The Unborn

Chapter 32

From across the street, he watched as she picked up the last couple of pavers from the ground beside the front steps. Just as she had done with the previous few dozen, she threw them into the wheelbarrow and pushed them toward the small gate underneath the front porch. She set the barrow down and began stacking the last of the pavers inside the small alcove. Her task was almost done when she stumbled over the handle of the barrow and dropped a paver, which landed squarely on her toe before hitting the ground. A stifled scream escaped her and she hopped around on one foot while massaging the other. Still cursing and wincing in agony, she threw the last paver into the crawl space and slammed the door. Leaving the barrow where it was, she limped her way to the front porch and sat on the steps where she continued to rub her toe.

A smile of delight spread across his face. He was enjoying her pain. A woman such as she deserved to be in pain, just as the one before her had deserved to feel it. He bounced from one foot to the other anxiously, his excitementbeginning to build. The fingers of his left hand toyed with the edge of his coat, twisting it up tightly before flicking it free, ready to do it all over again. In his right pants pocket, his other hand caressed the steely coolness hidden there. It felt so strong, so sure of its purpose, the power of it sent tingles down his spine.

His eyes returned to the woman on the porch- but she was gone. The excitement he felt stalled for a brief moment before he turned his attentions away from the house and crossed the road. His feet silently carried him along the driveway beside the house until he was standing beside a camphor laurel tree; its thick branches camouflaged him from the prying eyes of her neighbours. He climbed up onto its trunk and steadied himself among the limbs; he now had a bird’s eye view into her bedroom window. There, between the partially drawn curtains, he caught sight of her again. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands busily working a hair tie around her dusty blonde locks. Perhaps she was running a bath as he could hear the sounds of water running. His breathing grew heavier the closer he crept to the window.

With such intensity he watched her, he was sure she would feel the weight of his stare upon her. Desperation to get closer nagged at him, but he dared not ruin his surprise too early. All would fall into place soon; very soon. For now he just wanted to observe her, try to make sense of her. Most of all, he wanted to be close to her and know her inside and out. She would make an excellent test subject for him, another case study for him to gain the expertise he craves.

She got up from the bed and crossed the room, disappearing through a doorway on the far side of the room. When she returned she was holding a telephone handset to her ear, he could see her lips moving and was barely able to make out muffled words and laughter. The conversation lasted less than thirty seconds before she hit the end button and threw the handset onto the bed. It bounced once or twice from the spring of the mattress.

His eyes followed her; she was peeling her clothes off as she walked towards the sound of the running water. First the pale, mauve T-shirt, then the black, long legged shorts. Next she undid the clasp of her dainty, white bra. It fell to the floor leaving her beautiful bust exposed. Oh how he loved their busts, so full and supple… ripe for the picking. All that was left were her high cut, black panties. She truly was a beautiful creature, or at least she would be after he had performed his magic on her.

He couldn’t help but allow himself the pleasure of admiring her body. Her hair was pulled loosely back from her face and those brown eyes, oh how they looked so full of contentment. He followed the contours of her body downwards past her slender neck and wholesome breasts, coming to rest on her stomach. He took note of how it was not yet swollen, but not completely flat either; she would be starting to show signs soon. Or at least she would be if he were to let her…

His hand tightened around the instrument in his pocket, its coolness had turned red hot, beckoning him to show her its purpose. To make her feel its power and most importantly, his prowess. The tingles running through his body intensified causing him to shake with anticipation. He could almost feel the smooth-ness of her flesh, smell her fear, and taste the salty tears she would shed when she begged for her life and that of her unborn. But he would not listen; her cries would fall upon deaf ears. He would do his job and do it well, showing those in the field how skilled he is.

She had disappeared from his sight now. His heart began to beat faster; the blood rushed through his veins, pumping the adrenalin through his body at a rapid rate. All the planning, the waiting and watching was finally leading up to the climax he yearned for. He pulled his hand from his pocket, checked for the doused piece of cloth in his carry bag and edged closer to the window. His nimble fingers felt along its ledge, quietly prying it loose.