The Last Date

Planning is everything. Devon Lattimore took great care with the sharp dagger he was washing with ammonium. He turned it this way, then that, inspecting the shiny metal for any sign of the savage deeds that had been executed by it. A slow smile and a final wipe saw the knife tucked away into a custom made leather sheath and then into a large duffel bag. He could not waste any more time lest he be late for a very important date. 

Sarah stepped from the shower dripping wet and heart racing. Nervous hands reached forward to wipe the steam from the mirror to peer at a less than satisfactory image. Her eyes were too plain, with tell tale puffiness. Her hair, which was done in delicate curls before her shower, now dripped and drooped in various places. Her too thin lips, which she had been nervously gnawing all evening, were cracked and bleeding. Accepting this evening's plans may not have  been the best idea but she needed to try one more time before giving up. 

Devon removed the rope from Stacy's wrists, wiped it down with ammonium and recoiled it before placing it in the duffel. Stacy was to be his last date in this city but he just could not resist taking the chance to meet Sarah. The rope was followed by tie straps, a new pack, all in blue of course for that was Sarah's favourite colour. He was a meticulous person and with every date that enticed him to leave the confines of his house he had a routine. Next on the list was the lighter fluid. But before that he needed to put Stacy in the car. 

At 25, Sarah had  always pictured her future. She would be married to an amazing man, not too handsome because asking for too much may mean getting nothing at all, but kind, always kind. In one particular fantasy, she would meet him in a bookstore. She would be walking the aisles looking for her next great read, when she would see it, one shelf out of her reach. She would reach for it anyways and as her fingers brushed the spine, a thick, masculine arm would reach above her and tip it into her hand. She would turn and stare into grey green eyes and a sunny smile that made her heart tremble and offer a shy thank you. She had imagined he would blush and compliment her taste in books. He would be a quiet and shy guy and she would swoon almost immediately. 

Devon loved the story he weaved as much as he loved the dark crescendo of the night's date. Sarah's profile was simple; a 30 something spinster, getting more desperate as the years passed. She loved to read, and that is something he expected of a primary education teacher, but she also dated a lot. This made her an easy acquisition. A timer dinged, and Devon locked the car door and headed back inside to check on the copy of The Great Gatsby he bought at the bookstore yesterday. Maybe he could have bought it used and in poor condition, maybe he could have borrowed it but he loved the thrill of painting a story and giving his victims a date to remember. The book was fully dry after the coffee sponge bath he gave each page with measured care. Smiling sweetly he found the key pages he had looked up and proceeded to bend and crush the pages. As a finishing touch he took a small hair ribbon from his pocket, it seemed Stacy had the same love of the colour blue, and used it to mark a particular page that seemed to get all fans of this book excited. Pleased he added the novel to his duffel, smiling at the picture he printed from Sarah's profile with her own copy in the background lovingly placed on her night stand. 

Sarah's fantasies did not end there. She often pictured them dating. He would always arrive on time to pick her up, but he would never complain about waiting the few extra minutes while she put on those finishing touches that she knew would make him happy. He would always look shocked anew when he saw her for the first time each night and he would tell her, not too many words, how beautiful she was. Each date would be more magical than the last because they were a fairytale, written into being just to find each other. Things couldn't be too perfect though, so they had to have their disagreements but never for too long. He himself wasn't perfect either but he had a childlike wandering about him that kept her laughing and smiling through the night. A few months saw them married and a year saw her carrying her first of three children. Her imaginings were just perfect enough to keep her spinster heart warm. 

