For Kelly

TW: sexual violence, physical violence, gore

      I sit at my kitchen table trying to pull myself together as my coffee sits in front me getting cold. My skin feels too tight, suffocating and restraining me. The blackness at the edge of my vision is returning. It’s happening again. That all too familiar pull into the darkness.

           Not now. Not today.

           My chair screeches on the tile as I push away from the table. I turn to the kitchen sink and stick my head under the faucet, trying to wash away the images that are beginning to form. The curve of a calf. The arching of a neck… I feel the twitch of my cock and my breath hitches as I let the unbidden images come. Unconsciously, I unhook my belt. I need the release. Right here, right now. It doesn’t matter that I made love to Kelly less than an hour ago. I freeze. Kelly.

           How could I have forgotten?

           Today is Kelly’s last day with me before she leaves. She deserves to have today be special. To have a proper send-off.

           I take a deep breath. I can resist the temptation. Just one more day. For Kelly.

           I grab my briefcase and peek my head into the living room. The television is on, and I see Kelly’s head resting on her shoulder. I can’t help myself. As quietly as I can, so as not to disturb her, I gently place a kiss on her cheek, taking in her sweet scent.

           I smile to myself, resolve setting in to do right by her.

*

           That resolve immediately begins to dissipate once I’m out of the house, however.

           I walk past my young assistant on the way to my office. Her long blonde hair is piled on top of her head, her neck exposed as she’s hunched over taking notes while on a call.

           “Yes ma’am, this is the Springfield District Attorney’s office…mmhmm…yes, ma’am, we can certainly help you fill out that protection from stalking form.”

           I enter my office, shutting the door firmly behind me. I knew it was a bad idea hiring Lauren, that she’d be too distracting for me, but my lust won out that day. I know she’s off limits, but a man can still look.

           Kelly. Kelly is at home waiting for you.

           Even though I’ve just arrived, I check the clock anyway and groan inwardly. Perhaps if I stay busy and focused enough, I can tamp down the demons inside.

           “Gary?”

           I jump, startled by the intrusion. “You’re supposed to knock, Lauren.”

           “Sorry, sir, but don’t you have to get to court for that hearing?”

           Shit.

           “I have your file materials ready.”

           I snatch the files out of her hands, managing to graze her breast as I do so. But it’s not enough to satiate the desire burning within me. I try to repress the images of her nubile body as I speed walk to the courthouse.

           I arrive just in time to get my file materials situated and rise as the judge enters the courtroom. He goes through the standard rigmarole before the sentencing hearing can begin.

           A heavyset woman in an ill-fitting pantsuit and short, thinning hair approaches the podium to present her victim statement to the court. I know I must have met with her, but she doesn’t have the kind of face or figure a man like me remembers. Then she opens her mouth. God, with the crying already.

           As she reads her letter, I look over to the defendant. He’s clean cut, with shortly cropped blonde hair, a square jawline, and broad shoulders. Younger than the woman at the podium and immensely more attractive. Even though it was my job—and I was damn good at it—I still felt bad about asking for the harshest sentence for a violent sexual assault against a woman like that. I look back to the podium at the blubbering mess sitting before us. Pathetic. She should consider herself lucky that a guy like him fucked her.

           But I have to keep up appearances. I wipe all expression from my face and listen stoically to the rest of the victim statements before rising to present my argument.

*

           “Gary, brother! I can’t believe you got 30 to life on that guy!” The investigator slaps me on the back as he joins me at the crosswalk. God, I hated this guy.

           “Rothman,” I say trying to sound chipper, “you know my track record. I always get my man. I haven’t lost a case yet.”

           “Speaking of that track record of yours,” he stops and pulls out a file. “We got a new investigation going, and this lady needs your help filling out the restraining forms against her kid’s boyfriend. Think you can help her out?”

           I feel the excitement bubbling underneath the surface. “Sure, that shouldn’t be a problem at all, Rothman, my man.”

*

           To kill time before my final meeting, I open up the new file the investigator gave me and am delighted. Inside are the details of an attack by an 18-year-old of his 16-year-old girlfriend.

           I scour the reports, taking in the delicious details. Please let there be pictures. I turn the page and there she is. Each picture taken at the hospital is a closeup of each scratch, each bruise, each injury inflicted upon her during the incident. The split lip…a large purple bruise covering the underside of her breast… I feel the excitement growing inside of me. The need to overpower and snuff out the light behind her eyes…

           My intercom buzzes, startling me out of my reverie.

           “Gary?”

           “Yes, Lauren?”

           “Your 4 o’clock has just arrived.”

           I sigh. “Okay, send her in.”

           I pinch the bridge of my nose. That feeling of being trapped in my skin has returned, like an itch you can’t scratch. One more meeting. I’ve nearly made it.

           My heart skips a beat when she enters.

           “P—please have a seat, Ms.—?” I fumble with the stack of filing on my desk, but I can’t think clearly enough to even know what I’m looking for.

           “Just call me Tammy,” she exhales as she collapses in the seat.

           “Please, tell me what brings you in.” But I already know. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t need help.

           As she starts her spiel, I lean back and take her in. Her long brown hair is unkempt and brushed to one side in a feeble attempt to hide the left side of her face. But even through the strands of hair, I can see that her eye is swollen shut and there’s a cut across her cheek.

           “—and then, he grabbed me by the throat. See?”

           I snap back to attention as she unbuttons the top two buttons of her blouse to show me the purple bruises blooming across her neck. She leans forward, giving me a better view. I can nearly see the thumbprint on one.

           I shift in my seat. The darkness that has been at the edge of my vision crowds in further. I imagine myself on top of Tammy, straddling her, my hands around her pretty little neck. Because that pretty little neck is mine to squeeze the life out of. Her eyes bulging, the blood vessels popping, as I keep squeezing the breath out of her…

           “So, do you think there’s anything you can do to help?” she looks at me expectantly.

           “Yes, yes, of course,” but my breath sounds ragged, even to my ears. “In fact, here’s my business card, with my personal number on it. Please feel free to call me should you feel you’re in danger.”

           She clutches my card to her breast like a lifeline.

           “Oh, thank you Mr.—”

           “Gary, please call me Gary.”

           “Thank you, Gary. You don’t know what this means.”

           I escort her out of my office and breathe a sigh of relief. I can finally go home.

*

           The anticipation of seeing Kelly is almost too much. I rush to the living room, frantically peeling my clothes off as I go. She’s still on the couch, waiting for me, her perfume filling the air, and I take her in my arms.

           I first met Kelly a few months ago relating to stalking and assault charges against her ex-boyfriend. It was lust at first sight, at least on my part. But I knew I had to take things slow, bide my time, earn her trust. My patience paid off though. A few days ago, she called me over after her ex had broken the restraining order. I saw my opportunity and rushed over. She was in tears when she opened the door and threw herself into my arms.

           Needless to say, one thing led to another. Before I knew it, we were on the couch, my hands wrapped around her delicate neck, her skin turning blue. Once she stopped moving, I was able to satisfy my own needs. Then I brought her home where we’ve been enjoying each other’s company since.

           But the time has come for our love affair to end.

           We make love one last time, and I gently wrap her in the blanket her ex threw out in his garbage yesterday. There’s already an investigation into her disappearance, but the discovery of her body and his blanket will guarantee his conviction.

           Because I always get my man.