Cold Ethel

I’d been watching her for some time. She was tall and limber, skinny to boot, just the way I like ’em. She had long, brown hair and big, brown eyes. She was pretty in a home baked way, but not enough to mistake her for a model. I’d seen some guy approach her with some ruse about how he worked for a modeling agency and how they were looking for some new talent. I was so very disappointed with her, when she went for it, agreeing to dinner with the guy and then when he made his move, inviting him up. The slut. I’d show her. I watched from the shadows in my apartment how she let the guy fuck her like a dog. Bitch.

I named her Ethel. She had some other name before, didn’t matter to me. When we met, everything was different, the slate wiped clean, so why shouldn’t she have a new name to go with the new start?

When I first saw her, she had just started as an assistant in the same company as myself. I was in the I.T. department and I came in to install her new computer. She was sitting in a meeting room taking minutes and her colleague pointed her out to me through the glass. I knew that instant; I had to have her. She would see that before the end too.

Next couple of weeks I tried to meet her at her desk several times, but every time I came, she was away. So she was playing hard to get. I was going to have be wily about this. It started small. I found out everything I could from her public profiles; company intranet, Facebook, MySpace. I hacked into her personnel file and medical records. Nearly got caught then too, but I was too good for them. I found nothing tangible that I could use to get close to her. So she was still evading my pursuit. I started to follow her around. Mostly home from work. To make it easier, I moved into the apartment complex right next to hers. She never recognized me on the street.

Then, after about a month I started following her, I made a move. I waited in the hallway of her apartment complex on a night I knew some ladies at the office, including her, were going to have a ladies night out. I bumped into her on purpose, when she was coming out of her apartment, pretending it was accidental, caused by my intent peering into my cellphone. I muttered an apology while attempting to pick up an item I’d dropped. Pretending to have a bum knee, I tried in vain to pick it up and finally, giving up, asked her to. She was very gracious about it and I had the chance I needed to tape over the cavity for the lock on her door, leaving it unlocked for me. I pretended to keep going upstairs, peering into the screen of my mobile. When I heard the downstairs door shut after her, I went in. I had some wireless cameras and microphones with me and I set them up and hid them around her apartment and then I went home and waited for her. She brought home another man. The nerve of her. Betrayal, thy name is Ethel.

Then and there I decided it was time to make my move. The next day when she was at work, I went to her apartment and waited. When she came in and turned on the lights, she got a little scared.
“Shh, it’s all right.”
“What the fuck are you doing here? Get out right now! I’m calling the police!”
“Baby, don’t be like that.”
She stopped in the middle of searching for her phone, stared at me and bolted. Of course I was ready for it. Women sometimes react like that to me. I caught her at the door and she started to scream, as I set myself before her and the door. I grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the wall a few times. By the second time she went limp and crumpled to a heap on the floor. I bent over her to see if she was still breathing and realized she had expired. No matter, she’d be easier to handle this way.

So I loaded her up into a big suitcase and took her home. Now we can dance together every night.

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