by Geri Fitzsimmons & Andy Stephenson1
It had been a month since his last kill. The urge came creeping into his mind, causing sweat to break out above his upper lip. His tongue snaked forth to capture the moisture. He planned to leave within the week. There was no desire in him to be caught, so it was time to move on to another city—another challenge. 2
Those thoughts were for the future, he decided, today was the here and now. He swallowed the remaining drops left in the takeout cup of coffee. With a napkin, he wiped the interior and exterior of the cup before placing it in a canvas tote. The car’s upholstery still smelled of factory newness. Tapping long and manicured fingers on a leather steering wheel cover, he remembered the salesman’s expression when he paid cash for the car. 'Hey, man, I want a job like yours. What do you do for a living?’
"Hunt."3
He commenced the hunt at about two that afternoon. The predator preferred college age women for prey, so he usually did his hunting near campuses. He grinned now. My vocation.
The windows of the sliver-gray Audi were halfway down. The car was parked in the campus parking lot. A comfortable 73 degrees on a pleasant spring day, a slight breeze coming from the west played in his short spiked artificially colored salt and pepper hair.4
He waited patiently. There was a time, he recalled, when he’d been so nervous and anxious, the palms of his hands sweated as he waited. It was not that way anymore. Oh sure, each hunt was exciting, but nothing like it had been in the beginning. Now it mimicked, 'Just another day at the office.' He smiled and winked the extra long dark lashes of his right eye. For an instant a sunbeam flashed in the windshield, and reflected itself in the ice blue irises so pale they nearly faded into the whites. ‘Killer eyes’ his mother smiled when she said it to him as a boy, but in later life he began to wonder if she knew. 5
Occasionally a person came to the parking lot, got in their car, and drove away. He saw them, often they were women, but none interested him. He waited patiently for a certain young, attractive woman. He’d known her the moment he saw her, almost two weeks ago. Always they were beautiful and petite, preferably brunette but a blonde would suffice if she were slim and nicely developed. 6
The radio dial was set to a classic rock station. He popped the tab on a Coke, took a deep drink; and then lit a Camel. The Moody Blues were playing 'Night's In White Satin' as he took a drag from his cigarette. It was a pleasant way to spend the time.7
It was near three o’clock, when he saw her. She left building C and her dark-brown hair bobbed as she pranced across the asphalt. “Yes, yes, yes,” he whispered. She was perfection. Tight faded cutoff jeans hugged her slender hips and a snug blue knit shirt emphasized her shapely breasts. As the shirt pulled up and down with her motion, he caught glimpses of lightly tanned flesh.8
She yanked open her car door and parked her delightful bottom on the seat, so he engaged the Audi’s ignition. When she settled behind the steering wheel and closed the door, he slipped the Audi into drive. When her engine coughed a bit and the wheels started to turn, he let up on the brake. She was driving some kind of white Japanese car that looked like the typical box with wheels. Her backup lights came on, and he prepared for the chase. 9
He stayed about 3/4 of a block behind her, trying to keep at least one car between them. It wouldn't do to allow her to spot the tail now. After about a fifteen-minute drive, she pulled into an apartment complex. Luck was with him; there was a parking spot on the street in front. In a few seconds he was out of the Audi and into the lot of the complex in time to see his quarry enter apartment 115 on the ground floor.10
He hurried back to his car, drove around the block and entered the lot on Northside lane. He circled around and parked close to his prey’s entrance. 3:15 pm made it the perfect time of day. The majority of people were still at work while children were prisoners of school buses. His mouth creased in a side grin. It was daylight and evil only lurks in the dark.11
Now it didn’t matter if she saw his car. He left it and walked openly to her door and rapped.12
Without any hesitation, she pulled open the unlatched door. "Yes? What can I do for you?" 13
“Southern Energy,” he said and handed her a card.14
Up close she smelled of mint and lingering lemon, perhaps from an earlier shower. There was a small brown and white terrier leaping at her side. A bigger more unruly dog would have made the man change plans. But fortunately for him this was not the barking kind of mutt; instead the little fellow licked the man’s shoe.15
