MYRICK
Instead of some overpriced restaurant, Rochelle and I decided to go back to my place for dinner. “I cook a mean T-bone steak,” I said.
“I bet you do.”
When Rochelle began to caress my thigh, sliding her hand up to my crotch, I knew she was like all the rest of them: a filthy whore and ridding the world of filthy whores was the only job I was put on God’s green earth to do. I simply looked at her and mustered up a smile. When we got to the house, I lit some candles and put on Teddy Pendergrass’ “Come On Over to My Place.”
“Oh, that’s my man, Teddy,” Rochelle said as she started dancing slow in the middle of the living room. I hoped that with enough air freshener and potpourri, it was enough to mask the smell of blood and death. Rochelle didn’t say anything, so I guess I was in the clear.
I took two steaks and two baked potatoes out of the refrigerator before I fired up the grill that was on the deck out back. “Would you like a glass of wine to take the chill off?” I asked.
“Do you have red wine? White upsets my stomach.”
“Red wine it is.” I plucked a bottle of Merlot out and two wineglasses out of the cabinet above the kitchen counter. I twisted off the corkscrew and poured. Rochelle was singing along with Teddy with her back turned to me when I pulled a small vile of Rohypnol out of the inside pocket of my jacket. “A little something to take the chill off all right,” I said to myself as I sprinkled a smidgen of the drug into Rochelle’s glass. I stirred it in with my finger so Rochelle wouldn’t taste anything unusual. I joined her in the living room where I handed her the glass of wine. Her fingers grazed against mine as she took her libation. I would have preferred Shariece be here instead of Rochelle. Damn, she still looked good. She’s put on a few pounds, but she’s thick in all the right places unlike this bitch in heat who was twirling around in my living room. I watched eagerly as Rochelle took her first and last sip of wine of her life. I set my glass on the coffee table and took Rochelle into my arms. She rested her head against my chest as we danced. “So who was that you were talking to back at the college?”
“Who?”
“That woman you were laughing with. Is she one of your students?” I asked, playing like I didn’t know who Shariece was.
“Oh, you’re talking about Shariece. No, she’s an instructor in the English Department. Do you know her?”
We danced as one Teddy Pendergrass song rolled into another and another. “She looks familiar to me.”
“Shariece is amazing. One of my best instructors and the students seem to like her. She works harder than any of the faculty members, she’s always in the office burning the midnight oil, she comes to every staff/faculty meeting, and she’s only been with me for a few months. I don’t know what I would do with—” Rochelle stopped in midsentence, her body slumped heavy into my arms. I pulled her gently by her hair and sure enough, she was out like a light. I dragged her over to the sofa and laid her down while I went to the basement to gather my tools. I met Rochelle at the Mockingbird Cafe. I’m a sucker for a woman drinking alone. Easy pickings are what I call women like her. I was pleased with the job Krista had done in discovering the whereabouts of Shariece. Girl would have made a damn good private investigator. I kind of regret killing her, but she was a liability and I couldn’t risk her getting pinched and leading the cops to me. Rochelle was nowhere near my type. Too much on the boney side. I hadn’t been on a college campus since I had killed that freshman in her dorm room last year. She was a fighter, that one. I cut out her heart and hazel eyes to remember her. Karissa had pretty, butterscotch skin. Poor thing was sitting alone in the food court eating French fries. Easy pickings. She went on about how her friends all went out of town for spring break and she was stranded for a week on campus. “I’m too fat to be seen in a bathing suit anyway,” she went on.
“Come on now, don’t put yourself down like that. You’re a pretty girl.” The ones with low self-esteem are like melted milk chocolate in my hands after I’ve stroked their fragile egos.
After returning from the basement, I cleared off the dining room table and spread out a blue, plastic tarp. Rochelle was knocked out still. I didn’t have a lot of time before she came to from the roofie I had slipped her. I laid the assorted row of knives on the counter facing the dining room table. I always make sure my instruments are sharp and quite clean. I can’t stand filth. Karissa invited me up to her dorm room which was on the other side of campus. “Is everyone gone?” I asked her, making sure that there wouldn’t be any witnesses when she screamed. “I have a roommate, but she’s at work.”
“Good, so we won’t be disturbed,” I said, as I copped a feel of her juicy ass in tight low-riders. Karissa laughed as she slid her key card to open the door. The minute she got the door open, I pushed her in. “Dang, Big Daddy, what’s the rush?” Karissa rubbed my chest, pressing her hot-blooded body against mine. Her lips shimmered with gloss as she kissed me. She smelled sweet like cherries. I returned her advances, shoving my tongue in her mouth, taking her apple bottom booty in the vise grips of my hand. My dick got bone-hard through it all. Karissa wasn’t worth it. She was too easy like all the ones before her. “Fuck me,” she said, as she ripped at my shirt. “Fuck me, daddy.”
I kept kissing her hard, rolling my tongue around hers. “You have a nasty mouth, you know that?”
“Yeah, you want to stick that big black dick in my nasty mouth, don’t you, huh, daddy?”
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I slid my hands around her throat and applied pressure. “Shut your filthy mouth.”
Karissa clawed at my hands as she struggled for breath, yet the more she struggled, the more pressure I exercised until those pretty hazel eyes of her rolled back into her pretty head. I choked her out until I heard her neck snap like a twig. I laid her lifeless body on the bed I assumed was hers. She looked like she was asleep. Because she kept scratching at my hands, I took some tissue from the bathroom and carefully wiped her fingernails free of any traces of skin. I took my knife out of the inside of my jacket pocket and performed a quick surgery, cutting out not only her heart, but her eyes. They were much too pretty to waste. I took two individual plastic sandwich bags and placed Karissa’s heart in one and her eyes in another. I covered her over with the sheet from the other bed. “Thank you,” I whispered, kissing her on the forehead.
When I got back to my car, I parked under a tree in a vacant lot. I unzipped my jeans, took my dick out and jacked off as I watched Karissa’s beautiful hazel eyes staring back at me through the sheath of plastic. “You like that, baby? You want this dick?” Within two minutes, I came all over my hands and jeans.
* * *
I picked Rochelle up in my arms and laid her on the dining room table. I unbuttoned her dress, exposing her breasts cocooned in a black lace bra. I used my knife of choice to cut the bra off. Her breasts were voluptuous with deep, milk chocolate-brown nips. I traipsed over the left one with my thumb, squeezing it gently between my thumb and index fingers. “Dirty whore titties,” I said. I took some phone cord and tied her wrists to the legs of the table. To muffle her screams, I placed duct tape over her mouth even though no one way out here in the sticks would hear her. As I ran the knife slowly down Rochelle’s chest and stomach, I realized that I hadn’t thought about what I was in the mood for. “Heart? Spleen? Liver? Kidney?” Rochelle was coming out of unconsciousness. I looked into her eyes and said, “You’re up in time for dinner.” Rochelle started to scream through the tape, but her shrills came out muffled. “Grilled liver and onions sounds delicious.” When I took the knife and made the incision, Rochelle shrieked out in pain as I cut. I cut until there was a wide enough gape to remove her liver. She died as I began to remove her organ. There was blood everywhere. “I’ll clean up after dinner.” I placed the liver on a plate, rinsed over water, seasoned it with salt and black pepper and tossed it on the grill with chopped onions. I placed Rochelle’s liver with onions on a plate before I refilled my glass of wine. I sat at the head of the table and cut, savoring the first bite. “Just as I thought, everything tastes better on a grill.”