stripper killer [matty healy]

eight - erotophonophilia

erotophonophilia: a homicide in which the offender kills for erotic satisfaction and pleasure.

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3rd person

"do you come here often?" he casually asks the blonde, watching in awe as she twirls one of many platinum ringlets around her delicate manicured finger. he already knows the answer, in fact, he already knows a lot about her. but that's not something he wants to give away.

the muffled sound of the music from inside the building and the occasional passing car are the only noises that surround them, they are completely alone as they stand in the alleyway of the bar having a smoke.

the smile that is prominent on the unfortunate woman's heavily made up face clearly indicates she's attracted to the man stood in front of her. "yes." she answers. "i work here actually."

"no way, really?" he questions, making a reaction while lifting the cigarette to his mouth to take a long drag, unknowingly making the girl opposite fancy him even more.

she nods, biting on her bottom lip seductively in secret attempt to turn him on. it was working. "you are way too pretty to be working somewhere like this." he states, taking in her slutty attire before exhaling the smoke into the cold london air.

matty knows that he's taking this girl home. he also knows by tomorrow she won't exist. it's her own fault anyway, he tells himself. she has been throwing herself at him all night. why should he treat her with respect if she has none for herself?

"you wanna get out of here?" she finally speaks, leaning into his ear as she lets her hand cascade down his stomach to palm him through his ridiculous tight jeans.

without saying a word, matty flicks his not even half smoked cigarette on the floor and takes the blondes hand in his. it had taken a lot less than he'd thought to get her to agree. he hasn't even asked for her name, but that's okay. the less he knew, the less he had to hide.

after a short walk and a long bicker regarding where they were going  - they reach her apartment, much to matty's dismay. because he would've much preferred to carry out the kill at home where he was more relaxed and didn't have to worry about making a mess. but he wasn't going to complain, a kill is a kill, after all.

"would you like a drink?" she calls; making her way into what he guessed was the kitchen.

"please." he answers, following her into the large room. his eyes instantly focusing on the platinum knife set sat perfectly open on the marble counter top.

after they drank some wine, exchanged smiles and he had tortured himself through far too much small talk, she decides to go for a shower. leaving him alone in the kitchen.

he leans back against the expensive cabinet and let's his possible actions run through his head. i mean the plan was as soon as she got here, he would fuck her hard, before murdering her. but the way she was stalling already by insisting on drinks and a shower made him doubt himself. not on whether he was in fact going to sleep with this woman, but whether he would be able to spill her blood before she had the chance to defend herself.

deciding to put his needs before his wants, he takes one of the larger knives from the (pretty impressive) set in his hands. the feeling he knew and loved all too well began to bubble in the pit of his stomach, excitement and adrenaline kicking in as he watched the light dance across the beautiful silver blade and he twirled it to look at his cold reflection.

"feel something, you monster." he mumbles, as he narrows his eyes on the cold blooded killer he could see in the small width of the weapon. "feel some remorse."