Amanda woke, feeling completely normal and at peace as she crept slowly from the bed to leave her husband asleep. Any sorness from their repeated fucking of last night was entirely gone, and she dropped a slip over her naked frame and slowly and quietly made her way out to the kitchen barefoot.
She rummaged through the cabinets and fridge, and selected eggs, Canadian bacon, english muffins, and got all the materials ready for Hollandaise sauce. She timed out the food, and by the time she was drizzling the homemade Hollandaise over the three halves of english muffin on which she'd stacked a slice of Canadian bacon and a poached egg, Jake, drawn by the smells coming from the kitchen, came out bare-chested and in pyjama bottoms smiling before he settled down in the seat.
"I hope it's good," Amanda told him as she set one of the two plates before him. "Mom did her best, but we never had a lot of fancy foods to train me with. I'm good with eggs, but the closest thing I ever had to Canadian bacon to fry was Spam. I know you love eggs Benedict, and I've been stealing glances online for Hollandaise recipes while you weren't looking." She winked.
He took a bite. And it was good. Actually, it was really good. For a first-timer, it was equisite. He swallowed, kissed her, and praised it. When she pumped him to see if he was just saying that to make her happy, he responded by cleaning his plate before she was halfway through her second egg and Canadian bacon-topped muffin. He arched a brow. "Does that convince you it was good?"
She arched one right back and smiled. "I suppose. After all, I've made you better at it, but you're still not as good of a liar as I am. You wouldn't have been able to clean that plate without a single look of disgust if it was bad."
Now it was his turn to smile. They were within range of many, many restaurants, and thanks to his father they could eat every meal out for probably nine centuries and never run out of money, yet Amanda insisted on cooking at home whenever possible. "It's a wifey thing to do," She'd said when he brought it up. Now that she was a wifey herself, Amanda was determined to do everything she had learned from watching movies, or seen one doing wifey things in person, be that cooking, laundry, cleaning, repeated passionate sex, or murdering anyone that she determined to be threats to their existence.
Ok, the last one was something that was a personal wifey trait only to her, but still, he could hear her voice in his head. 'Yeah, he raped a married woman and I burned his balls off for doing it to me. It was a wifey thing to do.'
They kissed, and it started to get deeper before a knock at the door interrupted them. Amanda retrieved a silk robe and tied it around herself before she went to answer the door. Outside, she saw an older man with wavy salt-and-pepper hair and a matching moustache.
He wore a high-end suit. Not Armani, but definitely not off-the-rack either. The suit, even under an equally high-end overcoat, was obviously tailored, the tie and the shirt were pricey-looking, and his feet were in slim Italian loafers. He almost looked vaguely like a mob enforcer, but she knew she and Jake were not in debt to anyone from that crowd. So when he introduced himself, she found herself surprised.
"I'm Detective Fontana with the 19th Precinct here in Manhattan. I was introduced to your husband, but I'm afraid we didn't ge tthe chance to meet in person. I was working through the NYPD during your kidnapping. I'm glad you're home safe."
His accent sounded vaguely Italian and he warmly smiled and Amanda returned it. "Come in, please," Amanda told him.
So he came through the doorway and closed the door behind him. Amanda asked him, "Do you want to sit? Do I need to give you a statement?"
Fontana shook his head. "Oh no, I'm just here for a minute. I came by to give you this." He reached into his pocket and removed Amanda's new black Sony Ericsson K800i. "We retrieved this from the body, and since the perp is dead and the case is basically closed, I figured you'd want it back instead of having it locked up in our evidence lockers," Fontana said with another smile.
Amanda's eyes widened and she nodded. "I completely forgot he took it out of my fucking purse. Thank you. This is actually almost brand-new, I had to replace it after my other phone sank on the Ocean Princess."
Fontana smiled. "You've had, what one might say, an active month or two, that's for sure. I hope everything starts to die down for you after this." He looked at her and saw Jake wasn't really around, and felt emboldened. "I gotta know. How did you find the resolve. I know you knew he was going to kill you, but still, it takes a Hell of a lot of guts to do what you did to try and escape from him. I saw Donner's corpse, it wasn't pretty."
