He was running. Because he wanted to, had to. The sheer joy of it finally swept everything else away as he knew it would. Sweat dripped off his forehead and stained his t-shirt, ran down into his crotch and left his feet squelching in his trainers. He loved running. Kept him fit and produced a feeling of being the only person in the entire world. He loved the freedom. He ran whenever he could.
That feeling of being the king, the chief, the total best or even the supreme commander now ran strong and true through his bloodstream. Suffusing his skin, his muscles, his brain and his genitals. A king of all he surveyed. Ruling with divine right. Absolute authority. Majesty. He loved that word. Maaa jesss teee.
He approached the towpath which ran along the Thames. One side of the path formed a wide grassy embankment in front of houses in the distance; the other side, bushes, trees and the occasional track to the water’s edge only a few metres down the slope. When he’d been a child, it had been a good place to play, strictly forbidden, of course, in the bushes right on the river. When little, with other little boys. When a teenager, with little girls. Scene of his first sexual experience, so this place was special. With that thought, he reduced his speed as he ran along the path. Slowed as he passed lush bushes leaning over the shoreline, visions of little girls, innocent little girls playing in the sunshine.
He stopped.
He’d spotted something. A school uniform? A girl’s school uniform. His body zinged. With an easy flexing of his muscles, he jumped down the steep part of the bank and landed right beside the startled girl.
“Now, what have we here?” he asked.
A little thing. Blond. Pretty. Young.
Scared.
Recognised her but what was her name?
He told her what he wanted. Quiet. Authoritative.
She shook her head. Scurried back. Closer to the water’s edge.
He shook his head. A very different shake.
The breeze was cooling his sweat. He dropped down close to the cowering girl and, with fumbling fingers, fished out his condom, always carried in his wallet.
Nobody else was around. He stole a quick glance at his watch. His last rational act until, sometime later, reality pounded all subsequent thought back into insignificance. By then it was too late.
Too late for little, reluctant, whatsername.