After leaving the funeral home's afternoon viewing, the man sits in a restaurant outside Trenton, boasting all-day breakfast. He catches the attention of an attractive, red-haired waitress as she approaches his table. She smiles, blinking her lashes flirtatiously, which he appreciates. "Hi, I'm Betsy. I'll be your waitress today. May I take your order, Sir?" she politely asks as he stares at her graceful, delicate neck. He knows he can break it as if it's a dry twig. The thought makes him feel happy and warm, and the thrill of breaking her neck turns him on.
He holds the menu with his right hand as he lowers the left below the table to fix his erection. The pretty waitress isn't to know what's on his mind. She might think he's attracted to her, and that's why he's fixing himself, but she will be wrong. Only killing people makes him hard. He's imagining all the ways he can kill the pretty woman with voluptuous, natural breasts.
Smiling a seductive grin, he says, "I would like six eggs scrambled. Five sausages, six slices of bacon, four pieces of toast with butter on the side and a bowl of yogurt." Betsy furiously scribbles the items on her notepad. When her tongue sticks out between her lips, he adds, "Oh, sorry, I meant to order oatmeal." He realizes she's unaware of his maniacal evil gaze as he stares at her neck. The couple at the adjacent table drop cash on the table and leave.
"And to drink?" Betsy asks, leaning forward for him to look at her ample breasts straining against the buttons of her tight shirt. She receives better tips from the male patrons when she shamelessly flirts.
"Black coffee and a tall glass of orange juice if you have it," he replies. Betsy turns to leave, and he quickly adds, "Can you bring me a stack of pancakes topped with fruit?" She nods and scribbles the food on the order pad. "Thank you."
"Whoa, that's a lot of food," Betsy gasps as she reads his order. She glances up from the paper and checks out his chest, legs and biceps, not finding anything esthetically wrong with the man. "You don't have an ounce of fat on you. Oh, look at those muscular arms. You must do a lot of exercise. I am so jealous. What is your secret?"
"I lift weights kind of like Schwarzenegger when he was a bodybuilder," he replies. "Do you know of him?"
Betsy giggles, "Oh, yeah. I kind of know who Arnold Schwarzenegger is, not personally, but I loved him in The Terminator. If you exercise like him, I bet all that builds more muscle for you, right?"
"Well, that is the general idea," he chuckles. "But I have a very high metabolism and burn calories in nervous energy." Silently, he adds, "And murdering vain women like you."
"Right, I don't believe it," Betsy scoffs, ignoring the darkness flashing in his eyes. She ignores her internal warning bells and continues flirting with the dark and dangerous man. "I bet nothing could ever make you nervous. Anyway, I should get your order in before it gets busy." The man watches Betsy, the flirtatious waitress, walk away, swaying her hips to keep his attention.
He thinks Betsy's attractive. She's around thirty-four, close to his age. He figures it will be easy to convince her to sleep with him. Betsy won't need much coaxing. He merely has to turn on the charm, like some Hallmark movie hero, to sweep her off her feet. Mix it with a romantic gesture, and she'll be screaming his name as he slowly squeezes her neck until she stops breathing and lies limp beneath him.
The man considers sticking around and accompanying Betsy to the car after work, assuming she has a vehicle in the parking lot. He's curious about when her shift ends. Betsy delivers his food. She bends over more than necessary, displaying her breasts. He quirks a brow as she blushes. Smiling enough to make her drool, he asks, "What time are you finished for the day?"
She smiles while checking the clock hanging over the door. "I finish my shift in an hour. Tell you what," she purrs seductively, "I bet you that my shift will end, and I'll be out the door and long gone by the time you eat everything on your plate."
He gazes at her, his eyes heavy with lust and hunger. It isn't hunger for food. He's growing hungrier as he thinks about what he can do to her. Should he cut through her perfect, pretty breasts? The thought excites him as he imagines her red blood staining her milky white flesh. Maybe he will cut her throat as he pounds inside her. It will involve wearing a protective suit, something he only does when blood enters the mix. He has a reusable latex sheath to cover his intimate areas, eliminating the worry of leaving behind DNA. As part of his routine, he shaves every hair off his chest and balls.
His eyes watch the motion of her hand as it strokes her neck and settles on her chest with a pinky in her cleavage. He looks into her eyes and imagines them popping as he strangles her. Smiling at the gory thoughts, he says, "If I finish eating before your shift ends, you need to go out with me."
Giggling, she replies, "Hmm. I can use a ride home. You've got yourself a deal, Sir." His dick twitches in excitement as she walks away while looking over her shoulder. He can hardly wait to wrap his fingers around her luscious neck.
Betsy greets a man and woman who enter the diner, seating them at the table closest to the muscular man, posing herself to expose her breasts to both men. The murderer catches the eye of the female companion. Her red hair is the product of too many chemicals and a hair weave. She winks at the man and presses her breasts together with her arms in what she assumes is a seductive move.