There were stools seated in front of the half wall of the kitchen, so she motioned him over so he could relax, but still make a quick exit if he felt like going. She sat across from him and said," It's like I told the agent, Strahm. We had a history, but I've grown by leaps and bounds during that time. I acted far differently than if I'd have been kidnapped by a stranger, I think."
She looked to her side, to the floor. "I sensed, or maybe even knew, that once he'd murdered Wade, I was, as the police would say, growing more and more expendable, and he was growing more and more unstable. It bothered him that I wasn't cowering to him. I know that. So after Wade died, I just steeled myself and waited for an opportunity. I knew I was at least going to have to incapacitate him and try to make an escape myself. It only seemed more certain after he...After he raped me. And then, the last day, after I'd gotten him to lower his guard by acting like a fucking catatonic, he revealed to me that yes, he was going to fucking kill me."
Fontana was nodding. Amanda said, "So when we got into that kitchen, I knew it was my only chance. I knew it would be the only time I wasn't locked up. The heated pans and the portable burner were the only things I had at my disposal to use against him, so I did." Amanda's eyes went blank. "But I'll never forget the screams...Or that...Fuck...That smell. Burning human meat and flesh."
Fontana put a hand on top of the one Amanda had rested on the counter and met her gaze. The gesture was merely one to comfort her, she knew. "It does stick with you. Believe me, I've seen a lot in my career, but you'll get over it. And at the end of the day, you helped do the NYPD, the FBI, and the taxpayers of New York a damn great service."
He lifted his hand from hers. "I'm an old fashioned-guy. I wouldn't have minded living in the Old West. Someone does a crime, you shoot him down like a dog. I understand the progression of the times, and I understand there's police brutality sometimes and that occasionally, people get shot who don't deserve it, and I'm against that totally...But I figure...If you catch someone in the act, or find someone you know is guilty, it's a damn shame you can't just shoot him. Leave the courts to figure out the minor offenses, in my book."
He stood up. "I'm working on one right now, serial rapist. Now that you're home safe and sound, it's back on my radar. Repeat offenders, in my opinion, definitely need to be shot like dogs." He stuck out a hand and Amanda shook it. "That's for helping take one more asshole off the streets. You knew what you had to do, and you did it. He hurt you for several days, but again, after seeing that corpse, you hurt him back, even worse, in a matter of minues. You take care of yourself, you hear?" He smiled and Amanda nodded.
Jake came from the bedroom with a shirt on and exchanged a few pleasantries with Fontana before he left. He snuggled up to her and asked Amanda what she wanted to do to start. Amanda turned to him and with a toothy grin shouted "Dexter!" They were behind on episodes, the entire season was out, and they'd only watched four of the 12 episodes. The other eight were still saved on Jake's Tivo.
Amanda emptied the rest of her breakfast into the trash as it had gone cold while chatting, cleaned up the dishes and took off the robe, leaving herself wearing the slip only as she snuggled in next to him. She loved wearing as little clothing as possible anymore. If she could spend every day naked, she just might. She urged him on to find the fucking remote so they could fucking get started, but her efforts to tickle him derailed some of his progress.
Jake had found that Amanda's colorful vocabulary reminded him heavily of the character of Dexter's sister, Debra. But so much of how Dexter blended in and covered his tracks was much like Amanda. It was as if she had become a real-life hybrid of the two. What would that be like, he wondered. Amanda using her own skills to kill serial killers? He found that the thought did not bother him at all.
They got to episode eight and Amanda giggled when she saw that the main antagonist from the episode was the guy that played Patrick Swayze's evil "friend" in ghost. And after he was dispatched in the episode's closing moments, Amanda's hand accidentally brushed the crotch of Jake's pyjama pants as she reached for the remote to turn up the volume a skosh and it hardened immediately, and she looked at him.
"Watching Tony Goldwyn's death scene really turned you on, huh?" Amanda grinned at him mischievously.
He shook his head. "It's been raising and lowering for hours, honestly, having you so close, knowing that undernead that slip you're entirely naked."
