Said the Demon to Little Miss Eva

The knocking jolted her awake. Her clock read eleven am. Who the hell was knocking? Who the hell wanted to die today? She picked up a dressing gown and padded to the door.

Opening the door at a crack, she saw Michael standing on the other side. Oh god, come on! She was not prepared for this. A mirror wasn't even remotely necessary to warn her that she looked awful and compounding the issue, her eyes were gritty and she was still shaking
from the shock of being woken up so violently.

“Hi Eva.”

“Hey,” she rasped. On mornings when she’d had a blink for a sleep, she sounded like she was suffering from bronchitis like some Charles Dickens orphan about to die.

“Sorry I'm the awful neighbour upstairs.”

She closed her eyes for a brief moment of confusion. She could still hear his voice, Little Miss Eva.... “What?”

“I live above you.” He gave a hesitant smile. “I saw your name on one of the envelopes at the post corner.”

He was making her think. Why did he want her to think? He was making her think and oh god, now all she could think of was that sex dream. “Sorry, do you want to come in?”

She opened the door wider and allowed him to step into her flat. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, looking very bright eyed and bushy tailed. No one needed to look that jovial. No one. He pushed his hands into his pockets. “I like what you've done.”

“I went a bit mad,” she admitted, her flat was an explosion of Moroccan colours. “Do you want a cup of tea? I just got up.”

“I'll have a coffee if you have it?”

She pulled the hood of her dressing gown over her hair. “You're lucky I like the smell.”

As she turned the kettle on and there was the strangest sense of having done this before, with Michael sitting at the breakfast bar waiting for her to present him with a cup. Where do I know this guy from?


He looked at her with wary round eyes, “I didn't come to steal coffee off you, I did actually come to apologise.”

“Why?” she asked, rubbing at her stinging eyes.

“For er...” he gave an embarrassed laugh, “being a bit loud last night. All the banging noises...”

Eva started to laugh, “Oh that was you! Don't worry, I was having really odd dreams.”

Michael put a paper bag on the bar along with a newspaper. “I brought you some muffins. You also made the party pages.”

“That's really sweet of you, thank you!” She placed the cafetiere in front of him and a small espresso cup. “There we are. Now you owe me sugar.”

He gazed at her. “I really am sorry. No one's lived under me for a while and I forget how loud it is.”

“It? Or your friend?” Eva took a grateful sip of tea. “Where is your friend this morning? Packed off into a mini cab?”

Michael reached into the bag and extracted a muffin. “She had an early assignment.”

“Ah that old story.” Eva picked up a muffin with another yawn. “I thought she was in pain she was screaming so loud.”

Michael rubbed a hand over his own face as the coffee brewed and she poured the dark liquid into his cup. “Fuck, I am such a twat. If you need anything... candles, sugar, free phone calls to Antarctica... just come over.”

“I'm an eight hour sleep girl, so I'll hold you to that.” They touched cups in a toast.

“Great exhibition by the way,” he said eventually.

“Thank you, I thought it went really well. Surprisingly well. Good canapés too.”

There was the slightest hesitation in his voice as he ventured, “I thought, if it wasn't a massive ask, if you wouldn't mind doing a portrait of me.”

Ooh, not a great idea. Michael watched her carefully. “What's the matter?”

“I need to discuss it.”

“With your publicist?”

“I don't have one, it's just...” I made promises about my lady area, and you are doing weird things to it which probably means I should leave you alone.

Michael nodded, an awareness in his face. “Boyfriend.”

“Not exactly.” How did pussy – ownership translate in relationship terms?

“Gabriel Walker?” he asked, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly. Eva didn't answer, finding the colour of her tea extremely fascinating. “He and I dated the same girl. He hates me.”

That brought her head up. “Really? That's not really his style. When you say dated the same girl...”

“He went on tour, and she couldn't be bothered to wait around,” he finished tightly, looking down into his cup.

“Oh,” Eva murmured. “He tends to do that a lot.”

He gave a bark of a laugh, “You don't seem like the type of girl who does what her boyfriend tells her.”


True, but Gabriel was as straight as a ruler. There was no bullshit about him whatsoever. But she also was a grown woman who could make her own decisions. It was just a portrait. He wasn't going to be kissing, touching or licking anything anywhere near her lower body. “I'm not. But I've got a work schedule to keep to. And he's not my boyfriend.”


He obviously could taste rebellion in her words and pressed a little more. “Just a small one. You could even do it in pencil.”


“I haven't used pencil since school! Mate you don't know my work at all do you?”


His eyes crinkled with a smile. “Are you going to let me find out?”
She stared at him for a moment, trying to read any underlying malicious motivation. He seemed lonely, like needed a friend. What troubles had he seen for him to be successful in what he did and yet feel alone? “You don't seem like the type who wants a portrait done,” she said finally.


“I'm less introverted than you think.” He gave her a sweet grin, “Look you're my neighbour. Before you vanish off somewhere else to find inspiration it would be pretty good going if I got a portrait done by you. What do you think?”

She could do with the distraction. She picked up her bag, scrambling for her diary. “Okay, when are you free?”

“Tomorrow maybe?” he offered.

“Tomorrow sounds fine,” she agreed, pencilling in a note. He got to his feet.

“I'll stop disturbing you. What if I pop around again about the same time?”

“Great.”

He bit into his bottom lip at her flat tone. Wow, an artist in the room with another person and the artist for once isn’t being overly sensitive.


“Michael,” Eva said patiently, “you're going to have to understand that I am not a morning person, especially when I have neighbours who make me listen to their all night good time.”


He bowed his head in shame. “Message received. I'll see you tomorrow.”
She saluted as he left, leaving a clean lemony scent in his wake. That really didn't help with the sex dream. Maybe she was on heat, because her pussy had been on muted pulse the whole time he had been sitting opposite her, all soapy and fresh. It was obviously Gabriel's fault.


The paper called to her and she opened it with one eye open. A few pages in was a picture of Gabriel getting into his car, traces of her lipstick on his face. She grinned, then laughed when she caught the picture that the photographer had snapped of them. She could still feel his thumb on her hip. And everywhere else. They looked good together, and anyone who knew Eva would see the sexual glee in the curve of her lips.


She flicked through the rest of the paper and came to a grinding halt. Blonde curly hair. Blue eyes. MISSING MODEL FOUND. She skimmed the article to read that Kaylie Hancock, twenty-two years old from East Ham had been missing for a week and was found in her flat when her neighbours complained of the smell. One of the neighbours had commented that 'Kaylie buckled under pressure, she wanted to be as skinny as those other girls. It happens.'

Eva turned the paper to the front page. It had the day's date on it. She was the same girl from her dream. She could feel her severed head on her chest. Maybe she had her confused with someone else, there had been models at the exhibition yesterday. That was the only logical explanation why she was having violent dreams about girls she didn't know.