David Anderson's Blog - Posts Tagged "murder"
I Live for These Moments
I perch myself at the edge of a bar and sip my cocktail. I'm shirtless and bronzed to perfection. Behind the cover of my shades I scan the surrounding area for potential. An attractive blonde walks by and brazenly looks at me – I flash her a winning smile and she reddens noticeably. I live for the summer and these holidays.
I follow the short path back to my hotel. I jump in the shower, wash off the tanning oil and scrub the sweat from my sculpted muscles. I work hard on my physique back home – the better I look the easier it is for me to achieve what I set out to do. I step out of the shower after a long soak and towel myself dry. I pull some threads from the wardrobe – all designer, of course – and set about ironing them to perfection. I couldn't face heading out with a single crease in my clothing. When I'm done I head back to the bathroom and spend a long while fixing up my appearance. I style every strand of hair until I'm happy with it. I wouldn't dream of heading out without looking my absolute best.
I head to the nearest bar and order a drink. As I look around a pretty young thing catches my eye. I take a last look at myself in the mirror and head over to ask if I can join her. Her friends giggle as she agrees to my request. Her pals depart, leaving us alone and I begin to chat her up. This I find truly easy; I have no problems interacting with the fairer sex.
She asks where my friends are. I lie and tell her they ditched me earlier in the night. She giggles some more and buys my story without question. My appearance lulls women into believing every word that falls from my mouth. We swap idle chatter for a while and I buy her a couple of drinks – not that I need any help in getting her where I want her to be. After a short period of time I come straight out with it and ask her if she wants to come back to my hotel. She agrees without hesitating. Mission successful. I live for these moments.
She grips my bicep as we wander back to the hotel and coos over how solid my muscles are. I thank her absentmindedly – all my focus is now on the act that is about to occur. I lead her up the steps to my room and unlock the door. Before I can even properly close it again she has wrapped her arms around my neck and is attempting to kiss me. I push her away gently and order her to lie on the bed. She goes willingly, stripping off her clothes as she does so. Soon she is fully naked and beckoning me to come to her. Slowly I approach the bed, drawing things out, increasing the anticipation. I step onto the bed and straddle the girl.
Then I close my hands around her throat and press down hard. Her eyes bulge comically and she beings to bat her arms feebly against mine. Her struggles quickly diminish and soon she lies motionless on the bed, her face that familiar shade of blue. I live for these moments.
I step back from the bed and admire my handiwork. When I've savoured the scene sufficiently, I begin to pack up all of my things. My flight leaves in a matter of hours. The room is booked for another two days as a precaution – when they discover the body I'll be long gone. They won't find me either, they never do. The hotel is the shabbiest on the island, chosen specifically for their lack of CCTV cameras and their lax security measures. They didn't even check my passport when I arrived and, even if they had, they wouldn't catch me. I carry a perfect fake – they're easy enough to find on the internet if you know where to look.
Once I have carefully placed my belongings into my case, I zip it up and fasten the locks. I calmly leave my room, exit the hotel and hail a cab.
On my way to the airport I contemplate another successful holiday. I can barely wait for next year.
I follow the short path back to my hotel. I jump in the shower, wash off the tanning oil and scrub the sweat from my sculpted muscles. I work hard on my physique back home – the better I look the easier it is for me to achieve what I set out to do. I step out of the shower after a long soak and towel myself dry. I pull some threads from the wardrobe – all designer, of course – and set about ironing them to perfection. I couldn't face heading out with a single crease in my clothing. When I'm done I head back to the bathroom and spend a long while fixing up my appearance. I style every strand of hair until I'm happy with it. I wouldn't dream of heading out without looking my absolute best.
I head to the nearest bar and order a drink. As I look around a pretty young thing catches my eye. I take a last look at myself in the mirror and head over to ask if I can join her. Her friends giggle as she agrees to my request. Her pals depart, leaving us alone and I begin to chat her up. This I find truly easy; I have no problems interacting with the fairer sex.
She asks where my friends are. I lie and tell her they ditched me earlier in the night. She giggles some more and buys my story without question. My appearance lulls women into believing every word that falls from my mouth. We swap idle chatter for a while and I buy her a couple of drinks – not that I need any help in getting her where I want her to be. After a short period of time I come straight out with it and ask her if she wants to come back to my hotel. She agrees without hesitating. Mission successful. I live for these moments.
She grips my bicep as we wander back to the hotel and coos over how solid my muscles are. I thank her absentmindedly – all my focus is now on the act that is about to occur. I lead her up the steps to my room and unlock the door. Before I can even properly close it again she has wrapped her arms around my neck and is attempting to kiss me. I push her away gently and order her to lie on the bed. She goes willingly, stripping off her clothes as she does so. Soon she is fully naked and beckoning me to come to her. Slowly I approach the bed, drawing things out, increasing the anticipation. I step onto the bed and straddle the girl.
Then I close my hands around her throat and press down hard. Her eyes bulge comically and she beings to bat her arms feebly against mine. Her struggles quickly diminish and soon she lies motionless on the bed, her face that familiar shade of blue. I live for these moments.
I step back from the bed and admire my handiwork. When I've savoured the scene sufficiently, I begin to pack up all of my things. My flight leaves in a matter of hours. The room is booked for another two days as a precaution – when they discover the body I'll be long gone. They won't find me either, they never do. The hotel is the shabbiest on the island, chosen specifically for their lack of CCTV cameras and their lax security measures. They didn't even check my passport when I arrived and, even if they had, they wouldn't catch me. I carry a perfect fake – they're easy enough to find on the internet if you know where to look.
Once I have carefully placed my belongings into my case, I zip it up and fasten the locks. I calmly leave my room, exit the hotel and hail a cab.
On my way to the airport I contemplate another successful holiday. I can barely wait for next year.