"But I haven't showered. My hair is dirty and even though my pussy is regularly cleaned and maintained, there's been 11 loads of your cum apsorbed up inside there recently."
And Jake kissed her. "You know...I honestly don't care if you dont."
Amanda looked at the shirt she was wearing. "Did you buy me this slip or did I buy it for myself?"
Jake shrugged. "It doesn't look familiar. Usually my lingerie selections for you are of a more...Sexy variety."
Amanda laid on her back and smiled sexily. The slip rode up her thighs, exposing her pussy as she half-parted her legs. "If you can rip it open, you can have me, right here, right now."
He leaned twards her, grabbed the top of it and pulled until the thin, silky cloth ripped until it was opened to directly under her breasts. And then he lowered his hands, letting his knuckles brush her nipples and making them hard before he gripped the slip again and ripped it open completely.
Amanda rested her head on one of the throw pillows, and spread her legs completely wide. Her left foot she rested on the top of the couch cusions against the back of the couch, and her other foot she rested on the coffee table, spreading herself wide open. "You win. Fuck me hard, Jake. Fuck me as hard as you can. As hard as you want."
Jake was naked in an instant. He climbed atop her and stabbed her deeply with his cock in one thrust and she felt him pound in her as hard as he could and drive her into the cushion underneath her body. She gasped, she moaned, and she screamed from the pleasure his raging body gave her as their skin slapped together.
When she came, hard, she dug her nails into his back and down, making him scream as she dug tenches deeply enough in his back for them to bleed. He pounded into her and burst and she felt his seed gush inside of her like a fire hose as the scratches she'd plowed into his back healed. He collapsed on her, exhausted, as his cock finished twitching in her own twitching and orgasming pussy, delivering the final spurts from his big load deeply in her womb. She felt if she stood at that moment she might feel his seed sloshing around inside of her.
They finished another two episodes, lying naked together. Amanda had taken off and folded his ripped shirt and placed it under her legs to collect the sperm that leaked from her before it stained the couch. It was 4 p.m.
He suggested they break for an early dinner. Amanda offered to demonstrate more of her culinary skills but he told her that breakfast was enough. He wanted to snuggle her in a booth while someone cooked for them, so she joined him in the shower and felt an urge and got to her knees to suck his wet cock hard before she got on her hands and knees on the shower floor in front of him and he fucked her under the hot water doggie style until they both came again and finished washing themselves.
She got dressed, her conversation with Fontana dancing in her mind along with the methods of Dexter jumbling in there. Fontana with his desire to punish offenders that deserved it without waiting for the law to catch up, and Dexter, a murderer of murderers, also taking the law into his own hands. Hell, she knew if she'd been able to, Kyle Donner would have been dead before Strahm finished him off. Amanda just hadn't been able to get enough of an advantage in the fight to kill him herself.
Roger was waiting for them, smiling, in the parking garage and Jake took her somewhere new, Sojurn, where she scanned the menu and settled on a Kale Caesar salad and Roast Long Island Duck with whipped potatoes while Jake chose roasted scallops and the summer corn and tomato salad. They shared a bottle of Brut Cristal and topped off everything with a blueberry and ricotta cheesecake.
Jake then had a surprise for her. A way to ease themselves into the possibility of another cruise. He had Roger speed them to the North River Piers on 42nd Street and they showed up in time to take the harbor lights cruise on the ferry. For two hours, they relaxed, despite the cold, and savored the slowly-moving vessel as it carried them down the Hudson and into New York Harbor before returning to the pier and getting back inside the warm limosine.
It was perfect and she didn't have a single flashback to that darkened cabin where the water had tried to claim them. She begged him to take her back a few more times and he smiled and told her he would for a kiss, and she ground into his lap and made out with him all the way back to the parking garage of their apartment building.
Amanda gave Roger a hug and thanked him for driving them around and they returned to the apartment. She thought that Jake would want to finish what they started in the cab, but he wanted to wait until they went to bed, and that was fine. He settled in on the couch and she settled in next to him, and then started wandering the online news on Google, looking at crime statistics and uncertain as to why as the thoughts of Dexter and Fontana's desire for Old West justice danced through her mind.
