A WOMAN TO LOVE
On a cold, rainy afternoon, a man walks into a bar. He sees a gorgeous brown haired woman in a black dress sitting on a stool, looking utterly bored. As he fixes his tie, he can't believe how lucky he has gotten after a long day at work. Walking up to her, he checks his breath and sits down at the bar.
“Hi,” he says, pleased that his breath isn't that bad. She glances at him, and then goes back to her drink. “Did anyone ever tell you, you look like Angelina Jolie?” he asks her, lying just a little.
Now she looks at him more intently. “Really?” she says a little embarrassed.
He nods. “Definitely,” he replies, “especially the lips.” She smiles at him brightly, and they begin to talk steadily.
When an hour or so passes, it has grown dark out, and after they have exhausted all tangible topics, the woman asks him if he wants to leave and go somewhere else. “Sure,” he replies, not believing his good fortune.
The woman gets off her stool, grabs her handbag, and as she walks to the door, she gestures for the man to follow.
He fumbles for his wallet, paying the bar tender more than required. Even with a tip, it was still a lot more than necessary. Then he follows the beauty out of the door, taking her hand in his, as they walk down the street.
After a block, she sees an alley and takes him down it, kissing him on the lips. Then he pushes her up against the brick wall of the shadow-filled alleyway, and begins caressing her through her dress.
“Stop,” she says against his lips. This is going too fast for her. “Stop,” she tells him again, pushing against his chest as he begins to grid against her. She reaches into her purse, getting something out of it.
All of a sudden, he stops kissing her, staring down into her face. The woman's eyes go wide as he steps back, the knife in his hand sticking out of her chest. The can of mace falls to the ground, as she slides down the wall. Dead.
The man bends over, takes his knife out of the beauties chest and places it back into his pocket. He walks away from the body, leaving it there for all to see. Then he moves up a couple of blocks, and thinks of how beautiful a woman looks when the life goes out of her eyes. The woman in the black dress is his thirteenth victim.
The man sees another bar and walks in. He looks around and sees a blond woman in a black business suit, sitting at the bar looking around for someone. He walks up to her, thinking of the woman in the alley and smiles.
She looks up at him. “Hi, honey,” she says happily. “How was your day?”
“Same old, same old,” he says, kissing her on the cheek. “I'm just glad I have you to come home to.” After all, he thinks, a dead woman is beautiful, but a live one is always better.
Short story by: Laura Del (a.k.a. The Fiction Writer)