She was perfect. Homely, mid twenties, sedentary office job, on her own. How he loved downtown supermarkets. Always prey on offer.
“Coco pops, it’s on the high shelf,” she told him.
He reached up and extracted a box. “Wal-Mart stacks everything up high, nowadays,” he said. “Lucky I was around to help. That all you want?”
He looked at her basket. Shopping for one. A carton of milk, six eggs, multigrain bread, canned tomatoes, and a package of bacon. Fried breakfast, after the Coco pops. He knew he looked in reasonable shape. Good enough for a one night stand.
“I guess so,” she replied, thinking aloud. “Can’t forget chocolate. Scary movie on TV tonight.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” he asked, keeping the conversation moving.
“Motel 2. Lots of murders, victims tortured.”
“You like that?” Look of surprise.
“Mister, I push a pen around in a dead-end job. This is my escape. Gets me excited, you know what I mean.” She lifted her eyebrows suggestively, and turned a little so he could see her coconuts better.
Boy, was he on to one here. “Ma’am, I don’t want to intrude none, you got time for coffee?” It was a risk, but he prided himself on reading the signs better than most. Practice makes perfect.
She glanced at her watch as they moved to the check-out. “Guess one wouldn’t hurt none,” she replied. “But make mine a margarita.” She giggled.
He slipped on his surgical gloves and re-enacted Motel 2. There were lots of scary scenes, as Maria said. He recorded it for her on the DVD. Boy was she a screamer, even with a gag in her mouth and her tongue cut out. By the time he finished playing around there was blood everywhere. New blood, it smelled glorious. Sourly sweet; copper and metal filled his nostrils with a hint of rust and salt intertwined before the cells decomposed to smell like rotting meat in an open drain. He cut her open and ripped the heart out and watched her die.
But he was not satiated. It had been too easy. He needed more. More of a challenge next time.