Every Woman's Dream

by Mary Monroe

  The last messages she left in my in-box made me sick: Hey, Calvin! I looked at your profile and picture again and I hope we can get together someday soon. Keep in touch! BrownSugar

  BrownSugar was BrownShit!

  I didn’t bother responding to that corny dribble right away. I’d get back to her in a few days. I planned to communicate with her just enough to keep her interested. The first time I saw her picture, I knew immediately that I was going to kill her.

  When we did finally meet, I’d wine and dine her and remain somewhat aloof so I wouldn’t make her nervous and scare her off. I wouldn’t even object if she wanted to continue seeing other men—as if I could stop a bitch from screwing around on me, anyway! I’d even encourage her to do so. I suspected that before she joined the dating site, she had already hurt some righteous men with her nasty self. With her being involved with several men around the time of her disappearance, the cops would have a very long list of suspects to focus on.

  It had been six months since I’d sent Lola the first e-mail. In the last one I’d sent, which was a month ago, I asked for a telephone number so I could hear her voice. But she’d declined. She also told me that she didn’t feel comfortable revealing too much of her personal information too soon. I laughed out loud, long and hard, when I read that part of her e-mail. The stupid bitch didn’t have to reveal her “personal information” too soon. Everything I needed to know about her was posted on Facebook: her full name and the city she resided in! Her name and home address were listed in the telephone book! In her club profile, she had even included the name of that Mickey Mouse grocery store she worked for and it was listed in bold print in the phone book too.

  Like so many other ignorant women on the Internet, Lola had made herself a sitting duck and didn’t even realize it. No wonder the body count in America was so high. And it was going to get even higher. . . .

  Had I met Lola a couple of years ago, she would be a Popsicle by now, just like Glinda and the two “roommates” she shared the freezer with.

  Christmas was coming early for me this year. Lola was going to be a gift in every sense of the word. She had received five-star reviews from club members she’d been with. That was enough for me. So in addition to her being my most important future project, I had a good fuck to look forward to as well.

  Lola Poole. It was so ironic that her last name rhymed with “fool.” So that she’d keep me on her radar, I sent her another e-mail a few hours ago. I practically begged her for a phone number so I could call and text her. She was so glad to hear from me; she wasted no time giving me her cell phone and her landline number. I called her right away.

  “Lola? Is it really you?” I asked when she answered on the second ring.

  “Yup! It’s really me!” she said, sounding like a fucking cheerleader.

  “You sound so young.”

  “People tell me that all the time. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I’ll be thirty-three this year.”

  “So, have you been keeping busy?”

  “Yup.”

  “I’m sure you have.” I chuckled, but what I really wanted to do was scream at this bitch and call her every trashy name I could think of. But I was way too cool to lose my cool. I had come too far to derail the plans I had for this nasty heifer.

  Women were like books and I knew how to read them. Every page on Lola’s book was in big bold print. She was probably already planning a big church wedding for us! Well, if I had not planned to keep her body after I killed her, she’d still be participating in a big church event, all right: her funeral.

  “I know a beautiful woman like you wouldn’t sit around the house twiddling her thumbs. I’m sure you’re one of the most popular women in the Discreet Encounters club, so I know you get a lot of requests for, uh, discreet encounters.”

  “Well, yeah, I do get a lot of requests,” she said slowly, clearing her throat. “I’m glad I joined the club. I have a date lined up for this Friday night. I wish it was with you.”

  “So do I,” I said, almost choking on the words.

  “I . . . I realized there was something special about you the first time I saw your picture. I didn’t want just to sleep with you and move on to the next man, I . . .” She paused. “I’m sorry. I’m making a fool of myself, but I just want you to know that you really are special to me.”

  “I feel the same way about you, Lola,” I admitted. She was the most annoying, disgusting, stupid, love-struck female I had ever encountered! Bitch, slut, whore! She had probably picked out the names of the children she thought we were going to have.

  “I know we’ve only communicated a few times, but I can already tell that you are a very interesting man.” She chuckled.

  Despite my rage, I was actually in a jovial mood, so I chuckled too. “And I can already tell that you’re a very interesting woman.”

  “I’ve met a lot of other nice men in the club, and I’ve had a whole lot of fun, but I’m not going to be a member too much longer.”

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  “Well, I’d like to settle down with one man.”

  “Oh? Is there someone special in your life now?”

  “No, but I’m sure I’ll meet somebody special soon.”

  I held my breath and counted to five. Sometimes that helped me control my tongue and my anger. This bitch was lucky I couldn’t come through the phone. “My schedule is a little more flexible now. If you’re not too busy in the next couple of weeks, maybe you can squeeze me between other dates on your calendar.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure I’ll be able to do that. To tell you the truth, I was beginning to think we’d never even get this far,” she said, trying to sound coy. She was about as coy as a madam.

  “I guess it has been a long time since I sent you that first message, huh?”

  “Almost six months. I printed out your message and it’s got the date on it.”

  Why would a woman do juvenile shit like that and then tell the man? She probably kept a diary, too, and called the Psychic Hotline on a regular basis to listen to their lies about her love life. “If I hadn’t had to do so many runs and issues going on at work, we could have gotten together long before now.”

