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 ^{(it's beta!)}

He’s in my arms, sobbing slightly, but I pretend not to notice. “Why?” He asks with a shudder.

After 3 years of practice, I know exactly what to say, “because luv, it has to end. That’s all. I want elsewhere when you’re happy with the close by.”

“But-“

“Shhhh. It’s alright. It’s alright” I rise up onto my tippy toes, kiss his forehead and go back to being flat-footed. I smile lovingly and caress his cheek with the back of my hand. It feels wet and I know it would taste salty.

“Pretty girl,” he breathes out.

Boys can be so much more vulnerable than they appear.

“Silly boy.”

“I love you,” he whispers.

A smile spreads across my face, “and you have no idea how much you mean to me, but one of us is bound to get hurt eventually.”

“I know but- not now.”

“Yes now,” I rise again and bring my lips to his ear, “but, can I ask you a favour?”

“Anything,” he says softly.

“Can I have you before it’s over?”

“Of course-“ All I need.

He falls to he ground before me, his eyes wide open with pain.

Eventually he’s on the ground, so I sit cross-legged beside his head, chin resting on my hands and my own head cocked to the side.

“It’s alright luv. It’ll be over soon. Then you’ll be a part of me forever.”

Finally, he stops breathing and I sigh. He took longer then the last few.

I drop my knife and begin to drag him towards a fire pit I had dug in my backyard.

Boys taste so much better when they’re seasoned with a pinch of love.

I didn’t mean it the first time. I was simply hungry and his flesh was just so glisten-y. Besides. It was a cold night and he wasn’t very smart in the first place. He smelled good, a clear sign of how he’d taste and he had a strikingly pretty face.

I’ve never lied about my intentions; they’ve always gone along with it. When I whispered, “I’m going to eat you,” he laughed and kissed me, obviously giving me a taste of what I would receive later that night. It’s too bad they’ve always chickened out in the end, making my job so much harder.

When I told him he needed to strip down and wash up before we went any further, he did so immediately, as if he was expecting some pleasure from this. Silly masochistic boy.

After he returned, I gestured to his bed and he noticed the ropes next to it. It was my first time killing someone and I didn’t know if he would twitch. I was lucky he kept some under his bed. I wanted to keep the blood in the same spot, just in case.

He jumped onto the bed excitedly. I was happy that he was happy. He was going to make my first time just that much better. It’s always easier when they have some odd fascination with being tied up. I wonder what the story is behind that.

I tightened the ropes around his arms and let out a small giggle. He smiled deviously. ‘What are you up to Silly boy?’ I wondered. “I’m new to all this” I said softly. “Do you want to watch or would a blindfold suit you better?”

His eyes made contact with mine for a second and his eyebrows raised. “I’ll take it blindly I think.” His voice was cocky. He was quite obviously prepared for it.

I searched his closet and conveniently, he had a whole bag full of blindfolds. Silly boy must have foreseen such events.

I tenderly wrapped it around his head and walked out of the room. ‘Where you goin’ baby?” He asked.

‘Baby?’ I thought. Silly boy. “I need supplies from the kitchen.”

“Oh.” He laughed to him self. Almost maniacally. Now I knew he was looking forward to it. A spring was added to my step as I walked into his kitchen. “There’s some whipping cream in the refrigerator door!” He shouted to me. I looked back curiously.

“Whipping cream?” I repeated to myself curiously. ‘Silly boy. Whipping cream is for dessert.’

I walked over to a drawer and picked out the largest knife in there. ‘Perfect.’

I skipped back to his room and leaned over him. “Are you ready?” I asked.

“Oh yeah.” He replied, licking his lips.

I grinned widely and thrust the knife into his stomach. Soon he started to flail about. “What the hell are you doing?” He shouted.

My head cocked to the side. “What you wanted silly. Now hold still.”

I began to push the knife up towards his chest. Soon his screaming stopped. ‘Silly boys. Never know what they want.’

Today, everyone’s in love. It’s not Valentines Day, but it might be an anniversary… but it can’t be EVERYONES anniversary, can it?

Silly couples and their kissing.

I’ve kissed a boy, or two, or three. Probably more, but not like these people. Tasting each other over and over again. Only a taste; a nibble on the lips, a touch - no - caressing of the tongue, only to catch the bare minimum of flavour.

Not enough.

I continue crawling through the bushes that surround the park. I jump, roll, leap and eventually stand. I’m bored and no one’s single. I wonder if there are any cheaters, ready to wrap themselves around this firm, young flesh. I wonder how many are committed to the woman they are tasting.

In another bush, I hear rustling and a giggle. I realize they are tasting each other more – directly. These people bore me just as the rolling and jumping had. I move on; enter downtown.

Buildings are lit up with neon signs: pink, blue, green and red. Most attractive is “EXstatic”, a club. A place for dancing and the music can be quite easily heard form the streets. There’s a large line outside leading to the door, kind of like an arrow, only made of people, but lines are so… long, and the door is closer than the end of the arrow of people. I want in and I want more than a taste of boy.