She eventually found an article featuring quotes from Mayor Michael Bloomberg, warning against occupying the last two cars of any subway train after late night servce started at 11 p.m. Apparently there had been a rash of assaults and robberies for the past several weeks, and the assaults seemed to be connected to one unknown perpetrator, all of his victims were alive, but all had been sent to intensive care as a result of their meeting the perp. In all the cases, the victim had been in the subway car alone, and then attacked when leaving the car to enter the platform.
She started looking at subway routes. NYC two had an outlet on Manhattan's West Side and ended at Flatbush Avenue, near Brooklyn College. Why was she looking at this and tilting the screen away from Jake right now? Was she actually thinking of going out some night and riding the subway looking for trouble? Maybe. She felt an overwhelming urge to do so, and wasn't sure where it was coming from.
Was it some sort of unresolved issue from her kidnapping? But why? fuck, she felt FINE. She hadn't broken down crying, she hadn't had any flashbacks, she'd willingly let her husband fuck her eleven fucking times yesterday, and had followed it up with two fucks so far today. Why was she having this desire to put herself in danger and seek some sort of weird vigilante justice. To resolve some unknown issue buried in her subconscious? Was a part of her still dwelling over the fact that she hadn't dealt the final blow to Kyle?
She shut the laptop and snuggled up with her husband. Maybe she should take the offer from Jack and see a counselor, even just once. Perhaps there was something rooted that her fighting, improved mind was burying. Maybe it was just a desire to face someone evil and yet vanquish them herself. She was just about to settle on not doing anything when fate intervened and Jake's cell phone rang.
It was shortly before 11:30, Jack wanted to go over some things regarding the business and he forgot the information he needed to share and the signatures signatures required of Jake needed to be turned into the company's legal department by 8 a.m. tomorrow. He'd intended to go over it earlier while they were visiting, but Amanda's kidnapping had pushed it to the back burner until he'd suddenly realized to his horror that he hadn't asked about it.
He hated to make him come so late, but could he spare a few hours? If they did it now, he could sleep, rather than worrying about trying to have Jake meet him at 5 a.m. tomorrow. He explained that the recent events were making him paranoid about the company's future if something happened to him and after the close call his son had with death, and the now two close calls Amanda had, he was worrying more and more.
Before he'd married Amanda, Jake had absolutely wanted nothing to do with the business. But he and his father had mended so many fences since, and Jack had convinced Jake, without any manipulation, that even from the realm, he could return and oversee things while putting someone else in charge to oversee the day-to-day operations. Everything would pick right up where he left off and he was determined to have all the ducks in a row so the company would remain the Park's legacy.
"I just want the CEO of the company to remain a Park, and that Park is you," Jake's father had told him. "I know you don't feel about it as strongly as I do, and I understand now that it's not for everybody and you have a drive that isn't the same as mine I understand it now and I accept it. You can have plenty of executives in place to run things and remain CEO and leave them in charge. I'll even have a laundry list of names of people I trust who can handle each individual aspect for you. You and Amanda will want for nothing every time you're in the real world. Please, make your old man happy." And of course, hearing his father speak so honestly and plainly, Jake had agreed to the arrangement as soon as the papers were drawn up.
And now they were, and now Jack had set a deadline to get the ball rolling and now they were in extreme danger of having to reset that deadline. It wasn't a huge deal, but he'd like to have it done, as Jack did, so he no longer had to worry about it. So Jake asked Amanda and she smiled told him of course that was fine.
Amanda's heart started pounding in her chest as she spoke. "What trouble can I get in here? The worst is that I'll accidentally erase all the shit you have saved in the Tivo." So he smiled and kissed her and said he'd text her when he was on his way back.
And suddenly that half-baked idea Amanda had been forming screamed at her in her mind. She was suddenly fueled with some sort of burning rage and desire to find some violent lowlife and make him pay for hurting innocent people on the subways. Amanda waited five minutes before she started moving, her body tingling with a nervous energy.
