by T. L Smith
I watched his retreating form, wondering what his angle was.
Why would he be interested in me?
What was in it for him?
It took me a week to call him and when I did, I was surprised by what he offered. He wanted my help. I didn’t quite understand till he sent me on my first assignment; it was to the home of a pedophile. My text message requested that I dressed young. That particular job took me a total of twenty minutes. I never looked back after that. The rush was too much and too addictive. I knew this was what I had to do and what I was to become.
I’m not always a serial killer. I do like to have fun. I don’t have friends and I don’t need them. I can’t take the risk of letting someone get close to me without exposing myself. If I do, I risk all that I have done – all the good, plus the bad. People ask questions that they can’t handle the answers to. A simple question could lead to an answer they can’t handle.
I have a job later tonight, but at the moment I’m bored. I have no buzz. Just as I’m walking past a coffee house to head to the party, something catches my eye. It’s the laughing man, the man from the frat party. He’s sitting down by himself staring at the screen of his cell with a furrowed brow. He must feel my stare because he looks up and straight at me. He doesn’t smile or laugh like I expected, he just stares. I do the same and stare back trying to work out this fascinating man. I stand there for a few minutes before I walk inside and head straight for him. His eyes never leave mine. I take a seat in front of him and smile; he doesn’t.
His hair is cropped short and he has tattoos everywhere. His neck has a writing script across it. One of his knuckles says ‘death’ and the other says ‘love.’ His arms are covered in so much color I have to force myself not stare. I don’t know who he is, but the sight of him is making my pussy clench. His muscles bulge in his tight shirt as he leans over and places his cell on the bench in front of him. His gray, almost black eyes reach mine and I’m taken back by the dark I see in them.
“Kayla,” I say reaching my hand out, expecting him to take it. He doesn’t. I pull my hand back and cross my legs over. His eyes move to my legs while he watches what I do. His eyes snap up to mine when he realizes.
“I already know who you are,” he says, his black eyes never leaving mine.
“Oh.”
“Yes, a girl like you doesn’t go unnoticed, Kayla.” There is so much intensity in those eyes, they’re making me speechless. “I’ve watched you for a while now, you’re quite fascinating.” Still speechless, I can’t form words. I watch as he looks at me with an expression I’m not sure of.
“I even like how you handled that lawyer last Wednesday.”
Oh fuck!
The sense of touch is activated by neural receptors such as hair follicles found in the skin, but also pressure receptors on the tongue and throat...
Lunch is uncomfortable to say the least. I haven’t spoken a word to him. He hasn’t spoken either. Right now we are looking at the café’s menu. It’s all very expensive and quite out of my price range. I tend to live off of two-minute noodles to save money. I reach into my bag and check how much money I have left to last me for the rest of the week. When I see I only have ten dollars, I sigh under my breath. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone and let me eat my noodles? I look back to the menu and find a muffin that’s half the cost of what I have left. It’s also the cheapest thing on the menu. I place the menu down in front of me and look up to see that Detective Black is not sitting in front of me anymore; he’s at the counter ordering.
How rude, at least he could’ve waited.
I grab my wallet and stand in line, two people away from Detective Black. When he’s finished, he looks at me as he passes and grabs hold of my arm, pulling me out of the line. I want to yell at him, but the risk is too high, so I stand there dumbfounded instead.
“I’ve ordered for you,” he gruffly says and pulls me like a rag doll back to the table we are sitting at.
My emotions are running high and I don’t know if I should thank him or be insulted that he thought I couldn’t buy my own lunch. His voice pulls me from my thoughts when our food arrives and I take a glance at him. His eyes are on my fingers that are in my mouth while I bite my nails out of habit.
“How are you doing in your classes?” He looks at me with warmth in his eyes, which shocks me.
“Fine,” my voice squeaks behind my hands. I have no confidence, but I want confidence.
