The events depicted in this story parallel those depicted in 12-String: 7
This story is not necessary for the understanding of the 12-string series. It may be skipped.
Desdemona. What a name. What a face. And that hair? To die for. Ok, so I admit that I have a thing for hair. I love hair. No, just head hair. It completes a person. It can be short or long. Full or thin. As long as it fits them, their personality and everything, it's fine.
It takes a really special person to have pink hair. Some people can pull it off, and some people can't. Then some people are like Desdemona. They wouldn't be the same without it.
Her very name has a sensuality to it, and I could say it forever, and be content with just the sound of it in my own ears.
When we met, we shared a connection. She didn't even need to look at me, but I felt her eyes on me while I left. It made me blush.
I spent part of the day watching from the doorway, but I had other duties at work, and had to get to them.
I followed her car to the motel. She looks so confident booking her room. I can almost imagine the two of us out together. I have to chuckle at myself because we are out together. Sure, she pretends to be oblivious of me, but I know she has to feel me watching her. Our connection from earlier was that strong. We're meant to be.
She goes to her room. I watch for a few minutes through a crack in the window. A patron asks what I'm doing, and I have to make up a story about looking for my room. He tells me that the rooms are numbered, and I thank him. I tell him it must be a blond moment. He chuckles even though I'm a brunette. Some people really show their stupidity.
I head home to pick up some of my gear. I figure that she's not going anywhere for the immediate future. Everything's in my bag, so I don't have to gather anything up. I do check it twice before leaving anyway, making sure that I have everything.
I drive back to the motel, and quickly look through the windows before I begin. She's nowhere to be seen. I take out my lock picks and quickly jimmy the door. A new speed record for me. Desdemona, you should really have put the privacy bar across the door. Anyone could get in here. I hear the water running in the bathroom, so I set about my tasks. I set up the cameras and microphones in strategic places.
After making sure that none of them are easily visible, and checking that I am getting a good strong signal, I head out to my car, quietly closing the door behind me.
I set the signal amplifier in a bush with a concealed outdoor outlet. This will give me a three mile radius to receive the signal from. I drive a couple of blocks away, and plug my laptop into my cigarette lighter.
Soon, I can hear the water turning off, and I have eight views into her room. She is glorious as she leaves the bathroom. I didn't realize how much of what she appeared to be wasn't real. I'm sure that as soon as we get together, we can change that. She is so different without the hair.
Her body excites me, even as it is now.
I listen to her conversations, and realize that I have an opening into to her life. She has something precious to her. Something I can take for her. Something I can protect from her.
She talks until she is tired and then goes to sleep. I watch her sleep for a long time, and then come to a decision. I call my favorite flower shop, and leave a message. They open early enough that I can get the flowers to her before she goes to work tomorrow. I will have to be there before her. It will be another wonderful day.
I call her, but she doesn't get to the phone before it goes to voicemail. I had to snag the number from work before I left. I wait an hour before I call again. This time she answers and I just listen to the sound of her voice. Even now, I'm amazed at how feminine it sounds. When she sings, it's obvious who she is inside. Only a real woman could sing like that.
She tells me to call back. I feel a slight thrill. We're making another connection. I know exactly what I'll write on her note for her flowers now. I really hope she likes her flowers. Of course, all girls like flowers. Will she bring them into the studio today?
I wait another hour to call her again. I talk to her this time, to let her know I understand our connection. She hangs up, and get's ready for her day. I go and get her flowers. I knock on the door exactly one hour after the previous phone call.
I'm back in my car, and I rewind a bit to get all the action. Her image walks over to the door and looks out through the peep hole. She doesn't see anyone of course. She takes the flowers and closes the door. She threw the flowers away. What is going on? Have I been wrong? No, I can't have been wrong. Maybe she still feels a stronger connection to her Treasure than to me? I need to show her that I am the one for her. She needs to realize this more than anything else.
I go in to work, but my heart isn't in it. Plans flow through my head. First I need to figure out where this Treasure is. I chat with the secretary, who lets slip that Desdemona lives at her girlfriend's house. I get the address from the form on the desk. The secretary doesn't even realize she gave it to me.
Desdemona talks to me, and doesn't recognize my voice. How can she not realize? Still blinded. I make a decision and leave work at lunch. I've gotten what I wanted from this job anyway.
I don't even tell anyone that I'm gone. It will take longer for them to connect me with my Desdemona that way.
I drive south to her house. Her Treasure is beautiful. I can see why Desdemona is blinded.
I convince her I'm from the studio, and with my ID it's not that hard to do. I lead her out to my car, and offered her a bottle of water. I'd put some sleeping pill capsules in the water I offered her. It put her quickly to sleep. For a moment or two I'm worried that it had been too much, but I noticed her breathing, so I stopped worrying.
It was Desdemona. She wants to change her hair permanently to pink. I agree with her that it's a good idea. She never once guesses that I'm not her Treasure. Maybe this will work. I squeal when I get off the phone with her, and do a little dance.
Tomorrow, I will talk to Treasure about giving up her claim on my Desdemona.
