Bethany Stills had been a delight. He first saw her when he was sitting in his car parked outside of a modern business complex where he had just met with several doctors to espouse to them of the latest advances in a blood thinner developed by Kent Pharmaceuticals.

One of the businesses in the complex was a women’s-only gym and Bethany Stills looked magnificent clad from toes to tits in body-hugging black and pink spandex. There were little panels of gauzy material sewn into the tights and the sport’s top where her smooth pale skin was visible, very tantalising.

She was one of those women who wore full makeup to the gym, her appearance as important to her as the actual workout. Michael found the sheen of light perspiration on her face and body titillating.

His lizard brain began to work. Why would she dress like that, showing off her ass, her cunt, her long legs, her tight tits if she wasn't looking to be fucked? Why the makeup and the hair? The woman was attractive and strode purposely to her car, wiggling her fanny, shaking her tits, she wanted it alright. Whore. Just like mom.

He quickly took the stocking out of the glove compartment and freed his erection. The gods favoured him. Bethany Stills leaned into her BMW Z4 Roadster and put her large gym bag on the passenger seat. Her spandex-clad ass and long shapely legs were on full display as she bent over and began to rummage for her keys; her ass high in the air.

Her legs were slightly parted and Michael could see the shape of her mound, the tight Lycra leaving nothing to the imagination. She became frustrated when she couldn’t find her keys and this caused her to waggle that magnificent derriere as she got angrier, frantically foraging in her gym bag for the elusive key fob. Finally a cry of triumph announced that she had found them but by then Michael Kendal had unloaded his wad into the stocking and was cleaning up.

Michael had already bought the lingerie and heels to put on his next victim and was keeping them for the right woman. He was determined to wait awhile, let things cool down, aware that he was accelerating, the time between crimes was getting shorter and that could be dangerous. He would be more likely to make a mistake. But when he saw Bethany Stills and her resemblance to his mother at the height of her beauty, he had to have her.

Michael followed her home; she parked in the underground car park of an apartment block. He watched her through the steel mesh security roller door that descended automatically after she had driven through it. She humped her gym bag over to the single elevator and he watched the numbers light up seeing the elevator stop on the second floor.

Modern technology is a wonderful thing but it can leave people vulnerable as proved to be the case.

Michael went back to his hotel and entered the address of the apartment block into his computer and began to search. Using proprietary software provided to him by the sales division of Kent Pharmaceuticals which had been developed to find prospective clients he was able to find a listing of everyone who lived on the second floor of the building.

If she was married or if she was living with a man he would be shit out of luck no matter how much he wanted her. He needed to confirm that she lived alone. There were two women listed as owner-occupants of second floor apartments, the rest were men. He searched for their names. The first woman was Belinda Morris, a fifty-year-old matronly woman and the second was Bethany Stills.

He began to scrutinise everything he could find about Bethany online. First of all he searched Google images and found several pictures of her. One was from the social pages of a local newspaper where Bethany Stills was attending a charity event. It was her alright, the woman from the gym. Another picture in the same paper taken a few months earlier showed her dressed in an evening gown at a political fundraiser.

More research revealed that she was a thirty-three year-old divorcee who had landed a handsome divorce settlement from her rich husband and lived the life of a social butterfly. He found her on a dating site for professionals called Elite Singles where she gave away far more personal information than was prudent. She had no children and was currently not in a relationship and she was looking for a handsome man of similar age or older who was financially independent.

She seemed like a shallow, gold-digging socialite.

Michael briefly considered posting a bogus profile on the site and hooking up with her that way, but that would leave electronic fingerprints for the cops to follow no matter how careful he was. He decided to stick to his tried and true methods.

He did some more research on Belinda Morris and found what he wanted.

Michael searched for and found the floor plans for the apartment block and noted the location of the security cameras. Importantly there wasn’t one in the elevator. There were two in the underground garage but they didn’t have coverage of the whole car park, nor were there any in the building’s corridors. The remaining security cameras covered the main entrance, the foyer, and the grounds. The CCTV was not monitored, it was fed to a security firm and the video was stored on a hard drive for later analysis in the event of a crime. It was setup mainly to deter break and enter criminals.

