|Posted by Alyssa Drake on February 4, 2019 at 3:55 AM|
He slipped across the floor. A shadow hiding in the soft folds of the room’s heavy curtains, which lined the walls and rose to the ceiling like a black forest of velvet. His stocking feet made no sound as he glided over the plush, deep red carpet. The color stretched halfway across the room and melted into the silvery hue of the company’s elegant logo. Virtually Yours, a notoriously exclusive dating club, which boasted all the pleasures and passion of an affair without the consequences.
He paused next to a black leather chair, halfway reclined in the center of the room. His thumb caressed the embroidered silver and pink emblem stitched into the headrest. Black nylon restraints, poised in stiff half-circles, waited impatiently for the next patron. The unusual precaution, a necessity after an unnamed–and well compensated–customer fractured their cheekbone during a particularly violent sexual encounter, prevented the participant from falling to the ground during ecstasy. He smirked. The very same automated safety restraint system also prevented the person from escaping.
His fingers trailed lightly down one of the leather arms, stroking the supple material. Memories flooded his mind; her body writhing beneath him, blood trailing from the corner of her lips and dripping seductively down her soft skin–a crimson river of death–and the screaming… Desire coursed through his veins.
Caressing the arm, his fingertips brushed over tiny gouge marks that were dug into the underside of the arm; little half-moon shapes of anguish. Savannah. How she shrieked with pleasure… and with pain. His only regret was killing her too quickly. This time would be different. This time he would draw out his ecstasy.