The glasses Devon had bought were not his usual style but they seemed to put women more at ease. He had already put his entire outfit from his date with Stacy; underwear, jewellry, glasses, shoes, into a metal drum he kept out back with trash to be burnt. He poured lighter fluid into the drum and took pleasure in the simple things like striking the match that lit them on fire and just watching it burn for a minute. His new outfit lay on his bed upstairs; a nerdy pair of blue glasses, a light blue sweater vest, a grey button up shirt, a pair of dark gray pants, and black shoes. He didn't care too much for the look he picked out tonight either but based on her profile he knew she wanted someone safe, someone simple. A shower saw all the grime of today washed down the drain. His suitcases were already packed to leave town tomorrow and his whole house was scrubbed clean after taking care of Stacy. He glanced at Sarah's picture again, admiring her chocolate skin, and mysterious eyes. No amount of makeup could hide the real beauty he saw and would be tasting tonight. He glanced at her plump lips and imagined them smeared and swollen with a scream coming out with each breath and knew he made the right choice to take a chance with her. This unplanned victim. This detailedly planned night. 

Now ten years later, and all Sarah had was the warmth of her fantasies. She needed this night to work out. She was only giving it one last chance, she told herself. Starting her moisturising routine from crown to base, she massaged each nervous tremor until she felt calmer, then started again with moisturiser number 2. 

She had dated quite a lot in the last few years but most of them never made it off the ground. There was always something she could not stand or if he was perfect, she became insecure and ruined things. The third scenario left her feeling more insecure as her dates had found and picked at her flaws only to deem her unsuitable. She also had a few long term relationships but somehow they just went wrong or one way or the other there was cheating. 

Devon forewent getting dressed to call work and let them know he would be working from home tonight as usual. Right about now she would be out of the shower. Primping that last bit and mulling over whether to cancel this date or just take a chance. She had been easy to follow. Her routine, basic and easy to track. She only went out with her friends once in the time before he engaged her and none in the last week. She left her house to go to the grocery shop on a routine schedule and the only other places she frequented included work and an apartment building a bit too out of her way to be convenient. He had to know what was there and through a slow process of elimination he got what he desired; not her parents, not a girlfriend, not a relative, but an ex-lover. He ripped another photo in two as he thought of why she would go there that late and sneak out that early. He masked his anger as his employer gave him his new secure login and tasks for the night, but his blood still boiled at the thought of anyone else with her. As his father often said "Once he has had her no one else should." Devon calmed, however, for he knew he would be her last. 

Sarah's pedicure from earlier had stood the test of time and needed no fixing. She had been waxed smooth and her sun kissed skin had a lovely glow from the moisturising. A clump of shoulder length ebony hair was wrapped around a curling wand and held until her curls were reformed. This wasn't her first rodeo and having a routine made things easier even with her nerves teetering on the edge. As time crept on, the difficulties of dating began to rear its ugly head. At 27 she saw herself giving out her number more freely to interested strangers. 29 saw her dating guys her friends deemed just perfect for her. 30 saw her joining new social groups and going to church to meet guys. Then at age 31, she worked on her fabulously single self and indulged in the single lifestyle holistically, so she basically gave up. Coincidentally that year also saw her meeting someone special, her ex-boyfriend. Her phone buzzed and she paused on the last curl to glance at the message. Her grip on the curling iron tightened  and she scowled. "The gf just left, wanna chill?" - Ricky <3. Chucking her phone at her bed gave her satisfaction only physically harming her ex would surpass, but her phone fell short with a tell tale crack. Dropping the curling iron was a mistake not even the shock of a broken phone could justify. The sharp sting on her shoulder, where the curling iron bounced twice before dislodging from her hair to land on her foot, made her jump. The burn to her foot set in motion the mess of moisturizers on the floor, toilet, bath mat, sink and walls. And to top the mess all off her stamp of frustration got her another burn on the sole of the same foot. Age 35 saw her fumbling to get ready for her last attempt at dating; a man she "met" last week on a dating site. 

Devon knew taking Rick's cell phone had been a risk but it was not an impulsive decision. He looked at the message he just sent, and felt assured that she would be at their date tonight. He had to poke the wound that caused her to create a profile on a dating site. It meant she would be there now even if simply out of defiance and guilt for being reduced to what she now was, a booty call. His profile he kept simple. A faux picture, deep words that gave his character emotions, and hobbies that gave him a ruggedness that contrasted with his love of reading. His degree in psychology only helped to make his twisted fantasies more fun, and his dating profiles all the more irresistible. He knew he stood out but that is exactly what he needed, her to desire him more than anything. He deleted his account after showing interest. She too followed suit after hearing him say how embarrassed he was to have the account in the first place, in a conversation over a private line. An orange, purple glow cast shadows through his open window and with that reminder of the time he dressed. 