He could no longer contain his impulses; he really wanted Bethany Stills so he executed his plan. He was glad he had taken the time to think it through and prepare carefully.

Michael cased the apartment block for the next few days and finally struck lucky. Bethany Stills drove out of the garage early one night dressed up to go out for the evening. If she came back accompanied the jig was up but if she came back alone he had a good chance of taking her.

He was dressed in his tracksuit and training shoes, gloves and beanie and wore his fanny pack. He slipped into the garage when a car exited the underground car park about half an hour after Bethany Stills left. He slid into the shadows and waited; he was good at waiting. When it was quiet he pulled his beanie down to cover his face, took a small can of spray-paint from his fanny pack and used it on the two cameras. He went back into the shadows and entertained himself thinking about all the things he was going to do to Bethany Stills if he got her.

Bethany Stills returned about three hours later alone and parked her BMW in her allotted parking space and punched the button for the elevator. Just as the doors began to close he jogged over and put a hand between the automatic doors causing them to open.

Bethany Stills looked a little concerned at first but he gave her his best smile and she smiled back.

“Oh good we’re going to the same floor,” he said.

Bethany looked at him quizzically.

“Sorry, I’m Graham Morris; Belinda Morris’ nephew. I’m visiting for a week, do you know her? She lives on the second floor too,” this was the most dangerous part of his plan.

“I see her around,” Bethany replied as the doors began to close.

Good. Bethany Stills and Belinda Morris were only passing acquaintances. An age where people lived mostly private lives and communicated regularly with online friends thousands of miles away but didn’t talk to their next door neighbours gave predators like Michael Kendal an advantage.

Michael noticed Bethany check out his physique in his tight-fitting tracksuit and he smiled to himself. She would soon be seeing plenty of what was beneath it. His cock was rock-hard and he made no attempt to hide it. He saw her glance down at it and his smile widened.

When the door opened at the second floor he did the chivalrous thing and waved her out first. It gave him a chance to check out her ass in the slinky evening gown she was wearing.

“Have a good evening,” she smiled at him.

He nodded and smiled back, then stopped; pretending to tie his shoelace. Belinda Morris lived two doors down from Bethany Stills and when Bethany began to unlock her door Michael arose and walked down the corridor as if he was heading to Belinda Morris’ apartment. He had his hand in his fanny pack. When Bethany Stills opened the door to her apartment he put the dust mask over her face and she began to tumble to the floor. He caught her and dragged her inside, kicking the door closed behind him.

When he had her naked and incapacitated on the bed he used her keys and security clicker to drive his car into the garage and park in a visitor’s parking space.

There was one unnerving moment when he passed a man coming out of the elevator going to his car. They both nodded to each other cordially. Michael looked like any another asshole who had been out for an evening jog.

He let himself back into Bethany Stills’ small, stylish, apartment and went to the modern kitchen. The granite bench-tops, tiled floor and smooth surfaces would make cleaning up a breeze. He stripped and put on the spandex bodysuit and fresh surgical gloves; he closed the case and carried it to Bethany Stills’ bedroom. He checked on her. She was still totally incapacitated but her eyes were filled with wild terror.

“You’re going to enjoy what comes next,” he smiled down at her and then began to lay out the black lingerie and French maid’s headpiece.

*****

“At least we have something this time,” Penelope studied her whiteboard.

“Yeah we have fuzzy CCTV footage of a tall man wearing a tracksuit entering the garage and coverage of him with his beanie pulled down spraying the cameras with black spray-paint,” Silvia stared at her laptop.

“The crime scene boys found the paint can. It’s a generic brand available at any hardware store and of course no prints,” she sighed.

“What about the eye witness?” Bradley chimed in.

“I interviewed him. He described the same man we found on the CCTV, the garage was dark and he didn’t get a good look at his face but he’s with our sketch artist and we’ll compare what he gives us with the identikit provided by Julie Swindon. It’s our guy though,” Silvia said.

