She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

He watched her through a slit in the blinds, mindful not to make any sudden movement that would give him away. He watched, he leered and as he did so he thought of what they would, could do together, if she was willing, if she was willing to overlook his current arrangement.

Guilt swept over him as he thought of how well he had it now, now that he was safely ensconced in this humble, but luxurious surroundings. Luxury is what you make of it. He remembered when he made life seem wonderful and beautiful in an old cardboard box under some overpass. Or the times he spent hanging around the lobby of a fine summer hotel at the seaside.

The pickings were always good at the seaside, the shore, the beach where vacationers were willing to abandon all sensibilities and take risks that back home they would avoid. Avoid like the plague. Does any get the plague anymore? Those filthy vermin rats, those weasel faced pests, filthy and degenerate, covered in fleas and open sores from fights among themselves.

Yes, at the seaside, he liked the seaside, the attention, the abandon, the free love with no regrets. Some of his best and favorite conquests took place there on a long lonely summer night when all decorum was tossed aside. Sitting there listening to laments about missing boy friends, companions, lovers, the abandoned needing someone to listen to them, to cry on. He was always more than willing. More than willing.

One summer he tried to keep count and gave up after the second week, there were just too many. The willing and able would come around to his place and spend the night, maybe he would let them leave, maybe he would keep them prisoner. They would become beguiled, hypnotized by him just being him. He was the provider, the hunter, the gatherer as they would fall slave to his charms. When they were at their most vulnerable, he would pounce and they would love him for his honesty, his brutality and his sense of the artistic. Those that went away, went away satisfied, those that stayed became part of his harem, his followers waiting their turn to be with him the master. He loved the shore, the seaside, the beach, the summer.

There was a time when runaways, strays fell in to his life. He enjoyed playing the rogue, the rebel, and the unappreciated all the while living in that box under an underpass. There he collected the unwanted, the unwashed as they moved about and through his city. He hated being homeless except for the nights, those long sultry nights spent with as many companions as he could squeeze in to his corrugated cardboard palace. They would cry at his doorstep wanting to get in to share in his feast. Sometimes his lust became violent, spilling blood, wounding the weak, the weak he tossed aside and then awarded the strong with his warm body. Body upon body all through the long night.

In the morning glow of the sunrise they would scatter, afraid to be found out and collected, to have their freedom revoked all in the name of civilization. Spending the day alone wandering scrounging for food and then bringing back prizes he collected to the box as the sun set.

He shuddered, that was then, now he was here. Always warm, comfortable in the winter, cool in the summer, and free to do what he wanted. Today he wanted to watch her romp around on the front porch showing off her body stretching and moaning. He peaked through the blind again, through a special slot he had made that allowed him to stare out without being observed from the outside. It allowed him to make plans, to watch, to study and observe all those little things that make up a quarry’s personality, looking for the weak spot, that vulnerable point that he could take advantage of.

As he watched he became more and more excited, another test, another trial of his wants and desires. He knew that he desired her. He thought of the method to lure her in to his lair, wondering if she was the inquisitive type or the coquette, playing shy and needing to be lulled with fancy words on how beautiful she was.

He left the window to get a drink, the cool water refreshing his body and his mind. His soul stayed away from the refreshment, the healing soothing waters, it wanted more of the fantasy of her on the porch. He could no longer resist and went back to his perch on the table set just inside the front window. From there it allowed him to look out at the world. Through the slit in the blind his eyes chased squirrels, birds, dogs and the occasional cat. Today his eyes were locked on a stray tabby that had decided that the warm sunshine flooding the front porch was a good place to stretch and maybe nap unaware that she was being observed by an old tiger. An old tiger that had been rescued from a shelter and who was now a domesticated resident of the house. He yawned, grew tired of the fantasy and the memories, then after a good cleaning decided to take a well deserved rest.