A Growing Obsession
Smith stood before the large windows in his office, and watched the afternoon sun blaze steadily on the city far below.
Of all the women he had had during the years, she had been the only one out of all of them who had not cried, begged or pleaded with him for compassion or mercy. As soon as he was finished with taking what he wanted from them, they had been dismissed and forgotten without a second thought or glance.
But not Bronwyn.
Why hadn't she reacted the way all the others did? What made her different, he wondered?
Then it came to him. She was the only one who had not been afraid of him. She had the audacity to stalk past me in the hallway with that arrogant stride of hers, where any of the other woman would have run, crying, to the elevator. But she did not. She acted as if what I had just done to her was of no importance and consequently, neither was seeing me again so soon afterwards.
Damn that little slut, Smith raged to himself. Why can't get her out of my mind?
Ever since he met Bronwyn, his performance and attention to his duties had been poor quality at best, not at all meeting his usual standards of perfection. He hadn't been able to concentrate on anything for any amount of time. Only this morning, he caught himself staring for almost 4 hours at the pen he had been holding, before he realized what he was doing. Also, Agent Brown had had to repeat what he had been saying twice before he caught Smith's attention. As a result of such unheard-of behavior, Smith performed several self-diagnostic tests on himself and was puzzled and irritated that the scans showed no abnormal readings.
What has she done to me? She's to blame for all of this, he thought. Somehow she's infected me; infected my programming in some way. All I can think about is her. No, that's not entirely true, he corrected himself; I want to think about her. I want to remember. All of it.
Everything about her and what she had made his mind and body feel came willingly to his mind. He closed his eyes and remembered with sheer pleasure the way her skin had felt under his touch, the smell of her hair, even the way her skin tasted; the sensations were as vibrant and clear now as when he first experienced them, almost sixteen hours and twenty-three minutes earlier.
I must see her again. I must have her again. Only then can I cleanse my system of all memories, as well as sensations, that this contaminant, this woman, has polluted me with. I have to do it quickly, for I feel the obsession and desire for her is growing within me with each passing minute.
Via his earpiece, Smith ordered Jones to find her present location and notify him as soon as possible.
Smith stood before the large windows in his office, and watched the afternoon sun blaze steadily on the city far below.
Of all the women he had had during the years, she had been the only one out of all of them who had not cried, begged or pleaded with him for compassion or mercy. As soon as he was finished with taking what he wanted from them, they had been dismissed and forgotten without a second thought or glance.
But not Bronwyn.
Why hadn't she reacted the way all the others did? What made her different, he wondered?
Then it came to him. She was the only one who had not been afraid of him. She had the audacity to stalk past me in the hallway with that arrogant stride of hers, where any of the other woman would have run, crying, to the elevator. But she did not. She acted as if what I had just done to her was of no importance and consequently, neither was seeing me again so soon afterwards.
Damn that little slut, Smith raged to himself. Why can't get her out of my mind?
Ever since he met Bronwyn, his performance and attention to his duties had been poor quality at best, not at all meeting his usual standards of perfection. He hadn't been able to concentrate on anything for any amount of time. Only this morning, he caught himself staring for almost 4 hours at the pen he had been holding, before he realized what he was doing. Also, Agent Brown had had to repeat what he had been saying twice before he caught Smith's attention. As a result of such unheard-of behavior, Smith performed several self-diagnostic tests on himself and was puzzled and irritated that the scans showed no abnormal readings.
What has she done to me? She's to blame for all of this, he thought. Somehow she's infected me; infected my programming in some way. All I can think about is her. No, that's not entirely true, he corrected himself; I want to think about her. I want to remember. All of it.
Everything about her and what she had made his mind and body feel came willingly to his mind. He closed his eyes and remembered with sheer pleasure the way her skin had felt under his touch, the smell of her hair, even the way her skin tasted; the sensations were as vibrant and clear now as when he first experienced them, almost sixteen hours and twenty-three minutes earlier.
I must see her again. I must have her again. Only then can I cleanse my system of all memories, as well as sensations, that this contaminant, this woman, has polluted me with. I have to do it quickly, for I feel the obsession and desire for her is growing within me with each passing minute.
Via his earpiece, Smith ordered Jones to find her present location and notify him as soon as possible.