You Belong to Me

Wrong Side of Heaven

I saw the devil today and he looked a lot like me.

Wrong Side of Heaven by Five Finger Death Punch

Mac watched the new girl in town with interest for a few weeks, her name was Remy, and he vaguely remembered her from grammar school.

Her parents had moved away long ago and took her before he'd had a chance to notice her then. Now, he noticed her, did he ever, in spades. He had a thing for short brunettes and he'd hit on her a few times but she had not taken the bait.

Soon the sling was gone and she had full use of her arm again, but the shiner stuck around longer. Still, she was not giving him the time of day. He knew he could have any woman in the place, but that wasn't the point. He wanted what he wanted. Period.

After a while, they realized they knew each other when they were ten or eleven, but that still didn't get his foot in the door, or him between her legs. They had talked some, but it was clear to him she wasn't interested. Sylvia said her man beat the shit out of her, Mac thought Remy probably had it coming but didn't say that out loud. They usually had it coming, he knew that from experience with the fairer sex.

Sylvia was a barfly, and sometimes Remy came out with her, but not always. She kept to herself even when she was out, and the vibes coming off of her were clear as day, don't touch me, don't talk to me.

But he would, he would touch her, eventually, because he wanted her, and he never denied himself something he wanted. Whether it was drugs or a woman, he always got what he wanted, either with his dark charm and looks, or else he took it.

For a woman alone in the world, she had a smart mouth, and Remy had cut him off at the knees at every turn. He had even bought her a shot of Remy Martin, as a play on her name, a joke to get her to laugh and spread her legs.

She had just shaken her head, said "Really, Mac?" blew him off and continued talking to some whore from town. He would make her regret that because he knew where she was living, and he knew her roommate, he'd fucked her a few times too. Sylvia worked nights and Remy would be home all alone every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night from 7 PM to 7 AM, while Sylvia wiped ass as the local nursing home for minimum wage to finance a certain habit she had.

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The pool was shadowed in light and he could see her clearly, there was a light mist coming from the water in the twilight and it was almost...sexy. Mac lit a cigarette as he watched her, inhaled deeply and stroked his hand over his already sizable erection, tonight was the night.

The wait was over, he'd given her enough chances and time to come across and she didn't, so now it was on to plan B. Truthfully, he liked plan B sometimes, most times. There was a thrill in the hunt, and in the fight, and he was a man who lived for thrills. Plan B required thought and planning; it was always a challenge, and Mac loved a challenge.

Clearly, Remy didn't know what things were like out here in the desert, that much was obvious, and Sylvia, like the good whoring bitch that she was had not told her. Being outside, way out here, away from town after dark alone was asking for trouble, and trouble had come to call tonight.

He watched her dipping her feet in the pool for over an hour and licked his lips as he placed the mask over his face, this was going to make his year. Although his dick had been raging hard since he first saw her weeks ago, Remy wouldn't give him the time of day and he had even tried to charm her, to no avail. So now he was going to take what he wanted from her, and leave her used up and shattered. She had asked for it, it didn't have to go down this way, but now it was.

There couldn't be any way for her to recognize him, or he'd have to kill her, not that it wouldn't be fine; one less fucking bitch in the world. Most times that was how it went down if it wasn't one of the local whores spreading their legs for him, like Sylvia. But that got boring, he thought to himself as he watched Remy. She still had the remains of a healing black eye; obviously, she could take a punch, but maybe it wouldn't come to that this time, although he doubted that, she looked like a scrapper.

Maybe she wasn't going down without a fight and he laughed to himself, but she would go down. He ran his hand over the front of his jeans, harder this time, she would do whatever he wanted, but there was going to be a fight. And he was going to fuck her good.

Mac was never adverse to a good fight and he actually liked when they fought back, there was something about overpowering them he liked. Something about being scratched, even better if they drew his blood, and a good fight was what he needed tonight. The weeks of her practically ignoring him was festering inside of him, like a disease, a fuse, waiting to explode. It was lust, so familiar; his favorite sin. She was going to get the brunt of all his sexual frustration that night, in abundance.