“The eye witness said he was carrying a small suitcase but he thought nothing of it. The man appeared to be confident, like he belonged there. He didn’t notice the make or model of the car.”

“He’s taking risks though. He allowed himself to be caught on CCTV and seen by a witness. He’s spiralling up but he’s still being careful not to leave any trace evidence. This guy is not going to quit. He could move his crimes to another city but we have his signature so we would know it’s him. We’re sure we got him in Austin just starting out and now here in Balwyn fully matured,” Bradley mused.

There was a knock on the door and Brendan Scott entered the room with a thick file in his arms.

“The coroner’s office has had a breakthrough,” he put down the file and waved the top sheet of paper vigorously.

“This stuff, the chemical concoction he uses is proprietary; unique. Not available commercially or even experimentally according to our experts who engaged all of the reputable pharmaceutical companies. We had it properly analysed and it’s like nothing they’ve ever seen. Very little analgesic which means the women saw and felt everything he did to them, but full of neuromuscular blocking agents that keep the women basically paralysed but wide awake,” Brendan said.

“What’s more, this guy would have had to ensure the dose was consummate to the victim’s bodyweight, not necessarily precise, but too much would result in an overdose and too little wouldn’t incapacitate them.”

“From what we know from the bloodwork and the track marks in the victim’s veins we figure each dose lasted about four hours, and then he injected them again. He held each victim for about twelve hours and that ties in with the number of puncture wounds we found, the last injection being the fatal dose.”

“I’ll put the details in the case file.”

“This guy is no amateur. He has a real affinity for pharmaceuticals. That should narrow your field a little.”

“Oh, and no surprise really… the semen in Bethany Stills’ vagina was bull semen.”

Brendon left the team to analyse the data he had bought it. Penelope picked up the précis sheet and pinned it to her whiteboard using a magnet.

The Chief of Detectives entered and wanted an update and the three case officers took turns telling him what they knew and where they were with the case.

“So to summarise… we know everything about this guy except who he is,” Gary Rasmussen said bitterly.

They all nodded.

“The press has made the connection. They know we have a serial killer,” Gary exhaled loudly.

“We know cops leak stuff all the time, sometimes for a kickback, sometimes to be malicious… whatever the fuck; it doesn’t matter.”

“Bonny Mendelsohn from the Balwyn Herald called me today advising me that the Herald is going to run the story on page one. I told her to hold on and rather than print conjecture and scare the shit out of everyone, that we would fact check her story,” Gary looked a little beaten.

“You told her what!” Silvia Bickle was angry.

Silvia and Bonny Mendelsohn had lived together for two years and the breakup was acrimonious to say the least.

“Look, you know how this works. You give her the story and tell her most of the facts, the factors that might cause someone to come forward with evidence or identify a suspect, but you withhold key pieces of information. The perfume, the animal semen, the colour of the lingerie; you know the drill,” Gary ran his fingers through his hair.

“Weeds out the loonies and confirms their story if someone comes forward with something legitimate we can use.”

“I get it. But why are you directing your speech to me?” she indicated the other two law officers in the room.

“Because you’re the lead detective on this case Silvia so you’re doing the interview,” Gary gave her a cheeky grin.

“I don’t think so. Get one of the others to do it,” Silvia balled her hands into fists and put them on her hips defiantly.

“I’m saving Wilson for the inevitable TV follow up; he’s got a face for television and looks good in Brooks Brothers. If we use Penelope the Herald will just bring up old news. How she singlehandedly flipped the Balwyn PD on its ass and turned all of us corrupt cops into angels.”

“No offence Penelope,” Gary nodded to her.

“None taken; but it was hardly singlehandedly and I didn’t get them all,” she replied flippantly.

“Whatever the fuck… go and see your old girlfriend and make nice and get out the story we want, not some bullshit they made up around a few rumours,” he said to Silvia.

“Also I wanna see you outside, alone,” Gary opened the door and waited for Silvia to exit and he followed her and closed the door behind them.

“How’s she doin’?” Gary chewed a fingernail.

“How is who doing?” Silvia stared at him, still angry.

“Don’t be coy. You know who I mean, our bad Penny,” Gary looked tired and on edge.

