by Lee Cockburn
“Hi John,” a warm and friendly voice came from behind him, almost making him jump.
“Oh hi there, I was away in a wee world of my own there.”
“Good days off?”
“Yep, just the same old same old. You know how it is eh? Boring old Edinburgh.”
The woman who had spoken to him was quite new to the department and always full of the joys, every day, never up, nor down, always friendly to him and very polite. She was in her forties, confident and relatively pretty for her age. Her name was Rachel Davies and he actually liked her, because she was genuinely a non-judgemental type of person, and he never felt anything false about her. He never felt judged by her and in his mind she was safe.
She said to John, “Do you want to walk me in?”
John hesitated, almost stunned that he was being asked to walk with her.
“I won’t bite,” she said, and John got out of his car and locked it behind him, almost fumbling with his keys. He quickly gained control of himself and walked into the building with her, sharing a little small talk, but nothing more as he would not reveal anything of himself to anyone, least not to a woman. He couldn’t afford to let anyone get close, although he did really like her.
Once inside Rachel headed for the stairs and John went to the lift. She mentioned that the stairs were better for his health, with a smile, but John just carried on towards the lift. They exchanged pleasant goodbyes and the lift door closed. Inside there were two women and another man. The women were both dressed in skirts and blouses, one very modest and conservative, the other wearing her clothes in a slightly more revealing fashion; not trashy, but worth looking at. John stood behind them, his eyes wandering all over them. Every curve, their calves, necks and buttocks; every inch was being measured and their details stored in his mind for future thoughts. The younger woman turned round and caught him looking her up and down; she was the one wearing her blouse tightly fitted and a skirt which revealed her well-shaped legs. John dropped his eyes quickly and regretted allowing his mind to linger longer on what he wanted to do to them. The woman turned and adjusted her clothes, an obvious physical reaction to being leered at. She had felt his eyes boring into her from behind, an unhealthy feeling of being watched. He had sent shivers down her spine and they weren’t pleasant. She felt very uncomfortable. The lift door pinged and both of them got out, along with the man who paled into insignificance to John; he only had eyes for the ladies. The women walked down the corridor and John just caught a glimpse of them talking to each other, he shuddered slightly, hoping he hadn’t stepped over the line. He didn’t want to have to sort anything out this close to home.
The younger woman said to the other, “He gives me the creeps that guy! I just caught him looking at my legs.”
The other woman gave her a friendly shove and said, “No wonder he was looking at you. Look at you, ya hussy.” They laughed it off and headed to their respective offices, not realising just what type of man had taken a shine to them.
John walked into his office and sat at his work station, the numerous screens shining brightly in front of him; already he could see people interacting, arguing, loving, hating one another. He loved his job because he fed off other people’s misery and this place was a perfect place to prey on women. He always used the screen enhancement function to zoom in on any female’s body that caught his eye, obviously only when the others were on a break though.
His colleague Peter Smith came into the room and said hello to John, who returned the greeting. Peter asked if there was anything interesting happening. “No, not yet, I’ve checked all of the cameras, everyone is blissfully happy,” he replied with a hint of cynicism. There were computers within the work area for the staff’s use, and John couldn’t wait to get using one; he was impatient to find his next special lady.
Eventless hours passed and Peter eventually got up to take his break; this gave John forty five minutes of privacy to get hunting. He checked out numerous sites which named and described successful business people, their places of work and other rather boring details about their companies and the ins and outs of what went on in their day-to-day running. None of this information held any interest for John, he just wanted to look at the pictures of the executives, not them all of course, only the women, the attractive women! The women that made him feel inadequate as they stared out of the screen right at him, in his mind, looking down at him, laughing at him, belittling him.
His rage was burning deep within him. “How dare they, how fucking dare they.” He stared straight at the screen, straight at a full sized picture of a striking blonde woman, in her forties, slim, blue eyes and full lips. Anna Watt, director of her own company; she had an accountancy firm in the New Town in Edinburgh, a self-made millionaire, unmarried and currently unattached - well, until I come to visit her of course, John thought.
John visibly jumped up as Peter arrived back from his break; he deleted Anna’s photo immediately, certain he was quick enough to stop Peter seeing him.
“Your turn. Don’t have any of that pie - it’s minging. God knows what they’ve put in it. Anything interesting on the net?”
“Naw, same old shit mate. Have a look for yourself but I’ll have to sign out, you know all the regulations an’ that, eh!”
“Catch you in a bit then,” Peter said as John left the room.
John went to the gents’, the façade of normality wearing thin on him; he hated the mundane chore of normal life, he thought he was better than that. Why the hell should I have to work day in day out for practically nothing? A flashing image of Anna’s face now invaded his mind and he could feel his stomach tightening, his vile mind already decided -that arrogant rich cow is my next customer. A hideous smile spread over his face and a strange comfort came over him, the stress and anticipation dissipating through him as he could now focus on what mattered to him, what now consumed him: getting rich and showing these women who was in charge.
