Joseph Rodgers

I look down at the radiance of the radio clock in my car, it is about twelve o' clock, and my companion and I are riding down a deserted dirt road out in the middle of nowhere. We are the only humans for miles; the only other thing that is sharing air with us right now is the night birds who call out for their mates. All of this is mine, the little stretch of road, the long winding driveway it leads to, and the elaborate mausoleum of a house that the driveway leads to. I don't want people to visit me, I don't generally like people, and I know that this may seem a little eccentric, but I don't think that it is, just safe; this world is a dangerous place.

I pulled into my long well paved driveway killing the ignition on the purring engine of my car, my hand moves from my keys to my seat belt to unbuckle it, as I previously stated this world is a dangerous place. I turn to my passenger and give her a kiss on her porcelain cheek and let myself out, the cool leather of my car seats slides against the material of my pant legs. After exiting my car I give into my bad habit and examine the car for any dings or scratches in the paint, I know it may seem eccentric but my car is very important to me. My car is a sleek black monster named after some exotic animal or another, it is high powered, and over priced, and it helps me with my job that was given to me by her. Sometimes I feel like I put more into my job than I get out of it, but hey it's for her, and I shouldn't complain I like my job.

I walk away from my examination of the car's body and walk to the passenger side door placing my hand on the chrome door handle and letting my current companion, Jackie out. As Jackie gets out of the car, I smile at her. I try and smile a lot especially as I notice her slinky dance dress twirl around her thighs as she steps on to the blacktop. I smile and pretend like I find Jackie attractive. Jackie was a pretty thing, the blonde Monroe type, nice hips, and body, the type of stuff any self-respecting guy like; though if you ask my opinion on Jackie, she is a whore, selling her self to the highest bidder. Whoever's got the cash; they got Jackie as good as in their pants, and I most definitely have the cash.

Knowing that I have got Jackie, I smile and ask politely "Would you like to come in?" Between my car, my smile, and my money I always have them. It is almost like a game, or a well rehearsed dance. Step on the dance floor, cut in on someone else's game, flaunt my wealth, and then take them home. Well maybe calling it a dance is over-romanticizing it, it is more like an algebra equation their greed, subtracted from my obvious wealth, equals the girl to come home.

So in response to my question she moves her shoulders like a faux feline, purring slightly through the painted lips of a clown, "Ooooh I'd absolutely love to." She says accenting love with another fake feline purr. I smile at her; I can see my wonderful white teeth reflecting in her gaudy gold earrings, unquestionably faux gold. All over she is as fake as my interest in her. I take her pale slender arm in the crook of my elbow, and elegantly lead her up my driveway, it is a full moon out tonight, and it adds to the exhilaration of this wonderful Friday night. I begin to feel excitement begin to creep up to me, but I push it back I can't ruin it by rushing things.

When my house comes becomes more clear in view; the white mansion of good taste, old wealth mixed with modern function, with two windows like eyes peering over my estate; Jackie gasps drawing in the cool night air through her clown lips. My grin widens when she gasps, she has the exact reaction I expected, but it makes me feel even better to know that things are working well.

"I have brandy inside if you would care for a drink." I say nonchalantly as we reach my door step. I unlock the door, holding the heavy oak burden open for Jackie as she giddily steps through. My house is absolutely perfect for my job, it is big, over-decorated with lavish oil paintings of my ancestors that leer off of the walls, it is immaculately clean, furnished with over-priced burdens of bygone eras, and useless electronics adorn the kitchen and living room like giant insects with sleek chrome, steel, and glass bodies, of course I have the large liquor cabinet that is staple of any rich man's home. I approach the liquor cabinet, select a bottle of fine quality and take it out, after retrieving the brandy and grabbing two glasses from my cabinet I show Jackie to my living room. I smile at each gasp and sigh Jackie affords my lavish decoration as she examines various flamboyant pieces on our journey to my den.

When we reached my living room, I show Jackie my lovely leather couches and we each take a seat I sit next to her, but politely like a gentleman should. I don't have my hands all over her; I don't want to seem like a pig, though she probably wouldn't care. I pour us each a glass, Jackie gulps her drink down in a very un-lady like fashion; I however am still sipping on my first glass when I pour her a second.

"What do you think of my house?" I asked inniating small conversation with her. She smiles over her glass of brandy; I notice that she has wasted no time in leaving lipstick smears on my nice glass.