“Hasn’t had drink far as I know and she’s stopped dropping her drawers for every guy who winks at her. She’s doing good,” Silvia replied.

“She fucking the FBI guy?” Gary raised his brows.

“How the fuck would I know?” Silvia studied her fingernails.

“You two are thick as thieves; you know everything about each other. Anyway it doesn’t matter, looks like she’s doing ok. Last time I saw her she looked like a hobo in her dirty wrinkled suit and with runners in her nylons, she looks good now.”

“What are you doing checking on female police officers nylons?” Silvia baited him.

“Whatever the fuck. Go and do the interview… and play nice,” Gary Rasmussen turned and walked away.

*****

“Do you own anything except pantsuits?” Bonny Mendelsohn, crime reporter for the Balwyn Herald, asked Silvia.

“Do you own any skirts that don’t show your ass,” Silvia replied just as flippantly.

“You used to like me showing my ass,” Bonny smiled.

“Yeah, well, that was then,” Silvia said dismissively.

Bonny was a pretty Lipstick Lesbian, a real girly girl, who favoured short skirts and dresses, heels and hose, makeup and jewellery. She had been the bottom in their relationship and Silvia had been the top.

Bonny was not averse to using her looks and femininity to encourage both men and women to give her a story if that’s what it took, and there were rumours that she had fucked a young handsome lawyer to get information about a corruption piece she was researching. Silvia had confronted Bonny who refused to confirm or deny the allegation. They had fought until they could fight no more and Silvia had walked away from the relationship.

“So what you got?” Silvia slid into the booth across from Bonny.

They had agreed to meet on neutral ground at a coffee shop that they used to frequent when they were a couple.

“Rhonda Stevens, Mary Whitehouse and Bethany Stills. All good looking women in their mid to late thirties, assaulted in their homes and then killed,” Bonny read from her notebook.

“Go on,” Silvia signalled a waitress.

“All posed provocatively but no signs of a struggle, they almost looked like they were asleep when police arrived. Oh, and you guys are stymied.”

“Do I have it about right?” Bonny opened her wide sensuous bright-red lipsticked-lips to expose her brilliant white teeth.

Silvia’s heart skipped a beat; she had really loved Bonny.

Silvia put up her hand to stop Bonny as the waitress approached.

“I’ll have a double-shot latte and she will have the house grind, black with no sugar,” Bonny said to the waitress.

“She always liked a good grind,” Bonny’s eyes twinkled at the double entendre.

“Very funny,” Silvia sighed.

The waitress wrote down their order and left.

“So do I have it right?” Bonny got back to business.

“Everything except that we are stymied, we are following up some promising leads,” Silvia replied.

“We have an identikit which I’ll email you; the perp is a tall handsome guy, late thirties early forties, picks up his victims in bars or somehow ingratiates himself into the victim’s residence.”

“We think it’s someone in the medical field because he uses chemicals to overpower and kill his victims. He dresses them in lingerie,” Silvia stopped when the waitress arrived with their coffee.

“A latte and a house grind,” she gave Silvia a salacious wink.

The coffee shop was frequented by the LGBTI community.

Bonny was scribbling in her notebook. She looked up.

“The lingerie? Anything specific? You know my readers like the intimate details,” she grinned.

“Bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, and high heels. Fetish stuff,” Silvia sipped her coffee.

“The sort of thing you used to like me to wear,” Bonny snaked her hand across the table and touched her fingertips to Silvia’s.

“The sort of thing you liked to wear, I was ambivalent,” Silvia replied coldly.

“Bullshit, you used to just about rape me when you came home and found me dressed like that waiting for you,” Bonny gave her that big red-lipstick smile.

“Can we get back to your news story? I want you to include a warning to women in the victim’s age profile to be careful and a request for anyone with any information they think might be useful to come forward,” Silvia asked.

“Done,” Bonny replied.

“I gotta use the restroom,” Silvia slid out of her seat.

“I didn’t do it,” Bonny called after her.

Silvia turned.

“What?”

