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I'm like an addict taking a swig after years of abstinence, and it feels damn good to do so. I crumple the newspaper I'm reading into a ball, throwing it into the nearby trash can, when a change in the air alone lets me know she's near. I don't know what it is exactly. A certain scent, a change of the atmosphere. Wild strawberries and champagne. The sound of her heels on the pavement. Click-clack-click-clack.
I force myself to turn around and show my back to her even though it's the hardest thing I've had to do all day. I have to fight the red mist, so I don't jump out and pull her to me. But what happens next makes my heart race.
Just as she passes me, I hear the clamor of her heels slow down, and she seems to hesitate for just a split second as though she senses something. She continues on her way almost instantly, but that one moment, that small pause... it gives me hope.
She still remembers me. June Miller née Wildfox still knows who owns her.
I look over my shoulder in time to see her turn the corner, and I follow seamlessly in her step. If I were to die now, I would be a happy man—if I got to take June to the depths of hell with me. I come up just close enough to see the skin of the back of her neck erupt in goose bumps. I let myself breathe her in, taking in her heady, fruity scent. I can sense she knows someone is behind her, so I stop by a flower vendor next to the street.
She crosses the street as if she's afraid to look behind her, but when she's on the other side, she turns around hesitantly, slowly... and our eyes meet. Pure joy overtakes me when I see the fear in her eyes as her gaze meets mine. I see her shiver, and I feel the sensation repeating in my own body. Just then, a truck drives by, stopping at a red light and cutting our forbidden connection. I take my chance and slide into a side alley, ducking behind a dumpster where she'll never spot me. My eyes are still glued to the spot where I saw her last, and my heart beats faster as I watch the truck drive away.
As soon as it's gone, I see her, frozen to the spot. She's glued to the pavement, staring at the place where I was a second ago. Her mouth gapes in shock, her eyes glassy as she tries to convince herself I was nothing but a mirage. I smirk as she goes on, stumbling when she takes her next step. She's feeling confused, lost, scared, and it feels fucking good to know I can still rouse a reaction out of her.
Damn fucking good.I follow June to work, watching her walk into the building. After that, I walk around aimlessly, my thoughts filled with her. That silky hair, the creamy skin. Her perfect breasts, her tight pussy. All I need.
I end up next to a college where people are lounging on the lawn and doing some studying in the sun. I don't know why, but I find pleasure in observing people. I don't watch them, trying to imagine the stories of their lives like a normal person would. I look at them, imagining how best to hurt them.
And it just so happens that I spot the perfect victim. She's another June lookalike, but so different once again. She's younger, about eighteen I'd say. Her hair is shorter than June's, in a bob brushing her chin. She's got those striking blue eyes June has, though not quite the same shade. And a banging body.
However, she's different than young June ever was. We were best friends when we were kids, and I still remember her like it was yesterday. Naive, sweet, soft... So innocent. This girl has a certain hardness to her, like a knowledge of the world. I'm sure she's had sex before, given head and swallowed cum. And when our eyes meet across the lawn, and she offers a lazy smile, I know she's a goner. I don't even have to walk over to her. She says goodbye to her friends and strolls to me on the lawn, offering what I'm sure she thinks is a seductive smile.
"Hey," she says with a Southern accent. A Southern belle. She will be perfect to spoil and fucking ruin.
"Couldn't stay away?" I ask lazily, getting straight to the point. Her eyes shine with surprise, but only for a second, then she returns a small smile.
"Want to see my room?" she offers. A girl who gets straight to the point—how tacky. June would never do that.
"I'd rather have you bent over a park bench and fuck you while everyone here watches," I offer with a smirk, and her mouth drops open in a shocked o-shape. A smile replaces it pretty soon, and I know it's a done deal. I take her by the arm, not the hand. That's what she wants, that's what she deserves. I clasp her forearm in an iron grip and pull her behind me. We walk until we're blocks away, and she doesn't make a sound, just clatters behind me in her chunky heeled ankle boots.