With his left hand he grabbed the small dog’s collar and lifted him in the air; while the fingers of his right hand grabbed the front of the girl’s shirt, his bent knee came up into her belly shoving her back into the apartment. Stepping in quickly, he kicked the door shut behind him.16
Panic raced across the brown eyes as she squealed, “Why? What?” like it was one word.17
“Shut the fuck up!” He held the struggling mutt in the air, fighting to breathe while he shook it. “You scream and I’ll break the dog’s neck.”18
“No, please, don’t hurt him.”19
“That depends on you—little girl—depends on you.” He slurred the words suggestively. “Just how bad do you want tah live?” He let loose of the dog’s collar and the terrier fell injury-hard against the floor, yipped, and scurried under a couch. He still held the girl’s shirt. An easy hundred pounds heavier, he twisted the shirt and pulled her closer. His free hand grabbed the back of her head twisting his fingers in her hair. “You and me gonna party, babe. You play real sweet and we’ll all walk away in one piece.”20
He yanked her around to face the front door. “Lock it!”21
As trembling fingers tried to turn the lock, the golden brown eyes flooded with tears and she choked on the sobs in her throat.22
“Lock it, bitch!” He yanked so hard on her hair that her scalp split in places so blood tinted her hair green. His other hand pulled her shirt up to cover her mouth and muffle her scream of pain. “Shut up and lock it!”23
Her tone dropped into a pitiful wail, “I’m trying.” and she succeeded.24
He glanced around the apartment, breathed in the feminine scent of her as he held her tight in one arm while he sucked at her neck. “Gonna play real nice.” He spotted the door on the left. Ajar, he could see the pattern of rose and gold that winked at him from the bedspread. “Nothing like an afternoon rump in the sack.” A deep snicker followed a coarse laugh.25
The injured pup moaned under the couch as the man dragged its owner, her feet barely touching the ground, to the bedroom. Tossing her on the bed face up, he yanked off her shoes and socks. Then pulled the stretchy top over her head. “Nice.” He paused to squeeze her breasts through the pink lacy bra.26
“Please don’t hurt me,” she begged.27
“Little girl, I’m gonna give you the screwing of your life.” He laughed and slapped her face so hard her head whipped back and forth twice, and she nearly passed out. Next he pulled off her jeans and ran his palms up the smooth silky flesh of her legs. He pinched her inner thighs to force her legs apart. Grabbing the crotch of the pink panties, he tore them off. 28
Then he undressed while he kept telling her the things he was going to do to her, as if he expected her to be grateful.29
For less than half an hour, his hands and mouth abused her. He forced her to kiss him back, to respond and then he violated her. 30
Swinging off the bed, his hand swept the nightstand and scattered her silly knickknacks to the floor. She lay silently huddled in a fetal curve on the bed as he dressed. Taking her wallet from the dresser, he relieved it of the credit cards and fifty-three dollars in cash. Pulling the cord from the lamp he stepped back to hover over her again. She whimpered—it was all she could do. Her throat had closed up and her tears were spent.31
“Tell yah what. You been a good girl—so I’m not gonna hurt yah. I’m gonna tie you up and put you and your little doggie in the closet. I won’t tie you tight. You can get loose in an hour or so. First, off, you give me the pin numbers for these.” He waved the credit cards in front of her eyes. “Don’t lie—cause I’m giving myself an hour. One don’t work, I’ll be back and you are gonna be one sorry bitch!”32
“123me works for them all,” she forced out the information.33
“Okay, roll over.” 34
She never saw the switchblade. He held her face in a pillow, her arms flailed helplessly until there was no strength left and the blood still flowed from a dozen wounds.35
When he was certain she was dead, he took her engagement ring from her finger. From the living room he confiscated the 28-inch flat screen TV and deposited it in the Audi’s trunk. He came back for the stereo and laptop. “So long pup,” he called to the mutt still hidden somewhere.36
Out of the glove compartment, he got dark glasses and a baseball cap for his sojourns through the ATM machines. The women never lied to him. Her bank debit, MC, Amex, and Visa cards should net him around a couple thousand or more.37
Gold trophy winner
Adding your comment:
. Quite a few killers have slipped out in the pages of my stories. I've killed a few men and a whole lot of young women in epidemic proportions. The nice thing is that it hasn't actually affected the world's population
. Sometimes that happens when two writers are 'conspirering' 
Geri
) I think the girl could put up a better fight. 
