Taking a new step, uttering a new word, is what people fear most." ― Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment
Hank Dobson sits at the bar, cigarette in hand. He'd quit ten years ago but started again a few weeks back. He clicks his lighter in his hand, his pupils transfixed on the tiny blue flame as Melissa Cartier comes and sits beside him one stool over. He gives her a passing glance as she settles in and orders a drink, adjusting her navy blue mini dress.
Hank slides the clear glass ashtray over as he moves to sit closer to her. He sniffles, bringing his fingers up to swipe them under his nostrils.
"Are you what I think you are?"
Melissa, chewing furiously on a piece of peppermint gum, lifts her cocktail as the bartender sits it down in front of her, her white pump clinking against the metal bars of the stool.
"That depends. If you got the money."
"I do. But I've never really...I mean I've never really paid...before."
Melissa spies his gold wedding band's sheen in the bar light. "Where is she?"
"Um," he glances at his hand, then her, flustered. "In the room. Not anywhere near. But uh-"
"You wanna do this or not?" Melissa removes her gum from her ruby-stained lips and roughly presses it to the side of the ashtray. "I don't have all night-and I'm sure you don't either."
"Yeah, yeah, let's go." Hank nods as he throws a few dollar bills at the countertop as they exit.
"You got a name?" he asks as they make their way to her room. Melissa gives him a passing glance. Guests were all piled into the dining hall, making the hallways and rooms devoid of life. It's where this guy's wife was most likely. He had some balls doing this when she was in such close proximity. But it's his risk. He'd be facing the wrath of an angry humiliated wife, not her.
"Viola." she replies. Candy had a habit of giving her real name at times, something Melissa felt was fairly dangerous. But Melissa knew better.
"This way," she motions him through the threshold of her room, shutting the door behind them. Removing her earrings, she makes her way to the bathroom. "Get undressed." she orders. When she emerges with nothing on but her lacy bra and underwear, holding the fluffy pink belt to her bathrobe, he's still fully clothed.
"I thought you were serious. Don't jerk me around here." she growls.
"I am. it's just-" Hank stutters as he moves to unbutton his shirt. Melissa shoots towards him across the room and grips his white shirt collar, tearing it open.
"Hey! Easy there-"
"Shut up." she snaps as she shoves him down onto the foot of the bed, the impact causing the heavy rectangular mirror above the headboard to shake. The wet spot where her body had been earlier now bone dry. She proceeds to violently yank off his brown trousers as he slides his hands down to pull off his boxers. She crawls over him, straddling his ample belly and grabbing up his thick hairy wrists, binding them to the wooden rails of the headboard.
"Whoa, this is-" Hank winces as she makes the final tightening knot to his left wrist. He begins to feel a numb tingling in both his hands traveling upwards to the tips of his fingers.
"Can you maybe loosen them?"
"No," She stares down at him, almost-glaring, her mouth purses as she wiggles her hips. "Just relax."
Hank shifts underneath her as she continues to gaze down. "I'm a little nervous here. What about protection?"
Kill him Missy.
YOU ARE READING
Reverie
Mystery / Thriller"The Losers Club had driven It from the personal gaming reserve It had made. Now, it was time for It to make a new one. Just as It had to create a new physical form after Its other was destroyed by those hated ones. And It wants no more to feel. No...
