Photo credit: spiroll from morguefile.com
“Early to bed
And early to rise
Makes a man or woman
Miss out on the night life.”
Early to Bed – Morphine
Deidre watched me from across the room, one leg thrown over the other like she’d been molded that way.
“You staying up much longer?” she said, reaching across the arm of the sofa for her glass of wine. Her diamond anklet twinkled in the 40-watt bulb’s light from under the amber art-deco lampshade. I shrugged, leaned back against the leather lounge chair and changed the channel. She sighed, swirled the wine around in her glass.
“You always end up staying up too late,” she pouted, her cerulean blue eyes struggling to meet mine. It was one feature I always liked about her. When we’d met for the first time, amidst curled smoke and the dark stench of expensive liquors, I couldn’t stop staring at them.
“Forget it Greg,” she said and stood. “I’m going to bed.”
I watched her climb the stairs and closed my eyes. It’d been months since I’d climbed those stairs behind her. I think it was about the same time she quit her nighttime job as a singer and given up on her figure. She still had her fake breasts. But her body’d caught up with them to justify their size.
I glanced upstairs just as the light went out in the bedroom. Half-past midnight I rose from my chair and went to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of scotch, plunking three ice cubes in it to chill the flavor. I followed it up with two more, just standing there.
It was a slow death, our marriage. A stalemate because neither would give in.
I picked up the bottle and took it into my office and shut the door. I could hear her faint snores overhead through the ceiling. I flicked the power switch on my Mac and sunk into my three-thousand dollar chair. It was the best seat in the house, and Deidre’d never sat in it. It didn’t have her stink or sweat on it.
A message popped up on the screen, making me smile.
I twisted the cap off the scotch and drank right out of the bottle before responding.
Sorry I’m late.
The response came quick.
It’s alright. It’s her loss she can’t stay up later.
I laughed a little to myself, softly, lest the sleeping giant hear me.
You know I’d rather have you. What are you doing tonight?
Another drink. I licked my lips waiting for the reply.
You, I hope.
Just the words I wanted to see.
Where to meet?
Why don’t you come here? I typed.
LOL, are you serious?
Yeah. We have a pool…
I realized I’d been holding my breath and let it out in a shudder.
You got it. If she wakes up, it’s all on you, lover.
Fair enough, I typed back.
Forty-five minutes later, a silver BMW graced my drive. Clad only in my boxers, I directed it into the garage, closing the door behind it. The engine cut out, and the door opened.
“I can’t believe you did it,” I said, my voice colored with lust.
He smiled; a slow spread of those lips, and his dark eyes shined with devilish intentions. My bare chest crushed against the smooth tailored fabric of his shirt.
“Why don’t we just kill her,” he breathed into my mouth ahead of a scorching, biting kiss, sucking my bottom lip before we parted, me blinking in disbelief.
He nodded once and licked my taste from his lips, closing the door soundlessly behind him.
The more my mind turned it over, the more I liked the idea of her being dead.
I admit, we both had more than enough scotch to excuse the behavior. First it was a messy concept: an ax, or a knife through the heart. He suggested we stake her like a vampire and we laughed before fucking again. Spent, drunk and homicidal, we finally decided to smother her with a pillow.
“A pillow?” he laughed, and kissed me in the chilling waters of the pool. We were both naked with the pool lights out. She’d have to look hard to even see us from the second floor. I looked above us. The moon was neatly out of sight behind a copse of cloud cover.
I rose up out of the water without warning and grabbed a towel.
“Now?” he said, following suit. I watched his dripping form and grinned.
“Sick,” he said and popped my bare ass with his towel. We went inside to get dressed.
The bedroom was pitch-black; I had the windows covered with heavy drapes because I slept in most mornings. Owning my own bank chain did have its perks. I could feel him press against me as we crept across the room with my guidance. I knew the layout, he didn’t.
Deidre was a back-sleeper, which made it relatively easy. I picked up the pillow from my side of the bed and crawled up beside her. She snored gently, before snorting when I clamped the pillow over her face.
Her body came alive with movement and I could hear her scream through the feathers. We bought the good pillows, thickly stuffed with goose down and 400-threadcount casing. The pillow was built to kill, but she wouldn’t give up that quickly.
Her arms flailed until she found my face and dug her hundred-dollar manicured nails deep into my skin, cutting red slashes, demanding I let go but I didn’t. I could feel the blood trickle down my cheeks and clung to her as she bucked like a pissed-off bronco at a rodeo. Her fat thighs slapped together as she kicked, drawing her knees up to slam into my spine. I cried out and she threw me off her to fall on my head in the darkness. With a banshee scream, she leapt on me and I squirmed out from under her, throwing her back into the window. She ripped the curtains down and I took the initiative to wrap them tightly around her neck. I held it tight, until she stopped struggling and I held something limp in the eerie milk-stain of the full moon's light.
She was finally dead. I released the fabric, clenching my fists over and over, my heart thundering in my ears. Behind me I heard a low rumble and turned.
Where my lover was, there stood a monstrous black beast.
Oops...that blood thing can be a real problem when your lover is a werewolf :)
Really liked this Carrie...am slowly getting around to reading your work...enjoying it so far!!
I loved this the first time around, and I love it again now. Perfect for Halloween.
Thanks you two. Figured I'd share some spoooooky tales. Bwahaha.
This is an awesome Halloween story. Or anytime story, really. Yikes.
Great mixture of your best elements Carrie. This edges nicely between humour and the sudden darkening into horror you do so well.
Brilliant story, and totally perfect for the time of year.
I remember this one, and it's just as good this second time as it was the first. That last line about the lover being a vampire is a good one; perfect for a Halloween story. Enjoyed this a TON!
I thought it sounded familar. Love it even more the second time around.
Thanks for sharing!
I remember this one too. I still love it.
Love it. Really raw and gritty stuff. The language is beautiful, the imagery unforgettable.
Reads even better on the second run. They don't call you Scary Carrie for nothing! Peace...
It's still awesome!
Talk about getting more than you bargained for, lol. Great work as always! :-)
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