  “Calvin, you don’t have to explain anything to me. I’ve been just as busy as you.”

  “I’ll give you a call in the next week or so and we can make plans to get together. Are you okay with that?”

  “Oh yes! I’m really looking forward to it!” This cow sounded like it was Jesus she was going to meet. Well, she would meet him real soon....

  “I have a few personal issues I need to attend to first.”

  “Oh. I hope it’s nothing too serious.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s not. A lot of things happened while I was in the military that need to be straightened out. The most serious one is that my ex didn’t pay the property taxes for two years in a row, like she was supposed to, so that’s a big mess. I have court dates up the ass. But I promise I won’t take too long.”

  Everything that had just slid out of my mouth was untrue. There was only one reason I was putting Lola off, and that wouldn’t change: I was taking my time because I wanted to savor every day, hour, minute, and second of the whole experience of killing her from start to finish.

  “Okay, Calvin. I can’t wait to meet you in person.”

  Chapter 53

  Calvin

  I HAD KILLED SEVERAL WOMEN AND I HAD NO REGRETS. WHAT I DIDN’T know yet was if I’d continue to kill after I killed Lola. It all depended on that imaginary beast in my belly. If killing Lola put him to rest permanently, I would be done. If it didn’t, I would probably continue to kill until I was too old and physically unable to do so.

  In the meantime, I wanted to have some fun.

  Discreet Encounters had opened up a whole new world for me. So far, I’d had encounters with some fine-looking, sex-hungry women. It was one of the reasons I was holding off on my first real date with Lola Poole. I had her thinking that it was r
eally because of my work schedule and other commitments, and that was partly true. But if I had really wanted to be with her sooner, I would have made time for her. She was too stupid to see that, though. And I knew women well enough to know when they thought they were getting over on a dude. Lola had been trying to play the same cat-and-mouse game with me that I’d been playing with her. She was so obviously anxious to sex me. No matter what she said in her brief messages to me, I could read between the lines. She claimed to be so busy she didn’t know when she’d be able to meet me. With all the competition I had, I wasn’t even sure she ever would.

  But I was going to get close to her in other ways....

  The morning after I’d received her last dumb e-mail, I put on a pair of dark glasses, a hooded sweatshirt, and a baseball cap. My own mother would not have recognized me. I was on vacation for a few days, so I drove to South Bay City so I could check Lola out from a distance. I parked three blocks away from the tacky grocery store where she worked and walked the rest of the way. She was busy flirting with some dumpy security guard, who should have been watching the door, so she didn’t even notice me when I swaggered in.

  I stopped in front of a counter a few feet away from her station, which contained a pile of bruised fruit. I stood like a pole glued to the spot and gazed at her. I couldn’t wait to wrap my hands around that goose neck of hers! When the security guard finally returned to his post, she noticed me. She blinked and a curious expression crossed her face.

  “Sir, can I help you?” she yelled, flashing a fake smile.

  “No, I’m just looking,” I replied in a falsetto voice, and swished away like a drag queen.

  I immediately started walking up one aisle after another. She was the only clerk on duty, so I couldn’t go up and make a purchase. And, I was afraid that if I got too close to her too soon, I’d snap and all hell would break loose. I would have stayed a little longer if that old-ass hag boss of hers hadn’t started following me and giving me the fish-eye. There was not a damn thing in that dump that I wanted to buy, let alone steal!

  I had already looked Lola up in the telephone book, so I knew where she lived. That night, a few minutes before midnight, I cruised past her house.

  This morning I returned around eight and parked a block from her house. I sat there until I saw her come out, prancing down the street like she didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Lola, you have no idea what I have in store for you,” I said, speaking through clenched teeth. I slapped my steering wheel so hard, the dashboard rattled.

  When my mini vacation ended the following day, I had a run down to San Diego. And it was a good thing I did, because I knew that if I continued to stalk Lola, sooner or later someone would notice me.

  I had a date lined up with a club member who lived in San Diego: a blond female attorney named Rosemary something. Her screen name was “LustyLady.” She had sent me an e-mail three days ago. When I told her I was going to be in her area in a few days, she invited me to spend some time with her in the mansion she shared with her blind husband and their three dogs. I agreed to meet up with her for an encounter, but not in her mansion. I didn’t care if her husband was blind, I was not going to disrespect the dude by fucking his wife under the same roof.

  This woman was very hot for me, so she was not about to give up. She offered to book a hotel room and I was cool with that. Less than a minute later, she decided she wanted to be in a more intimate setting, so she invited me to come to the beach house she owned in Malibu. I was cool with that too. I parked my rig in one of the designated truck stops on my route, hitched a ride to the nearest car rental business, and I drove to her place.

  I had never been to Malibu, but I knew it was a playground for wealthy people. One beach house was just as lavish as the next. There were nothing but luxury cars cruising up and down the palm-tree-lined streets and parked in the driveways. I saw a few prosperous-looking people of color, out and about, but I felt out of place because I was the only one driving a Honda. I envied the people who lived in this paradise, but I preferred the simple life. I believed in that old saying: “Mo’ money, mo’ problems.”

