Mozart's "Lacrimosa" – the one he worked on in his final days battling disease... Is what I imagine playing in the background of THIS next short chapter... So... you know, be adventurous!
[ watch?v=k1-TrAvp_xs ]
Two weeks had passed since Hannibal had drawn Adelaide's portrait, he was sitting at his desk again tonight, reading an article on in his dark office and half-listening to Mozart. An orange glow came in from the streetlamps and the bright tablet shone in his hands. The tiny frown that had been brooding between his brows disappeared as the sound of a vehicle pulling into the garage next door abolished his attention.
Hannibal glanced at his watch, it was 9:55 pm, Adelaide must have returned from her business trip. She had told him about her venture out of state to find an adequate gallery in which to have her next individual exhibition.
After 10 minutes he stood up and stepped up to the window facing his neighbour's home.
The lights were burning and spilling out onto the lawn outside. He imagined Mozart dying for a moment when the music floated dramatically through a series of low keys. He lifted his gaze to the second storey and froze, the pale and bloated Mozart expelled from the recesses of his mind like dirty bathwater in the 1800's.
The lady's blinds were tilted upwards, allowing him to see into her large bathroom window since his building stood lower than hers.
He felt impolite, rude, and Hannibal disliked rude people but his thoughts procrastinated themselves as Adelaide appeared in the window, her back turned to him as he assumed she was looking in the mirror. She wore a semi translucent black robe, reaching high up her thigh and shifting even higher when she bent down to wash her face in the sink before she would climb into the bath steaming up the glass.
He was overstepping lines he drew himself but they blurred even more as the woman shed her little garment to the floor and gingerly stepped into the tub. His eyes had never travelled past her breasts as she sat down, her blonde head and pale shoulders the only thing now visible to his intrusive gaze.
Hannibal cocked his head and inhaled deeply, imagining her scent as he watched Adelaide continuing to brush oils into the length of her locks.
Dr. Lecter turned himself away, finally winning his internal argument with reason.
He pulled at the noose of his tie, tugging it looser as the image of her small, perk breasts swam through his mind.
It must be her smell, he argued, women, PEOPLE, never had an effect on his psyche, no flesh. He'd seen and mutilated far too many bodies to have "interests" this carnal.
Hannibal was disappointed in himself. He removed his tie completely, jaw set tight.
Remember to leave a review!