids making eye contact with my boyfriend, as if scared it would set him off more. Revealing a white paper from his front pocket, holding it out between them. Mark makes a crude gesture while taking the paper, of what I'm unsure, but it gets the point across as the man quickly nods and rushes off.

Returning to the table, the paper gets tucked away in Mark's inside jacket pocket. He sighs sufferingly and tosses money by the wine glasses for tip and payment. Helping me up by my hand and putting the earrings with my phone in his pocket. Concerned, I touch his upper arm. "Are you okay, Mark? What was that about?"

He shrugs, beginning to guide us through the building and hugging me under his arm. Tone annoyed and aggravated, angry our date night ended this way. "Just some dumb fucking messager from my new fucking client, wants me to get more information on someone. Lazy ass prick." He pauses himself, shaking his head. "Let's not worry about that. I wanna see you in those earrings."

I agree with that, aiming to bring his good mood back and forget about his work for tonight. He deserves a break, an uninterrupted one. I'll make it a new goal for the rest of tonight, distract him and let him relax like he was earlier. That's my favorite part of him, seeing him be goofy and calm.