“I didn’t do it. I didn’t fuck the lawyer. I didn’t fuck anyone when we were together, I loved you too much. But when you accused me I got angry and indignant because you didn’t trust me. I should have just told you the truth,” there were tears in Bonny’s eyes.

“Yeah… well. Too late now,” Silvia turned around and strode to the ladies restroom.

She did her business and was touching up her lipstick when Bonny came in and headed to a stall.

Silvia pushed Bonny into the stall and slammed the door shut.

Before Bonny could speak Silvia pressed her lips against Bonny’s and kissed her, deeply and intensely. Bonny was surprised at first and then she opened her mouth and put her arms around Silvia and pressed her body against hers.

Silvia pushed Bonny away and pinned her to the wall, then she dropped to her knees and lifted Bonny’s skirt. Bonny was wearing holdup stockings and flimsy pink panties. Silvia pulled the panties aside and put her mouth on Bonny’s shaven cunt. She tasted pungent, with a lingering flowery scent of feminine hygiene product. Silvia slid her tongue inside Bonny’s labia and began to lick.

Bonny gasped and threw back her head.

Silvia lapped at Bonny’s sex and Bonny’s juices began to flow; she used the tip of her tongue on Bonny’s clitoris the way she knew Bonny liked and was rewarded with a whinnysome sigh. Bonny rested her hands on Silvia’s head and encouraged her to lap at her sensitive nubbin and lick her delicate coral pink lips, she entwined her fingers in Silvia’s hair as her orgasm wracked her.

Silvia wasn’t finished.

She stood up and kissed Bonny passionately and Bonny tasted her quim on Silvia’s breath. Silvia unbuckled her belt and dropped her pants; she guided Bonny’s hand to her pubis and Bonny rubbed Silvia through her satin panties, feeling the warmth and the wetness.

Silvia emitted a throaty growl and thrust her hand inside Bonny’s panties and worked her fingers into her sodden minge. Bonny reciprocated, opening the folds of Silvia’s vagina and thrusting two fingers inside her and stroked her clitoris with her thumb.

The two women worked on each other, rubbing and thrusting with their fingers, bringing each other to climax, they pressed their bodies together and moaned into each other’s mouths, their lips crushed together, both of them shuddering, arching up on their heels at the pinnacle of their orgasms.

Bonny was still shaking when Silvia drew away from her and pulled up her pants.

“That was a sympathy fuck for old time’s sake, now move on and find another woman,” Silvia said and opened the door and exited the stall.

The waitress was standing outside near the hand-basins looking stunned.

“That’s how you do the house grind bitch!” Silvia spanked the waitress on her ass and traipsed out of the restroom.

*****

SLEEPING BEAUTIES MURDERED BY SERIAL KILLER

Three attractive single women in their thirties have been murdered in their own residences by a man this reporter is calling the Sleeping Beauty Killer, a serial killer who incapacitates women, dresses them in sexy lingerie and repeatedly assaults them before killing them.

Reminiscent of Albert DeSalvo, otherwise known as the Boston Strangler, the killer ingratiates himself into his victim’s residences before rendering them senseless using a chemical concoction and then repeatedly rapes them over a period of twelve or so hours after dressing them in slinky panties, brassiere, stockings and high heels.

The perpetrator, possibly employed in the medical profession, is described as tall and handsome in his late thirties or early forties and pictured in the identikit picture accompanying this story.

The Balwyn Homicide Division, who appear to be stymied despite claiming to be following several promising leads, have advised women in the victims age profile to be very careful and request that anyone with any information they think might be useful to come forward to the Balwyn City PD.

Penelope read the story word for word to Silvia and Bradley who were working with her in the syndicate room.

“Jeeze that bitch sure holds a grudge, saying we are stymied,” Penelope said.

“And what’s the bullshit comparing him to the Boston Strangler?”

“Did you do something to antagonise her?”

“On the contrary; I was very polite and accommodating,” Silvia replied, not looking up from the copy of the newspaper on her desk.

“Someone is definitely leaking information but not the key elements that we are deliberately withholding; I never told Bonny that he keeps them alive for twelve hours or more.”

The door to the syndicate room opened and Gary Rasmussen poked his head around the door.