John walked back to his work station and said to Peter, “I don’t feel well mate, I’m going to head off home, I’ll call back in when I’m better.”
Peter looked up and said, “I told you not to have the pie. You do look like shit though. I’ll get on the blower an’ tell the boss to get you covered for a while then.”
“Thanks Pete.”
Chapter 9: Addiction
Back during Halloween a year ago, the work had a night out at a pub in the centre of Leith, a refurbished boat recently changed to a chic bar and night club. It was furnished with modern but comfortable fittings. Lit with a warm ambience, it was busy with a mixed crowd and the drinks were flowing. John was talking to the lads from his department at the end of the table while the women were gossiping down at the other end. They were dressed to impress and there was a little flesh on show for those who wanted to look. The confident younger lads were strutting their stuff, making any excuse to walk past the ladies, exchanging the usual flirtatious and suggestive banter, a tactic John found degrading and demeaning. He thought it was like begging for their attention and only if the girl decided he was worthy would she encourage further chat and maybe more. John shuddered inside at the power women held just for a guy to get a bit of pussy. Men were so god damn gullible when it came to getting their leg over. John surveyed the pub; there were women barely dressed in his opinion, flaunting themselves and begging for it. No wonder things happen to them, he thought, almost visibly grinding his teeth. He felt uncomfortable, mixed feelings between arousal, jealousy and resentment, fucking bitches; his temper was starting to boil and he found himself feeling unable to remain calm and maintain his façade of normality.
Since killing his wife, John could not stop thinking about the arousal and the ultimate power he had felt as he took the most precious gift from his traitor of a wife, her life! He craved that fix again, that power. He wanted to feel his blood surge through his veins once again, pulse racing; feel that stiffness of his cock again as the desperation of another woman to survive thrilled him lik
e never before. He wanted these women in the pub, all of them, he wanted to destroy their beauty one by one, teach them a lesson by taking their confidence away from them. “Sluts, flaunting themselves like that,” he muttered, they’ll get what they deserve one day. His body was now tensing up and he began to feel a little conspicuous and tried to relax himself a little, as he knew he didn’t want to raise any suspicions of what he truly was.
“Hey John, do you want another pint?” asked Dave.
“No.” John suddenly snapped out of his thoughts. He turned politely and said, “I’m off, I don’t feel too well and don’t want to get trashed tonight, I’m off home, I’ll catch you all at work next week eh. Cheers.” And he was off, just like that.
He was relieved to be out of the claustrophobic atmosphere. He walked a short distance along by the river and climbed into his car where he sat for a while never. He hadn’t intended to drive home, but he’d only had three pints and he was a big man and reckoned he might just be under the limit, and he certainly didn’t feel pissed. He started the car and began to head home. He did not intend to indulge in anything more that night, but something stirred within him and he decided to change direction and drive along the sea front onto Salamander Street towards the area where prostitutes openly walked the streets touting for tricks. He had never used a prostitute before as he believed he should never have to pay for sex; the fact that a woman got some sex from him should be enough for them. His thoughts turned foul and he decided he was going to find the youngest prettiest little whore and teach her that she hadn’t made the best choice this evening; selecting him for a trick would put her career choice seriously into question and maybe even her life. He smiled a treacherous smile as his eyes narrowed and he drove with more conviction and purpose.
He pulled onto Seafield Road and there were several women underdressed for the weather, long thigh length boots, basks and the shortest skirts imaginable. John was already hard from his previous thoughts and his desire was becoming overwhelming. He drove slowly past the women and watched, leered at and examined their faces and bodies, memorising every detail for when he made his final choice. He drove by several times and looked to see which of the whores had a pimp in tow and which did not. He didn’t want any male attention tonight, just the ladies; he didn’t want a fair fight, he wanted to instil terror and dominate and control.
He parked up in a street, just off Salamander Street, where he knew there was no CCTV coverage and a safe route out to other streets that avoided the gaze of the lens, areas not covered by the watchful eye of the city’s cameras. The night dragged on as the women were picked up and dropped off; not long for each customer, just enough to get their rocks off. What a waste of money, John thought to himself, I certainly won’t be as quick and I certainly won’t be paying. The night drew on and his patience was finally rewarded. There was a pretty young Polish looking girl heading towards him. The pimps were nowhere to be seen.
She spotted him sitting in his car, something that didn’t surprise her. Lots of men sat and stared, waiting for them to approach. Her thoughts clouded with the awful things that were expected of them. Men seemed to think if they paid for sex that these girls weren’t worthy of any respect, care or freedom from being forced to carry out depraved acts, which they would never dream of asking their partners to perform. She was really tired, but could see that there was still money to be made and the more she got, the less likely she was to receive a beating from her pimp. If her earnings were up on the night before, she could sneak a little more for herself and pay him enough to keep him off her back, or stop him demanding favours for himself and he wasn’t a kind and caring man. Hey, what harm can it do, she thought. There was big business on party nights, men drunk and filled with desire, desire that the women that waited in their homes would be less than willing to fulfil. There were also men who didn’t have women in their lives, who don’t score very often, coming down for a genuine need to be with a woman, to get some company and a little sexual pleasure before heading for home alone.