He notices the woman's breasts are fake and wonders how much pressure will make them pop and slowly poison her. "Dickie, dear, please order me the egg white omelette with grilled vegetables. I need to use the ladies' room," she says, rising from the table.
"Okay, Joyce," Dickie says and is unaware Joyce is visiting the man at the other table.
Seductively swinging her hips, Joyce approaches the man. He raises a brow in amusement. She touches his shoulder, making his beast writhe in anger. Nobody touches him without permission. "Don't touch me," he hisses loud enough for only her to hear.
Joyce is afraid for a fraction of a second before she decides the dangerous man is worth a shot. He might love a little pain during sex. She assumes the man's large everywhere as she stares at his hands. "I love a man who knows what he wants," Joyce purrs, ignoring the cold fury in the man's eyes. She slips a card into his hand. "Give me a call if you need a rub and tug." Joyce winks and walks toward the washroom.
He glances at the card to read her name and job title. The woman is a bounty hunter, like the one he craves. It surprises him and piques his curiosity to see if she has the same skills as the curly brunette he can't seem to catch alone. Will Joyce give him a worthwhile fight? He grins and continues eating his meal. Joyce gave him a jolt of burning need. Killing her will temporarily satisfy the beast, his inner demon, and keep the ghosts at bay. Neither woman will know what hit her.
As Betsy watches him eat, he tears the sausage apart with his teeth and seductively licks his lips while moaning in ecstasy as he devours what Betsy perceives as delicious food. It's all an act. He's luring Betsy into his trap. Once she sets her foot in his snare, he will attack.
The food lacks flavour unless you count the bacon grease the chef uses on the grill. He takes a bite of the eggs; they are bland. It proves the chef isn't properly seasoning the food as he cooks. Betsy continues to watch, licking her lips as he eats. He plans to make Betsy pay for the bland food. Thinking about tearing a pound of flesh from her breasts, he grins and winks at Betsy.
He glances at the clock after consuming the last morsel of food and coffee. Despite the blandness of the meal, he leaves a good tip on the table and pays his bill at the cash register by the door. Then, he leaves the diner. He leans against the wall at the side leading to the parking area and puts the protective latex on his lips. The man smears his lips with a fast-acting liquid paralytic. It enters the bloodstream through the salivary glands inside the mouth. He patiently waits until Betsy arrives, and he knows she will appear.
Betsy exits the diner and looks around. Her disappointment in not seeing the attractive man is evident as she walks toward the bus stop up the street. He clears his throat as Betsy passes his hiding spot. She isn't scared, which pleases him more than she will ever know. Betsy gives him a slow, seductive smile. "Well, you're done before me. I guess I'm going with you. Where are we going?" Betsy asks, feeling happy he still wants to spend time with her.
"I'm staying at a hotel up the road. Are you okay with that?" he asks. Betsy's lashes flutter as he uses a finger to trace down her face, along the jaw. Her breath hitches, and she feels the arousal building between her legs. He gently raises her face until she's looking into his eyes, tilting her head at an almost uncomfortable angle. His lips brush against hers, once…twice…three times until she moans. She reflexively licks her lips, tasting the slightly bitter tang of whatever the man had on his lips. He knows she will cooperate with anything he suggests. In a few minutes, she will have no control.
Betsy notices a red flash in his eyes as he pins her against his car, but she isn't sure about what it means. It feels like she's looking into the eyes of the devil. Betsy tries pushing him away, but her arms feel heavy, and her knees wobble. Her legs threaten to slip from beneath her. The man pushes her into the passenger seat and closes the door after engaging the child safety lock. She's unable to escape since the latch isn't opening. It isn't what she found most frightening. Her fingers slip as she tries grasping the handle.
There is no going back. Betsy tries screaming, but barely a sound leaves her mouth, and nobody pays any attention to them. The diner is in a rough end of the city, heavy with gangs, turf wars, and other illegal activities. People in the neighbourhood rush to get home before the sun disappears into the horizon. They never try to help anyone if it's a trap to rob them. Betsy realizes she made a grave error by agreeing to meet him after her shift. Nothing is worse than the mistake of letting his lips touch hers. She feels her lips, tongue and throat tingle before going numb. What did he have on his lips? Why isn't he affected by it? She realizes he gave her the kiss of death.
The man drives to the city's outskirts, following the highway leading towards the Pine Barrens as Betsy sits in the car motionless. She can't move. Whatever the man put on his lips froze the synapses in her brain, rendering her immobile. Unfortunately, Betsy can smell, see and hear everything. She prays whatever the man has in mind will not hurt. Betsy wills herself to move. Her mind is sharp, but her flesh won't move.