I walk up to the door and the boy posted there looks me up and down, his eyes stopping at my breasts both times… They’re only fat. Boys are silly, even when they’re that large.

“That’s a lovely—shirt you’re wearing.” he says. He’s tempting me but he’s not right. He doesn’t smell right.

“They’re called boobs!” calls a woman form the line. “Now send her to the back!”

The large boy replies with his middle finger, which I’ve never understood, but then woman gets the hint. He waves me in and squeezes my bum as I walk by.

Inside, I can hardly hear my own thoughts, which is a lie but it seems like the only way to describe it. My ears will ring tomorrow.

The room isn’t like a normal room, rather it seems made for dancing, which is what everyone appears to be doing.

I say ‘appears’ because they’re really rubbing against each other. Pelvis to pelvis. ‘Stimulation’ they call it. It seems silly, but I decided to join. The music tells me to.

I move to the centre and paint my body with notes, moving with the music waves like liquid. A boy flows towards me, shaping his body to mine.

“Hey,” she says.

This is where I’m supposed to nod and repeat his greeting. I decide that it’s better to touch.

The music tones down and I wrap my arms around his neck and his hands find my waist. I’m buried into his neck. I breathe in and my eyes widen. His scent wafts into me and overloads my systems . Sweet, tender, smooth and unexplainable.

I lift my head and look at his eyes. His brilliant, green eyes…

He smiles and take my hand, leading me to a door. Where are you taking me? I want to ask, but hold off.

We’re in a room. A room made out like a tropical garden with birds flying everywhere. Parrots, budgies, cockatiels, kiwi’s, everything.

Odd.

I look up at a sign that reads ‘PLEASURE GARDEN”, and my eyebrows rise. This. Is interesting. Crafty boy.

He leads me to a grouping of foliage. Nothing specific, just foliage. Trees, bushes, tall grass.

Before I can say a word, he has me pinned against a tree, hand slipping up my top and rubbing against my waist. He’s quick. Almost too quick.

He makes his way down my neck, and then up to my ear, but instead of the usual biting and nibbles, he whispers, lips so close I can almost feel them.

“I’m going to eat you tonight.”

I pause. Eyes wide, I push him off and stare at him, my head cocked to the side.

I turn to walk away but he grabs my wrist and turns me back to him. “Is it something I said?”

“It’s nothing,” I reply, continuing one, but then pausing. I pull out a card and pass it to him. “Call me.”

I turn again and smile. Crafty boy. I’m almost looking forward to meeting him again, but then, I swear I hear him mumble something in an amused tone. I continue walking, only with speed increasing.

I push through the crowd and out onto the streets, quickly spotting a bus stop.

I sit down, cross my legs and straighten my back.

Naughty Girl? I think…

Curous Boy…

Every night, the streets play their sounds. Their song, built on jingles, jangles, whizzes and honks. Voices layer on these streets’s song until skipping down the dirty alleys isn’t enough. Dancing’s my option and soon everyone’s dancing right along with me, their awkward yet unique walks complimenting each other in an orchestra for the eyes.

I pass corner stores, groceries, clubs. A left leads me down into China Town. More dancers, more music.

Colours flail up and down until a sharp turn takes me back to those dark alleys where skipping becomes an option again and I oblige, but only for a while.

Intricate steps and a climb take me to the window of my apartment. I slip in and move towards the door, looking through the mail.

“To: Mr. Don Fritz, Mr. Don Fritz, Don Fritz, Don Fitz, Don Fritz…” I read to myself. “Oh!” I smile. I’ve found the monthly Time magazine.

After placing the mail on a coffee table, I head for the fridge.

My apartment owns a cat; Frisky. He purrs and pushes his body against my leg. It took me a few days to understand what he wanted. I’ve taken a liking to this cat and mother always said to share.

I open the fridge and pull out a blue container and sit down, crossing my legs. Frisky steps on my leg and noses the container.

“Is kitty hungry?” I ask. Frisky purrs in approval, then curls up into my lap. Counter-productive, but cute. “So’s mummy.” I nuzzle him, gently push him off and stand up.

“Hope you don’t mind if it’s cooked.” I say, opening the container to reveal a slab of uncooked but tender meat. I pull out a frying pan and slip the meat into the centre. While adding the seasonings, I list them out loud for Frisky to hear. “Garlic powder, salt, pepper, Italian seasoning, chili powder-“

“Meow”

“Right. You don’t do spicy.” I return the bottle to the shelf and pull out the last two. “Bay leaf and olive oil, right?”

Frisky purrs and weaves between my legs excitedly.

“Thanks, sweetie,” I place the pan on the stove, allowing the meat to sizzle. I return to the floor.

“Do you miss daddy?” I ask, stroking her back.

