AUTHOR’S NOTE; The following tale contains adult language and sexual situations if you are below the age of eighteen LEAVE NOW. This is just a little yarn I wrote for the heck of it. Enjoy!
The Perfect Man
Marie Duvall sat at the bar with her back to the jukebox, dancing couples and tables full of laughing people. She looked into the mirror behind the bar and saw an unhappy and lonely woman with so much potential. Sipping demurely at her Bloody Mary she sighed for what felt like the six thousandth time.
Why am I here punishing myself? Coming here on a Saturday night just so I can see and hear all the lovers around me making my loneliness feel more acute, she thought at her reflection.
Keeping her gaze locked on the familiar face across the bar she frowned at the image. Her mousey brown hair, slightly curled in her opinion fell down upon her features like ragged curtains in an abandoned house. She noted the slump of her shoulders, the inadequate bust and her chubby arms. Her gold, dangling earrings matched the simple chain around her neck. A neck she stared at everyday in the mirror of her bathroom for fear of a second chin growing beneath the first.
Well thankfully I can’t see my hips and the rest of me.
She was wearing a black dress with small, delicate straps which ran over her shoulders and connected the front to the back in a very titillating manner. Her legs were crossed, lady-like and her two inch high heels were as black as her depression.
Why would any man want me? I’m thirty pounds overweight and I have no self-esteem. Maybe I should just become a nun like mother always suggested, she grumbled inwardly.
But she knew why. The sight of a man would fill her soul with anticipation, heart-thundering excitement and quickened breath. The idea of being a cloistered female part of the clergy would just never do.
So here I am again hoping some man will take pity on me.
In her mind she recalled her luck from last weekend. This brightened her up a bit and for a moment she positively glowed from the memory. Quentin had been charming and polite. For a few hours it appeared she had successfully captured the attention of a member of the male species.
And then his ex-girlfriend came along and spoiled everything, she groused.
Her reflection in the cloudy glass struck up a mocking pout, the same one she felt tugging at her lips. Swirling the celery stalk in her drink she sighed one more time.
“Excuse me?” a man’s voice sounded over her shoulder.
She turned around to see a tall and handsome chap who was dressed quite properly even down to wearing white gloves. His thin mustache and slicked back hair was reminiscent of another day and age. But it was his accent which spoke volumes about his origins.
“Yes,” she responded.
“I say is anyone sitting here?”
“Might I join you?”
“That would be wonderful.”
He sat down, not in a hurried manner or even indicating any sense of the word nervous. The bartender came over and he ordered a gin and tonic. He began tugging off his gloves.
“My name is Wilbur Marshall III and I’m pleased to meet you,” he said in his deep voice.
“My name is Marie, Marie Duvall,” she replied.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Duvall.”
He held up his hand, palm towards the ceiling. She placed her hand into his and he kissed her knuckles in a dainty, chaste manner.
“Ah but the pleasure is all mine,” he rumbled. “What brings you to such an establishment?”
“Oh I don’t know—bored I guess,” she tittered, her nerves getting the better of her.
“A beauty such as you couldn’t possibly be in such a state of mind.”
“I assure you I’m quite bored.”
Wilbur’s drink arrived and he sipped at it then paid the bartender. She noted the order in which he did so, thus making sure the drink was made to his palette. Her opinion, still forming on Wilbur soared a bit higher.
“Where are you from if I may be so bold?” he inquired.
“I live here in the city,” she remarked.
“Myself I have only recently arrived in New York and I am still getting used to my surroundings.”
“Where are you from originally?”
“London, London England.”
“I thought your accent was familiar.”
“I left London mostly due to the ghastly problems they’ve been having.”
“Really which problems are those?”
“You haven’t heard? Well my dear I’m afraid there is some sort of serial killer stalking the London streets. Surely you watch the news?”
“A bit but I wasn’t aware of a serial killer in England.”
“It’s the talk of the town, I dare say. One can’t go anywhere without it being discussed in the most horrendous details.”
“Oh I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It is of no moment, I thought it best to go on holiday just for a short time, mind you. Broaden my horizons as it were.”
