Posted by AlOmega on April 06, 1999 at 21:24:46:
Game Piece - II
Its always the Game that's important. Winners and losers, high stakes or low are immaterial. A wager
makes the game interesting but a wager is unnecessary. For the Game will go on regardless. Even winning
or losing is unimportant. For in the end its not whether you win or lose that matters but the Game and how
its played. We are all part of the Game whether we want or not. Our wishes are immaterial unless part of
the game.
I have here another part of the Game. Not a material part. Just another part. A continuation of the first
part actually. Neither taken separately or together were significant except to the participants. To them its
always important.
*************************
The burglar thought about Dianna that night. Deep and long did he think. Never had he thought of a
woman as he did this one. Too bad she was dead. Too sad for him; for her. Again he wondered what they
might have had together. He had known women - many women. Yet she was different. Submissive to his
touch - to his strangling fingers. But strong, dominant in the way she had treated the other man. She had
directed that relationship. Too bad that man might reap the benefits of his last night’s visit. Too bad for
him, the man, and her. Again he thought of the beautiful Dianna. Try as he might, she strayed into his
thoughts again and again.
*************************
He didn’t know that Dianna was thinking of him as strongly. Many lovers she had enjoyed during her life.
But none approached what this man had given her. Ageless she seemed and always dominant. Only when
she was in complete control would she permit herself to be subservient. But this man had broken into her
home and taken what he wanted - even to her life; and she had done nothing to him. She had not even
‘marked’ him as hers. A shiver ran through her body as she remembered again her helpless fear. Lost to
thought was her knowledge of self-preservation. At the time she was like a human woman fearful for her
life even though she knew he could never kill her. Oh, she could be killed but mankind had never developed
the means to do so. Indeed in the modern era, they knew her kind could not existed. But her terror had
been so real - something she had never felt before. Though she had not ‘marked’ him, would he return?
Smiling at the thought, she so wanted to entertain him once again. Somehow, she didn’t think the
experience would be quite the same way as before. After all, if one knows that the person being killed can
never died, what would be the point? Something else must be. But what? In that quagmire of twisted
thought, she passed the night unaware that his thoughts had turned to her.
*************************
The next day began like any other. He woke normally and exercised. While eating a bowl of Grapenuts,
he thoughts strayed again to the woman. He had never killed before. Why this time? And why her? He
could have muffled her cries with a pillow and removed it when she ceased struggling. That he had done
twice before. It was one of the reason he preferred burglarizing single women. Men tended to get violent
and aggressive when confronted by a thief. Women almost always did as they were told. It wasn’t that he
craved power over women. He merely wanted to practice his profession without causing harm to anyone
including himself. That was the reason he never carried a gun.
But to do as he had done and removed his gloves! Why? To touch her smooth skin? To feel her
warmth; taste her fears? No, not that! And then he realized his own danger. When the cops found the
body, they would test for prints. He had removed his gloves once. Only once. To touch her! To feel her
skin, her body. He knew that fingerprints could be lifted from a body just as easily as from a glass. And he
had left several on her lovely torso. Although never arrested, he did have a military background and if those
records were utilized, he would fry. They had the electric chair in this state. But what could he do now?
He didn’t hear the clink of spoon in bowl as he stood. A moment later, he left his home and rode his
motorcycle to her apartment. Since nothing untoward was happening there, he dismounted, removed his
helmet, and entered the apartment complex. Her apartment didn’t have any of that crime scene tape he had
seen numerous times on the movies. Drifting like he knew where he was going, he touched the doorknob to
her apartment. Locked as he had figured. Looking right, then left, he thought he might try once more; and,
if it were indeed locked, he could pick it open. No one saw him approach the door once again. What
surprised - astounded - him even was that the door opened at his touch. He entered, closed the door, spun,
and abruptly froze on seeing a woman with her back to him. Even before she turned, he knew that it must
be the woman he had killed the night before. But how...
“Oh,” she said as she ceased seeing him for the first time. He could see she was the same woman. His
fingers began twitching. He had to get out of here NOW.
“Who are you?” she continued. “Are you D-Barbara’s boyfriend? I just got here and was wondering
where she was.”
What could he say? They were alone and he could kill her, also if the need arose. But she had a
different look about her than the other woman. She was like and unlike his victim of the night before. He
continued staring. He finally knew his victim’s name. Barbara. He felt a familiar stirring in his loins.
“Well you could at least answer my questions,” she said with a tilt of her head. “You don’t look like a
maintenance worker. Not with that leather getup.
“Ugh - I’m R... ER Dave”, he volunteered. “I was told that someone needed...”
“Whatever. Barbara’s gone. Missing, I guess. Wouldn’t be the first time. I’m her sister, Dianna. I
just dropped in to check up on her and see how everything was. Saw the place was a bit messed up - sort
like someone was trying to rob the place - and fixed it like new.” While Dianna was talking, he noticed she
was idly fingering a rather large ruby ring on her right middle finger. “I’ll stay her a couple of days and see if
she shows up.” He saw that she wore a matching necklace. Both would be worth quite a bundle.