“Put on your best suit and whitest shirt tomorrow Agent Wilson. You’re up next with Meadow Dupree from Fox News at eight am. The networks are all over this shit. Make the most of it. See if we can snag a lead or two.”

“Keep your wits about you, she’s like a shark with blood in the water and not averse to using her tits and ass to trap unwary dupes and trick them into saying something they shouldn’t,” Gary chuckled.

“Do you even know what the word misogynist means?” Silvia shook her head.

“Hey Bickle, how do you know when a woman is about to say something smart? When she starts her sentence with, ‘A man once told me...’” Gary laughed and closed the door quickly just before Silvia’s low-heel crashed into it.

*****

“Meadow Dupree is quite the dish,” Penelope teased Bradley when they got home to her apartment.

Bradley pulled Penelope into his arms.

“You’re the only dish I’m interested in,” he touched her face and then he kissed her.

“Dinner or bed first?” Penelope said; a mischievous grin on her face.

“Can we have dinner in bed?” Bradley went along with the joke.

“Yeah, we can eat in bed. Not sure it will involve any food though,” she squeezed his erection through his pants.

“You keep doing that and you might get a creamy dessert before you have had your entrée,” he grinned.

Bradley put his hand under Penelope’s skirt. She’d freed her genitals in the car on the way home. He stroked her hard cock through her satin panties.

“I think I’ll take some meat with my appetiser,” Penelope grinned back at him and began to walk backwards towards the bedroom still locked in Bradley’s embrace.

She felt the back of her legs bump into the base of the bed and Bradley pushed her and she fell back on the bed, arms and legs akimbo.

“Let me at least get undressed,” Penelope giggled.

“Sorry I want my appetiser right now,” Bradley laughed and dived on top of her.

Penelope pretended to fight Bradley, wriggling underneath him as he pinned her down, he pushed his pants to his knees and freed his cock, but as soon as she felt his hard penis pressing on her thigh she opened her arms and held him close, kissing him passionately.

Penelope lifted her buttocks off the bed so Bradley could hike up her skirt.

“This would be a lot easier if you just let me get undres… oh Jesus!” she sighed as Bradley eased aside her panties and slid himself inside her all the way.

Penelope hung onto him, her arms around his neck and her stocking-sheathed legs around his waist as he fucked her with long slow strokes. They kissed, exploring their mouths with their tongues. Penelope broke the kiss briefly.

“I’m going to ruin this suit,” she gasped.

“Shut up. I’ll buy you a new one,” Bradley lowered his face to hers again and began to fuck her harder and faster.

His big cock found her special place and she felt her orgasm build as his bulbous glans pushed on it. Penelope was fully erect and throbbing inside her silky panties, Bradley put his hand between their bodies and squeezed it and pushed himself all the way inside her and ground against her.

Bradley felt Penelope’s cock palpitate as a puddle of hot semen soaked through her satin panties. He came with her, his cock pulsating as he ejaculated inside her tight anus, Penelope used her anal muscles to milk him of every drop while he expressed every scintilla of sperm from her aching cock.

Penelope drove her tongue deep into Bradley’s mouth and crossed her ankles behind his back as she rose up off the bed and pressed her buttocks into his groin. She wanted every millimetre of his flesh inside her and Bradley wanted it too, thrusting himself hard against her, his cock convulsing as he spent the last of his seed deep inside her anus.

“Jeeze that was intense!” Penelope gasped, still coming down from her orgasmic high.

Bradley began to nuzzle Penelope’s neck, his cock still buried in her anus leaking the last droplets of his spend.

“Get off me,” Penelope pushed on Bradley’s chest.

He looked a little hurt.

“Seriously, get off me. If I can get this skirt off without getting any cum on it I can save this suit,” Penelope groused.

Bradley slowly withdrew his penis from Penelope’s anus and pushed her panties back in place to soak up some of the semen that was dripping from her sphincter. He got off the bed and carefully tucked himself away ensuring he didn’t get any sperm on his pants or suit jacket.