He closes his eyes, and pushes his head against my hand. He lets out a loud “Mroooww”

“Aww,” I smile, “I think you’re good company too.” I lie on my side, and Frisky cuddles into my stomach. I dangle my fingers above him and he bats at them. I cuddle him close and he licks my breast. It tickles and I giggle. “No milk in there, silly.” I tap his nose and roll onto my back, lifting him above my face.

Ten more minutes in the pan and it’s ready.

I cut the piece in half, mincing Frisky’s into smaller bits and place them in his bowl. Without any implication of having checked first, he digs in. I place my own on a plate, and begin to cut in, watching Frisky thoughtfully.

He seems to really love his owner.

I see a boy, but am uninterested at first. He smells different. Like something soggy. Not a wet dog but close.

I walk up and smile, extending my hand in the way I’ve been taught so many times to say hello. He smiles back, but awkwardly. I breathe in again. Wet. This second time, I like it. He’s wet human with wilderness mixed in his skin.

He introduces himself with one word. “Fox”.

I curtsy and introduce myself the same way. Boys have such interesting ways to communicate. I assume he is telling me something with his scent, so I listen. I take a step closer to him and feel his body tense. His body tells me I’m moving too quickly, but his scent tells me it excites him.

“Did you know your name is the same as an animal?” I ask, tilting my head 3 degrees to the left. I would tilt to the right but you seem to be focusing on the larger of my breasts, and it’s always easier to get your attention from the correct side.

“uh-“ your sentence structure confuses me, so I step a slight bit closer, prompting you to speak.

“Yes. My parents liked animals. My sisters name is Kiwi.”

I giggle. It’s the second mentioning of kiwi in the past month. ‘Do they like fruit too?”

Your smile tilts to the side. “No. Only vegetables.”

“Oh.” I say, a little disappointed. Fruits always make boys oh so sweet, so I tell him so. He blushes and laughs a little. I decide that fox needs sweetening, and offer him dessert. I tell him to come to my home. I hand him the address and walk off, expecting him to follow. He does.

He offers to take me out for dessert. I pause and consider. On the tippy’s of my toes, I turn and smile, nod and take his hand.

I tell him we’re going to my favourite restaurant, that it’s just down this alley way, and push him up against the wall. People with needles get up and leave. I’ve disturbed them in their silly rituals, but I don’t care. They’ve disturbed my meal. I nibble on his neck, and he moans. He likes it. I smile. Another nibble, and a bite.

It’s a shame it only lasts so long.

I sigh when he falls down and realize that sharpening my teeth was dumb. I shrug and sit cross legged next to him. He's warm still. I poke him once to ensure he’s done.

“Woof, woof, Fox,” I say, standing and grab his foot. “It’s feeding time”

It was ridiculous to assume that that the teal haired girl was making toast, he thought, staring at her from his window. She could just as easily be brewing coffee or cooking pancakes, but making toast felt right, so he stuck with it.

Making toast felt sexier, cleaner, easier, and he liked to think she liked easy things.

Quick, easy and painless; It’s how he liked to think of himself. He hoped she’d see that too. He’d been waiting to step into her life, but today, toast made him want to hurry.

He stripped away his towel and sprayed the cologne he’d paid far too much for. He’d been assured it contained a rare hormone that made women fall to his feet. For the merchant’s sake, that had better have been true.

He walked slowly to the closet. As much as he wanted to hurry, his urge to keep her subconsciously waiting took over. He knew she was waiting for him.

As he dressed, he guessed at what to say. Women were so predictable these days, that he felt it necessary to mix it up. A cup of sugar wasn’t enough.

He finally looked in the mirror and nodded. He’d settled on a casual look and stepped out the door.

It was a quick jump across the street and he was knocking on her door.

She came to the door wrapped in a towel, a factor he didn’t expect, but refused to allow it to throw him. At least she’d be clean.

“Hi” He said, quietly, “Er- my cat seems to have run out of the house and into yours. Do you think I could look around?”

“Uh-“ she started, a little shocked by his cool British accent. “No?”

“Please,” he continued. “Just a quick look. You left your basement window open”

Before she could decline a second time he had leaned in and the cologne had hit the airwaves.

“Uh. Come in.”

He quickly passed through and went up to the kitchen. Glancing to the side, he spotted a plate with burnt toast and grinned. She followed him up the stairs.

“I thought you said the cat went into the basement, didn’t y-“

He turned around abruptly, and smiled. “I can see you from my window” he started to walk towards her. “I’ve wanted you since you moved in.”

“I—“ she didn’t notice that she’d stepped forward.

He lent down, brushing his lips against her forehead. “Yes, let’s make this easy.”

What are you-“ her breath broke in an awkward arch.

“Ah-“ the breathing quickened and slowed until she fell to the ground.

He knelt down next to her and wiped the ridiculous stiletto off on his pants.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be quick, easy and painless” he put his finger to her lips, and took the knife to her throat. “Just like making toast”

He stood again, threw the knife on the counter and set the oven to 375.

“Good night my teal haired vixen.”