Dec 2009

Chapter 12Following

Following someone is not as easy as it would appear. On foot it might be simple enough, but if the area is crowded, it means you lose your target fast, if it isn't, you are almost always exposed. And it's not like it looks normal to walk after someone for a longer duration of time. By car it gets even more complex, keeping far enough behind not to be noticed, but close enough to not miss any lights or other situations that would cause a screw up. In a way I was lucky, my predator wasn't aware of what I was planning, which was essential with following him, and I had both a car and my feet at my disposal. Less fortunate was that I hadn't considered me having to walk when I left the house. While I wore shoes that I could walk on for a while, as such, they weren't very quiet nor subtle. It would have to do.

It was ten and the gas-station was closing. Lights went off, one by one, with no one there but himself. Time spent on lowering the blinds, moving some advertisements and locking up. There was a car parked behind the building, but he didn't take it. Perhaps he lived nearby enough to walk. My car was parked a little way away, making sure to keep him in sight, but with no lights and positioned in such a way that the streetlights didn't shine right in. It was mostly possible to sit up straight and not be noticed. This proved to be fairly fortuitous, he was heading towards me. It was almost childishly fun to hide behind the dashboard when he walked by, with somewhat fond memories of children doing the very same thing to their parents. At last I understood them.

He walked past me without a clue.

As stated, it's actually quite hard to follow someone this late at night. The outgoing public was still walking the streets and we weren't on our own, but there were not quite enough people to hide in a crowd. This was both good and bad. It's also interesting how loud every noise seems to be when you're trying to be quiet. The trick is not to try and be quiet, as people taking careful steps automatically make your neck-hairs rise, but to walk completely casual. To belong on the street and just happening to be there. Nothing special, no intentions. It was a bit of a gamble, but I thought I looked at least generically slutty enough not to really be recognized by him if he ever did look around. It would look very weird if he realized that the woman who flirted with him in the gas-station was suddenly stalking. Most people wouldn't appreciate it.

He never did look around.

His steps were sure and calm, having walked this route a thousand times before. He knew every streetlight, window, dent in the curb and probably even the dirt on the streets. The distance we walked was a little further than I was willing to commit to initially, but there was little choice. Does the hunter give up when the prey is in sight? Of course not. Sounds in this neighbourhood were common, natural. Dogs, cats, cans being kicked, some music be it from television or played live from the various windows. Not many windows actually open, but still the sound inside loud enough to flow into the streets. Houses next to each other fighting for the calm by turning the volume up just a bit more. Mozart mixed with Micheal Jackson, strange. But these were all in the background, audible but not disturbing. The street itself was like any other, not unlike the one I was taken from. He didn't look like he was going to do anything like it here, it was too close to home. He just walked here, passing through. The whole walk took, perhaps, ten minutes, but felt like a lot longer. A few times I walked a little bit slower, making sure my echoing heels did not give my intentions away. I needn't have bothered too much.

His home.

At least I assumed it was. An apartment building with three, no four, tenants. Names next to the bells had been worn to illegibility, light in the doorway was dead, probably for a long time. Spiderwebs near the ceiling, hidden in the lack of light. The building, like the rest of the street, didn't look too bad, but not too good either. Solid, lasting but in need of some repairs and finishing touches. Paint faded, windowsills cracked. At least the street lights were all functional, even if the one closes to me had a firm dent in it and bend a little towards the street. There was more life here though, windows sparingly lit, television sets inside lighting up the rooms in flashes of varying light. Sounds again mixed in the background, a violin practicing haphazardly next to an action movie (at least it looked like an explosion, it was a safe bet).

He entered, I waited.

Third floor, lights on after a minute. Coinciding with the time it would take to walk the stairs, get the key, get in, turn the lights on. The names, too worn to tell anything, prevented me from at least seeing his name. It was too high to see, too far to hear, to know what he was doing inside. It would have been at least somewhat interesting to know his habits, see his apartment. Who knows what goes through the minds of evil men.

Besides a bullet.