She would ride the subway. Round trip from 66th Street to Flatbush was 30-40 minutes. She could ride back and forth at least twice, jumping between trains, and be back at the apartment before Jake returned home. The Atlantic Ave./Barclays Center Terminal was considered the worst for subway crime, and it was right on the route. But again, her rational mind asked her, why was she doing this?
...Just to see if someone targeted her like Kyle Donner had targeted her, and make them pay. Be an Old West fighter, or a Dexter, stopping someone evil before they managed to harm someone else. Just this one time. It was crazy and her rational mind questioned the morality of it but it wasn't stopping her from getting off the couch and walking into their bedroom.
Jake, in preparation of going off the grid in the woods, had bought a lot of survival gear, including several hunting knives. He'd changed plans and now it sat in a corner of their closet. Now that he was officially making himself next-in-line as Jack's successor, the cabin in Ohio would now definitely be for vacations only, and the gear would now be useless. She walked to his closet and took out the boxed blades and found one that had a blade that was very long and looked very shiny. The handle was black. The blade bore a mark that said it was made by RW Loveless of Riverside, California.
Amanda didn't know anything else about it, and would have been surprised to know that Jake had bought it for an astronomical sum of nearly $30,000. She only knew that when she felt it in her hand, she felt determined to make someone pay. She wasn't going to be lethal against a random mugger or a purse snatcher, of course. In that event she'd hand over her belongings and question her stupidity in her actions, but according to the statistics, and reading between the lines of Bloomberg's interview, there were sexual assaults and violence and if she faced that threat, she would meet it with a threat of her own.
So she took out a pair of boots with long heels and a pair of jeans with loose legs that would cover up the fact that the heels made her five inches taller. She grew from five foot three to five foot eight after putting them on. She wore a blouse under a sweater and then pulled a coat on and tucked the knife, blade out, between the sleeve of the blouse and sweater.
The tight knit of the arms held the knife in place unless she flailed her arms around, and she tested it and found that if she twisted her arm back and forth that the knife would slide from the sleeve until she could get her fingers around the blade and pull it into her right palm completely. As an added barrier, she took a paper towel and wrapped it around the sharp blade so it wouldn't cut the sleeve of her blouse, or her.
She took out her contacts, exposing her green eyes, and then, just for fun, she closed them. They had their leaping abilities, they had their healing abilities, they didn't age, could go without eating and drinking, and even when they did, they never had to use the bathroom. So she pictured herself with the long blonde hair that Frank Morrison had once asked her to have that year or so ago before she'd killed him. And when she opened her eyes...Amanda Park was a blonde.
She didn't like it. She looked better with long dark hair, but if this stupid plan of hers went belly up. If she got involved in a fight and there were witnesses, she'd be identified as a five foot eight blonde with green eyes, and would look entirely different than her five foot three appearance with black hair and her blue contacts. But just for fun, she quickly closed her eyes again and when she opened them, they were brown. Even better.
According to the schedule she had perused online, the next subway to 66th Street would be en route and hit the station by 12:19 a.m., It was now 11:30. She quuckly deleted her browser history, though she wasn't entirely sure that would be entirely safe, if someone REALLY wanted to search, they'd probably find it but what the fuck, maybe it would work, if this bit her in the ass.
She put a knit stocking cap over her new blonde hair and left the apartment building with her keys and her purse in hand and walked the streets, warily, to the stairs leading down to the 66th street terminal. She went to the vending machine and, having a fair amount of cash, bought herself a 30-day, unlimted ride Metro card for $127. The machine offered a credit card option, but also allowed bills to be inserted in denominations of up to $20. So she slid in seven, collected her change, and stood on the platform. It was sparsely filled. There was a printed schedule she could take, and she picked one up and slipped it into her purse.
At precisely 12:19, the subway arrived. Amanda immediately went into the last car of the subway train and sat down and opened her copy of "Cell." And off they went. The first ride brought nothing. She made the route with the limited stops in about 40 minutes, as it said, then took the return subway car back, again experiencing no problems, and got back out at the 66th street terminal and stood and waited.
