HANLEY
TWO WEEKS. ONE DAY PRIOR. He watched as she slipped the evening gown off. She slid the straps over her shoulders and moved slightly toward the bed. It slinked down her slender body to the floor. She was his prize and he allowed himself to feel the want. His heart rate gained speed and his hands ached to feel her soft skin.She moved closer to where he sat waiting on the bed. Her hands caressing her body, they stretched out to him. He lunged for her, taking her in his arms and their lips met. Hungry. He flipped her over to the bed and pulled away for air. She was beautiful. Long blonde hair, deep blue eyes. She laughed and tried to pull him near. He was satisfied.
His hands were fast. Her neck snapped like a twig. She lay in his arms, the warmth draining from her. He tiled his head, mesmerized. Gently he set her back on the bed. his eyes traced her body as it wriggled, the last remnants of air leaving. She had been beautiful. Maybe as a child. Careless. Carefree. His hand pulled the sheets over her and he stood.
The room was much bigger now then he had remembered. He found her purse and went through it. Nothing. Moved to her dress. His fingers groping the silky fabric. Nothing. Then he went back to her. Removed the sheets and ripped the oval charmed necklace from her neck. He flipped a button. Flash. Damn. She's intelligent.
He stood and slipped the the gadget into his pocket. Quick, he exited the hotel room.
The hallway led him in a maze. He pulled a phone from his pocket. Dialed numbers. Send. His eyes smiled as he paused at the janitorial elevators. As he waited for its arrival the phone stopped ringing and he put it to his ear.
He listened.
"She was intelligent."
He listened.
He threw the phone down and crushed it with the heel of his boot. His fingers sifted through the debris and he pocketed the sim card. The elevators opened. He nodded to a cleaning lady. Flashed a boyish smile to which she blushed. He turned for the door that read "stairwell". Seventy-two floors. Typical.
____________________
The aged man sat in his parked car. His hands sore with arthritis. he felt his body deteriorating with each call. Someone was playing a game. Someone. The "who" were a couple of choices. Few he couldn't bring himself to think about. His phone vibrated in the palm of his right hand.
"Yes."
He listened.
"Your export is damaged."
He hung up and crushed the phone against the dashboard with one fatal blow.
His hands were fast. Her neck snapped like a twig. She lay in his arms, the warmth draining from her. He tiled his head, mesmerized. Gently he set her back on the bed. his eyes traced her body as it wriggled, the last remnants of air leaving. She had been beautiful. Maybe as a child. Careless. Carefree. His hand pulled the sheets over her and he stood.
The room was much bigger now then he had remembered. He found her purse and went through it. Nothing. Moved to her dress. His fingers groping the silky fabric. Nothing. Then he went back to her. Removed the sheets and ripped the oval charmed necklace from her neck. He flipped a button. Flash. Damn. She's intelligent.
He stood and slipped the the gadget into his pocket. Quick, he exited the hotel room.
The hallway led him in a maze. He pulled a phone from his pocket. Dialed numbers. Send. His eyes smiled as he paused at the janitorial elevators. As he waited for its arrival the phone stopped ringing and he put it to his ear.
He listened.
"She was intelligent."
He listened.
He threw the phone down and crushed it with the heel of his boot. His fingers sifted through the debris and he pocketed the sim card. The elevators opened. He nodded to a cleaning lady. Flashed a boyish smile to which she blushed. He turned for the door that read "stairwell". Seventy-two floors. Typical.
____________________
The aged man sat in his parked car. His hands sore with arthritis. he felt his body deteriorating with each call. Someone was playing a game. Someone. The "who" were a couple of choices. Few he couldn't bring himself to think about. His phone vibrated in the palm of his right hand.
"Yes."
He listened.
"Your export is damaged."
He hung up and crushed the phone against the dashboard with one fatal blow.
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