The look on his face made her blush. The hot flush of her neck and cheeks made her turn away a bit for his expression was brazenly intimate, almost an open invitation. Waving her hand in front of her face Marie tried to dampen down her reaction.
“Have I said something?” he queried.
“No I just have no head for alcohol,” she fibbed.
“Perhaps a nice stroll in the cool night air would clear your lovely head.”
“With a total stranger do you think I’m mad?”
“I am sorry it was just a thought. Forgive me if I’ve made an improper advance. I was only trying to be helpful.”
Am I really going to pass this up? This is the first time anyone this handsome and debonair has approached me.
“Well okay,” she said, “I have my cell phone and mace so I should be safe.”
“I will be the perfect gentleman; you have my word on it,” he stated with a smile.
The streets were dark and the moon was full. Arm in arm with Wilbur, Marie couldn’t believe her luck on this night. Even after strolling through several dim alleyways where nobody would’ve heard or cared if she was going to be attacked she emerged safely. This didn’t clinch her belief she wasn’t in any danger, but it did speak to Wilbur’s character.
“My apartment is only a block away,” she suggested, “would you like a cup of tea?”
“You are inviting me in?” he said a bit shocked.
“Of course, I am a modern woman after all. It’s just for tea, cookies and conversation I’m not implying anything remotely naughty.”
“Oh I see. My mistake, I would be only too happy to agree then.”
Smiling she looped her arm into his and guided him to her small flat, a tingling heat of arousal tickling just beneath her breastbone.
He was sitting in her small living room and it was so astounding and unusual she had to keep looking in his direction. Her brain expected all of this to be nothing more than an alcohol-induced fantasy. But there he was, politely making conversation. Marie couldn’t stop staring at his handsome face, thrilling to his accent or sampling the faint aroma of his masculine cologne.
A real live man in my apartment, she thought giddily. What will the neighbors say? Well they don’t know since we came up the back way instead of the front door. But it was the quickest route here.
“…so I told myself, Wilbur it’s high time for a holiday. With all this nasty business going about you could use change of scenery, breath in some new air,” he continued to expound.
“I am glad you came to the States, not to mention into the bar tonight,” she said.
“Do you live here alone?”
“I didn’t see any of your flat-mates when we came in either. Are they the type to go early to bed?”
“Oh yes. Most of the residents here are elderly and impaired. I can turn my stereo up full blast and they don’t hear a thing.”
“How interesting. You could have quite a wild party and they would be totally ignorant of the fact? I must say I’m surprised you aren’t the toast of the town in this respect.”
“Well along with being quite ravishing to the eyes your neighbors are blissfully unaware should you decide to indulge in anything you choose.”
Marie blushed at this.
“I am making you turn red again, I do apologize,” he drawled.
“If I didn’t know better Wilbur I would take you comments as being quite suggestive,” she giggled.
“Well one only lives for so long. To pass up an opportunity with one as lovely as yourself is quite foolish. I say often to my friends one must seize the moment!”
“Would you like another cookie?”
“Why that would be splendid.”
“Well don’t you move a muscle, I’ll be right back.”
Oh my, his words are suggesting we might be intimate and get loud in bed. I can’t believe my luck. A foreign and a charming gentleman, here in my apartment, one at that who wants me for more than just conversation.
She gathered another plate of sugar cookies and walked back into the living room. Her heart was humming a happy tune and other places on her body were gearing up with preparations of their own. She set the plate on the coffee table and looked up.
Wilbur was not on the couch.
What the…? Marie began to think.
As she straightened up a belt flashed over her head and wrapped itself across her throat. Immediately her oxygen supply was cut off and her hands flew up to the constricting leather strip.
“I’m so sorry little one for the deception,” Wilbur’s voice whispered in her ear, “however it if is any consolation you aren’t the first bird I’ve fooled with my dashing smile and sophisticated airs.”
“W-what,” she managed to gurgle.
“Oh and that killer on the streets of London, well it happens to be me. I felt the heat coming down upon me so I fled before the Bobbies could pinch me. Now don’t struggle love, it’ll be over faster if you don’t fight me.”