Penelope still lay on the bed and she pushed her high heels into the coverlet, arching her back so she could shuck out of her skirt, trying to keep it away from the mess in her panties. She was partially successful but did get a silvery trail of semen on the lining.

She tossed her skirt on the floor and sat up to remove her jacket and blouse.

“I told you it would have been a lot easier if you just let me undress,” she said, gingerly sliding her cum-soaked panties down her legs.

She threw them at Bradley but he caught them easily one-handed.

“Can I keep them?” he grinned at her, he was now fully naked except for his sox.

“No!” she griped.

Penelope was also naked except for her bra and stockings.

Bradley tossed aside the panties and fell on her.

“Can I keep you then,” he smiled lovingly into her face.

Penelope frowned.

“What does that mean?” she hissed.

“You know what it means,” he softly kissed her cheek.

“Why are you complicating things?” Penelope sighed.

“Because I love you,” Bradley looked deeply into Penelope’s radiant green eyes.

Penelope rolled out from under him and he made no attempt to stop her.

“That’s the second time you’ve said that,” she said, unclipping her brassiere.

“It’s the second time I’ve meant it,” Bradley was lying on his side, his head propped up by his elbow.

“Well stop saying it,” Penelope was standing awkwardly one-legged as she rolled down a stocking.

Penelope began to gather her clothing off the floor.

“Is it too early in our relationship?” Bradley got off the bed.

He followed Penelope to the bathroom where she sorted through her clothes, putting her panties, nylons and bra into a lingerie bag which she tossed along with her blouse into the washing basket. She took a damp cloth and wiped at the semen that had stained the black satin lining of her skirt. She hung it inside-out on a hanger to dry and hung up the jacket beside it.

“Are you going to answer me?” Bradley was getting heated.

“Men look silly when they are naked but still wearing sox,” she brushed passed him and went to kitchen, taking a silk robe from the back of the bathroom door as she went.

Penelope slipped into the robe. Bradley caught her and held her by her elbows.

“So you don’t love me?” he gazed into her eyes.

“I don’t know what I feel for you. This is more than just a roll in the hay; we have a real connection, but I’m not sure that it’s love,” Penelope sighed.

“I am,” Bradley said determinedly.

“I think you are using me to replace Kerry, is what I think,” Penelope stepped back from him.

For the first time Penelope saw anger in Bradley’s face.

“No one can replace Kerry. But people move on. When loved ones pass it hurts like hell and you think the pain will never stop but it does. You never forget the ones you love but somehow you make room for other people to enter your life,” Bradley whispered.

“Don’t forget to feed your unicorn when you get back to the hotel,” Penelope said sarcastically.

“You are such cynic Penelope. Why can’t you believe that you can get over Randy Cody and make room for someone else in your heart,” Bradley beseeched her.

“You don’t talk about Randy Cody to me,” Penelope’s face was twisted with anger.

“So you don’t love me. Ok. Are you going to keep treating your pain with booze? Are you going to keep trying to forget him by fucking any loser with a cock?” Bradley said bitterly and immediately regretted it.

The slap was a roundhouse wallop and it rocked Bradley on his heels.

He rubbed his face; his eyes were tearing up with the pain. He took one last look at Penelope and then went back into the bedroom to dress.

Bradley walked past her without saying a word and slammed the door behind him.

Penelope collapsed on the floor and sobbed.

*****

Felicity Kendal sat glued to the TV set watching the pretty little thing dressed in the short-skirted, powder-blue power-suit. She had a flicked-out blonde bob, a red lipstick blow-job pout, beautiful blue eyes, long legs and big tits on a skinny frame. Felicity hated her as soon as she saw her, everything about the reporter screamed fake. Fake tits, fake lips, fake hair, even a fake name… who the fuck calls their kid Meadow Dupree? But Felicity watched the woman report her story about the Sleeping Beauty Killer who was active in the small city of Balwyn Texas.

Meadow Dupree was interviewing a handsome FBI agent who was describing the killer’s modus operandi. The killer sought out attractive women in their thirties who lived alone, drugged them so they couldn’t move, dressed them in fetish lingerie and kept them captive while he repeatedly assaulted them and then killed them. He had killed three women so far that they knew of.