Layla was a slim pretty young lady, trim waist, ample breasts and long legs that led to the shortest skirt imaginable, barely covering her panties. She had an unwanted heroin habit, one that was forced upon her by her pimp; this made it possible to control her, because once addicted, he could provide the only thing that she would eventually want and need. She was bright and came to this country with ambition and desire, but couldn’t get a job and was preyed upon by her pimp, masking himself as someone who cared, providing her with accommodation and food, which turned quickly into her owing money and being trapped into a spiral of despair and slavery.
She leant into the window of John’s car but before she could even speak he gripped her throat so tight that she could not make a sound. He pushed her harder and she lost consciousness and dropped to the pavement like a stone, banging her chin as she fell. He shoved her ruthlessly with the door of his car to get it open and quickly bundled her into the rear seat, her chin now stained with blood oozing from the fresh gash on it. He climbed back into the car and was about to switch on the engine when a cop car moved slowly into the street, which was a regular occurrence in that area to try and keep the situation there under some sort of control. John froze, not wanting to be seen sitting in his car in this area; he slumped down and flattened himself to the front seats, hiding his large torso from sight, and hoped the cops in the car hadn’t seen him prior to ducking down, that the patrol car would just pass on by. Layla began to moan in the rear seat and tried to rub her throat and touch the blood on her chin; she let out a scream as she realised it was blood. John could see she was about to sit up in the back of the car and give them away, so he reached through the gap of the seats and viciously gripped her hair, pinning her head. She screamed even louder and he hissed instructions to her, but she ignored him and carried on screaming. The police car was now right alongside their car and the two officers were talking to each other. One appeared to have spotted something up ahead. A man had stopped his car beside a lady of the night just a bit further up the road. The police car sped off in that direction. John heard its engine revving as it pulled away. He sat up and was now able to savagely punch Layla straight in the face repeatedly, mercilessly until she lost consciousness once again. He muttered to himself, “You’ll regret that, you nearly had me caught, you stupid little tramp.”
John carefully put his seat belt on and followed his planned route away from the area, avoiding the police vehicle parked up further along the road, now booking the kerb crawler. He smiled, but also shuddered at just how close he had come there to being caught. He travelled along the coast and then across the country to a wooded area in the middle of nowhere, not even a farm house within several miles. He was now on a single track road and he hadn’t seen any other traffic on his travels whatsoever. Perfect, he thought, privacy for my next performance. He stopped the car and violently jerked and yanked at Layla as he carelessly and cruelly pulled her from the rear seat by her feet, and ripped off what clothing she had on, masturbating frantically until he ejaculated all over her; he couldn’t help himself, his arousal driving there was getting in the way of his rational thoughts.
She started to come to and saw him above her; the realisation of the predicament she was in hit her chest almost painfully and she drew in a sharp and noticeable breath and started to crawl backwards as quickly as she could, pain pulsing through her face and her head clouded with the previous assault, she realised how much danger she was now in. He adjusted himself, sorting his fly, and moved towards her, noticing that she had awoken and was going to try to get away; she turned and pushed herself up and started to run from him. She had no clothes or shoes on but she was now in full flight, sprinting into the darkness, not worried about her bare feet and the pain stabbing into them as each footstep landed on undergrowth sharp and damaging; anything to get as far away from him. She could hear him following her and her heart sank further as the light from his torch lit up the area behind her, taki
ng away the cover of darkness. John bellowed out to her and his words echoed through the night, “YOU’RE GOING NOWHERE, I’VE NOT EVEN STARTED WITH YOU YET, BITCH.”
Layla sprinted even faster, wishing for the first time in her life that her brutish pimp would appear from the trees to save her and stop this maniac from hurting her. This was not to be, and she could now feel the ground cutting into her and branches whipping into her face, slashing her skin and slowing her down. The torch light was getting further behind as her youth and speed put distance between them. She took the chance and dropped down to her knees in a patch of long grass and nettles. They burnt her skin as she crouched there, trying to hold her breath and keep quiet; rasping desperate breaths still heaved from her lungs which were starved of vital oxygen from her frantic flight. She could hear her tormentor heading in her direction. He too was panting from the chase and had now started to walk as he had lost sight of his prey and his paunch was slowing him down. Her heart was pounding so hard, that she feared it could be heard out with her body, her knees and hands trembling uncontrollably with fear and pain. Her skin was slashed to ribbons from the blind run she had just taken, no concern for her physical well-being, all effort going in to saving herself from her pursuer. She felt the night had taken a sinister turn and she didn’t think his intention was just purely sexual; she now believed he would kill her, and terror engulfed her and tears rolled down her cheeks at the desperate predicament she was in.
