» / Prose/ Horror/ Portion of a Portrait/ Redemption/
| The sweet smell of death lingered in the air, as the body, having taken its final breath for the last time hours ago remained motionless now. The now vacant eyes of the corpse stared into out into the distance into the eyes of its executioner. Naked and bathed within a mixture of coagulated blood and sweat, a visible look of shock marked upon his final gaze, unfortunate for him that he did not fully understand depth of the events surrounding him this evening.
Revenge was sweetest when prepared by a master and this work of art had been no different in its completion. For months, he had been watched from a distance as all good predators did. His bravado, carefree nature and signature craving for young women were his trademarks in life, a fact that would be ultimately used for his demise. If only he had known that his own desires would eventually lead to his downfall. Perhaps with warning, he could have sought redemption in life; instead he would need to seek forgiveness at the gates of heaven itself. Instead, he simply fed the inferno within the soul his predator, one who watched him leech from the filth of the Parisian streets simply to feed his addictions to lust. Every moan, whimper and even scream in bedchambers and filth-ridden alleys would be catalogued for reference; these would prove to be most useful when attempting to lure the prey into the slaughterhouse. The leading was easy, when the hunter knew its quarry better then the man knew himself. It was known that the prey would first start his rounds by attending a local tavern dressed in commoner’s grabs as to avoid drawing attention to his presence. It was merely meant to fool himself, as every patron within the walls of that establishment and indeed the quarter, knew full well that he was one of the members of the French court, a cousin to the Sun King himself. Who else would take an aging, corpulent man to the bedchamber for so low a sum, unless they feared for their lives? Sitting in a corner of the tavern as he did nightly, he would order the same drink from the same woman, one who had long grown accustomed to her incessant womanizing. With clockwork precision, he would slap one of her partially exposed breasts waiting for the rehearsed response that somehow still managed to keep him a rise. Only after this perversion of a ritual had been complete, would this shallow shell of a man look about for a more interesting diversion, his brown bloodshot eyes scanning the room in front of him looking at every woman as though they were nothing more then cattle. This evening however, his prey had been far more dangerous then he could have anticipated. At first, he paid little attention to this new face as it entered the tavern, sitting at the bar alone and ordering a drink. This creature was not his style, not precisely, not until he caught a glimpse at the advances of another man upon her. With one practiced fluid movement, the other man grabbed the woman by the hips and without hesitation buried his head into her cleavage. Soon finding that the woman’s unreceptive gasp of shock began to melt away giving way to an innocent giggle. A giggle was all that would be required to lure this man into her trap. She had long ago learned that he sought those amongst the sheep that were young and seemingly innocent. Innocence and the air of having had a few too many drinks was only skin deep, giving him ample reason to pursue her with all of his drive. Slowly, she watched him rise from the corner of her eyes as she continued to toy with the man buried firmly between her breasts, having been paid handsomely to join into the game even if he knew not the goals. A good predator knew how to take advantage of pawns in order to overcome their prey and this one served his purposed well as she watched the rage rise in her prey’s eyes as the woman he would deflower being soiled before him. This rage continued to fester within until it had climaxed with the violent throwback of her pawns head away from her welcoming breasts, throwing that man back onto the ground leaving him dazed and confused. Her prey then attempted to seem heroic in his gallant and selfless act that saved from her virtue as to gain her trust and take her body as payment. Her response was exactly as he had wanted, seemingly surprised and falling into this man as though she had saved him from an army of invading Norsemen. The pawn knew better then to attempt and interfere with a man that could condemn him to death with nothing more the wave of a hand. Silently he slinked away, never once attempting to rise to his feet until he passed well beyond the crowed that had form around the newly joined couple, gawking over the action, disappointed that so little blood had been split. Well covered by his corpulence, she smiled as then faked a girlish cry that would forever seal his fate. After a few well-planned moments of crying she pulled back, gasping in an attempt to hold back her sobs as any girl would have done, only that she forced a smile through her puffy red eyes, a smile that simply seemed so very alluring, instantly filling this filth with desire, turning into the perfect time for her to speak. In order to feign innocence, there existed a need to create a story that was not only credible but also add fuel to the burning fires of lust within. Therefore, the predator became a young woman named Marie that had run away from a farm between the ocean shores and Paris. She had been dreaming of a life filled with adventure, but her father had promised her hand in marriage in exchange for more wealth and power. Heartbroken that her life would end before it had begun, she had snuck out of the home