Anyway, I knew where he lived now, which wasn't as useful as I thought. It was definitely not the plan to stay out here like a stalker and see what he was going to do, but to come back here, a later time. Disguised as... I don't know. During the day? During the evening? Both choices had a lot of positives and negatives, though I tended to desire the rest of the evening. At least other people wouldn't notice me. But finding a good excuse to come to and enter his house at night wasn't easy. Unless I did it the normal way of seducing. Which was not a great option. If he worked at the gas-station regularly, the security cameras would be checked by the police in case anything had happened. Would happen. Giving up was not an option that I allowed to present itself. He was going down.

On me.

Actually that was an interesting thought. Maybe I could at least revert the roles in the moments just before the kill. Not as a mistress but at least as the one holding the strings. Besides, he might actually be quite good with his tongue. I knew that the girl from before, with her nimble sharp tongue, was still fresh in my mind. It was time to return to the car, at the very least. There was no sense in staying here, so I started to walk back, keeping my eyes open to any indication of the name of the street. It was easy enough, no secrets there. His house-number was easy enough as well, but it would serve me little. It wasn't like I wanted to find out his name or number anyway. I wanted one thing from him. Death. And perhaps sex. Yes, sex was still an option. His body was not at all disappointing and, as far as I could tell, he lived alone. Two very important factors for me. But it would have to be revenge, a sweet kill. To tell him at exactly the right moment, to see the fear in his eyes. I was taking a little too much pleasure in the idea.


Back at the car I was, for lack of a better word, drenched. All the ideas that had been flying through my head touched all kinds of strings inside of my sensitive body. Every step, the cotton rubbing against the parts between my legs, had been an agonizing jolt of lust. The dampness of it, the cloth, made the movements unfortunately course and rough, the fabric rubbing just a little bit too harshly. It was tempting to remove it, to walk without but it was only a few minutes more. I didn't exactly want to instigate another incident like before and, so it seemed to me, taking off panties in the middle of the street was asking for it. Painful pleasurable perseverance. The car waited for me undisturbed, it was late now, but not so late that I couldn't at least find someone or something to play with before the night was over. Inside I cleaned up a little bit, trying to dry the saturated weave with some paper handkerchiefs. It was very tempting to go back to the club I was before, finding those girls again. But instinct told me that they were already gone, possibly even going far enough with each other. My presence was no longer part of it. Shame.

Another place then.

It was easier to drive somewhere else, lessening the chances of meeting anyone who'd seen me. The car purred, freshly fed, as it brought me to my new destination. It was an area I had been before, perhaps a few years ago, and knew to be of a certain class. Or lack thereof. It would mean, which was important, that my somewhat suggestive demeanor wouldn't raise any attention. Parking, walking, smiling to the doormen. Inside was an expected den of debauchery, the room filled with noise, colors and smells that attacked the senses, leaving them numb within seconds. Plenty of flashing flesh, exposed through cleavage and billowing shapes, greeted my lustful looks. Breasts, arms, legs, even hints of bottom and bellies almost lined up for my attentive adoration. Not that they paid particular attention to me.

Nor did I want them to.

My own smells, musky and wild, were easily lost in the crowd. A dash of perfume had hidden most of it as I entered, some people know very well the smell of lust, be it from a man or a woman, and play into it. Most of those were nothing but annoyances to me, undesired and unwelcome. But sometimes an interesting thing came along. The girls earlier tonight had made me hungry for some female company. It had actually been several months since I last felt a womanly tongue between my legs and I could do with one now. But it was not that easy, not everyone was open to such suggestions. Time passed, punctuated by the rough beats of dance, until I found one I was looking for. Still inspired by the tantalizing tongue I found a small and mostly innocent girl, open to experimentation. Her bright white hair, or rather blond so thin it looked white, made her look somewhat like an angel. Bright blue eyes, curious and intelligent, adorned her face. Lips a soft pink, opening greedily to a passionate kiss.

Tongue... sharp and nimble.

Exactly what I wanted.