She was sexy, but not beautiful. There is a difference. Kitten was sexy. Rose was beautiful. I realized this as I watched Kitten on the dance floor through the crowd of people.
She had caught my attention when she sauntered up next to me at the bar and leaned far over it to purr into the bartender's ear. Not whisper, not giggle, but purr. That's why I called her Kitten and god was she sexy in that short, black skirt and tight, sequin halter top. With long dirty blond hair and even longer legs, she was asking, begging even, for me to pick her.
I wondered if I could make her truly beautiful. As I watched her laugh, I imagined that laugh turn into a scream. Her clothes would be torn and dirty. I could almost feel my hand grab her blood soaked hair as a shrill sound escaped from her scream. She would be a fighter like Rose was, but she wouldn't be able to stop me from smearing her blood all over her smooth pale breasts or the knife from cutting her inner thighs. She would be vulnerable and then she would be beautiful, still not as beautiful as Rose was, but beautiful nonetheless.
I kept watching Kitten make a mix of dancing and drinking while I reminisced about Rose. She had dark red hair that flowed down to her shoulders and the face of an angel. She had been so innocent and pure that a white glow was nearly visible around her when I saw her at the church. Her cute smile turned into a gorgeous, grim expression when I opened her up like a budding flower with my knife. That's why I called her Rose. The only regret I had with her was that I killed her too soon. I wouldn't make that mistake again.
I was going to take Kitten into my basement and strap her to the metal table, the same one Rose was on, and I was going to keep her there for days. I'd use the same knives and cut her open, look at her insides, taste her delicious blood. I'd pinch her nipples and bruise her skin. I'd tear her apart from the inside and listen to her scream and cry and plead with me to stop. I wouldn't though.
I could almost see her on the table, blood making it slick and shiny. She'd roll her head from side to side as if she was in a bad dream. Her hair would stick to her face in strings because of the sweat pouring off of her brow and the blood drying on her face. Her naked body would tense when I walked in, every strong muscle perfectly visible, every tendon begging to be cut. She'd writhe when I walked close to her and plead me to let her go. She would try to make some sort of deal, the same deal they all do. Did they honestly think I'd believe that they wouldn't tell? I'd ignore her while getting my knife ready. Then I'd turn to her and run the cool blade over her bruised cheek. I'd tell her how beautiful she was going to be before I turned my knife sharply, cutting into her skin.
I felt my pants tighten as I imagined how the night would go. The image burst and disappeared as someone started talking to me.
"She's a beaut ain't she?" The bartender asked from behind me.
"Our society has a backwards view of beauty." I answered just loud enough for him to hear.
"Yeah," He chuckled. "You're not the first one who's come in here and won't stop watching her." I didn't even look back to him.
"I'll be the last though." I doubt he heard me. He sure didn't see me roll my eyes at him and his naivety.
"You wanna know her name?" He offered. This time I turned my head sharply to look at him. He was cleaning a glass and wearing a sickeningly arrogant smile.
"No," I answered curtly. "I don't do names."
"Suit yourself," He shrugged and I went back to watching Kitten dance. "She'll be leaving soon anyways, always does around this time." I felt a smirk tempt my lips but I held it back.
"How long do you think I have?" I almost had to yell to make sure he heard me.
"Five, maybe ten minutes. She's normally right on the dot every time but she looks a little more toasted than usual." This time I didn't stop the smirk. I left enough money for my tab and a generous tip before walking slowly towards the bathroom.
Once I got into an open stall I pulled a small bottle of chloroform from one jacket pocket and a white cotton cloth from the other. I carefully sprinkled the chloroform onto the cloth, making sure not to douse it. I made that mistake once before. When I was satisfied, I gently placed the cloth in my pocket and left the bathroom.
When I got back to the dance floor, I scanned it but couldn't find Kitten. I pushed my way through the crowd and continued to search hoping she hadn't already left. I looked at the bartender and he pointed towards the door. I gave him a thankful nod and made my way outside.
I saw her alone in the parking lot, stumbling around, probably trying to find her car. She still looked sexy as all hell. Her hair was slightly mussed and she tried to run her fingers through it. I took a second to think about what she would be like when she was beautiful. I could almost see her with torn clothes, running scared from me. I'd catch her by the hair and yank her back. I snapped myself from my daydream quickly and focused in on my prize.
I walked slowly behind her taking glances around to make sure no one had appeared. I watched as she lost her balance and twisted her ankle. She buckled and muttered a curse before catching herself with her other foot. After steadying herself, she continued on into the dead middle of the parking lot where the light happened to be burned out. It was my lucky night.
She walked up to a black sports car and unlocked it the old fashioned way. I quickened my pace and took one more look around.
There was still nobody there.
I called out to her.
"Here kitty, kitty, kitty." I smiled as I reached into my pocket for the cloth.
This was originally for an assignment for my Creative Writing class but I had to censor it severely to make it "School appropriate." If anyone's interested, I can post the censored version as another chapter for comparison or something. Also, originally this was called "Kitten" but I thought "Beauty" was more appropriate.