1
The man skulked
in the alleyway, watching as the relentless crowd of pedestrians passed. He was
searching for someone, someone new. Several women went by, each catching his
eye and making his pulse quicken. Some of the ladies were professionals heading
home; others were groups of girlfriends going to the movies or out drinking.
The man suppressed annoyance at the fact that all were in groups. He wanted one
alone, and so he stood in the dark of the alley, fondling himself through his
pants pocket, getting ready for what was to come. Finally, he saw one that
really got his motor running: a leggy redhead in a dark emerald-green dress.
She was tall, and her dress was cut low enough to reveal a good amount of
cleavage and just high enough that he could catch glimpses of thigh as she walks.
He stepped
out of the alley just before she reached him, moving casually. Clapping a hand
to his face, he fell to his knees, acting like he’s searching for something.
"What’s
wrong?" she asked, concerned.
"Ah, I
lost my damned contact lens...Would you mind helping me look for it?"
She crouched,
seeming to prefer keeping her dress clean over modesty. Perhaps she was going
to meet a date. Her underwear certainly supported that theory; a flash of black
satin between her legs excited the man far more than his fondling himself could
have. She started sweeping her hands over the pavement, searching for a lens
that isn’t there.
"Damn it,
damn it, damn it...I just got these lenses, my wife’s gonna give me hell for
losing one already..."
"Maybe
it rolled into the alley," she offered, "let’s check there." He
nodded and began crawling toward the alley, still searching for the lens while
the woman duck walked, overtaking then passing him.
When they
were far enough into the alley to avoid being seen, the man tackled the woman,
putting a hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. No words passed between
victim and attacker; the only sounds that could be heard were the grunts of the
man as he tried desperately to wriggle his member free of his jeans and the muffled
cries from the woman. Neither of them heard the soft thump of something falling
in the mouth of the alley. Not falling, no, in truth it was a leap.
I’d been
watching the whole mummer’s farce from a fire escape above. I always waited until
moments before the crime was committed; the attacker would be off his guard and
the victim was more likely to break and run after being saved. It seemed a bit cruel,
perhaps, to let the woman be attacked at all, but I wasn't a mind reader; I had
to be one hundred percent sure he was a predator. I grabbed the sleaze bag by
the neck and threw him like a ragdoll into a midden heap. The woman, weeping
and still trying to scream, scrambled to her feet and fled like a doe that had
scented a hunter. Not a poor metaphor; there was a hunter here and I let him
take over.
I stepped toward
the rapist as I transformed and grabbed him by the throat when he tried to run.
Slamming him against the wall to give him a taste of what he’d done to nearly
twenty women, I let the glow of the nearby streetlight fall on my face. He saw
murder in my flaming red eyes and knew he was dead even before I sank my fangs
into his throat and started to drink.
****
Obviously there's no plot in this brief bit, in fact the plot doesn't kick in for several more pages. Just though I'd share the opening scene, because I think it's a great idea, even if I don't think its spectacularly written.