She cased where cameras were and made sure that she was not in the sightlines of any of them. When the next subway, en route to Flatbush Avenue arrived, she again got in the last car, and re-opened her book.
***********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************
At the Penn Station Terminal at 34th Street, a man was waiting. Like Amanda, his urge was also strong, but his was to hurt, hers was to stop from hurting.
The man's name was Lewis Eby. when he'd stopped this morning to give Amanda her phone, Detective Fontana had said he was working on a case involving a serial rapist. And if he'd met Lewis Eby, he'd have been very interested to interview him in connection with those crimes, one of which had been in Manhattan, the others in the Bronx and Brooklyn, leading to an NYPD joint task-force investigation involving many NYPD officials, including Fontana himself.
Eby knew he would eventually be caught, yet he couldn't, he WOULDN'T, stop himself. He'd fought the urges for the first 46 years of his life, and after his divorce, he couldn't. He wanted to make women pay for the anger he couldn't take out on his wife.
He still remembered the feeling of power and satisfaction he'd gotten from his first victim, a blonde woman he'd taken to a dark location at Pelham Parkway. He'd assaulted her for three hours, never once in danger of being caught. He'd attacked her so badly she was in a coma for over a week.
He perfected the craft, taking two more in the Bronx, before his first in Manhattan at the 96th Street Terminal. The last two had been at the Church Avenue termnal, and the Flatbush Avenue Terminal, though during the last, he'd led her out to an abandoned building, made sure she was tightly gagged, and assaulted her there. He spaced them out in intervals of a month to prevent himself from being noticed, and to lead the plainclothes cops he knew were watching to give up temporarily until he struck again.
He hadn't assaulted the last five bad enough to render them comatose as he had the first, but he'd still put them all in the ICU, and he read the stories with relish, knowing their lives were shattered and irreparably broken.
And now, it was time for another. Or so he'd thought. But it had been a week, and since Bloomberg's warning, everyone stayed clustered in the front and middle cars of the subway train. He'd not seen any for a week, and his rage and frustration was building to the point that when he finally found his next victim, he would likely put her in a coma as he had the first. In fact, he was so pent-up in his craving that this one he might kill, but he felt no worry or guilt about it. The assaults alone would put him in prison for the rest of his life. A murderer would have a higher status in prison.
So he stood, waiting but not expecting anything as the subway train pulled up next to the platform. And then he smiled. For in the back of the train he could see clearly through the window that there was a blonde back there, reading a book. Probably an out-of-town tourist that was unaware of the fact that women were being targeted. At the least, he'd show her that it paid to read the newspaper. At the most...Her taking this subway would be the last mistake she ever made.
He got onto the subway one car before her, and looked in the car ahead of him. There was no one. Smiling further, he walked back to the connectors between the cars, and as the train moved, he opened the door and sat down on the other end of the train opposite her. She barely glanced up from her book, registering a presence before returning her eyes to it. A Stephen King fan. He was about to show her a horror worse than anything she'd get from one of that overpaid writer's books.
Amanda's heart beat in her chest. She'd read the article, and had learned much from her quick glance. He was at least in his 40s, dressed in a flack jacket, and Amanda was skillful at reading eyes. This man's eyes told her in her single glance that he was truly up to something. But she anticipated that she was safe for now, and wouldn't try anything on the car.
Eby checked her out. It was hard to gauge her body under the winter clothing, but her face and neck were quite slender, as well as her legs in her jeans. His last victim had been overweight, but based on the slenderness of her face and the legs, he gathered that the portion of her underneath the blouse and sweather was as slender as the rest of her, and started getting an erection. After a seven-day dry spell, his seventh victim would have a killer body and face to match and he would savor it after he cut her clothes from her body as she struggled underneath him.
The terminals at Chambers Street, WTC Courtland, Bowling Green, and the South Ferry were all decently trafficked and Amanda kept pretending to check the terminal map as if she was checking for her correct stop, to hide the fact that she was simply holding out for a deserted terminal. The subway train made its way through the tunnel under the East River and she bypassed the Borough Hall and Jay Street Terminals, again, too heavily trafficked.
