Like I said, I followed the address.
I found it quite easily, actually. She made it easy to find, that is. One Ms. Marie Jameson. She was a beauty. So much so that I couldn’t just have my methods with her. She was a rose, in an otherwise dried up patch of dirt.
The poppies were jealous but they were plentiful, so I ignored them. I took her to dinner.
She was anxious, she was perfect. The food was delectable. We ate over two bottles of wine and candle light. I, in my suit and tie, she, in her mini skirt and tank top. I had taken her off the job, she had been working Hayes Street, outside a closed liquor store downtown Beaversdale.
But she was beautiful. I had to get out my special monocle for such the event. We talked through the evening, and I returned to her place later that night.
I of course did not forget my purpose there. I knew what to ask, what to look for. I needed to find her, even in the presence of Ms. Marie. Her home was in dire straits, a broken in and run down apartment at the end of a row of doors, the screams and roughage of sex abundant from every direction.
The knock at the door within our speaking interrupted my most important question. The one where I put my gun to Ms. Marie’s face and ask where she is. I was of course distraught. Who could possibly be invading on the privacy of one such beautiful woman? I needn’t think long nor hard, for the door was shortly unlocked.
In entered ‘Mikey P’, Ms. Marie’s ‘Owner’. He was not happy with my presence, and almost asked for me to leave, unless I were to… ‘pay double’. Surely he did not expect me to pay such a beautiful young woman, as if she were a simple whore?
And yet, he had.
I told Ms. Marie to shut her eyes, it was to be unpleasant, this ‘Mikey P’s’ fate. I did not wish to leave stains within her home of this infidel’s blood, nor did I wish to sully myself against his body.
I helped him to himself.
I made it quick, for he had surely already placed his foot in his mouth without my help.
Ms. Marie was furious. I understood, she didn’t want his body in her home. I offered her a way out. I handed my self to her, and she took it. I was most pleased. Maybe Ms. Marie didn’t know where she was, maybe Ms. Marie wouldn’t have to be asked.
I so very liked her, I don’t think I could have let her of been questioned, not in the method I used.
So I ran with her. We mounted my motorcycle and tore into the night, chasing the horizon.
What?
No, you’re very right. I did not make it that far without killing someone else.
… It wasn’t right.
I’d thought I’d loved her.
You’ll find Ms. Marie’s body in the ravine off of Jameson Street just a few miles past Beaverdale. I thought it fitting I bade her farewell under her own namesake.
I found it quite easily, actually. She made it easy to find, that is. One Ms. Marie Jameson. She was a beauty. So much so that I couldn’t just have my methods with her. She was a rose, in an otherwise dried up patch of dirt.
The poppies were jealous but they were plentiful, so I ignored them. I took her to dinner.
She was anxious, she was perfect. The food was delectable. We ate over two bottles of wine and candle light. I, in my suit and tie, she, in her mini skirt and tank top. I had taken her off the job, she had been working Hayes Street, outside a closed liquor store downtown Beaversdale.
But she was beautiful. I had to get out my special monocle for such the event. We talked through the evening, and I returned to her place later that night.
I of course did not forget my purpose there. I knew what to ask, what to look for. I needed to find her, even in the presence of Ms. Marie. Her home was in dire straits, a broken in and run down apartment at the end of a row of doors, the screams and roughage of sex abundant from every direction.
The knock at the door within our speaking interrupted my most important question. The one where I put my gun to Ms. Marie’s face and ask where she is. I was of course distraught. Who could possibly be invading on the privacy of one such beautiful woman? I needn’t think long nor hard, for the door was shortly unlocked.
In entered ‘Mikey P’, Ms. Marie’s ‘Owner’. He was not happy with my presence, and almost asked for me to leave, unless I were to… ‘pay double’. Surely he did not expect me to pay such a beautiful young woman, as if she were a simple whore?
And yet, he had.
I told Ms. Marie to shut her eyes, it was to be unpleasant, this ‘Mikey P’s’ fate. I did not wish to leave stains within her home of this infidel’s blood, nor did I wish to sully myself against his body.
I helped him to himself.
I made it quick, for he had surely already placed his foot in his mouth without my help.
Ms. Marie was furious. I understood, she didn’t want his body in her home. I offered her a way out. I handed my self to her, and she took it. I was most pleased. Maybe Ms. Marie didn’t know where she was, maybe Ms. Marie wouldn’t have to be asked.
I so very liked her, I don’t think I could have let her of been questioned, not in the method I used.
So I ran with her. We mounted my motorcycle and tore into the night, chasing the horizon.
What?
No, you’re very right. I did not make it that far without killing someone else.
… It wasn’t right.
I’d thought I’d loved her.
You’ll find Ms. Marie’s body in the ravine off of Jameson Street just a few miles past Beaverdale. I thought it fitting I bade her farewell under her own namesake.