Posted by AlOmega on May 07, 2003 at 04:04:19:
Its the Game that’s important. There are always winners and losers. The higher the stakes, the more you win; the more you lose. 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 a part of the Game. Not a material part. Just part. An insignificant part except to the participants. To them it was important.
Moonlight streaming through half-open blinds into the second story window barely outlined the contents to the observer outside. The faint sound of etched glass would have been heard by anyone inside with difficulty. But there was no one there to hear. Nor did anyone hear the soft opening of the window nor the rustle of the blinds as he entered. Dressed in black, the burglar looked around the bedroom with practiced ease. The faint smell of powder and perfume assaulting his nostrils confirmed the resident was a woman. The odor was distinctly familiar and validated his presupposition of potential wealth contained herein. Now to find it.
A pencil of light searched the room for hiding places. The click of a door marked his entrance into the private realm of a deep closet. At the back behind a shoe rack he found a wall safe. He was in the process of opening it when he heard the louder opening and closing of a door. Alerted, he turned off the light and left the confinement of the closet to peek at who had entered. At first he saw nothing even though he had a good view of the apartment entrance. Then he heard a man and a woman whispering. His footsteps silenced by the deep pile wouldn’t have been heard even if they had been made by an elephant. He saw the two lying on the couch. The man groped under her blouse while she clawed at the buttons of his pants. He observed silently while the two made love. As they parted he saw the woman for the first time and realized his black pants could never have hidden his interest.
While the man adjusted his clothing, an enigmatic smile played across her face - a smile of hidden secrets, of promises unfulfilled, of danger and something else that he couldn’t place. As she rebuttoned skirt and blouse, she stopped as if searching, seeking something - perhaps him, he realized fading into the shadows. He listened as the conversation resumed and got louder. He heard the man calling her Dianna and pleading with her not to tell his wife. The thunderclap of her slap would have reached his ears even if he had been outside, he realized with a smile. Then she pushed the man out the doorway and slam and double lock the door after him.
He looked at the woman, Dianna, hard. While not beautiful, she was pretty. Then she entered the light and he revised his opinion. Her figure would have made a stripper jealous. And her deep, heavy breathing only showed off the expanse of skin exposed by her opened blouse even more. “Sexy” was the word that entered his mind feeling his male member rise again. She walked straight for him. Swiftly he sought the solace of the deep closet. He had barely entered when she turned on the light. He fortunately hid himself behind her clothing when that light blazed forth. He saw through a diaphanous blouse as she selected some nondescript clothing and left turning off the light. With a thin whisper, he forced himself to exhale slowly. Warily, he returned to the half open door, his tabu boots leaving no sound. She had opened her window blinds and shades and turned out the light. Moonlight filled the room.
Dianna had just removed her slip and was unhooking her bra when he saw her. She removed her black panties and stood perfectly still the moon bathing her in the purity of its light. His heart leaped into his throat as he saw her. So like the huntress, the goddess of the moon she is, he thought. Her head was arced back exposing the snow white column of her neck as her dark hair cascaded down her back. Clavicle and ribs were outlined sharply in the moonlight. Only her firm, small breasts hid ribs from exposure. She bent over letting her firm breasts quiver while placing first one foot, then the other into delicate red panties. Buttocks quivered delightfully as she pulled the panties over them. With barely a whisper she guided the red babydoll nightie over her body. She then looked at the closet and smiled. Startled, he backed away briefly brushing the door.
It was enough to open it.
Both were startled to see each other. She momentarily caught like a frightened doe in a hunter’s spotlight; he momentarily stunned by exposure as if he were naked in a shopping mall. That lasted less than a heartbeat as she moved toward the telephone and he moved to intercept her. She was crawling on the bed toward the phone when he caught her ankle and drew her away. The action pulled the babydoll top up to her shoulders exposing her slim waist and panty-clad buttocks. She whimpered. Though frightened, she still fought as she was taken away from her goal. Looking around he spotted stockings. Almost in one motion he pulled her back hard ripping her panties off, took a stocking, and wrapped it about her neck. But she wasn’t done yet. Frantically she fought pulling the stocking away from her neck. Losing the stocking, he pulled at one shoulder turning her over. Climbing on top, he pinned her body with his weight. Her hands struck repeatedly at him. To defend himself he took one then the other and caught her hands and ground them under his knees. She could only turn her head back and forth. Looking at him she opened her mouth to scream her fear. Just as quickly he ground his thumbs deep into her trachea digging furrows into her neck. Quickly any life saving screams were reduced to gargling as of air seeping through mucus. Because of her exertions, she soon passed out. He quickly released her neck.
