It Must Be Tough, Realizing You Married Your Stalker

Kissing time a long goodbye, I knew I had to get it done. I held the cold angled metal in my right hand, twising my wrist, feeling gravity pull its dead weight toward the heat-soaked ground. The Killers lyrics: "It was only a kiss; it was only a kiss" echoing inside my head, I tapped my Sketchered toe on the ground. The dust clouded up around my ankle as I looked up at his window.

Being a pro doesn't guarantee you a job, and I hadn't had one in awhile. I remember talking to my contact (I shifted my sunglasses tighter against my face) about that fact. I needed an easy 5 grand up front, 15 later, for this kind of gig. Since I knew the vic, I was a little nervous this time. It's easier to pop someone you don't know.

The light was on in his window and I flashbacked to . . .

A dimly lit room, soft-leather couch, sitting close, closer still. Smile pasted on my face like a Raggedy-Ann doll. My hand caressing his leg, higher, higher still, and a hard-core moan erupting from him as I found my prey. I eased his pants down; leaning over him, I tasted sweet ecstasy long enough for him to feel sweet ecstasy and then kissed him long and hard.

I shook my head; get it together, damn. Thinking about that event, the fucker's gonna screw this up. 20 G's goes a long way in Vegas.

I saw him pass in and out of the light, well, his shadow anyway. I remembered his body, imperfect in every delectable way. Not hard-bodied like those gym rats, not that. I shivered in the cold breeze blowing in off the coast. I was biding my time, convincing myself that I was waiting for the right moment, unsure if I was just stalling.

I was hidden well in the darkness. It had closed in and almost smothered the nighttime noises of the small suburban neighborhood. The scent of something grilling up nearby, made my mouth salivate. Still feeling torn, I holstered the .45 and shifted the weight from one foot to the other.

The night was weary.

TO BE CONTINUED