I let him slip his tongue in my mouth. It tasted like the two bottles of chardonnay we managed to down at that new French restaurant over on 1st Street. Well, he did more of the drinking than I did. While he sipped, I slowly ran my finger around the rim of the glass and hung on to every one of his spoken words, staring into his abnormally green eyes. Trying to be flirty; not too desperate, but not too suspicious. He let go of his kiss and turned around, fumbled in his coat pocket for his keys and finally, let me in inside his apartment.
His bachelor pad was of the typical Brooklyn-male norm; a small one bedroom, artistically decorated with multicolored furniture, a large entertainment center and a handful of abstract paintings mounted on the egg-shelled colored walls.
The thing that got me was that his apartment was immaculately clean. The cleanliness didn’t fit his personality and the demeanors I observed during dinner.
“Can I take your jacket?” he asked, removing his and gently laying it on the arm of the couch.
“Sure. Thanks,” I replied, handing him my coat. The apartment’s air conditioning hit my bare arms, giving them goose bumps. It was silent between us, just for a moment, but we both knew what was to be expected. It lingered on the tips of our tongues and in the bitter air.
I smiled sweetly, as if it was a notion for him to come closer to me. He took my hint and wrapped his arms around my waist; dipped his head so our lips touched. The simplicity of the kiss turned violent rapidly; our tongues racing, his hands running through my hair, my hands unbuttoning his shirt.
We somehow made it to his bedroom, where I threw myself on the bed. He followed and began to kiss me once again with such intensity. My fingers nimbly unbuttoned the last button and he took a moment to throw his shirt to the floor. My lips moved to his clavicle. It tasted of an alcohol-based cologne. I hated that taste, but continued to lick his throat, pretending to take pleasure out of it.
I began to breathe a bit heavier as his hand moved down my side to the hem of my blouse. He lifted it up, pulling it over my head, exposing my bra. Using his thumb and index finger, he undid the clasp and tossed the bra over his shoulder. He stared at my chest in awe and I had to smile at his sheer coyness.
His lips moved down to my stomach. My abdomen throbbed beneath his touch as he unbuttoned my pants, making haste taking them off. He touched the inside of my thighs with his gentle finger tips. My body tensed and everything became warm.
I didn’t want to tell him to stop. My hand dropped to his waistband and I unzipped his pants. He kicked them off and I helped his slide his boxers to his feet. I climbed on top of him, sitting on his pelvis. I leaned down and whispered in his ear.
“Do you have any ties?”
My question must have got him of his sexual daze because he gave me an odd look.
I kissed his soft cheeks. “Yeah, ties,” I said, giving back a playful grin. “Let me play.”
He kissed my back and got up. I watched his naked form walk to the standing bureau in the corner of the bedroom and rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a fist full of brightly colored ties.
He walked back and climbed into bed with a humongous smile on his face.
“This is kinky,” he laughed. I giggled in return, grabbing the ties from his clenched fist. Trying to be seductive, I tied his wrists to the bedposts, making the knots tight and taunt. He couldn’t escape even if his screamed and begged for mercy. I kissed the length of this torso and smiled again.
We began to kiss violently again; bodies thrusting. I dug my nails into his smooth skin. He groaned, feeling a shock bolt up his spine. I was loving it. I looked down at his body. With his arms outstretched, he almost looked Christ-like. His face was glowing with sweat and beneath my fingernails, blood. The scratched I dug rung deep. I knew he was feeling pain. We groaned together, making love with each other.
My orgasm ceased and I was brought back down to reality. The thought that was buried in the back of my brain begin to tick. I leaned toward the front of the bed, grabbed a pillow from under his head and smiled as I held it against his face, pressing it down as hard as I could. He began to panic, yelling out muffles cries for help. His body struggled under mine; his limbs shaking violently. The sight turned me on. I rose and he fell dead. That lifeless body. My burning desire.
I bit both his lips, drawing blood and did the same to his ear lobes, fingers, the tip of his nose and nipples. His nipples were the most beautiful of all; little studs of skin standing straight on edge. I wanted them, wanted to feel his pinkish skin in my teeth; lap his radiant blood with my tongue.
Grabbing them both by the areolas, I peeled his nipples off his chest. The wounds bed freely and I licked the exposed muscle. My teeth found the ripped edge of skin and I torn flesh down, from his chest to his navel.
I pounded him. I’m sure I was making myself bleed, but this was the best sex I had in a long time. I then looked for something I could bruise his body with. I reached over to his nightstand and grabbed a lamp, raising it over my head. I took in a gulp of air and with all my might, slammed it down on his head. I knew I heard his skull crush. I did it again and again and again. His face became distorted, unrecognizable. Those high cheekbones I admired over dinner fell low. Bone fragments stuck out of his thick cheeks like macabre flower petals. I kissed his bruised lips and pried them open with my finger; the majority of his teeth were lodged in the back of his throat. Knowing that made me smile.
Taking the lamp’s cord in my hand, with the plug between my fingers, I took the pries and started to stab him, first his face, then his bloody chest and arms. He was so beautiful now.
I climaxed for the last time. I finished stabbing his body; his back, his legs.
I flipped him back over and I wrapped the cord around his neck; so tight, his face turned purple and seemed like it was about to burst.
I stood beside the bed, feeling happy and magical. Nothing was lovelier to see than his mutilated body. I could make love to it all over again. I was proud of myself. He was quicker to kill than the others, especially the last four.
His bed linens were drenched with his blood. It gleamed bright red and looked luxurious. I quickly wiped off everything I might have left my finger prints on and put my clothes back on. Holding my hair with my hand, I kissed his gorgeous mouth for the last time. I touched his torn cheeks and whispered in the place where his ear should have been.
“You were amazing,” I smiled running my fingers through his hair. I blew him a kiss as I walked from his bedroom to the living room. I picked up my jacket and using its sleeve, I closed the door and left the building, enjoying the silent scream in my head, trying not to orgasm as I caught a cab home.