“Do you think this is the right choice of career for you?” He’s leaning forward now, his elbows on his knees, looking at me questionably.
I want to get up and walk out. He doesn’t know me. Who is he to question my motives or goals?
“I think that choice is mine and none of your concern.” I feel like patting myself on the back. I look up and see him smirking. Now it’s my turn to give him a questioning look.
“So you do have some spark in there.” Cocky, that’s what he is.
“It shouldn’t concern you what I have. You are here to help me learn, not to investigate me, Detective.”
“Touché, Miss Wilde, but I’d also like to know what makes you tick.”
Correction… he isn’t cocky; he’s rude, bluntly rude.
He takes a sip of his coffee and I’m about to say something, when he continues. “So tell me, Miss Wilde, where is your family? How come you don’t have a boyfriend?”
That’s it! I did not come here to be investigated by him. I don’t even know who this man is. I pull my bag up and head for the door. I can hear him laughing at me. I don’t understand how this amuses him. I reach the door and barrel into a man that is as hard as a rock and nearly knocks me on my behind. His hand reaches down to help me up and the first thing I notice is the writing on his hand, ‘Love.’ Colorful tattoos follow all the way up his arm and go under his shirt. Then I’m pulled to dark eyes; very dark and scary eyes. I take one last look at him before I pull my backpack to my front and rush out the door. Those dark eyes don’t leave me as I run across the street in my escape.
My chest is constricted and I want to smack myself for being so stupid and running off, but he left me no choice. I collapse on the ground and lay my head back on the grass, and let the heat soak into my skin while I take it all in.
“Gram, I want Momma,” I say pulling on her dress, trying to get her to stand up. She swats my hand away and picks up a bottle of brown liquid that I’m not allowed to touch and downs it in one gulp.
“She isn’t coming to get you, Kristy. Now I want you to remember something,” she says leaning closer to me. Her breath stinks. “You would do good to forget everything and just go to school, get good grades and work hard. You don’t need boys and they don’t need you.” She pushes me away with her hand and finishes what’s left of her bottle.
Someone kicking my foot wakes me from my daydream. I look up to find a tall, beautiful woman standing in front of me. When I say tall, I mean tall, compared to my small frame anyway. She looks down at me and I look her over with a hooded gaze. I guess I’m trying to make sure she isn’t here to humiliate me or even beat me.
“Look at you, you’re the cutest thing I’ve seen all day,” she says in a very deep voice. It’s then that I spot the Adam’s apple she’s trying to hide with her shirt. It takes me a moment to look her in the eyes and smile and when I do she does the same right back. There’s a calming sense about her… him.
“Well, Sugar, what’s your name? Where you from?” she asks straightening out her skirt as she gets comfortable in front of me. Her hair is short and dark and she has heavy makeup covering her face.
“Umm… Kristy is my name and I’m from here.” I don’t delve into my life with anyone. There isn’t anything I want anyone to know. I’m very boring and nothing has ever happened to me, unless you count the loss of my parents.
“No need to be shy, Sugar. I’m just after company and I saw you sitting here all by your lonesome, lost in thought, and I thought, hey, that girl over there needs me to annoy her,�
�� she says with a devilish smirk. I can’t contain mine that follows straight after.
“Well, Sugar, since you never asked, in your presence today is the ever loving and fabulous Julia,” she says with a dramatic wave of her arms. I can’t contain it, she makes me happy.
“Ah, and we have a winner. That sure is a killer smile you have there, Sugar. You need to start flashing that about more often and then the boys will be knocking down your door.”
“Oh no, I don’t need a man,” I say defending myself.
“Sugar, I don’t know why, you’re smoking hot. But you are crazy if you think you don’t need a man. Those pipes downstairs need to be cleaned and your vibrator won’t fix that.” She’s smiling while telling me this. I’m not sure if I should be offended or laughing.
