She lay receptive on the bed. He lifted her skirt and moved her underwear to one side. The much-anticipated moment had arrived. He was calm. She was his. He was in control.
Just to be sure, he’d rechecked the dates in his notebook. Of course he’d remembered correctly: begin tonight and finish on Sunday. He’d put the sedative in her drink just as he’d done for Teresa and Kimberley. Lucy’s breathing was regular and the hand holding the iPod had dropped to her side.
As a final check, he’d walked to the partition and called loudly.
‘Lucy! Would you like another drink?’
There had been no response.
He’d gone into the room to inspect her closely. She was deeply asleep. Using chiffon scarves, he’d gently tied her wrists and ankles to the corners of the bed, checking the loops were snug, but not tight against her skin.
It was then that he raised her skirt. His actions were methodical, like those of a doctor. He felt no sense of arousal. Without hurry he went to his private room where the equipment was set out on the bench. With all thoughts of Lucy banished from his mind, he fixed his eyes on the women in the magazines. It wouldn’t take long; he’d practised many times.
Later, with his instruments cleaned and everything tidied away, he spent an hour caring for his collection. The row of jars, their contents lovingly suspended in preserving fluid, gleamed on the central shelf. Nobody suspected a thing, his collection continued to grow and, with Lucy, everything was progressing smoothly. Teresa and Kimberley had presented unforeseen problems but he was sure things would be different with Lucy. This time he’d chosen well.