OOC: Closed for zoelikesjam and I
I was waiting for Isabella. She didn't know it yet but I'd been watching her for some time and knew all her moves. She was much younger, still in school in fact, and was becoming quite the tease. I saw how flirty she acted around the mall and the gym, tossing that mane of red hair around, putting a bounce in her step that shook those lovely tits, but always seeming to go home at night to her tiny apartment alone. Maybe it was a coming of age thing. Maybe it was because she always had that ample figure that she never realized how hot she could be until she came to California. The English accent certainly made her an exotic flavor. I don't know why or how her parents let her live alone. Maybe they were still in Britain. Maybe they had a falling out, but then still paid her rent. Someone had to because it was always school, mall, library, gym with her. No job. I knew everything. She was probably a real spoiled brat.
She had no idea that I was waiting for her. She had no idea who I was at all, or that I even existed, but little tarts like her can get a reputation, and I was going to show her what that kind of reputation would get her.
It was dark, five minutes to nine on Tuesday night. The library would be closing and right on her schedule, innocent or not-so-innocent, little Isabella would be sauntering across the park, on her short cut to the bus stop, blissfully unaware, along this hedge that hides my van and into this empty unlit parking lot, alone. Stupid naive girl.
The radio was on very low. I shut it off, adjusted my gloves and stepped out into the cool summer evening. Then I slid open the side door and with the bottle of chloroform ready in one hand and the rag in the other, I stood behind the hedge and waited for her footsteps on the gravel path.
Isabella Dorcas, just eighteen years old. She would never see it coming.
I was waiting for Isabella. She didn't know it yet but I'd been watching her for some time and knew all her moves. She was much younger, still in school in fact, and was becoming quite the tease. I saw how flirty she acted around the mall and the gym, tossing that mane of red hair around, putting a bounce in her step that shook those lovely tits, but always seeming to go home at night to her tiny apartment alone. Maybe it was a coming of age thing. Maybe it was because she always had that ample figure that she never realized how hot she could be until she came to California. The English accent certainly made her an exotic flavor. I don't know why or how her parents let her live alone. Maybe they were still in Britain. Maybe they had a falling out, but then still paid her rent. Someone had to because it was always school, mall, library, gym with her. No job. I knew everything. She was probably a real spoiled brat.
She had no idea that I was waiting for her. She had no idea who I was at all, or that I even existed, but little tarts like her can get a reputation, and I was going to show her what that kind of reputation would get her.
It was dark, five minutes to nine on Tuesday night. The library would be closing and right on her schedule, innocent or not-so-innocent, little Isabella would be sauntering across the park, on her short cut to the bus stop, blissfully unaware, along this hedge that hides my van and into this empty unlit parking lot, alone. Stupid naive girl.
The radio was on very low. I shut it off, adjusted my gloves and stepped out into the cool summer evening. Then I slid open the side door and with the bottle of chloroform ready in one hand and the rag in the other, I stood behind the hedge and waited for her footsteps on the gravel path.
Isabella Dorcas, just eighteen years old. She would never see it coming.