But when they got to the next stop, Atlantic Avenue/Barclays Center, she saw it was deserted. She waited a moment, checking the terminal map while really making sure that no one else exited, and when no one did, she put the book in her purse, using the map as a bookmark, and got off the subway. She tucked her hair entirely under her knit stocking cap and started for the exit, her heels clacking on the concrete, and after a moment, she heard the sound of another man's footfalls behind her.
She pretended to rummage in her purse for something, making sure to drop her book to the ground. "Fuck!" She said loudly as she picked it up, letting him get closed to her. She watched him approach, unseen by him, as she picked up the book. He was checking for other people and there were none. There were also no cameras around this terminal that she could see. There hadn't been but two at the 66th Street Terminal.
She stood up and started walking again when he was about five feet from her. He walked quickly and put his arm around her chest as he pressed a hidden knife to her throat. The man said hoarsley,"If you scream, it's the last thing you'll ever do."
Amanda began her playacting terror performance. "Please...I have money. Credit cards...Take it all. Just don't hurt me, please. My husband is waiting for me at home. Please."
She felt him snort against her ear as he sniffed her hair. "I'll take the money, don't you worry about that. But I'm taking more from you than that. Start walking."
She did. He told her to turn into the darkened hallway and had her open a door that led into a dimly lit electrical room. She knew that he knew the room was unlocked, which meant that he was familiar with the terminals and that he had done this before. She turned her body to the right to shield her arm from his vision, and started twisting it, feeling the heavy hunting knife begin a slow descent down from under her sleeve.
"What do you want from me?" Amanda asked, and this time, she did not pretend to be scared.
The man turned and locked the door behind him. "Your body. You can either get naked for me now, or I can do it for you, bitch. But like it or not, you're getting fucked until I've had my fill of you."
He stepped towards her. The blade itself was now out, and the paper towel slipped from it and fell next to her right foot, unseen. Amanda asked him," And then...You'll let me go, right? Please I'll do whatever you want, just let me go." She let false panic creep into her voice again.
He found himself intrigued that she was maintaining calm, and not on her knees begging and crying. She'd even offered to do what he wanted, though she'd made no move to undress as he'd told her. He let the knife hang at his side, her screams wouldn't be heard by the skeleton crew, and he'd easily overtake her if she tried to run. He'd never actually conversed with one of his victims before, and wondered what her reaction would be if he told her the truth. So he did.
He grabbed her face and looked into her eyes. Amanda had her fingers on the guard, and slid the blade into her palm and tightly wrapped her fingers around the handle. He said, "The others, I raped for several hours. One I put into a coma. I'm going to do that to you too. But since you asked...You should have tried to fight, because I've needed this for a long time...and I don't think I'm going to be able to stop myself from killing you."
He started pulling at her clothes, and Amanda's wrist tilted, raising the blade, before she slammed it in his chest, nicking his heart and taking all the fight out of him. He stood there, eyes wide in surprise and pain, his mouth opening and closing in shock as he stared at her. She had to use all her strength to pull the knife from his chest, and he went to his knees.
Amanda walked behind him and crouched and whispered in his ear. "I've got better things to do with my time. Since we're being honest, I was hunting you. I had an urge too. An urge to slaughter some sick motherfucker like yourself. I presented myself as the perfect prey, and snared you. Thank you. You've made my night. And by the way, when I see my husband again, I'm going to fuck him and enjoy it. Enjoy Hell, it's probably nice and warm. I'm sure it's going to be a lot warmer than this room."
She grabbed his hair and quickly slit his throat, leaning backwards to make sure she avoided the blood spray. He let out one gurgling cry, and died. She turned on the light with her gloved hand, then returned, carefully avoided the rapidly-forming pool of his blood to see if there were any traces of her. She found one strand of blonde hair and not knowing what else to do with it, stuffed it in her mouth. She grabbed the wad of paper towels and quickly wiped the blade clean and folded it neatly with the blood well covered by the unsoiled portions before putting it into her pocket.
