The Murder Weapon is always Love

The Black Dress

(To anyone who actually reads this this is when they first meet the last chapter was a preview (: )

'You won't tell anyone about this,' she smiles and brushes a lock of hair, drenched with cold sweat, from your forehead. Just her touch makes you flinch as you huddle in the corner, shaking all over, a single tear on your cheek. 'You won't say anything because you would walk the Earth for me,' her voice is malicious as it lashes at you and draws you in, 'I could cut open your throat and you would beg for more in your final breaths.'

Kat:

I don't know much about you. A quiet girl, good for her daddy, probably chasing some rich jackass. A hotel bar to drown your feelings in alcohol, a short black dress that edges further and further up your thighs...

You choose the stool next to mine, perhaps a coincidence, but I let myself think different. In the dark edges of your eyes I see a longing for something you will never allow yourself to have. Still, the night is young. A quick smile and a glance, you lean forward, arms resting on the bar and hair cascading down your shoulders. Almost as if you want me to notice you. I'm here on business but how about a little fun before the knives come out? It doesn't have to mean something; it could be just a way to annoy the rich parents you undoubtedly have. Like the black dress? The neckline dips just too far and the waist is tight around your curves. A way to get back at them.

I place a hand on the bar, a few small movements away from yours, wondering when you'll turn to me again. You came here alone, so you want to drink. But I want other things. To push you hard against the wall and choke you in my grasp. To toss that pretty black dress into a corner and shove you helpless onto the floor, arms pinned at your sides. I want to hear you gasp and moan for me, dangerous kisses down your neck and across your stomach. You close your legs, too shy, flushed with a brilliant innocence, shaking with raw pleasure.

I realise I am staring and shake away the cruel fantasies, but you still haven't noticed me, caught up as you are in your own thoughts. I want to occupy those thoughts, to claim them as mine and destroy any others that linger in your memories. I want to abandon you twisted in agony, childish hands lifted to the sky to beg at my feet. I need to own you. I need blood to trickle down your face, from my silver blade. Scream in pain as I drag crimson drops down your thighs, arch your back as tears rise in your eyes. Eyes I could drown in, if I wanted to. I wonder how you'd look with rope round your wrists, a filthy mess, soft sighs drawn from your gagged mouth. I need to possess you and love you cruelly and heartlessly. 

A blank card is all I leave on the bar, tucked beneath your purse. But then all you need is a room number....