Handyman

Handy Men Come in Handy

Her hair draped over her eyes and left cheek as she slept. He enjoyed watching her sleep. The gentle rise and fall of her breast as she breathed, the moist trail of spit from her lips to her pillow, the outline of her form under the satin sheet, enthralled him. It was sill dark. He liked the dark. Nighttime offered him the calm and peace he needed to fill his needs. His needs were private, known only to him, shared with none. Not that he was always alone, far from it; she was an integral part in his fulfillment. Her very existence made his possible, worthwhile, pleasant, true their schedules were opposite, she, from the look of her flawless tan, a lover of the sun and he the quintessential night person, still, it worked.
Her eyes fluttered and she rolled to her back. Her gown twisted across her form, her breast near spilling out. A sleepy hand moved to brush her hair out of her face; she resumed her rhythmic breathing, engulfed in whatever dream she was having. Moonlight cast a pattern of stripes across her form through the blinds, lines irregular over the curves of her body. One such crossed breasts at the nipples, erect and straining at the fabric of her gown. His arousal grew and his need beckoned.
The night was cold as he stood on the back patio watching her through the blinds. He pulled his coat tight around his chest. He was still chilled from the night before when he had been slowly soaked to the skin from the steady drizzle that shared the evening’s ritual. For weeks, he had awaited the falling of night to make his way to her home, take his place at her door, and relish in the sight of her asleep. Their introduction to one another had been a matter of happenstance. She had needed the very patio door he stood behind repaired, needed the locks changed because her ex-husband had been harassing her. He’d been taken with her from the moment she opened her front door, dressed in only a nightshirt and panties, to allow him in to do the work. The instant their eyes met, his soul was lost to her. He had to have her. Unsure of himself though, afraid of rejection, he had made only small talk as he worked. She had offered no personal information, but had been friendly and warm to him, perhaps even a bit flirtatious.
Four keys had been provided with the lockset he had installed. He had kept two of them.
Now she lay mere feet from him, only the door between them, her arms splayed above her head, her breathing animating the scene. Another hour passed. It was just after 3AM and she stirred again. This time her hand slipped under the sheet and down between her legs. Her mouth opened slightly and her hips pressed into her hand. He longed to know what she was dreaming. Her lips then pursed and bent into a coy smile. It was more than he could resist.
He reached into his pants pocket, past a lust, solicited, obstruction of his own, and retrieved the key. Without a sound, he used the key to first release the deadbolt and then the door handle. She lay still in the silent darkness. The door slid effortlessly open and he stepped inside. The lush pile of the carpet muted the sound of his footfalls as he made his way to her side. His mind struggled with the enormity of what he was about to do. Perhaps he would be satisfied to steal but a kiss and retreat to the safety of his apartment, content with the single memory of it. He feared it would not be enough. Minutes passed as he watched now only inches from her slumbering exquisiteness. She continued to pleasure herself in her dream, her movements slow and gentle. With movements sloth-like and silent, he bent to kiss her. His face lowered to her’s, the ticking of the wall clock, marking the movement millimeter by millimeter, until only their breath separated them. He closed his eyes just as she opened hers.
Her free hand swung out and plunged into his hair, wrenching his head back. Teeth flashed as she buried her fangs into his neck. Blood spewed into her wanting mouth and she sucked hard and ground his neck against her face. His body thrashed against her hold as he felt his life leaving him. The sensation was accompanied by the most intense orgasm he had ever felt, and his last. He expired.
She dropped the empty husk to the floor and now drenched in blood, brought herself to climax. She rolled over and went to sleep.
In the morning, she dragged the body to the basement, dropped it into a plastic drum and covered it with lye, and put the lid on it. She cleaned up the bed, put the sheet in the wash, and shampooed the carpet. She showered, dressed, and went to the hall closet, reached to the shelf inside and grabbed a new unopened lockset and the yellow pages.
After all a girls gotta eat.