He was surprised at his own rapid breathing though not at hers. It was not because of the exertion. He was in excellent shape. Looking down at her, he was taken again with her beauty. Her sweat glistening in the moonlight and the gown plastered on her body cause a major bulge in his tights. Quickly he removed both tights and red babydoll negligee.
As she regained consciousness, he entered her. Though still groggy from the previous strangulation, she felt him hurting her. She bit her lip and tried to push him away. But he was immovable. She realized he no longer gripped her neck but that hardly mattered as he pumped harder and faster in a near frantic, pounding motion. At first Dianna stopped struggling and lay motionless, hoping that would end quickly. Soon, however, she began moving with him, her nails digging into his back.
Caught in her own furious frenzy, she did not even know when he rose and looked at her face filled with ecstasy. Her body began to shudder. His fingers clamped again, harder than ever, and she bulged with pain. She cried out, once, loudly in agony, and his hands moved from her breasts, left her for a second, and then returned.
On her throat.
Judy realized then that she was going to die. She fought. She scratched and twisted. But she could not stop the fingers digging at the soft flesh of her neck. She couldn’t even scream. Pain exploded within her brain and darkness hovered on the fringe while red lights flashed throughout her mind. And through that he continued to work savagely.
Even there, at the last moments of her life, she quite definitely knew his passion ending. And then the flashing lights dimmed, and nothing mattered, and the blackness rushed in and for one split second Judy realized exactly what was happening, and knew that this was the last seconds of her life. She looked up at her killer bewildered, and then her eyes filled with a sudden, terrified comprehension.
She fought to tear away the iron bands around her throat, but it was useless. She was still coming, and the deliciousness of her orgasm and the frantic shudder of her death throes were blending into one. The excitement was unbearable. In the middle of life’s most exquisite pleasure, she was dying, her eyes staring into the eyes of death. And with that, all tension left her body as she stared up, her mouth open with her tongue lolling out - - oblivious to the choking fingers. With a shudder she died even as his own passion ended. He collapsed on her.
After a few moments he rose and dressed. Entering the closet again, he quickly opened the safe. The jewelry was surpassingly rich even for this house. He knew she was fairly well off. That was just one of the facts he had check on including her age, martial status, and profession. The penlight outlined her body as he left.
Looking on the still form he realized she was still beautiful but in a different way. Though distorted in the agony of death, her face retained its elegance. Her neck was still long and sinuous with the addition of Van Gogh fingerstrokes on the canvas of her throat painting the story of her death in powerful tones. She lay twisted in a matrix of violence. Her legs and arms had done this to the bedclothes in her last creative moments. He knelt by her and felt her breast. It felt warm.
Well there was no need to worry, he reasoned removing his clothing yet again. Gently as if touching the fragile labellum of an orchid, he touched breasts, flat belly, and Venus mound. Letting his finger enter where his male member had been a scant fifteen minutes before, he was surprised to feel moisture forming. His own excitement was building as he removed his fingers from her labia minor and major. Placing his hard member within her, he was again surprised at her warmth. She even seemed to move with him as he neared his climax. With a mighty thrust, he released himself still astounded that he could even touch a dead body let alone mount one. Finally in exhaustion, he rested on her. A few moments later he stood and dress again. Looking at his dead lover, he straightened her sheets, kissed her eyes shut, and arranged her body supine on the bed. With reverence, he arranged her hair thoughtfully on her pillow and placed her tongue within her purple mouth.. Covering her body with a sheet, he departed through the open window.
He would have been astounded to see what happened next. Dianna rose from her death bed the sheet falling from her naked body. Entering her bath, she turned on the shower and entered. Steam from the cold water filled the room as she lathered again. Then she left the bath into the bedroom. The moonlight poured over her body purifying her yet again. He would return, she knew. And she would wait for him.
Who is this woman called Dianna??? A demon? A worshiper of evil? A witch? Or perhaps the goddess Dianna herself?? Maybe..... .....
AlOmega