With her hair done, Sarah had under an hour to fix the rest of her. Gathering her makeup she moved her titivating to her bedroom, ignoring the mess in the bathroom. If all went well tonight that mess would be tomorrow evening's problems. Pinning her hair back she started on the first layer of her makeup. She had learnt to do her own makeup at some point in the last ten years. Asking others for help for as many times as she would need it stopped making sense after her tenth first date in 3 months. Now, she was an expert at hiding her flaws and accentuating her assets while still looking natural. Her online dating photo was a perfect example. Her plain brown eyes popped under dark thick lashes, her cheeks rested high on her face with a sculpted jawline that made her look modelesque, her thin lips looked pink, plump and moist making an all together pleasing image. She had spent 4 painstaking hours one night working on just what to put on her dating profile and an additional 2 on the profile picture alone. Her profile got more hits than she ever dreamt of but he was the only one that she couldn't stop looking at. He was perfect. 

It was important that every blade, every tool be placed in just the right place in the car. The chlorfoam coated napkins in the glove compartment, the tie straps in the armrest, the knives under the seat, the lysol on the dashboard. All was there in easy reach and all had its purpose. 

Sarah couldn't decide between that tight fitting red dress she kept at the back of her closet and a simply elegant black shift dress she had bought on a whim for nights just like this. The vixen, red dress would mean she had to most literally pour herself into it, after stuffing herself in underwear that came all the way up under her breasts, to wear. The shift still meant underwear to her breasts but she would be comfortable. At 35 she was now reminiscing over those years when she did nothing and weighed nothing. However, at some point her body turned on her and doing everything you can still meant tummy bulges and love handles. She thought she learnt to live with it but the 50 crunches she did before her shower meant she still felt self conscious about the little extra weight. Slipping into the black shift and some red heels, she took one last glance in the mirror, smiled and knew she was as ready as she will ever be. Butterflies fluttered with excitement inside her tummy and she knew after the few conversations they have had that he might be the one and this might be her last date. 

Devon arrived at the chosen restaurant 20 mins early and parked a block away. He sprayed as much lysol into the car and poured a bit of pungent air freshener liquid at various points in the car. As expected he was coughing and hacking from the sheer volume of it. He knew what her next action would be and ensured all the napkins she would use would be on top. He locked the car tightly and made his way to the restaurant. 

"Table for two." A charming smile on deceitful lips, "I have a reservation under Whitman, Kennedy Whitman. " 

A hidden giggle and an extra sashay of her hips saw him seated in the corner with a perfect view of the door for her entrance. He took out his copy of The Great Gatsby and began to read. It was almost time for his night to begin. 

She was to meet him at the restaurant at 7pm. The Uber she took arrived at the restaurant 10 mins after 7, but all was fine as she wanted to make an entrance. She slinked out of the car and walked up to the hostess with all the confidence she could muster.

"I am supposed to meet someone here, umm Mr. Kennedy Whitman." 

The hostess sneered, and led her to a table in the corner of the room with a rugged, tanned gentleman sitting there facing her. His disheveled hair invited her fingers to play and his ocean blue eyes were buried in a copy of The Great Gatsby. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of a clearly well read copy of her favourite book. A distracted step put pressure on the slight burn on her sole of her foot causing her to stumble. The sound drew his attention and he jumped up, dropping his book and jaw in one fell sweep. She knew this night would be special. His tastes were hers and with one look at his outfit, she knew he had the same penchant for blue she had. Their eyes met and she felt weak kneed with the beauty and gentleness she saw there. He smiled, her heart skipped a beat, and with a simple hello she was done for.