The morning had been a long time coming.
He had been awake all night, his mind filled by memories of the night before. They ran through his mind as fast flickers. The woman in her bedroom, talking into the webcam, in her panties, one leg pulled up to her chest. Her frightened look when she saw him. He waited for the tremble of arousal, but it didn’t come. He felt unfulfilled. He tried to recall the other two women. Deborah. Jane. Young. Perfect skin. Blonde streaks in Deborah’s brunette hair. Arms folded. Angry. Self-contained. The look of surprise. Dragging her into the van. Then that knowledge, the awareness that she was going under. She surrendered.
He still didn’t feel finished. He thought back to the other woman from earlier in the week, the one he had dragged into the alley. He didn’t know her name. He tried to use that, but the memory was no good. It hadn’t been right. Too spontaneous. Just another woman. He thought he was past that.
He stared up at the Artex ceiling. Daylight had spread across it now. He could see a spider in the corner, winding its silver tracks. He thought he could hear it, soft shuffles across the paintwork, but then as he concentrated, he realised it was something else. Faint murmurs. The whispers that came to him when he was unfulfilled.
He looked down. His hands were gripping the sheets, his knuckles white. He wasn’t going into work today. It wouldn’t matter any more after today. He knew who he wanted. He was missing one last piece. The need that screamed to him when everything else was quiet.
His thoughts flashed back to the night before. Not even the fear in her eyes was enough to satisfy him. That was just a taster, and it had been a mistake. He hadn’t thought it through.
He threw back the covers. He needed more. He wouldn’t be distracted.
As the thought of his target for the day came to him, he smiled and felt himself grow hard. But no, not yet. Don’t dampen the fire.