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The Act of Murder
The Act of Murder
December 26, 2009
He stalks around the already furnished apartment possibly from the previous owner, he thinks quietly to himself maintaining a low profile walking side to side as he stares at the old worn Laz-Z-Boy recliner an old favorite to the previous owner in the study, whilst a caged animal roars within the depths of his mind waiting impatiently to be released and yet through the corner of his eye, he watches as his female realtor stops placing smooth soft yet unmistakingly feminine hands upon her hips, crossing her arms she lazily whispers in a soft dramatic yet remarkably sarcastic tone, “Sir, if you do intend to buy this property; you should know, the previous owner of this apartment committed suicide here, two months ago.” He watches her sigh; it revealed of her compassion and sympathy for the dead. He scuffs around the apartment in his new balance shoes softly shifting his weight from side to side in distaste an old habit he picked up from his father showing of his uncaring for the dead.
His mind begins to fantasize this woman making love to him at his mercy, she cries out in pleasure as he takes in her depth of beauty; golden blonde hair, catlike green eyes with a gentle flawless smile. “Sir?” She asks as the fantasy dies away, she touches his forearm grabbing his immediate attention, where a hint of electricity, chemistry, and attraction lingered. Whether she felt it or not, he has no idea. She quickly moves her hand away whilst her cheeks blush scarlet. “Now, if you have any questions, I live directly across the hall over there.” She points, as he walks closer to her. “Now what say we go grab a cup of coffee?” He waves across the room to the door, grasping his keys. She nods. “I’d go for that.” A smile tugged at the sides of her mouth a playful one he assumed it was because of caffeine withdrawl. Once he leaves the room, she walks fast to catch up to him. “So what do you do?” He sighs; every girl he has ever known fell for it. “Nothing. I’m still looking for a job.” He grasps her hand opening the door for her. “You’re a gentleman.” She whispers. “We’re a dying breed.” He smiles feeling proud of his personality. He watches her draw her Starbucks gift card. “It’s on me.” She says. “You can pay me back later.” He nods already thinking of multiple ways to pay her back. He just stands there silently watching her pay for both drinks.
Fifteen minutes later, they arrive back at her apartment. “Thanks for the coffee.” He whispers, walking away towards his own apartment scraping his feet against the floor. “Wait.” She tells him. “Won’t you come in?” She asks, opening the door. She waltzs in first, letting him follow. “Nice place for a realtor.” She chuckles almost to herself. “Not my place. My father left it for me in his will.” He remains silent walking up to her. He cups her chin, one of her hands came up on top of his. She laid her head against his own hand. Maybe her life was as empty as his might have been. His lips came onto hers, he felt the wetness of her tears onto his cheeks. They died on their chins. Could he have been crying as well? Her hands came onto his forearms, not as an escape mechanism, but to connect. He saw the redness in her eyes. Could she see his redness in his eyes? He wonders. “Are you all right Miss?” He asks smiling at her. Every girl seemed to fall for the smile as well. Are all women like this? She smiles back and nods.

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