The events depicted in this story parallel those depicted in 12-String: 10
This story is not necessary for the understanding of the 12-string series. It may be skipped.
Next time I'll just have to leave fewer clues.
The image of that poor actress running for her life from the police is something I'll keep with me for the rest of my life. It will fill the empty moments between prey.
"Why are you doing this?" Holly's sobs are almost enough to make me want to think about caring. The moment doesn't last long before the irritation sets in.
"My dear Ms. Hansen. I do this because I can. I do this because I enjoy it. And if you let yourself, you might find yourself enjoying it as well."
I don't tell her that she will likely be dead before she can get to that point, but I can see in her eyes that she knows.
That was why I picked her in the first place. That look she could give a person. The ability to bare her soul to anyone just by opening her eyes.
I would be careful to preserve her eyes during our future play so that I could preserve them forever. I know that they'll soon lose their luster but looking at them will remind me of the girl they once belonged to.
Thinking about her eyes on my shelf is enough to make me shudder in anticipation of the acts I am about to perform. She shies away from me. I feel my power over her and it arouses me.
There will be time for that later.
"Let's see. . .what should I do to you. It gets so hard to find a new way to play with my toys, after so many. Skinning alive was satisfying, and I haven't done that in a while."
I can see the fear awake in her eyes.
"No, I might damage your mind before the end. That one was completely gone even before he died."
Revulsion appears on her face and I allow a smile to grow until she shrinks away in fear.
"Starvation was about the most boring way that I have ever watched someone die. I almost just strangled the person to get it over with. That is one I won't be doing again."
I look at her and think of the blood as it slowly flowed over Desdemona's toy. A smile slowly, and without any thought on my part, grows until it consumes my face. It will take all of my skill to do, but it will be a masterpiece when I'm done.
I can almost envision the light slowly leaving her eyes.
I turn off the camera, as what is to follow will be an intensely personal moment.
The enjoyment I've received from this is almost enough to make me want to develop a signature and perfect this one method.
I don't plan on getting caught, however, and too much repetition will bring me to the attention of people with whom I'd rather not get acquainted.
I leave her there on the floor. I've already retrieved her eyes. All that remains is for me to make sure that I've left nothing behind of myself and call 911.
They are so good at cleaning up my messes for me. How many has that been over the years?
I take a moment to count all of my past toys, human, and otherwise. Forty-nine. Desdemona will make my fiftieth toy.
I need to begin planning something very special for her.
Detective Jensen.
He is getting entirely too close to me. It might be coincidence that he is here, but I doubt it. Something has tipped him off, I'm sure of it. He's onto me.
Suddenly I'm torn between going to New York to be with my newest toy, and staying here and removing Detective Jensen.
Finally I decide that this requires more patience than I've needed to show since I played with my parents. They were my first human kills.
Numbers twenty-three and twenty-four. I should have waited so that my first would have hit twenty five.
Five is a very mystical number. It holds power in it.
I'm still unsure which one died first. I had timed it so well. I should have had medical equipment running to monitor it.
I disconnect from the video feed and pack a bag to take with me to the airport.
I'm using a new identity.
There is always a slight thrill of fear when I first use a new identity. Especially in some place as public as an airport.
They accept me without question, and I even get a few appreciative stares from the male security guards.
For the first time I become aroused without the need to control the object of my lust. The images of the guards tied up, and making the small cuts to their skin is enough.
I banish those thoughts.
I have to remain in control. Loss of control is loss of freedom.
A young couple in love is already sitting in the lounge when I arrive. I amuse myself with imagining playing with the two of them at the same time.
It's been a while since I had two toys at the same time. Then it hits me. I have two toys now. I was planning on taking my toy's own toy away from her, but this will be much more satisfying. Especially if I can get my toy to play with her toy in front of me.
I orgasm at the thought of it.
I am embarrassed for the first time in public and hurry to the washroom to clean up.
I take some cleansing breaths, adjust my dress, and go back out to the lounge to wait for my flight.
I hate to fly. Unfortunately I hate other types of travel more.
I get to New York and for the first time in seven years I feel lost. I have no clue where to start looking for my toy. She's here to be on Saturday Night Live.
I'll start at the studio. I've gotten some sleep on the plane, so my sleepless night isn't affecting me as much as it could be. I wander around Rockefeller center, always keeping an eye on the door to 30 Rock. I get picked up a couple of times, but I politely decline.
It is so much easier for a woman to hunt than a man. I could have had any one of those men at my mercy. They would have walked blindly into my lair.
I would have to have some meaningless relationships for a while after I got done with my current toy. Maybe I could get up to seventy-five or even a hundred within the next year.
That would be quite an accomplishment.
I'd have to start keeping better track of my methods if I did.
Keith came down and got into a cab and was gone before I could react. He'd given me the slip today, but he had to come back to this place tomorrow, and I'd be ready.
Renting a car should have been my first priority upon reaching the city.
I took care of it and then found a room for the night. I would be up early and waiting for him to arrive at the studio. While I waited, I would find out if I could still get tickets to the show.
Edited by the ever patient Julia Phillips.