A Descent into Darkness

45 Seconds

We say nothing to each other. Not while waiting for the Uber, or even while riding back to the motel room he's staying in. I just assume he lived with his girlfriend before and is living here after leaving her.

I know this place. I brought a victim here once. The Buckineer Motel, sitting on the side streets next to the 412 freeway, it consists of one floor of twenty-two rooms. It's not going to be winning any awards or anything, but it's a decent establishment. The rooms are clean, when there's no brutally murdered bodies in them. The small staff try to make your stay comfortable.

The silence is finally broken once Mark and I are inside his room, number twelve, with its fruit paintings, queen sized bed a twenty-two-inch tv. I'm the one who breaks it, and I'm a little embarrassed I even have to ask the question.

"So, how do we do this?" I ask while sitting on the bed, a little tense. I'm so unused to this situation. I'm not used to being in a room with a stranger who I don't intend to kill. Now that I am, I'm realizing just how much I do want to kill Mark. It would be so satisfying. Getting him excited for sex, slitting his throat and watching him bleed out and suffocate in confusion and fear. But that's not an option. Even if I had my tools or disguise with me, Jenny saw us leave the bar together.

Mark looks at me curiously. "How can a hot girl like you never have done this before?"

I feel a mix of hatred and flattery. "Because no one's ever been good enough for me," I reply, masking any emotion. "Let's be clear, neither are you, frankly. I don't expect to enjoy this. But I need to know how to do it."

Mark laughs, making me wonder if he has a death wish. "Why didn't you just use internet porn?"

"Because those videos don't tell me how it feels. I need to know what to expect so I don't act in a way that embarrasses me, or the person I need to impress." I close my eyes briefly and chastise myself for being so open. This isn't someone who's going to die and never be able to spill. He's a drunken idiot with girl issues who can blab about me all he wants. I suppose I could kill him in the future, but who knows what kind of damage he could do before I get to him?

Mark sits on the bed and looks at me, giving off unexpected vibes of sincerity. "And you're sure you want this?" he asks. "You really want your first time to be something like this? How many drinks did you have before I got to the bar?"

"What is it with you men thinking you know better what a woman wants than them? Yes, this is what I want to do," I reply, frustrated. "I hadn't even finished one drink, okay? I'm not drunk. I know what I want. Just tell me what to do and get on with it!"

That was a little harsher than called for, I know. He's not being misogynistic at all. Most girls would truly appreciate his reluctance to take a girl's virginity under these circumstances and to ensure her sobriety. I mean, yes, my decision to fuck him was a split-second decision made over the consumption of alcohol. Not enough to impair me, though.

"Fine," Mark replies, apparently satisfied no Sex Crimes detective will be visiting him in the morning. "Take off your clothes, and lie down on your back," he instructs. I do that. I can tell as I undress that Mark is already excited. I do take a little satisfaction in that. Getting a guy hard is a great skill to have when your hobby is luring them to their deaths. Even the girls I've killed, while I honestly don't know what their sexual orientation, certainly found me a little attractive for sure. Tossing my bra and panties aside, I lie down on the bed.

"Do you want lube?" Mark asks. "If you're not particularly aroused, it makes it easier."

"Hang on," I reply, before closing my eyes. I will most certainly not be thinking of England. No. I'm thinking about something much more fun.