Page 11 of Sanguineous Fiend
My life wasn’t easy growing up and I’ve seen more horrors than I know how to actually process. So this is one of the easiest things I can settle on when thinking about what I did. I may have killed someone, but I’ve seen worse things.
So as I watch the little people run around on the screen while I sip my coffee, I’m almost sure footage of Pheobe will surface soon. She’s the last one to enter and exit that room and I know that I will be identified as the blonde bombshell murder suspect soon. The real question is, will they be able to find the real woman behind that blonde wig?
Did I do a good enough job that I hid all of my tracks as I left the scene last night? Hiding a body in the city isn’t possible, so the best bet was to leave it behind and cover my tracks in otherways. There are people that get away with murder every day. Will I be one of those lucky few?
I swallow the warm liquid down as I watch, fascinated at what’s happening at the hotel. Nearly half the cases in a year are never solved. For many reasons, but I want to make sure the reason I’m not caught is because I was stupid. I want to make sure there is nothing more than video of my coming and going from a scene. Maybe I can one day learn how to get rid of the cameras, but for now, makeup, wigs, and clothes will do the job of hiding who I am.
At least I hope it will. I made sure to change my facial structure with heavy contours and highlights. I didn’t look anything like my gothic self that I normally am in public. I made sure that it was even vastly different to my nonmakeup facial features. It’s not a guarantee, of course, but surely it isn’t in the realm of possibility that a shitty camera in a hotel will capture enough of my face to make an identification from.
The news crew cuts to a reporter standing in front of the hotel as she explains the new info that she has gathered. I ignore her as I watch the body roll out in a black bag and wheeled into a truck that’s been backed up to the door. That’s him. The man that I killed.
Somehow, my pussy clenches around nothing as desire pools into my core. Adrenaline is the most likely cause for my new found horniness that has arisen inside of me. I swear I need someone on their knees as they eat my pussy while I watch the news.
The thought makes me hum in appreciation, but then I clench my thighs in frustration. Even the ones I can call would kill me this early in the morning on a Sunday. While I had planned all of this throughout the week, ever since that photoshoot, I hadn’t planned on how much I would want to fuck someone.
I wasn’t sticking that little weasel’s cock inside of me. He’s lucky he was allowed to finger me. I wouldn’t dare let him slide inside of my pussy without knowing him or his history. My job is worth more than that and I won’t fucking compromise that for some dick when I have plenty of cocks sitting at home waiting for me.
It’s my off day, so maybe I can call up Jessica later. Maybe she will be up for some pussy and a small behind-the-scenes camera action. Another bit of my alibi. What psycho would film themselves together with someone else the day after a murder?
Yes. I need a good fucking and then maybe I will feel better. It won’t have my bloody factor, but a girl can dream. Something has broken open inside of me last night and I don’t want it to end anytime soon. So I need to be careful about my next moves.
Too soon and I will end up getting caught. Too far apart and I may lose my mind. Today’s plans swirl in my mind and I smile as I finish my coffee and the reporters turn to other news as the coroner drives away with the body. The scene is no longer worth their time and efforts as the story dissolves into the cop’s jurisdiction.
I change the channel and switch over to Netflix. Something to get my mind on something else for a while. If I can. I open my phone and order some lunch to be delivered in about an hour. I’m not hungry yet, but I know it won’t be long before lunch is here and I’m starving while having to wait for food to arrive.
With my phone open, I send a text to Jessica to come by later for some fun if she has some time. I don’t expect a response for a bit so I just drop my phone to the cushion next to me and open up some show about murder and watch as the documentary explains why the killer was caught.
So much for getting my mind off of murder. Will I ever be free of this feeling? Am I a slave to it for the rest of my albeit probably short life?
If so… then fuck it. I will make sure that I spend every moment living it like I want to. I will take some of the pitiful excuses of human beings with me while I can. If that is sleazy rich men, homeless addicts, or maybe some pedos… then so be it.
Either way, I can’t stop now.
Pushing my sunglasses up on the top of my hair as I climb from the car and shut the door. I puff my cigarette as I step onto the sidewalk. The stores lining the road are high end and don’t expect the likes of me as I step through the door after dropping the butt into the sand of an outside ashtray.
“Can I help you?” The woman practically sneers at me.
I roll my eyes and ignore her attitude.
“Nope. I’m good.”
I wander around the shop and look at the fancy dresses that line every row of the store. Dresses that are thousands of dollars and here I am dressed in my full on gothic outfit of short skirt and crop top with fishnet everything. My knee-high boots lend to the aesthetic.
Not their usual client for sure, but my money is as good as anyone’s. They just don’t know it yet. I smile as I choose a few dresses in my size. One is a champagne color, and the other is a gorgeous light blue. The champagne shimmers in the light andthe blue is muted and a slit up the thigh leaves me begging to slide the silky number on for one of my shows.
I take both of them to the counter and she rings the dresses up without a word before smacking her gum and telling me my total. I hand her the cash and she freezes with shock. Taking it, she marks the bills with the marker to ensure their validity. I just smile at her as the marks are all true and she shoves them in the drawer before handing me my change. She slides the dresses into garment bags and hands me them both.
“Don’t be such a bitch, maybe.”
I wave politely as I leave the store, her mouth hanging open in shock. I deposit the dresses before heading for the store a block down. The wig store that I adore. Some of the best wigs money can buy. I enter and the lady behind the counter greets me by name.
“Letty! So nice to see you this week. Looking for another wig for one of your videos?”
“Yep. I need a few, actually. I tend to get them dirty and sometimes they aren’t salvageable.”
She laughs and gestures around her. “Let me know if you need my help.”
“Will do.”
