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.