"I think it is lovely." She says, stretching out the word lovely in a way that I guess was supposed to be suggestive, "But don't you ever get lonely living here by all yourself?" As I previously said, she was a whore.

"Yes my dear, I get lonely from time to time." I say slowly, trying to play fake sadness yet grinning slightly regardless. I take the bottle and pour her another glass, she needs to be drunk for later. "So what did you think of the music they were playing at the party tonight? I myself thought it was a little rowdy, but I suppose that is what is popular these days."

Jackie stretches a little, her slinky dress pulling tight on her voluptuous figure, "I liked it," she sighs and giggles at the same time. "I thought it was rather modern." She accents the word modern in a perfectly whorish way, making her voice husky and heavy, and slightly licking her clown lips after letting the revolting word escape it.

Conversation continues on like this for a while, talking about how the night had been so far, how music was becoming, stuff that was rather nice, and proper, like a gentlemen and a lady should speak of. Jackie doing far too much drinking, I however only drink one glass I am going to need sharp nerves tonight. And then I decide that it is time for progress, "You know Jackie," I say pouring her another glass, "I do some dealing and collecting with antiques, mostly collecting though."

It is quite obvious that Jackie has little interest in the dusty old collectables of a rich eccentric, yet she gives me a fake smile of interest, and I smile back, then I drop the sinker line nonchalantly. "I have quite a few expensive pieces you know." After hearing the word expensive she is all ears, I can almost see her earring burdened appendages perk up from the sides of her head.

"Really, do tell?" She asks trying and failing at hiding the excitement of the prospect of money that was playing across her face.

"Oh yes," I say smiling the utmost smile of gentlemanly confidence, "Most of them are kept in the attic. Would you like to go view them?"

She turns to me a blonde lock of hair falling in her face that looks like a piece of yarn over her doll like features. "Oh yes I would."

We set down our glasses and I take her by the hand, and lead her to my attic, this time she didn't bother making faces at the expensive trinkets in my house, she is too drunk to play act anymore, and that is fine by me, I don't care to indulge her poor attempts at seduction any more than I have to. We arrive at the attic after a long stumbling walk through my house, and up two flights of stairs which I politely help her up; she is a little too drunk for fine motor skills. I let down the ladder and help push her up its wooden steps, I can see her silk panties up the short skirt of her dress as she climbs, I must admit I feel a slight arousal at this, but it wouldn't have any true or lasting appeal to me.

I follow up the ladder after her, when I get in the attic after ascending the ladder I can see her already looking around, examining but not touching the antique items trying to appraise them with a drunken eye. My attic is well kept almost like a show case, a delicate pine coffin of unspoken age in one corner, an antique shower and tub slightly rusted with genuine gold shower head and handles, various curiosity's lined up on neatly arranged shelves like the audience to a play, and of course my old phonogram an item of age and dignity with a beautiful wood body and a turn table that still works. The attic holds a sense of timelessness to it that seems to radiate from the stale air. Now is the time to keep my cool, it is almost time for me to do my job.

"What would you say your most prized possession among these is?" Jackie asks, her eyes shifting among my noble collection like the eyes of a snake after the eggs of some small animal. Jackie is truly just a money hungry whore, with her eye on the prize, and drunk she makes it known to the whole world living and dead.

"I would have to say my phonogram is. Mother gave it to me." I say cordially trying to hide my disgust. Jackie is such a ridiculous being, bred by an absurd society to be an absurd person. Trying to find happiness in my possessions, it is taking all of my patience to wait and do my job.

I walk across the old floor boards of the room and set the needle onto the record. At first the only sound it emits is a slight scratching of the needle against the vinyl album, but soon a classic melody vibrates through the wooden walls of the room. "Would you care to dance?" I inquire giving a mock bow. She attempts a curtsey, but fails miserably, probably due to the high alcohol level of her blood.

"Oh yes I would." She says after failing her curtsey, I can see that like most drunken people she is sweating profusely and her makeup is dripping off of her chin. I take her hand and we dance, dancing being a relative term because Jackie is so intoxicated, our slightly stilted movements doing a fumbling glide across the floor like two ghosts bound to the floor by chains. I can feel my palms begin to sweat; my heart rate is increasing, if Jackie is even noticing she probably just thinks I am aroused, but it is really because the time to accomplish my job is so near. I am so excited I have to fight not to lose the fa├žade. I begin leading our clumsy dance toward the antique bath tub making sure that Jackie's back is turned towards it. My perspiration continues, I think my breathing is getting heavy, I'm not sure I'm too focused on the task at hand.