Panic filled Marie’s mind as she tried to dislodge the belt. Wild images of being murdered in her own flat filled her with a desperate strength. Raising her left foot she brought her spiked heel down on his instep, just like they taught her in self-defense class at the YWCA. The crunching snap of cartilage and bone was transmitted up her own leg happily echoing in her mind with its satisfaction. The leather strap loosened momentarily and she twisted around driving a knee into his groin. The squashing sensation empowered her with even more much needed strength. She watched his features contort in agony and his pallor turn to bright red. A second hike of her knee knocked the ability to stand out of her attacker. Wilbur collapsed.
“That hurts doesn’t it?” she laughed.
Wilbur couldn’t answer she witnessed his inability to draw a breath. Swinging back her leg she grinned merrily while she aimed for his temple.
Marie kept her eyes on Wilbur and saw the murderer’s eyes flutter open. With a giggle she enjoyed the panic on his face as he looked around. She walked around the varnished kitchen table pleased with her handiwork. The man struggled and made the heavy table dance on the linoleum but with his wrists and ankles securely fixed to the legs. His back bowed by the block of wood under him he couldn’t get enough leverage. In short he quickly discovered he was at her mercy.
“Well now that you’re awake we can begin,” she said, a tremble of excitement in her voice.
“What’s going on?” he demanded. “Why are you wearing that surgical mask and clear plastic raincoat? W-why am I naked?!”
“Poor Wilbur, you didn’t have the sense to recognize one of your own kind? I’m shocked at you not being able to sense another predator. I’ve been hunting at that bar for years and I’m pleased to say your death will make it a nice even two dozen.”
“You can’t be serious love, that’s ten more than I have!”
“Oh yes I am. Did you think I chose to live where my neighbors are practically deaf for no reason? I chose my residence with much care.”
“W-what are you going to do?”
“Well I’m not as neat and tidy as you English killers. I enjoy getting my hands quite bloody in fact it arouses me to no small degree.”
His face turned white with terror. She increased his agony by touching herself rudely and moaning theatrically. Wilbur’s eyes frantically sought an escape.
“As for my plans for this evening, well let’s just keep this between us. First I’m going to cut out your tongue and then I’m going to sew your lips shut. I’ll probably gouge out your eyes next and seal them as well. Only after all of that will I start on the really meaty parts of your body,” she stated in a low, ominous voice.
“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed.
“Any last words before I take away your ability to speak?”
“W-we could be a team! Think about it love, we could hunt together and guard each other’s backs…even take turns!”
She tapped her butcher knife against her full lips while she pondered his interesting offer. The idea had some merit. Pacing around her victim she mused whether or not it could be done for she only heard about a handful of serial killers who worked in pairs.
The disposal of the bodies would be easier not to mention the cleanup afterwards. It’s such a pain in the ass to do all that carving, bagging and carrying only to come home to a very messy kitchen, Marie thought.
“How do I know you’ll not turn on me as soon as I release you?” she inquired.
“You don’t but I’ll swear to anything if you just let me loose,” he tittered.
Well we could write letters claiming responsibilities for our actions and then put them in security vaults at the bank. This way if he betrays me I could have mine opened via my will and it’ll expose his crimes.
She quickly outlined this plan to Wilbur.
“Yes, yes that’s perfect,” he agreed.
Taking the bright, shiny knife she cut him loose and regarded him coldly as he stood up. Her new partner in crime rubbed the blood back into his feet with what she knew had to be equally numb hands.
“I knew there was something about you I liked,” she smiled.
“I must admit the same thing about you,” he grinned.
“I say we seal the deal.”
“Well you’ve deprived me of my sport tonight so you’ll have to make it up to me.”
Her depraved grin spread across her face and she could see Wilbur come to what she meant rather quickly.
“I’ll be your slave,” he growled seductively. “Where should we begin?”
She twirled the tip of the knife into her palm taking care not to cut herself. Cocking her head to one side she watched her partner lick his lips in eager anticipation. The thought of what they could accomplish together made her hotter than anything before.
I can’t believe it, she laughed to herself, and I’ve found the perfect man for me.