  “You’re quite a stud, you know. Sex hasn’t been this good for me in years,” Rosemary told me as we lay naked on a thick shag carpet in the living room of her beach house. I’d arrived an hour earlier and we’d already finished off a bottle of cognac and made love twice. She was attractive for a woman in her middle forties and she had a great body. Nothing sagged and there was not an inch of cellulite on her. She admitted that she’d had every cosmetic surgery procedure, from a face-lift to lifting her butt.

  “I’ve been with other black men, but you’re one of the best.”

  I chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” She sat up and gazed down at me.

  “Another white woman told me I was a lousy fuck.”

  “She’s a goddamn liar! Do you still see her?”

  “Oh no. She’s someone from my past.”

  “Harrumph! You don’t look like a violent man, and I don’t normally condone violence, but you should have slapped her silly.” Rosemary laughed. “What ever happened to her?”

  I sat up. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I know you probably never wanted to see her after she made that comment, but did you remain on good terms with her?”

  Kimberly, that obnoxious hitchhiker, was probably still rotting under those branches and leaves where I’d dumped her. “No. I heard she left town and I never heard from her or saw her again.”

  “Good riddance!” Rosemary stood up and started walking toward the corner where the liquor was kept in a small cabinet. “You know I’m married and I love my husband very much. What about you? Is there anyone special in your life?”

  “Oh yes! Her name is Lola and she’s very special.” I smiled so hard, even my cheeks ached.

  Chapter 54

  Lola

  CALVIN CALLED ME AROUND NINE O’CLOCK TONIGHT AND WE FINALLY made a date for our first rendezvous. We decided to make love in two days, on Super Bowl Sunday (after that damn game ended).

  I was beside myself! I had learned so many new bedroom tricks since I’d joined the club, and I couldn’t wait to use them on him.

  I was so horny for him by now; I started itching between my thighs, and my stomach started cramping ten minutes after his telephone call. I wanted to scream when I went to the bathroom and saw that my damn period had started a week early!

  Joan thought it was hilarious when I called her up and told her. “Blood is usually a bad omen,” she told me when she stopped laughing. “Maybe it means you should put off meeting Calvin a little longer.”

  “Maybe it means I should not meet him at all,” I countered. “I might like him so much, I won’t want to date any other men—and I’m having so much fun, I don’t want to do that right now.” I was on the telephone in my bedroom. I could hear Bertha stirring around downstairs, but I kept my voice low so she couldn’t hear me talking. She still didn’t know I had a separate landline in my room, because I unplugged it and kept it hidden when I wasn’t using it. It came in handy because I was bad about keeping my cell phone charged. There had been too many times when I needed to use it to call Joan and couldn’t, because my battery was too low. Like it was tonight.

  “He asked me to meet him in that sports bar on Franklin Street on Sunday, before the game,” I said with a heavy sigh. “We’re going to watch the game together.”

  “Humph! You hate sports as much as I do. Do you mean to tell me you’re going to sit through that damn football game and then check in to a hotel to get busy? Girl, you know how men are. Do you think his mind is going to be on sex after he’s just watched the Super Bowl?”

  “I hope so.” I sighed. “It was his idea.”

  “Honey, you need a new plan. If the team he’s rooting for loses, he’ll be pissed off. If his team wins, he’ll be too excited to do you any good.” Joan laughed again. “Either way, you can’t compete with the Su
per Bowl.”

  “He picked the date, so maybe the game doesn’t mean that much to him.”

  “If that’s the case, he wouldn’t have asked you to meet him in a sports bar to watch the granddaddy of ball games.”

  “Hmmm. Maybe you’re right. This Sunday might not be a good day for me to meet him, even if my period hadn’t started. If I postpone our date, I hope he doesn’t lose interest and not want to meet me, after all.”

  “And what if he does? There are plenty more where he came from!”

  “That’s for sure, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “I’d really like to meet Calvin in person this Sunday. Even if it’s just for one date.”

  “Look, ‘Bloody Mary,’ unless the man is a vampire or such a freak he doesn’t mind dipping his stick in a woman when she’s on her period, the sooner you postpone this date, the better. Try to get him to meet you in a couple of weeks when you’ll be nice and dry—say, around Valentine’s Day. That way, maybe he’ll bring you a big box of candy and some flowers.” Joan stopped talking abruptly. “Listen, Reed’s in a foul mood again, so let me go do some damage control on my end too. Call me back when you can.”

  I had to call Calvin and let him know I couldn’t meet him on Sunday, after all. He answered halfway through the first ring.

  “Calvin, it’s Lola Poole,” I said shyly. “My cell phone is charging, that’s why I’m calling you from my landline.”

  “Hello again, Lola.”

  His voice was so deep and sexy, and he sounded older than he looked in his picture. Is he the man he claimed to be? I wondered. I thought about the people who lied about their ages and backgrounds and posted pictures of better-looking people, claiming it was them—the way Joan and I had done years ago. Maybe Calvin was a frog-faced geezer old enough to be my grandfather who had been running a game on me all these months! Before I could stop myself, I laughed.