in the middle of the night and headed for Paris. She broke out into tears once more, as though the story that been far too painful to recollect, a very impressive trick which only served to give the man more opportunity to console her thinking of how lucky he had been to make this catch tonight. The rest of her story was irrelevant, she could have spoken about how she would enjoy killing him and he would simply nod, continuing to hold her, while he licked his lips in the anticipation of the pleasures to come. She knew that this man was as impatient as he was portly; in all reality this man was hardly the living representation of a Greek god. Instead, she reminded him of the filth that had visited her from day to day, rotting teeth and a horrible stench from having never bathed, barely masked by the expensive perfumes, which his position in life allowed him. Was it not for his use of a wig a few years behind fashion, one would see his balding head that accentuated his oversized ears to the point of being comical. Impatience would play well with her plan, as she looked up with a singular tear beading at the corner of her eye. She asked him if he could help her return home, nearly pleading her prey to take her in for the night, saving her from the cruel world she was evidently unprepared to deal with. That is when he simply nodded, taking her head lovingly to his chest and with raised eyes to the ceiling as he thanked god for having him graced him with this latest prize. As expected, her prey opted not to make use of his driver hidden within the ranks of the patrons already watching the scene at hand. Instead, he took the option of walking to a nearby residence that he had acquired through the prosecution of a local bourgeois. Abuse of power did have its privileges, when it came to making people disappear, which would otherwise pose a threat to the aristocracy or simplifying the acquiring of items or places. So he escorted her to this home while she held back sobs, keeping the charade going as long as was necessary in order to get into his parlour. The walk seemed long, even if the distance was short in truth and this feeling was mutual to both parties. She simply wished to move from this phase of her plan to the next, one that while required, would bring back memories of her former life. The door opened, allowing the predator to sigh in relief as thought her journey here had been nothing short of a pilgrimage. The locale, already well known to her, visited in the past after he had left as to get more of a feel for the place. The decorations were sparse by well chosen and obviously not of his choosing, instead relying on the former owner to have any sense of taste at all. Nonetheless, tasteful paintings covered the walls in the most strategic of places where one could enjoy their likeness while seated anywhere from within the room. This was not of importance to this man, lifting her off her feet carrying her to the bedroom. She knew already that this was his chosen course of action, as only then could he seem like a perfect gentleman, getting women more time to get warm to the idea of giving away their virtue in exchange for the comfort and safety of a home. It was a sweet pleasure in the knowledge that this man was now in more danger then he had ever been before in his miserable life. The predator was gently placed onto the bed, with a gentle kiss to her forehead by her prey, promised that he would let her rest and would fetch her something to drink in order to give her back some of her strength. Knowing that it was really a ruse, this time allowed her to move her plan forward into action as he stepped out of the bedroom. As her prey closed the door behind him, she rose from the confines of the bed and fetched a main-gauche from the fireplace mantle, hiding it under nearby the pillow, giving her the opportunity to change the pace of this farce a bit and making things much more memorable for them both. Quickly she undressed, with a practiced skill hard to match by any woman of the court where such a skill would have been perhaps slightly less in demand. All the while remaining quiet, she placed the clothing onto the bed, laying them as though she were too tired to realize her actions and spilt a bit of perfume on the sheets from a bottle hidden within the depths of her dress. The aroma, well chosen to be one of his favourites; a detail that she was sure would be most appreciated by the prey. The rest had been as expected, seeing the young woman deep in sleep and devoid of clothing led him to do the same and following her under the sheets. As he joined her, she felt his warm and sweaty body against hers in an attempt to wake his prize slowly by kissing her bare neck and shoulders. He was really such a lousy lover, nearly drooling over her flesh as he kissed, his strong smell and rough hands would make nearly any woman of more sheltered upbraiding to shudder in disgust. Yet she seemed receptive, sighing softly at his advances and turning her head as to give him ample access to her right ear. Even more aroused he became, pushing his member against her back where she could feel the filth of his seed spreading against her back. Never had he noticed that she was actually pristinely clean, far too busy getting excited over the sewing his seeds. Still the time was not right for her to strike, all the while she had hand hidden under the pillow, feeling the cold steel of the blade gaining comfort from its presence. All the while, she could feel his hands moving over her arms and onto her bare breasts, scratching her nipples and causing her to whimper innocently waiting a few more moments before she would pretend to wake up from her light nap. Her ruse