all of course, only the women, the attractive women! The women that made him feel inadequate as they stared out of the screen right at him, in his mind, looking down at him, laughing at him, belittling him.
His rage was burning deep within him. “How dare they, how fucking dare they.” He stared straight at the screen, straight at a full sized picture of a striking blonde woman, in her forties, slim, blue eyes and full lips. Anna Watt, director of her own company; she had an accountancy firm in the New Town in Edinburgh, a self-made millionaire, unmarried and currently unattached -
well, until I come to visit her of course
, John thought.
John visibly jumped up as Peter arrived back from his break; he deleted Anna’s photo immediately, certain he was quick enough to stop Peter seeing him.
“Your turn. Don’t have any of that pie - it’s minging. God knows what they’ve put in it. Anything interesting on the net?”
“Naw, same old shit mate. Have a look for yourself but I’ll have to sign out, you know all the regulations an’ that, eh!”
“Catch you in a bit then,” Peter said as John left the room.
John went to the gents’, the façade of normality wearing thin on him; he hated the mundane chore of normal life, he thought he was better than that.
Why the hell should I have to work day in day out for practically nothing?
A flashing image of Anna’s face now invaded his mind and he could feel his stomach tightening, his vile mind already decided -
that arrogant rich cow is my next customer.
A hideous smile spread over his face and a strange comfort came over him, the stress and anticipation dissipating through him as he could now focus on what mattered to him, what now consumed him: getting rich and showing these women who was in charge.
John walked back to his work station and said to Peter, “I don’t feel well mate, I’m going to head off home, I’ll call back in when I’m better.”
Peter looked up and said, “I told you not to have the pie. You do look like shit though. I’ll get on the blower an’ tell the boss to get you covered for a while then.”
“Thanks Pete.”
Chapter 9: Addiction
Back during Halloween a year ago, the work had a night out at a pub in the centre of Leith, a refurbished boat recently changed to a chic bar and night club. It was furnished with modern but comfortable fittings. Lit with a warm ambience, it was busy with a mixed crowd and the drinks were flowing. John was talking to the lads from his department at the end of the table while the women were gossiping down at the other end. They were dressed to impress and there was a little flesh on show for those who wanted to look. The confident younger lads were strutting their stuff, making any excuse to walk past the ladies, exchanging the usual flirtatious and suggestive banter, a tactic John found degrading and demeaning. He thought it was like begging for their attention and only if the girl decided he was worthy would she encourage further chat and maybe more. John shuddered inside at the power women held just for a guy to get a bit of pussy. Men were so god damn gullible when it came to getting their leg over. John surveyed the pub; there were women barely dressed in his opinion, flaunting themselves and begging for it.
No wonder things happen to them
, he thought, almost visibly grindinghis teeth. He felt uncomfortable, mixed feelings between arousal, jealousy and resentment,
fucking bitches
; his temper was starting to boil and he found himself feeling unable to remain calm and maintain his façade of normality.
Since killing his wife, John could not stop thinking about the arousal and the ultimate power he had felt as he took the most precious gift from his traitor of a wife, her life! He craved that fix again, that power. He wanted to feel his blood surge through his veins once again, pulse racing; feel that stiffness of his cock again as the desperation of another woman to survive thrilled him like never
His rage was burning deep within him. “How dare they, how fucking dare they.” He stared straight at the screen, straight at a full sized picture of a striking blonde woman, in her forties, slim, blue eyes and full lips. Anna Watt, director of her own company; she had an accountancy firm in the New Town in Edinburgh, a self-made millionaire, unmarried and currently unattached -
well, until I come to visit her of course
, John thought.
John visibly jumped up as Peter arrived back from his break; he deleted Anna’s photo immediately, certain he was quick enough to stop Peter seeing him.
“Your turn. Don’t have any of that pie - it’s minging. God knows what they’ve put in it. Anything interesting on the net?”
“Naw, same old shit mate. Have a look for yourself but I’ll have to sign out, you know all the regulations an’ that, eh!”
“Catch you in a bit then,” Peter said as John left the room.
John went to the gents’, the façade of normality wearing thin on him; he hated the mundane chore of normal life, he thought he was better than that.
Why the hell should I have to work day in day out for practically nothing?
A flashing image of Anna’s face now invaded his mind and he could feel his stomach tightening, his vile mind already decided -
that arrogant rich cow is my next customer.
A hideous smile spread over his face and a strange comfort came over him, the stress and anticipation dissipating through him as he could now focus on what mattered to him, what now consumed him: getting rich and showing these women who was in charge.
John walked back to his work station and said to Peter, “I don’t feel well mate, I’m going to head off home, I’ll call back in when I’m better.”
Peter looked up and said, “I told you not to have the pie. You do look like shit though. I’ll get on the blower an’ tell the boss to get you covered for a while then.”
“Thanks Pete.”
Chapter 9: Addiction
Back during Halloween a year ago, the work had a night out at a pub in the centre of Leith, a refurbished boat recently changed to a chic bar and night club. It was furnished with modern but comfortable fittings. Lit with a warm ambience, it was busy with a mixed crowd and the drinks were flowing. John was talking to the lads from his department at the end of the table while the women were gossiping down at the other end. They were dressed to impress and there was a little flesh on show for those who wanted to look. The confident younger lads were strutting their stuff, making any excuse to walk past the ladies, exchanging the usual flirtatious and suggestive banter, a tactic John found degrading and demeaning. He thought it was like begging for their attention and only if the girl decided he was worthy would she encourage further chat and maybe more. John shuddered inside at the power women held just for a guy to get a bit of pussy. Men were so god damn gullible when it came to getting their leg over. John surveyed the pub; there were women barely dressed in his opinion, flaunting themselves and begging for it.
No wonder things happen to them
, he thought, almost visibly grindinghis teeth. He felt uncomfortable, mixed feelings between arousal, jealousy and resentment,
fucking bitches
; his temper was starting to boil and he found himself feeling unable to remain calm and maintain his façade of normality.
Since killing his wife, John could not stop thinking about the arousal and the ultimate power he had felt as he took the most precious gift from his traitor of a wife, her life! He craved that fix again, that power. He wanted to feel his blood surge through his veins once again, pulse racing; feel that stiffness of his cock again as the desperation of another woman to survive thrilled him like never
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