“Anyway, Bub - uh, Dave. Since I’m gonna be here a few days, do ya want to show me around the
town?”
Her smile caused a familiar stirring in his pants. He managed to stutter a reply. “M-maybe. But
t-t-tomorrow.”
“Sure thing, Dave. Could you pick me up about four-ish?”
“Uh... y-yes, I-I could”, he found himself saying as he left.
Geeze! What had he done?! What hadn’t he done?! About the stupidest thing ever!! But she looked
so fine. Again he reviewed her in his mind. Fair. Long, dark hair that you wanted to tangle your fingers
into. Lips to match her jewelry; lips that he so wanted to crush. Her bosoms were larger than he liked but
she might have been wearing a Wonderbra or some other ‘enhancement’ underneath. All-in-all she was
almost perfect. He had to take her out. Was a wonder that she hadn’t asked him what he was doing barging
in without a key. But she hadn’t and that might turn out for the best.
Besides there were always the rubies.
*************************
Dianna thought it had gone rather well. *So he’s called Dave*, she thought. *Not bad in the daylight*.
She had ‘sensed’ he was nearby and had unlocked her door. She did have a different look than she had last
night but that was due to the variance of light between day and night. And it was fortunate that she had
opted to wear her ruby ring and necklace. She smiled remembering Dave’s gaze had traveled from her face
to the ruby necklace and even further down before he had caught himself. He had taken her pearls last night
as well as her money. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t obtain more but she did hate working to secure enough
investment capital to play the stock market. On reflection, however, she thought that what she had enjoyed
last night was worth the extra time. No more working as a waitress. After a year of doing that, she decided
once and for all to have backup capital when she needed it. She had over a hundred thousand in her
brokerage account to play with. A few day-trades ought to fill her bank account sufficiently for a few
months - maybe a year if she traded tight. Her one concern was that he might remember that Barbara was
not her name from the previous evening.
Thinking on that, she began planning on how to bring him to her once more. The rubies would provide
the key, the incentive to bring him back. But, if she brought him to her, could he arouse her by ‘killing’ her
once again? She realized something else from last night. She had gotten a thrill by knowing he ‘thought’ he
had killed her. So her need wasn’t simply that she wanted the feeling of helplessness or being killed. She
wanted him to think he was killing her. Although not the first time she had been thrilled via living through
another’s emotions; however, this was different. New. And ‘new’ was something that she treasured
because when one had lived as long as she, ‘new’ was remarkably seldom found.
But always in the back of her mind - unthought, unspoken, hidden deep inside - lurked the fear that
once he knew who she was - what she was - he would never return. And she would find and kill him then.
She had always killed her lovers when they discovered her secrets - or when she had tired of them. She
knew she always would.
That afternoon and evening went pretty much as she expected. The obligatory movie and later dining
and dancing were rituals that had to be followed. On reflection he was a good dancer. But she had danced
with wonderful dancers - male and female - before. Many were as good; many were better. Certain things
stood out because they were new, different. Nibbling at her neck while kissing for one was something her
lovers had done during sex but rarely prior to love making nor in public. She had been worshipped,
displayed as a new toy, or treated as a sexual object many times before. Men and women in many ways did
the same things. Overall men tended to rush sex while women were infinitely more patient. But Dave was
nearly impossible to read. At times he displayed her; but, other times he worshipped her. From moment to
moment his attitude would change. He was so much a man - experienced, self assured, strong. But then he
would become a pubescent boy unsure of what to do next.
And then there was his voice, the way he spoke to her, the way he spoke about many things. He spoke
of many things and nothing at all. As the afternoon sun waned and sank and the stars faded into the night
sky - as her Moon began its ride across heaven - she realized he never spoke of himself - never of himself,
what he did, his family, brothers, sisters. The mysteries surrounding him drew her once more to him. And
emotions stirred that she had not felt for a long time. Probably due to the newness he brought her, she
thought.
*************************
He had been even more surprised when she had appeared. Her dark hair was upswept - a hair style he
had always favored. That she had appeared at all was a marvel. Though he had known many women,
something about her was - different. Maybe it was because he had killed her sister less than twenty hours
before. Yes, it must be that because he was still nervious. But as evening changed to night and she spoke,
he sensed that Dianna was holding something back. Though not forthright himself - considering his chosen
profession and recent murder, he sensed something more. A longing, a yearning for something which she
never knew she needed. And overall he felt her lonelyness. Perhaps that was what drew him to her.
Perhaps. But what he needed was information. What had happened to the body? What had the police
learned? How much did they know? How much about him?
It was near 1:00 AM when they returned her to the apartment. The apartment of Death? She invited
him in for a drink. The full moon invading through open windows outlined them both. She felt a thrill as his
hands caressed her neck. Her thrill seemed to course through him as would have an electric current. So
once more he kissed her exposed throat.
From childhood he remembered these feelings. As a teenager he had always wanted to touch a female
neck. But the fear of what they might think or who they might tell limited him to kissing a girl’s neck.