‘Police suspect that the perpetrator is a doctor, a nurse, or some other medical professional, maybe a pharmacist or a chemical engineer.’

‘He’s late thirties, early forties, tall and good looking.’

‘Here is the identikit picture released by Balwyn PD.’

The network bought up two sketches of a man who could be almost anyone.

‘Anyone who has any information or believe that they recognise the suspect or his MO should contact Balwyn PD on the number displayed at the bottom of the screen.’

‘Women who fit the profile should be very careful and ensure that they get home safely, particularly at night, preferably accompanied by someone they trust and should not open their doors to strange men.’

The pretty reporter finished her précis and questioned the handsome agent for a while longer but nothing new was revealed.

Felicity reread the article in the Houston Chronicle which she had open on the coffee table in front of her. On the third page Bonny Mendelsohn’s Sleeping Beauty story was printed verbatim.

Michael Kendal was watching the news in his hotel room and he grinned. The dumb coppers had appealed to the public, confirming to him that they had no idea of his identity. He was pleased with the notoriety, it might make finding future victims a little harder but he liked the hunt. Besides, women were basically stupid, they were good for one thing and most weren’t good at that until he tamed them with his drugs.

He got a nice surprise when he arrived home two days later.

Felicity was sending the girls out on a sleepover she’d told him during their last phone call. They would have the house to themselves all night.

She met him at the door already dressed in the sexy lingerie and high heels that he liked and had put on her slut makeup and reeked of Poison. She wriggled her bottom as she preceded him up the stairs to their bedroom and sat on the bed waiting for him to undress.

“Is it you?” she whispered.

Michael turned towards her, naked and erect.

“Is what me?” he felt a chill run down his spine.

“Are you the Sleeping Beauty Killer? I don’t mind if you are. I hope you are. Those stupid sluts deserved what they got.”

“The man who does those things is very bold, resourceful and powerful; the kind of man who would look after his wife and his children but remove hussies and women of low morals from the earth.”

“Look what my thinking about you being that man has done to me,” she lay back and lewdly opened her legs and he could see the wet patch spreading in the transparent gusset of her white nylon panties.

“Here let me do what you like; I’ll shut up now,” She lay back with her legs open and her arms by her side and stared at him.

She didn’t move her head just followed him with her eyes as he climbed on the bed. She didn’t make a sound as he pulled aside her panties and slammed his phallus into her. She remained silent as she immediately orgasmed but Michael could see it in her eyes. She orgasmed again when he ejaculated inside her after fucking her hard for only one minute.

“Ok honey,” he said the magic words that allowed her to move and speak.

“No. I want it again,” she looked up at him, her eyes filled with desire.

She became rigid and silent and he entered her again, this time fucking her for ten minutes before he climaxed; she came with him, remaining silent but her eyes burned with lust.

“Ok honey,” he dismounted, his cock still erect and dripping.

“Can you do it to me sometime?” she got to her knees and embraced her husband.

“Do what?” he glared at her.

“You know what. Do what you do to those women. Make me almost lifeless but still able to feel and see what you are doing to me.”

“I never admitted to being him,” he glared at her.

“It’s you. I know it is and I love you even more for it,” she kissed his cheek softly.

“If it was me, shouldn’t you be scared that I might kill you too?” he murmured.

“But if you wanted to do that you would have done it already. I’m here with you alone, defenceless. I live to adore you, you know that. You are a powerful man and I’m a weak woman, I wouldn’t fight you.”

Michael turned to face her and suddenly closed his hands around her throat; his fingers gripped her neck tightly. Felicity said nothing. She raised her head a little exposing her neck even more while she stared at him with adoration in her eyes.

He dropped his hands.

“Do you really want to know what it’s like to lie there helpless, unable to move or talk while a man defiles you?” he searched her eyes.

She nodded enthusiastically.

“Wait here. Lie on the bed like I’ve taught you to do. There will be a little prick and then you will feel a big prick,” he grinned at her mirthlessly.

He left her lying there while he went down to his car to get his rape kit.

To be continued