worked to perfection, opening her eyes, fluttering with practiced perfection, she smiled as she saw this waste of a man and kissed him softly on the cheek. At first, it seemed as thought she were waking up in another world where the memories of her day’s events were a distant memory. Only as her eyes began to widen and her lips quivered did he turn his prize around and kissed her as deeply as he could. Pushing his vile tongue past her soft lips in some delusional attempt at comforting her. Perhaps it would not have worked for another woman, causing them to panic as these advanced were forced upon them Yet for Evelyn, this had been the opening she needed, joining her tongue in with his, while pushing her body onto his greasy skin, she rubbed his member between her legs like the well-practiced whore she was. At this point in time, he did not care if she was innocent or not, the pleasures of his body quickly overriding all of his waking senses. Senses were key to this event, here was a man that had given her life and then stripped her of it by leaving her to die on the streets of Paris. In truth, she had already given her life as to begin life anew, in a world that had originally rejected her, her revenge over this man had required her to return briefly to her former life as to take his life during the very act that had breathed lived into her all so long ago. She worked against his body, allowing him inside her and gasping in pleasure as he penetrated, riding him with a fever that he could have never imagined possible, as her hips grinded against his, moving his member in and out of her welcoming body. Soon they were both drenched in a film of his sweat, giving off an odour that would forever haunt her. Never had he been so manipulated in the pleasures of the flesh then he had just now, with a woman who knew the pleasures of the body were nothing more then a practiced form of art. Evelyn, an artist in the truest form of the word had also learned another art prior to his event. She had learned to read men in all her years of a courtesan, a skill allowing her to see when the threshold of his pleasure would be reached. Signs in his case, were the shallow breathing, the stiffening of his body followed by the plunging of his own blade through his exposed chest. This blade sliced neatly between his ribs, reaching the beating heart within, cutting away at the life giving muscle and caused him to open his eyes in shock. All he would see from this point forward was the devilish smile upon her face, still atop him, rising her hips just enough to rid herself of his now inert member. “Well that is certainly a way to cool a man’s advances, don’t you agree?” She said this all in the lightest of tones, musical and cheerful as though the act of taking his life was simply another commonplace event in her day. “It’s a shame that you never got to know me father.” A lone finger ran across his chest, sliding around the base of the blade where warm blood pooled from the wound. She seemed to pause for a few moments, perfectly content in this menial task taking up her time as it filled him in turn with a sense of desperation. She continued to smile as the change in his face reflected this, brining the finger to her lips and suckling upon the tip tasting the essence of his blood. “Perhaps then, you would have known to avoid this little spider.” She giggled, while wiggling the blade protruding from his body causing him to convulse in a great deal of pain, relishing every moment it. “I know you and I will never have the time to bond and you have certainly missed the day I learned to walk and uttered my first words… At least you and I will always have this one defining moment in our relationship to remember.” She laughed at the sight of his contorted face, knowing that his fate was now sealed. “Now daddy, be good and thank Lucifer on your way down to hell. I’d hate for you to loose friends so early in your new life.” There was nothing more to say, and his inability to respond was a cold comfort that her task was now complete. She watched his life slip away ending a chapter of her life, freeing her to truly enjoy the next. Only when the corpse had stiffened and his lips blued did Evelyn rise from her comfortable seat atop of him. Times like this had to be cherished; regrettably, the signs of daylight were beginning to stir, signs that she would have to make her escape before too many eyes took notice of her. She was sure that his lack of presence would be noticed quickly from a King that was paranoid of uprisings; at least his death was clean unlike her the fate her mother had tasted. Evelyn thought to herself, that she and mother would have had one thing they could have agreed upon, that shell of a man made for a lousy lover. * * * * Victoria removed her hands from the typewriter, nearly shaking from the words that she had just committed to paper. Never would she have considered herself capable of writing such a grim tale about a character that had been this author’s role model in daily life. Wiping a tear from her face, she left the last page of paper seated firmly in the typewriter, as she needed a distraction. Perhaps a movie would do her some good, the incarnation of someone else’s ideas put onto the silver screen. At the very least, the walk would giver her some well needed fresh air and get her out into the world outside her apartment. Yes, a movie would be fine she thought and wondered what was being shown tonight. Grabbing her coat, gloves and a scarf, Victoria opened the front door of her apartment heading out into a world that seemed far safer then the world that was beginning to take shape in her mind. |
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