Slowly Cultivated Killer

Let's Go Party Somewhere Else

Hot electric rave music pours out the speakers, and bounces off the hard glossy marble walls of the enormous room. We are having a party in celebration of the outrageous success of the cheapest movie I have ever made. Nodding and shaking hands with different crew members, I say to them that they helped make all this come true, and that they should be proud of themselves. All that, of course, is lies. If I were not the director, the producer and sole funding of this indie flick, then the movie wouldn't have made it off the set. Leela stays at my side the entire time, her hand wrapped around my wrist like a child scared of being separated from their mother.
Walking through, I spy at different crew members to see if any of them are worthy enough for The Bank. Some are not even worthy to be in the parking lot of the projects that are next to the dump The Bank uses, while others would be beyond perfect, but would be noticed within a couple hours due to their unhealthy social media addiction.

" Congratulations!"

I turn around to see this mid height chocolate beauty with natural hair that has been patted down to a perfect circle, looking like a curly black halo around the top of her head

" Your movie has really taken off, ma'am"

" Thank you, and honey you look hot as ever", I say looking directly at her B-cup chest, but begin looking behind her to see her ample 'ass'et. I made it no secret of doing this, to make her feel especially wanted and a little nervous. Leela has no choice but to notice, and that growl emitting from her throat indicates she does not like it at all.

Not only do I hear it, but so does the café colored model, who takes a sideways glance at her, but I intervened before a scene could occur between the two, asking for her name. It was Karen, Karen Wilson. Asking her what she did on the set and apologizing that I didn't know because I was so busy, she said it was fine and that she helped with props and customs. She was extravagantly beautiful with her large brown eyes staring at me with a spectacular sort of admiration.

" Would you like to come back to my apartment? "

Now let's not drone on about how I got her extraordinarily comfortable with small talk and finger food. Let's not give into the remembrance of drugging her so she became unconscious after she took a bite of a "specially spiced" cracker I had given her. Is it safe to say that you know of the fact of how I cut out sections of her rib out using a teethed knife to look her heart? The only part of the act of killing her I did enjoy was the fact of wrapping my bare hand around her pumping heart and squeezing it until it burst. All the while of me doing that, Leela had stood there, watching and giggling with sick jealous delight.

Handing the knife to my now content counterpart, I oversaw her removing anything that could be used as identification via sight as I had taught her. Clever girl though, she asked why did they not blood test, as I am sure your wondering as well. If The Bank were to run blood tests on every body they get, as required by law actually, the costs would overtake the small sum we take in. We do not get that many donations since our work is so controversial, and tends to make most people uncomfortable. She mixes the hydrogen peroxide and bleach together, applying it to my carpet, just to make sure that Karen's blood does not stain the floor.

And, before Leela cut off her face, my only thought was I wish it were the other way around: that me and the gorgeous Karen could've slaughtered Leela instead. That would've been wonderful. By my orders, she bagged the deceased body in a thick black lawn bag, and set it in the trunk.

Another Body

Tell Me Do You Still Remember Me?

Did You Ever Know My Name?

Your Blonde Hair Died Red

You Dyed