The following story is based off of a VAST song titled Tattoo of Her Name. I don’t know why I decided to pen this tale, but the song took me, and I knew I had to type it out. Something about sometimes being a vessel for some greater good. Don’t ask. Anyways, I just wanted everyone to understand that this story is meant to be tongue and cheek. I don’t condone murder, or adultery. I just have a twisted sense of humor… In fact, I don’t even quite know where to post it… Erotic Horror, or Humor & Satire. I’ll post first in the later of the two. Which is the purpose for this warning. I’m sick and twisted. In what you would call ‘fetishes’ and ‘humor’. Basically, I’m not the person you want your kids to be around. But I am quite useful as a bad example. Feel free to always tell your children not to grow up weird like me. I tell my own children that. ^__^
Alice and I had been seeing each other for about 4 months, she was married, but said her and her husband were not working out. She never did go into details about it. But she always had these strange bruises in strange places on her body. That looked remarkably like hand prints, and belt buckles. But when I questioned her about them, she would always have some story as to how she had gotten them. Like falling down, or running into tables. Or she’d quickly change the subject with one of her mind blowing blow jobs. And once she had my cock in her mouth, there was no thinking about anything other than what she was doing…
We had planned to meet up next Wednesday at a coffee shop in the foothills of the mountains. The place we always ‘meet up’ at. She always insisted on never meeting in the town we lived in. And if we saw each other randomly on the street, we’d pass like strangers. I thought it genius at the time. Here we were this sexy little couple, this in love couple, and no one knew a fucking thing!
But that Wednesday, she never showed. It didn’t take me long to worry about her. So I started to drive by her house, or places I knew she would be, to just see if she was okay. I mean, we might not have ever really ‘talked’ about it, but I knew her husband beat her. It was so obvious. I must have driven by those places for a month straight before I finally saw her walking to her car. I know she saw me too, I slowed just long enough to make sure of it. I was letting her know she had better call me. Or risk her husband finding out about the two of us. She didn’t let me down. She called me that night. She said she was at a friends house, but she was there with her husband, so she had to be quick. She asked if we could meet at two in the morning. She asked to meet off of a country road out to the east of town. I agreed, and told her I loved her. I’ll never forget what she said after that,
‘I’ll hold you to that.’ I didn’t think much of it then, but if I knew then what I know now, I would have never gone to meet her that night.
When I pulled up to the spot I noticed a car parked off the side of the road. As I passed it, I cursed, if someone was already there, she’d just drive right by. FUCK! I wanted to see her so bad. I wanted to know how she was, and why she didn’t show. No sooner had I passed the parked car, than it flashed it’s brights at me. Instinctively I knew it was her. I slowed, and came to a stop on the shoulder, before slowly reversing. Before I could even put the car in park, there was a knock on the passenger side window, it was her. She was wearing big dark sunglasses, and a coat with long jeans, even though it was out of character for her at this time of year. I unlocked the doors, and she climbed in. Her mascara was already running down her face from behind her glasses. And her whole body shook with the force she was exerting to keep herself from crying still. I could feel my heart rate quicken, and I asked her,
‘Alice, I want you to tell me the truth. Are all the bruises you have all the time from your husband?’ I knew the answer. I kept my hand on my wheel, and my eye straight forward, and tried to brace myself from the rage that was building inside of me, as she said,
‘Yes. Frank beats me.’ My blood began to boil, my fists tightened on the steering wheel till my knuckles were white. My shoulders tightened as I drew in a deep breath. I closed my eyes tight, and exhaled. And through greeted teeth I ask,
‘Is there anything I can do to make it better?’ And slowly re-opened my eyes, and turned my head to look her deep in her eyes as she removed her sunglasses to reveal a busted lip, and a black eye. And she said,
‘Honey, you should make him go away.’ And she kissed me, while I lowered my seat, and she crawled on top of me. We’d always fuck in my car. I’d drive around for the next week smelling her sweet perfume, and her own lust. You know that intoxicating smell of your woman, it can make a guy do some pretty criminal things. The things ‘love’ will do to you… She went into detail about her plan, and how it would all work out…
There’s a hundred thousand dollars in the bank, and he just took out a life insurance policy yesterday. You just have to make it look like a gang hit. The cops will buy that with my husband.’ She breathed in my ear as she took my already erect cock out of my pants and began to stroke it playfully. She slowly started to rub the head of my cock on her wet pussy, teasing me with it. She knew just how to get to me. Before I knew it I was saying,
‘Baby, for you, I’d do anything.’ As she slowly lowered herself on me. She began to rhythmically push off of me, and then pull back down. Kissing my neck, biting my lower lip when we kissed. My hands were busy grabbing at her perfectly shaped ass, grinding her against me. Holding her tight when we kissed, touching, and rubbing her ample breasts. Sucking on her pert nipples. And in a moan she said,
‘We could move to Paris until everything is worked out, and safe back here.’ Meanwhile, I had latched onto her hips, as I held her in place to quicken my thrusts in her tight pussy. I knew I didn’t have much more time before I came. And I know she liked it when I pounded her pussy ruthlessly. And I had to give her an orgasm before I could get mine, just the kind of guy I am. And to show her gratitude that I always put her before myself, she’s always swallow my loads. After she had sucked every last drop from me, she looked up at me, and with her tear stained face, and blood shoot eyes asked,
‘So it’s settled then?’ I nodded yes, and kissed her deeply before pulling away and saying,
‘I’ll get a gun.’ She smiled sweetly at me and as she pulled my face to hers said,
‘When you do it, I should be out of state. So I have an alibi, just in case.’ And then kissed me, before quickly crawling out of my car and back into the one she had driven here. As I straightened myself out, I saw her drive away in my review mirror. As I drove back to town all I could think of was how bad I wanted that son-of-a-bitch dead. I bought a gun, and a mask without having to use a name. And when I knew Alice would be safely out of town, I waited for her husband to leave work. When I saw him cross the parking lot, I felt hot and cold. Like there was suddenly a war for my soul. After he got into his car, I walked up and unload my gun in his chest. And as he lay there bleeding out, looking up at me, I pulled the mask off my face and said,
‘You’ll never lay a hand on her again!’ And I ran to a pay phone to call Alice, to tell her it was done. God was she good, she started to cry? I could hear someone’s voice in the background, consoling her. I tried to reach her on the other end, but she must have dropped the receiver. I yelled to get her back on the line, to know what was going to happen now. To see if she was okay.
It’s funny how life is what happens to you while you’re busy making plans. She called the cops, and told them I was some depraved soul that had shot her husband in order to ‘have’ her. It helped her case that she had started gett
ing her neighbors to start noticing when I was driving by her house. Or her friends when I would drive past any other place she might have been.
You see, there was never any policy, or money. And all those bruises were from her martial arts class. The Instructor even confirmed her story. They had the gun with my prints all over it. I was tried by a jury of my peers. They felt I had motive. The judge sentenced me to one hundred thousand years, all the while she was in the courtroom, crying her fake tears.
The whole trial, she held on to her lawyer’s hand, and they always both looked so damn tired. Like they never slept at night. Never once looked me in the eyes, even though I stared at her. From the moment of my arrest I knew how it was going to go. I knew that I was always just her pawn. So now, she lives in Paris, with her layer, and I will never have parole.