Out Of Control • She Wants Revenge

That dangerous dance had started with a stupid interview. You’d done them countless times by now, so many that you'd risen into the high league of journalism. You’d come far with the stories you were always able to reveal. But of course, you still did the basics: interviews with top global stars. That was how you met Ellie. Ellie Williams, a high-end rockstar who had captivated the world with her quite interesting music and personality. You got the obsession with her music, it was unlike anything you'd ever heard. But her personality… you didn’t get it. She was strange and not in a good way. Still, you did your job professionally, just like always. She, however, didn’t stay professional after that interview. She started a dance, though not really, a one-sided one. A dance to her favorite song: pure obsession.

Ever since then, you couldn’t go anywhere without getting that weird feeling, like someone was always watching you. You had a deep gut feeling it was her… but no, that couldn’t be. That theory shattered when she randomly started showing up wherever you were. Another thing that could’ve just been in your head, she was a star, and you worked with stars. Of course, you’d see them around. But something… that feeling. Like she was the one moving all the lights, placing them perfectly on you to allure you into the dance.

Your high heel tapped nervously against the floor of the high-society bar. Again, it felt like someone was watching you from the back of the room. “Here to spy on the rich and famous’ dirty secrets?” You turned at the voice, catching her hungry eyes flickering down to the stockings running up your thighs. “Just having a drink. Alone.” you replied, trying to keep your cool. “And you? Followed me, or what are you doing here?” You added it before you could stop yourself. It was unprofessional, but that growing feeling was eating you alive. She chuckled at that, you were so… fuck. She couldn’t stop the record from spinning, playing the song that turned her on so much. “No. I let others do it for me.”

That revelation… it was.. no. You couldn’t even admit it to yourself, but it was hot. The fact that a woman like her wanted you so badly… it was addictive. She pulled you closer into the dance, and you automatically started to sing along. Slowly, you found more and more comfort in the feeling of being watched, of her randomly showing up. You knew how horribly wrong it all was. You knew you had to stop her little obsession with you. You needed to take your control back. So you let the beat take over and spin you around. You had no choice but to dance with her. You did what you were best at, you found out her secrets. And holy shit, what you found. She had been accused of aggravated stalking, domestic violence, and psychological harassment. You had the connections, and enough money, to get her police file, every detail laid bare. All the charges had been dropped out of nowhere, a typical sign of threats or bribery. It was perfect for one of your signature exposés. Yet the original idea, to kill your attraction to her, didn’t work. It only got worse. That danger. God. You couldn’t slow the dance anymore.

You published it, of course. You needed that dance to end. The world was in shock. Her face was on every newspaper, your story retold, your proof shown. And Ellie… she disappeared. At least until that night. You came home late from work, freezing on the doorstep as you saw her standing in your living room, overlooking the city through the glass wall. She slowly turned toward you. The playful glance in her eyes was gone, and only left room for coldness. “Get over here.” You shouldn’t have, but your body seemed to listen to her more than to you. You were a slave to that beat. You slowly dropped your bag and closed the door. “You’re gonna write a call-back. Say it was fake. Change the story. Say you found more evidence in my favour. I don’t fucking care. Undo it.” she hissed down as you finally reached her.