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SCOTT THOMPSON FELT something tickling his leg, moving up. He tried to swat it away, but his hands wouldn’t move. His eyes flew open in surprise. The hotel room was dimly lit, and it wasn’t as luxurious as he liked, but it was the best this Louisiana town had to offer.
The fog began to lift from his brain. He must have passed out. He didn’t remember drinking all that much champagne. It had taken him a minute before he realized the reason he couldn’t move. His arms were cuffed to the headboard, and his legs were cuffed to the footboard. What the hell? He tried to remember what happened.
There was the tickling again. Then he heard the soft laughter of a woman. Now he remembered clearly. His eyes stayed glued to the woman tormenting his body. She stood beside him running a leather whip up and down his body, wearing only a leather bustier. This had to be the most erotic thing he had ever experienced in his life. When she tickled his balls it was sweet torment.
***
THIS WAS THE PART SHE loved the best, the mating ritual. Would he be her salvation or would he be her demise? She climbed up on the bed and straddled him. Then she saw it, lying on the floor. It must have fallen out of his pocket when she pulled his pants off. How dare he do this to her? Why must men be such deceptive creatures?
Anger moved her, shoving aside the hurt. How had she let this man get past her defenses? She should have expected his betrayal. She knew what men were like.
She made her way off the bed and to her purse. She reached in and pulled out her venom. She made a special batch of poison for today. She melted down some of her bath salts just for this very outcome. It should be a very slow and painful death.
When she removed the syringe from her purse, he started to struggle against the restraints, but it was useless. They wouldn’t budge. She looked down at him, trying to calm the fierce undercurrent of rage that flowed through her, “I had hoped you were the one.” He deserved this, he betrayed her. The lying, cheating bastard broke her heart. She looked deep into his eyes as they filled with terror.
***
HE FELT THE NEEDLE prick him in the hairline. All at once he felt a burning sensation rush through him as the drug entered into his blood stream. She watched as he writhed in pain. He desperately struggled against the restraints. It was a good thing they were fur lined or the wooden posts would be gouged by the handcuffs. He had tears flowing from his eyes now. He was the first of her victims to cry.
***
SHE WATCHED AS THE light slowly left his eyes. She had no pity or second thoughts about what she had done. He brought this upon himself. He deserved this. She took notice of the immediate signs of death. His lips were turning blue, cyanotic. His body hasn’t begun to cool from his death yet. The bath salts literally heated his blood. It would take a while for the heat to dissipate from the body. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust – this man’s life cycle was complete.