Her body was shaking in her rush of adrenaline. She'd single-handedly stopped a rapist. She'd gone out looking for exactly this type of person, and on her first try, she'd found him. And then once she had, and once she'd presented herself as an easy target that the man could attack and potentially get away with doing so, she had gotten him to bring her to this place, and had turned the tables on her would-be destroyer, and had killed him with ease. She felt no guilt about it, either. She slipped the knife back up her sleeve, opened the door and carefully looked out. The hallway was deserted.
She ignored the platform, instead she walked up to the street and the blocks back towards the Jay Street Terminal. She was alone on the platform, and stayed next to a column. She scoped out her clothes but there wasn't a speck of blood on them, and she'd made sure to leave virtually no evidence, maybe no evidence at all...Just like Dexter. She felt...Better. She felt like anything left over from her experience at Craig House was gone completely, and frankly, she couldn't believe it.
Five minutes later, a train headed in the direction she needed was speeding its way to the platform. She got on, riding it back to 66th Street, and then walked back to the apartment building. She set the knife by the sink, stripped naked, and stuffed the clothes at the bottom of the closet to wash tomorrow. She also replaced the boots where she'd taken them from.
She cleaned the blade first with rubbing alcohol, before washing it twice with dish soap, carefully drying it and then cleaning out the sink itself. She put the alcohol back in the bathroom and collected the knife. She replaced the knife in the sheath, and then in the box. All her ducks in a row, she stood in the bathroom, looked at herself in the mirror, and smiled. She'd done it. And while she felt no urge to do it again, this time, she'd done it. She'd eliminated a predator, and savored the rush. Would she tell Jake?
She wasn't sure yet. He might fear that she was returning to her old ways...Giving up her fix for Jake for the fix of murdering. But it hadn't been a murder...It had been an execution. And if he'd gotten his way with her and escaped, he'd have struck again. She knew Fontana would be impressed. She was sure of it. She thought and thought, and knew she wouldn't be able to keep it from him forever. He would have to know she had done it. Hiding it from him, hiding anything from him, was just not her style. She wasn't sure when, but it would be soon.
She closed her eyes, making her familiar green eyes and long black hair return, and slipped her ice-blue contacts back into her eyes. Her cell phone dinged in her purse. It had slipped underneath the pile of junk she kept in it and she pulled it out to get to her cell phone underneath. A text from Jake. He was on his way. She had allowed herself the perfect amount of time to not only do what her mind had felt she needed to do, but get back in time to clean everything up and put everything away.
She took the bloody paper towels from her coat and tossed one of the Duraflame firelogs in Jake's fireplace and lit it, then set the bloody paper towels on the flame and watched them until it burned completely. Then she quickly showered her body, put on some perfume, slipped into a black G-string and and stockings and a sheer silk robe, and poured herself a glass of wine before settling down on the couch.
She sipped slowly, remembering the look on the man's face when she'd stuck the knife in his chest. He'd been so surprised. So focused on what he was planning to do to her, he never saw it coming. She'd been quick, close, and as lethal as she knew she could be. And when that door opened, she was going to cap off her evening with a fantastic fuck from her Jake.
She watched the Duraflame log burn, and had half the glass finished before Jake opened the door. "You're still awake?" He stepped further into the apartment, saw her in her lingerie, and smiled.
"Of course I am," Amanda said, her voice sultry. "We made plans to finish what we started during our limo make-out session. You didn't think I was going to let you off the hook, did you?"
She sat up as he came to her and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He turned to the fireplace and then looked at her sheepishly. "You've got the heat on 75, did you really need a fire?"
She smiled back. "I like looking at the flames. And besides, I wanted to set the mood." She smiled as he lifted her in his arms and carried her from the living room.
"The mood has been set and I'm not going to fuck you on the couch tonight. I like watching your body tense and see your toes curl in our bed."
And he laid her there and slipped off her thong and licked her intermittently as he slipped out of his clothes and got into bed with her. And she straddled him and he gently played with her tits as she impaled herself on his stiffness and rode him.
And her body tensed. And as she came, her toes curled. And Jake, before he burst, savored watching her do both.