In her plain-Jane khaki office uniform, the blonde girl worked extra hard to show off her come-hither hiney. Bending over with her ass-crack facing the men standing around her at the counter, the bunched-up skin at the top of her bottom was displayed for all to see. She may as well have been one of those monkeys in heat in the jungle showing off their red and engorged private parts.
Because after all, what was the difference? Display was display.
It was disgusting, spreading herself out with only a few thin pieces of the material in her shiny khaki slacks between the skin of her ass and a man who could reach out and stick his finger up her if he dared move the material out of the way, poking towards the promised land right there in front of other people.
Then he could be in her, feeling of her, wet and pulsing, and she’d feel it and it would feel good, even if she complained it didn’t. Just like that, she could be invaded.
Eileen made herself walk around the brightly lit store, listening to happy-sounding canned music, pretending to look at racks of computer magazines and USB ports and brightly colored specialty printer paper, while all the time she watched the blonde girl to see if she had any redeeming features.
But no, she was just the same as the rest of them, with their big smiles, the big, light, lilting laughs at the men’s stupid jokes, and the sashaying buttocks and the bending over, always the bending over, and the straightening back up and the flicking of their long hair out of their faces.
The open invitation.
What was this world coming to, that people no longer cared about staying intact?
The yellow paper felt so good in her hands. Even with her gloves on, Eileen could feel its substance.
And she could smell it, too. It smelled like a clean, fresh start, like fresh notebooks when school first started, back when she was a little girl. There were less people around then, and the ones who were around, they were a lot alike, and that was nice, having that polite way of being, and everyone the same.
With the bright lights inside the store and the music playing on and on and the people milling around behind the counter and out in the store, Eileen felt out of place. It was too busy here, too filled up. She couldn’t think straight or stay true to herself with so many people around. It clouded her up inside.
Oh, good Lord. The blonde girl was coming over. No no no. No talking. No talking.
Eileen began to turn away just as the girl walked up to her.
“Hi, ma’am,” she said to Eileen. “If you need any help today, just let me know…”
Eileen hurried toward the door, not running, but looking harassed for time. Busy. Yes, she did a good job of looking too busy to waste her time on frivolous things. And she’d remembered to keep her gloves on, too. And she’d remembered not to talk.
She should never have left her car. She was going to stay in her car from now on. She’d known when she saw the girl making deliveries earlier, down the street, that she was a useless tart. She hadn’t needed to follow her truck and walk inside the store to watch the girl to know all about that.
After Eileen peed at the McDonalds, she was going back to her car and lock her doors and feel under the seat for her gun and then watch for the girl to come out.
And follow her. That following part was fun.
The sky was clouding up. It looked like she might have good luck again with the rain.
The last one she’d killed, it’d rained like crazy all evening. People had hunkered down, stayed in. That last girl’s body hadn’t been found until the next morning, between two cars out in the back of the strip mall...
Two hours after Eileen’s fresh kill, she stood naked in her shower, inhaling the rising steam. She was strong enough to stand under the heat and the hard spray. She had a secret inner power that no one else could see. Standing under the shower with her eyes closed, she reached down between her legs and opened her folds, sliding her wet forefingers in a rhythmic up and down pattern so the water could reach her in special places. She was The One. Pure and anointed.
She hummed - long atonal sounds that she was sure were part of the human preconscious mind, older than time, sounds that were made before words started forming.
Eileen had allowed herself to find the ancient sounds. She wasn’t afraid to close her eyes and let the old sounds escape from the long dead past. She brought them to life again, and stroked herself some more, speaking the words with the water flowing, pressuring and stroking until she caught her breath and the release came.
Then she panted, washed and rinsed.
There now. There. All better.
Robin Billings is from Kentucky in the States but now lives in Greater London. (Yeah, it sounds like a mismatch, but there you go.) She has stories published in The Potomac Journal: http://thepotomacjournal.com/issue10/Fiction/Billings.html, in Wilderness House Literary Review: http://www.whlreview.com/no-4.3/fiction/RobinBillings.pdf, and in Thrillers Killers ‘n’ Chillers, http://thrillskillsnchills.blogspot.com/2011/05/convenient-by-robin-billings.html. She’s also done a drive-by as a guest blogger at Paul Brazill’s place: http://pdbrazill.blogspot.com/2011/04/guest-blog-underbelly-love-by-robin.html.