Gentle but without much passion, they let him; but, he had been afraid of going much further. And so he
was a junior in high school before he had found a sexual outlet other than the ‘five sisters’. Her name also
was Dianna, he realized. They had been playing tag in the auditorium when he had caught her accidentally
by the neck. She had looked at him and drawn him closer. Looking into one another’s eyes, they had
kissed. Soon they were on the floor touching one another, removing clothing, frantically - and clumsily
attempting to make love. She had taken his hands which were fondling her small breasts and placed them
about her neck. As he entered her, she applied a little pressure to his fingertips. And as they rose and fell
together in passionate embrace, he had held her neck while she tilted her head back. At any time he could
have strangled her but she knew he would never do that. Afterward lying in each other’s arms, she
explained that having someone hold her neck excited her beyond anything that she had felt before. Only one
other - a girl - had brought her to orgasimic climax like he had this once. She had thought she might have
been Lesbian. After Dave and her had made love, she was not as sure. They only made love twice more
before her parents moved to another city. He knew that they had been in love that first time. But that was
gone forever except in memory. Sometimes he wondered what had become of her.
In the bright moonlight, he could see Dianna clearly as she lay back and stretched like a leopard sunning
herself. The moon seemed to outline every curve, every muscle of her long, sinuous neck. From the faint
outline of her larynx to the deep hollow of her throat caressed by the shadows of the moon, he watched.
The gentle rhythmic pulse, the deepening hollow as she delicately inhaled, the accentuation of her mastoid
muscles as she slowly turned her head all drew his gaze. He followed the contours of her neck to the ruby
that nestled between her breasts. She felt his hand caress her neck ever so gently as his lips brushed hers.
She reached out to him pulling him down hard on her lips. Tongue caressed tongue as he/she tasted one
another’s breath. Long they kissed as he let his hand slip down her neck until his index finger began a circle
in the hollow of her throat. She moaned deeply as their lips parted. She felt his cool hand leave her chest as
his fingers traced a path between her breasts. She closed her eyes once again as she felt fingers slip inside
her blouse and begin tracing a circle around the areola of her right breast. As he took her nipple between
finger and thumb, she pulled him down to her again. As they kissed, she felt pain as he squeezed her nipple
a little too tightly. By now her blouse was open to the waist and his shirt had somehow falled to the floor.
Fingers traced whorls around his own nipples as he held her small right breast in the palm of his hand and
began gently squeezing it with his fingertips.
That was when she noticed that her ruby necklace was missing.
“You! It was you!” she shouted louder and louder. “You’re the thief. You killed my sister!!”
Panic sit in once more. His hands, which had been making love to her body, now seized her slim, white
neck. But not in a caress of love. Rather, thumbs bore down with the necessity of silencing her screams.
Without thinking and as if they had lives of their own, his fingers created long, hairlike furrows in the soft
country of her throat. Dianna’s face was becoming darker as veins rose on her forehead and temples. Her
tongue which had caressed his just moments before was search for an avenue of escape from his strong
thumbs. Seeing Dianna’s face contorting in silent screams of terror, Dave suddenly released his death grip.
The pain in his hands went unnoticed as his own eyes which ached from the strain of strangulation, saw the
movements in throat and breasts as she sucked great gulps of air into her helpless lungs. He couldn’t go
through with it. She might know what he looked like but he hadn’t given her his last name let alone other
personal knowledge. He would have to chance it.
But seeing her there helpless, breasts bare, and frail panties covering her femininity, he grabbed her, kissed
her; a hard, mouth-bruising desperate kiss. Then suddenly like a dam near bursting, it was too much.
Frantically, he almost ripped off his pants. The throbbing of his male member had to be released. And the
moist panties told him that she wanted him as much. Then he was on top of her, wild in his need, as his
hard, throbbing shaft probed and searched - and found what he needed. She felt his need and pushed to
meet him, pushing herself against his warm shaft, and felt the feeling deep inside tingle and grow. A she felt
him plunging again and again within her, she timed her movements with his. She arched her back to feel his
movement, to press herself against him, to hold him within her as he plunged again and again. He drove in,
felt the warm, wet caress of her enfold him, take him in, reach for more, until his full shaft was buried within
her. Within minutes he released his sperm. As he tried to withdraw, she moaned and smiled at him - and
further tightened her muscles around his engorged penis. His cock was trapped. He was trapped. He
screamed.
*************************
Dianna was absolutely pleased with herself. And with Dave as well. He had performed admirably. It
took some time for him to come to grips with killing his lover again and again for real. Not an easy prospect
at first. Why would we kill the one we love? Why would any male kill the female of the species - especially
during mating? It was unnatural. However, Dianna wanted it - needed it. Many weeks passed before for
Dave came to grips with this aspect of his love. But after a time he grew to enjoy it. And slowly the
questions slyly crept into his mind
Who was Dianna??? Was she a real? A lover of life or death? A witch? Or perhaps the goddess Dianna
herself?? Maybe..... .....
He never considered where these thoughts would lead him. Perhaps they directed him to death’s door.
Or could they....
AlOmega