Now is the time! I push Jackie forward with as much control as I can muster, trying to knock the backs of her pretty little knees against the gold lip of the tub. She tumbles into the basin in an extremely clumsy half fall. I'm grinning now, hell absolutely beaming I hope she thinks I'm grinning due to her clumsiness. She looks up at me slightly confused blue eyes looking at me through heavy gobs of sweat diluted eye liner, "What Gives?" She chuckles nervously, she seems a little worried, but mostly still at ease. I climb into the tub with her, the cool aged porcelain sliding comfortably under my palms and across the legs of my dress pants.

A look of dull recognition crosses across her cow like gaze, "Getting frisky, eh?" She laughs and pulls me close thinking I'm going to start foreplay with her. I fall into her embrace feeling the warm softness of her skin like a bag of overused meat, it revolts me yet I let her begin biting my neck, an art she obviously doesn't know the first thing about. I play into it a little rubbing my body against her revolting overused body, yet while I'm doing this I'm looking over the basin of the tub for the hammer I leave there. I find it, an attractive red and black creature with a rusted head. I don't let on that I have the hammer bringing it up little bit, by little bit, pretending that I'm playing into her poor attempts at pleasure.

I pull away from her disgusting embrace; I look her in the eyes and frown for the first time tonight. I grab her by her blonde locks and raise my hammer up in the air like a snake poised to strike. I bring the hammer down with all my strength feeling the satisfying crunch of her skull under the impact of the hammer. She screams a scream of absolute agony and fear; I watch her scream, blood gushing out of her split blonde head and draining into the tub soaking my clothes. And then I raise the hammer into the air for another blow, smashing it down into her head again, her screams rise in tempo like a damned soul. I laugh as I notice for the first time tonight that I am aroused.

Her screams quiet down and she apparently calms, going into a state of severe shock, "What gives?" She asks blood gurgling out of her mouth and skull, her eyes spinning around in her skull like to struck billiard balls. A chill runs down my spine, and I shiver in excitement, I realize she is still alive and that is endlessly attractive. I lean forward: the thrill of it all is so amazing. I begin to kiss her; she tries to pull away and ends up only hurting herself more. She is leaving fast, fading so fast. I guess that's where the thrill of killing comes from; she is fading from existence, fading before my very eyes. Soon she has bled out into a pool of blood that nearly immerses me, and has filled the entire tub basin.

I turn my eyes to the coffin in the room, my excitement is building even further I know what happens next, and it is fantastic. The pine wood door with the cross adorning it swings open revealing the tall and noble figure of her. Of my beautiful master, she has skin lovely like milky moonlight, and eyes that show no greed just true hunger. My lovely master doesn't have to play as a feline or a hunter, for she is nearly feline and completely hunter. And though the dust of the grave may cling to her perfect yet tattered black dress, and jet black hair, if she ever offered herself to me I would take her. I would take her and revel in the magnificence of our union no matter how brief until the day I died. She steps out from her resting place, her predator's eyes looking passionately at the crimson pool in the tub.

"This will do fine, leave now." She says to me her voice sounding like bells in the wind, but I could here the malice in her voice. I felt dejected, how is this attitude going to ever help us get closer to each other?

"Just one last caress," I plead, "This one has been fun." I hug Jackie's head to my chest and give her a quick kiss before stepping out of the tub dripping Jackie's life fluid onto my wood floor. I peel off my clothes and hang them over the shower head, and then I watch as the beautiful creature approaches the tub I had exited. She looks at me smirking at my excitement; she kisses me on the cheek with the most wonderful cool marble lips in the world. And then with a quick gesture of her hand she motions me off.

Yet I stay a little longer even though she doesn't want me to. I see her bend over the lip of the tub showing the perfect arch of her neck, and upper back pressing suggestively against her worn burial garment. Upon seeing this, my excitement increases to a point more than any of the wiles of Jackie could have hoped to do. And then with out even looking at me, though I know she senses my presence she begins to drink the blood of the whore from the tub, actually they way she drinks is more cat like than any of the pathetic seductions of Jackie because even though I can't see it I know she is putting her perfect tongue into the blood and lapping it up.

After gathering up much of my nerve I place a hand on my shoulder she pushes me off like an impatient mother. She doesn't understand that I do this for her out of love, not out of duty, or for the pleasure of the kill. I leave the attic a frown splayed across my face; the night will only go down hill from that wonderfully climatic finale.