Chapter 5: Part 2

The truth of the matter was that you could always find a perfect time and place for anything. The blond who he'd taken last time was the perfect example. He'd let Amanda go a few days ago and already he'd found a replacement.



He had meant to gather supplies so he could cross over to the Pacific, but then he'd seen her. The perfect woman.



She'd accidently bumped into him at the store at six in the morning. Her lush breasts pressed into his chest. Her mouth formed a perfect circle, reminding him how wonderful it felt to have lips wrapped around his dick. The fact that they had met by accident hadn't missed his notice.



The girl had been following him. At the restaurant, Bleu Fish, last night he had seen her. Who could miss the tiny bikini and the strikingly huge tits? They were fake, of course, but that made it even better.



He always wanted to see what would happen if you cut one of those little sacks out. He had plans.



Now he watched her from afar. She'd talked to him, offering him an early morning quickie, but he said no. Now he followed her, taking note of the way she moved with purpose through the streets. She knew the area. That much he was certain of. Could she possibly be a local?



The coffee bar where she stopped had three patrons and two workers. The odds of being recognized were too big. If he waited to talk to her then he might escape any public scrutiny. It was only seven eighteen in the morning. He had all day to work, but what the hell did he care. The reality was that he would be gone in a week and the case would die. The Pacific beckoned him. He would heed the call.



Putting on an uncaring air, Richard entered the coffee bar. He pulled off his shades and flashed the barista a winning smile. "How about a cup of your finest brew."



"That would be our mountain java blend."



"Sounds wonderful."



The barista poured up a cup and handed it over. "So are you here on vacation?"



"Yes, in from England. Here for a few days. It sure is hot, not at all like London." Richard loved creating new personalities. He'd been French a few months ago, then South African. It gave him a thrill to meet someone too stupid to realize his accent was fake.



"Wouldn't mistake our lovely beaches for London."



Richard turned to look out the window, totally ignoring the blond. "No, no you definitely wouldn't." He hated the inane conversation. How could people stand chitchat? No wonder they were a bunch of rotted half brained idiots. Life had been better back when people only had meaningful conversations instead of this half-baked crap.



The barista lifted up a mug and pointed it towards the blonde. "Isn't that right sweetie, our beaches are unique."



"Sure are," her voice slid over the air like blue smoke, all throaty and smooth.



She was an amazing bitch, one that he wanted to own. He turned and was blown away by the twinkle in her eyes. She wanted him, and he would lay the bait. Taking her would be amazing. The thought of her tied up, ring in mouth so she could blow him like he liked it almost sent him over the edge.



The temptation to brand her as his own was great, but he needed to wait. This was totally unlike his normal mode of operation. He needed to slow down.



Lead her on then make her want him. The situation always worked best when those who saw them together could attest to the fact that he wasn't interested in the girl.



Richard wasn't stupid. He kept up with what the police had on the investigations of the girls he liberated from the trappings of this life. After a few months the interest the detective in charge would move onto another case and interest in the dead American girl would die off. Once they realized the leads were almost nonexistent the police would stop looking.



Only four girls had open cases. Linda, Trina, Molly and Amanda. The rest of the police departments had given up. Just another blond bimbo probably lost at sea. One reporter wrote an article quoting the police as stating that it was just one more girl from the States down here on vacation that got drunk and stupidly went for a swim. It served his purposes well to seem uninterested in his targets.



He looked away and started up another conversation with the man behind the counter. "Any fishing boats leaving out of the harbor today."



"Sure, Fred Mason always has something. Go down to the main dock and ask for Mason. Someone can point him out or tell you when to come back. Real son of a gun."



"Thanks."



The barista turned away and Richard stood to leave. Once he realized the barista wasn't paying any attention to him he winked at the girl, then walked out of the coffee bar, never looking back. He could hear the door squeak behind him. The girl took the bait. The game had begun.



A shop full of fishing gear sported a huge display of rods and reels in the front window. He crossed the street, using the move as an excuse to glance back. Sure enough the blonde had followed him. She strutted across the street after him, her breasts stuck out, her head tilted high.



This girl would be trouble, not the bad kind, but the good kind of trouble that made his balls blue and his dick hard. She sidled up next to him at the window. Her breath tickled his neck. Resisting the need screaming through his veins, he ignored her.



"So you like to fish."



It was a statement, not a question. He checked the street. Few people were about this early.



"Yeah." Disinterest could only be played at for so long. "I like all kinds of fishing." He checked the surroundings. With no one standing around, Richard felt comfortable flirting with the girl. "Actually I like deep sea fishing best." He caught her eyes in the reflection of the plate glass window. "I like going deep. Going down deep is my favorite pastime."



Her cheeks turned red, and she poked out her tits again. No mistaking what those bad girls were used for. His cock hurt just thinking about piercing her nipples with fishhooks. It would be painful for the bitch, exceedingly painful, but worth it for him.



She giggled and moved closer. "I like going deep too. Maybe we could go down deep together. I know you said no earlier, but my hotel is just around the corner, roommate won't be back until later."



"No, I don't want to disturb your neighbors. How about my boat?"



"Where."



"Up the street."



She practically purred. "Mmm, we could be all alone. I'm game for a quickie."



Richard smiled down at her. He was glad he'd met the lusty broad. He took off towards his boat, knowing she would follow.



His step was light as he thought about what he would do first. Funny that he didn't even know her name. Didn't care actually. The plans he had for her didn't need a name.



Once on board his ship he cast off the lines and started the engine.



"Are we leaving the island?" She looked worried, almost like she had a brain and could think about something other than a good time.



"No, just circling around. I know of a dolphin pod just up the coast. Not far at all."



"Oooh, how cool. Dolphins are my favorite. As long as we're back before ten."



Stupid girl. How much of an idiot was this tramp? He promised sex and dolphins, and she just jumped right on the boat and went with him. She deserved to die.



He shouldn't be surprised. Most of the girls he found were like this. They didn't think. Educating the adults of tomorrow needed to go beyond numbers and letters. They needed to learn street smarts. A street smart broad from Jersey would never have boarded the boat in the first place, and she damn sure never would have allowed him to cast the line. Jersey girl would have jumped in the harbor and swam back to port.



"How about a drink. I have some beer or Champaign."



"Champagne, I love bubbly drinks."



"Good, very good." He poured up one glass of the vile liquid. Too bad the bitch didn't know she was being drugged. Another lesson in street smarts, always drink what your host is having unless you really know the person.



"What no bubbly for you?" She took a big sip, her eyes going round. "Wow, this is the best I've ever had."



"Thank you. It should be the best. The champagne is a ninety-five Krug Clos Ambonnay. You won't find better."



"Oooh, how cool. I've never heard of it."



"It's about thirty-five hundred a bottle."



She sputtered and choked, almost spilling the glass. "What?"



"Don't worry, the money is nothing. I think you will prove to be worth every penny I spent on that little bottle." Of course he wouldn't tell her that he had stole the bottle of champagne along with fifty other priceless bottles of wine and champagne. It had cost him nothing, like most of his possessions they were free.



"You must be loaded."



"You have no idea." He smiled down at her, noticing that her pupils were starting to dilate. He poured up another glass for the girl. Only a little while longer and she would be out. Then the fun would begin.

Copyright Sara Thacker 2011