She takes a seat next to me and continues to talk my ear off. She asks me questions here and there, but it mainly consists of her telling me about all the glorious men I should be checking out. I laugh in all the right places and find myself enjoying her company. She isn’t here to use me or abuse me. She’s obviously in need of a friend just like I am.
Every time you recall a memory or have a new thought, you are creating a new connection in your brain.
I’m not quite sure what to do. Should I get up and walk out or play dumb and try to land myself a lay with this incredible specimen of a man? He sits back and waits for my reply, but I don’t give him one. So we have a stare off, with me crossing and uncrossing my legs for his viewing pleasure. He doesn’t look down at first, but when he does, his gaze ignites my skin, making it burn.
“I know what you’re doing,” he says not looking up from my now exposed thighs that are open slightly just to tease.
“Oh really,” I state and place my hand on my thigh. I run it up to pull my skirt down just a tad so the customers in the shop won’t know what I’m doing. My other hand starts trailing softly up the inside of my thigh and I watch as his hand reaches out and captures mine in one quick motion for me to stop. But the thing is that he doesn’t pull my hand away, his hand stays glued on top of mine. The touch is what I crave and when he removes his hand, it’s slow and deliberate as the tips of his fingers lead a scorch over my skin. His eyes focus on our connection.
“I’m not someone you want to play games with.” That voice, oh my God, that voice is so deep and husky and I know he’s turned on. I can see the evidence in his pants.
I lean over and place my breasts on display. “But I love to play, especially in the bedroom.” His breath hitches and I tap myself on the shoulder for making this man bend to my will. He may not realize it yet, but I will have him under me soon.
I stand and straighten my outfit, his gaze still glued to my legs. “Same time tomorrow,” I say and don’t give him a chance to reply before I walk out the door with no backward glance. Tonight I have to work, but tomorrow I can play.
Tyke has given me strict instructions, ‘Get in and get out.’ He didn’t say why, just told me this needs to be fast and no playing. My text arrives just as I finish a shot of tequila at the bar to get my body pumping. I don’t drink big, just enough to loosen the muscles and relax me for what’s to come.
I pull up outside a quiet, but rich neighborhood. Tyke informed me the security cameras would be down on the estate tonight for a limited amount of time. I step out of Tyke’s beaten down car and make my way toward the door. I raise my hand to knock when it’s flung open and standing in front of me is an attractive man in his late forties or early fifties. He’s requested that his host tonight wear a school girl outfit. Apparently he likes them young, which is going to make tonight so much more enjoyable.
“My son will be home soon, you need to hurry up,” he says gruffly and grabs hold of my arm pulling me inside the house. The music is blaring and I smile to myself, could this get any easier? He pulls me into what looks like a master bedroom suite and starts undressing. I don’t. He looks at me weird, his eyebrows bunch together, his mouth forms a puckered lip action like he’s trying to work something out, and I give him my seductive smile that can make a grown man drop to their knees in front of me.
“I want you to stand in the corner, naked, and watch me while I get undressed.” I tell him with an evil glint in my eyes. He does so on command and is instantly where I want him. The first star he didn’t even see coming as it hits him just above his groin.
His screams echo through the house and I’m glad the music is on to cover the banshee cry coming from his mouth. He looks up at me with a pained expression on his face, tears leaking from his eyes.
“I didn’t earn this,” he almost whispers and I barely hear him.
“But you did! You did when you touched your son, and then touched your niece. Did you think you could get away with it?” I say, baiting him. I have to stop playing.
“It’s not true, none of it’s true,” he says as his body crumples to the ground and the blood has started to pool around him now.
“Lying only makes me angrier. Don’t make me angry,” I swear under my breath. I hate men like this.
“I loved them and they loved me.” He’s trying to make me see reason, but what he doesn’t know is that you can’t reason with me.
“I’m sure you did in your sick, twisted mind.” I walk to him slow and deliberate, my knee high stocking dropping slowly. My blonde wig is making my head itch. I can’t wait to get out of it. I start singing to him and he finally looks up at me.
