Chapter Twenty.

She was probably a stripper, Avery thought to himself. The kind of woman who not only expected men to watch her, but also actually got upset when they didn't. He watched her short skirt slide up a little as she uncrossed her legs to shift around on the barstool. The smooth tanned skin only revealed that she probably spent a fortune at tanning salons.

He wondered what she would be like. Would she fight him or would she accept him? She looked like a demanding bitch, but once she was unconscious she would be just like a doll. She had a beautiful face and the long blonde hair. He felt a sudden urge to walk up to her. With the pretense of needing a drink, he patiently made his way to the bar, past the other patrons all standing in groups waiting for a table to become available.

As he stepped up the bar, he brushed up against her lightly but on purpose. He ignored her as she turned to him, watching the bartender. She stared at him, as if trying to drill holes into him, until he turned toward her. Smiling coyly, she looked him up and down, almost as if in invitation.

Avery dropped his eyes to the darkness of her cleavage and then back up to her face. She didn�t even have the courtesy to blush. He turned back to the bartender, who had finally made her way back to the end of the bar where he stood. He ordered a glass of wine and set several bills down. It would make a good prop, he had no intention of drinking it. As the bartender turned back to pour his drink, the woman on the stool next to him reached a hand up and touched his arm.

"Hi, my name is Alicia," she said with a smile. He looked at her again, noticing for the first time the slight wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. She was a bit older than he first realized. That tipped the odds in his favor a little more.

"Hello," he said and walked back toward the door with the glass of wine. He could feel her eyes on his back. As he expected, she took it as a challenge and shortly after he resumed his post by the door, she came walking toward him.

"So, what's your name?" she asked. He enjoyed her persistence, and the control he had that she wasn�t even aware of. It was something she did on a subconscious level, while he was doing it purposefully.

He looked out over the crowd, at six foot and three inches tall, he was nearly a head or more taller than most of the people in the bar. "It's Daniel," he told her. She slid up closer to him, so close that he could feel the heat from her body. His gaze stopped on several of the faces in the room and then moved on. He looked back down at the woman and set his glass down on the closest table. "Excuse me," he said as he laid his hand gently on her shoulder and moved past her out the door.

He wasn't sure if she would actually follow him, sometimes they didn't. If she did not follow him outside, perhaps he would return later to see if she was still here. He walked down the street to the next nightclub. Showing his ID at the door, he went inside, heading straight to the farthest dark corner. A few minutes later, he saw the blonde come in and look around. It appeared that she was alone, that would make things much easier.

Avery left the dark corner of the club and walked up to her. "Do you want to go get a cup of coffee?" he asked her. Nodding and smiling, she walked out the door with him. She chatted randomly, her words a meaningless droning in his ears. As they reached the darkened part of the street by his car, he glanced around quickly. No one was paying attention as he pulled back and hit her hard at the back of her head. He caught her before she crumpled to the ground, and carried her to his car. He unlocked the passenger side door and set her down inside.

He drove home carefully, obeying every signal and sign. He pressed the button to the automatic garage door opener and pulled his car into the garage. Pushing the button again to close the door, he lifted the woman out of the car and carried her downstairs into the basement.

This time would be a little different. He had brought women home before, but he preferred to go to their houses, in case there were any problems, or accidents. He laid her down on the futon. From underneath the base, he pulled out the cords he had placed there earlier. Taking her clothes off, he folded them and set them on the floor at the head of the bed. He gently tied her wrists and ankles, making sure there was no slack in the rope. When he was finished, he climbed the stairs to prepare himself.

In the bathroom, he took out the black paint. He dipped his fingers into it and drew streaks diagonally across his face. Then just under his eyes, he drew another line straight across. Looking in the mirror at his handiwork, he decided to add a bit of color. He picked up the small pot of red paint and added the finishing touches to his mask.

He undressed, setting his clothes neatly on the counter. The muscles in his back rippled as he flexed them while he walked back to the basement. The woman appeared to be waking up, her head moving and her eyelids fluttering. He was already hard as he got up on the futon, holding himself above her. Her eyes opened just as he rammed into her, she inhaled to scream and he slapped his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. Her wide eyes stared at him as he pounded furiously. His hand slipped down to her neck, the fingers wrapping tightly around her throat. With a primal scream, he came; squeezing tightly and cracking the hyoid bone inside her neck. He didn't notice her face; he saw only the eyes as the light in them went out.