The Gentleman Killer

This is a story about a man without any real identity, he is defined by what he does; murder. The man travels around stealing and killing women usually, but he is unique in the way he does it. By making the victim kill themselves. This story will be interchangeable between his POV and a third person look at what is happening. Enjoi!

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1. The First Party

Through a crowd he was noticeable, his bright lively eyes, his perfectly olive-tone skin, his radiant smile and most especially his long brown hair that was slightly wavy as it made its way down to his shoulders. His voice rang out, captivating an unintentional audience, or so it seemed. There was a hidden malice in his words and beyond the shelter of his amber eyes. A malice that was as bone chilling as concentrated hatred, malice that unawares to everyone else was slowly seeping into their hearts and thoughts, every word that emitted from his mouth made the malice greater. This man was currently known as Mason Tribalt, a wealthy business investor that was as wanted as most superstars. A crowd of women had surrounded him, swooning and ignoring the dates they had brought if any or any relationship outside of the party. His charisma and looks were unparalleled…. Little did anyone besides him know that most of these women would be dead by midnight, by their own hands, but by his mind….

Each woman was as appealing as the next, each of them wanting him substantially, and he looked right through them attempting to find one person in particular. He wanted someone interesting and not too dull, but someone practical and surprising. Over at the bar there was a girl whom had evaded his charm, a girl he wanted to drag into his influence. She was a cute blonde, judging by her appearance he deduced that she was in her early twenties; she was wearing a violet cocktail dress and a sterling silver necklace. Her simplicity was a bit different for him, but it would make things different for him. He approached her silently and observantly with the methodical stare of a lifelong killer.

  “Hello dearest, how is your night thus far?” inquired Mason with his incredibly tempting voice.  

The girl spun around obviously startled by the sudden appearance of the gentleman, her blue eyes were wide in frenzied shock. “Oh, I didn’t see you there. I’m…” she trailed off uncertainly even more shocked that she was approached by the host of this very party, “I’m just fine, how are you Mason?”  

Mason chuckled shortly and throatily at her sudden reaction, “I’m fine dearest, what might your name be?”   She was obviously surprised at the host’s choice of her to speak to personally as she stuttered, “M-my name’s Natacha.”  

“Well then Natacha, you’ve piqued my curiosity, how about we go upstairs….” Mason began.  

“Yes, I would love that! Take me!” Natacha butt in with sudden enthusiasm.

Mason smiled, appreciating her reaction, savoring its delicious tones of preparedness, willingness to give one’s self to another. Oh, Mason would enjoy her for this night…. As it would be her last.   They waded through the crowd together with different intents, he wanted nothing more than immediate gratification followed by the act of her untimely demise, she wanted nothing more than to see this gorgeous man as he was said to be; she wanted to try to make something happen. He looked forward to the stairs with her trailing behind him, her hand in his; other female guests looked on with shocked envy at his choice, she was so plain, nothing more than they were and the lingering question in the now stagnant air was “Why”.
He made his way to the stairs rather easily and without interruption but the odd feeling he was being watched, looking back he saw the women struggling to look away with their awe-stricken faces; his mind snickered but his face remained rather cool. Turning back to the stairs he climbed up, Natacha close behind with a stupid smile on her very average face. Mason’s eyes averted down, peering down the dress she was wearing, she appeared not to be wearing a bra of any sort; she looked at his eyes then down to see what he was looking at and she blushed. He laughed a little and continued walking up the stairs until he came to the top of them where Natacha had the audacity to grab his face and kiss him on the lips, as she drew away he smelled brandy on her breath.
‘Excellent, she’s drunk; even easier’, Mason thought with dark intent as he approached an empty room with an open door with her still latched to him by the hand.

When Mason got into the room Natacha immediately let go of his hand and closed the door, locking it behind her. She had an eager look in her eyes and smile as she bit her lip with anticipation for the tremendous experience she so dearly wanted. Mason looked coolly at her as he sat on the bed and took of his coat, untied his tie and threw them both into the corner.

Natacha’s eyes gleamed with greed as she unstrapped her dress and let it fall to the ground, kicking it aside along with her shoes. She stood there waiting for him to take her, naked for the exception of her black-lace panties and jewelry. Her breasts were sizable and firm and had the same tone as the rest of her body; she had a flat stomach with a few freckles here and there. Her nipples were perky and small, couldn’t be larger than the size of a nickel. Mason was personally surprised; he thought she would be more so average rather than a stunning porn model.

At this he hopped up off of the bed, walked over to her and swept his hand softly along her neck, feeling her soft skin. With his other hand he grabbed her thigh and lifted it up to his waist so it was wrapped around a little bit. His mouth swept in for a French kiss which she fully accepted, she embraced him; lifting her other leg so that she was wrapped around him entirely. He stumbled a little as she leaped onto him, but regained his balance as he kept her hoisted with both hands. Mason walked backwards until he felt the bed, still locked at the lips, their tongues sweeping in each other’s. The second the back of his legs touched the edge of the mattress he fell backwards, releasing his lips from hers. He lay there as she knelt on top of him licking her lips almost maliciously looking into his eyes searching for the affection that was so well acted. Mason smiled; he was going to enjoy this no matter how rough she liked it, his amber eyes staring her down with evil curiosity. Natacha not knowing any of this reached down and ripped open his shirt; revealing his washboard abs, toned and smooth to the touch, but even more noticeable was the single raven tattoo on his sternum, it cawed, it’s black eyes penetrating her soul, its caw silent but soon to be….

 

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