My name is Alexandra Baines and I am drawn to troubled souls. If you have a dark past, a tale of woe or an interest in the bizarre, I’m your girl. Normal is death in my eyes. Sane is passé, and balanced is anathema. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy bouts of casual conversation and I can socialise with the “Normal” masses who fill the city night after night, bloating my senses with their dreary lives. Nights filled with conversations about shoes, work, babies, men, women, fashion, sex. It’s like toast. It sates the appetite temporarily but it’s not memorable. You don’t wake up in the middle of the night craving toast. If I’m lucky I’ll encounter someone who stirs the sadist in my blood, someone whose voice fills my head with idle chatter but whose eyes speak of darker stories as yet left untold. Someone who can channel into my desires and make me want to submit myself to them completely, baring myself mind, body and soul to whatever twisted depravity they wish to impose upon me. If I’m very lucky, I’ll met someone who can trip the switch in my brain and make me forget all the rules imposed upon me, all of the moral codes drilled into my head. Someone who can tap into the side of me that very few can; the side that craves submission, that demands complete possession. On these nights I feel invincible, knowing that the next few hours will bring a world of complete physical pleasure that will tide me through the weeks to follow, that the memories of this night will remain long after the bruises have faded. On these nights I rejoice in a frenzy of flirting and fucking, sating my body’s need for sex and my soul’s need for redemption. Male, female, it’s all the same to me. That first electrifying moment of connection, the ubiquitous flirtation, the inevitable consummation, the orgasm that melts your bones and short wires your brain leaving you temporarily adrift in an ocean of endorphins. All done in one glorious night, the perfect one night stand, the ultimate stress reliever. As always, once my body has recovered from my orgasm I leave, never to return. What would be the point? Lightening doesn’t strike twice and despite my propensity for depravity I’ve never really understood the appeal of necrophilia. That’s right; I said necrophilia as in sex with dead people. They aren’t dead when we start, and call me crazy but I love that moment when your bodies are dripping with sweat and your heart is racing in the comedown from climax. Those few minutes when you’re still one entity and the post coital bliss has you both wrapped in a warm blanket. That would suck if one of you was dead. So I soak up the good stuff and as soon at the sweat has cooled on my skin and before they can ask if it was good for me, I pull my gun and fire. No cuddling, no compliments, no plans, no waiting by the phone, no paranoia. Just pleasure.
Maybe I should spell it out for you properly. My name is Alexandra Baines and I am a Slaker. I work for a covert subsection of the Government whose job it is to moderate all questionable behaviour amongst the citizens of this fair city. We operative so far below the radar we’re practically sewer rats. We have taken over the role of morality police, which in my case is fucking hilarious. We deal with the lowlifes, the crime bosses, the villains. Anyone who ever broke the law and anyone who is considering it is our domain. We each specialise in moderating different types of bad guy. My speciality, well I go out every night and do what I do best, I flirt, fuck, fire and flee.