“Please don’t,” he begs.
My mind is lost though as the rhythm of the song takes over my mind. I stand in front of him, my mind focused on the target. I look down and see tears in his eyes, but I don’t think it’s remorse. Men like him don’t see a problem with what they do; to them they think it’s love. It disgusts me. I lean down close; I can smell him better being so close, and he smells musky and dirty. I don’t like it.
I hear a creak in the house. I don’t know if his son has arrived, I just know that I can’t partake in this any longer and I have to be quick. I snap his neck in one swift movement. He didn’t stand a chance. His body drops further and hunches over, making me take a step back.
I take a moment to admire the view. He won’t be hurting anyone anymore. His son might even cry for him. I don’t know. But what I do know is that the world is a better place without Pete in it to traumatize children.
Just as I take a step back, I see a glimpse of someone. They take in a breath as they see what is standing in front of them. The girl is looking between me and the man on the floor. She looks up at me, but my eyes won’t reach her.
“Thank you.”
I nod my head and take off before she has a chance to change her mind and call the police. My body is on a high as I drive to the local bar. My blood is pumping and I’m eager for something more. I’ve changed from my schoolgirl outfit and now I only sport a short skirt with a blue top. My stockings are gone and replaced with boots and my wavy hair is touching my shoulders.
I pull up at the bar not far from the university. I need more alcohol. I need to ride this high as long as it will have me, maybe even ride someone else’s high while I’m there.
Memories triggered by scent have a stronger emotional connection; therefore appear more intense than other memory triggers.
As soon as class is over I wait for the other students to leave, because I like to be the last one out. It means I don’t have to witness their stares or cruel words thrown my way. I try to keep my head down as best as possible in college, but some people can just be mean. I’ve never done anything to warrant someone’s hate; never cursed at them and never openly offended someone.
Once I notice the class is clear and all the students have left, I grab my bag and head toward the door. As soon as I get out of class, a hand wraps around my arm. I want to pull away and run the other way until I hear a very familiar voice at the other end of the hand holding me tightly.
“Have lunch with me?” My eyes start from the floor and work their way up. Clean black dress sh
oes followed by neat black slacks. Belt wrapped around his waist to hold up his pants, black button up shirt, and his badge attached to his belt. I look up to his eyes and avert them, so I look back to his badge. Anything but his face is a good way to start. I think he forgets that I’m angry with him and I’m not in the mood to deal with his nosy attitude today.
“No,” I answer and it’s just above a whisper. His hold loosens from my arm and his fingers graze my skin leaving a tingle where they’ve touched.
“I want to apologize and the best way for me to do that is somewhere comfortable. Please come?”
My eyes betray me and look straight into his. Somewhere in them I can tell he’s sincere, but I know not to take people for granted.
“You can apologize fine right here, we don’t need to waste either of our time by prolonging this.” I pull my bag up and stand taller and proud. I didn’t mumble or whisper; I’m speaking with authority, which isn’t easy to do when you have a sex stick standing in front of you.
“If you don’t come with me so we can talk like adults, I will follow you. I’ll annoy you at every opportunity I get, unless you agree to have lunch.” He can tell that has made me uncomfortable. I don’t like anyone in my personal business, let alone following me.
“Is this how you get women to do as you say? You threaten them?” My eyebrow is raised and my hand has gone to my hip. He brings out the worst in me.
“I knew there was a fire in you somewhere. I’m glad I’m the one to pull it out. But to answer your question, no, only you seem to make me react this way.” His eyes light up and it indicates the truth and I can’t help but smile in return. His beautiful green eyes lock onto mine and I’m held in place, unsure of what to do. I’ve never been on a date before. Actually, does this even mean it’s a date? No, I think it’s… ‘I’m an asshole, let me show you how much more of a one I can be,’ kind of date. I’ll show him there is more to me.
