Defective - A Psychopath's Tale

Chapter 10 - Panty Boy

Once I was done with my fast shopping trip I hurried back to the restaurant. From outside and viewed through the window near where we'd been sitting, I could see Fat Prick was still at his table but he'd be leaving soon. Good, I'd be able to gather some information on him before we met again.

When the coast was clear I slipped back inside the entrance. The concierge that seated us was there and alone. He froze in place when he saw me. I proceeded to the small stand right in front of him, I could tell he was questioning my return.

I spoke low. "Fat Prick's name." I said.

He didn't move, I knew he knew whom I was asking about, he was simply reluctant. I pulled a note from my pocket, holding it between my fingers but not offering it to him quite yet.

"That fat fuck that abused Staci." I said then held the crown note to him low over the podium he was behind.

The concierge gave a quick look from side to side with his eyes then grabbed the note and quickly pocketed it. Then he picked up a pen and scratched at a small post-it-note pad, pulled the page from the stack and handed it to me. After that he turned and walked away back into the main dinning room. That was my cue to leave.

I slipped out of the entrance as quickly and covertly as I had entered. Once I was across the street and secluded from view I looked at the small piece of paper. 'Bernard Lattei' was written on the paper. I knew the name. He was a privileged son. His father was Belvedere Lattei the girls lingerie designer, his panties had made him famous. "We're the tops in bottoms!" had been their advertising claim. Shortly after he became a name in panties he launched an entire line of brassieres, corsets, teddies, everything tender in girls undergarments and sleepwear. You'd think a boy whom owed his fortune to girls would treat them better.

I'd requisitioned a motorbike from a nearby lot, when Fat Prick left the joint I followed his every move. He made three stops, first at a strip club, second at a fuel station where he used the bathroom and third at a pleasure service. I was able to watch him inside at the reception desk through the large windows. He appeared to argue with the boy at the desk that rented the girls out. Fat Prick left alone.

There were basically only two reasons a pleasure service would refuse a customer; nonpayment or abuse of one of the prostitutes. Normally I would have ruled out nonpayment, but Fat Prick was the type that would skip out on a bill if he could. Still, I was guessing he'd been a bit rough, he seemed that type also. Rough sex is fine, as long as all participants are into it. When a prostitute says stop, you should if you want to use that service again. There are also manners to consider. Fat Prick had none.

From there he went home, alone as I'd predicted. The place he'd stopped at wasn't bottom line, but it also wasn't near top shelf. I suspected he'd been axed from service by the upper class services and simply worked his way down the ladder when places wouldn't serve him anymore.

Security on his house was practically nonexistent. No guards, no dogs, only a limp security system on the house that I easily bypassed. The locks were a better grade than the security alarm was, but still well within my means to pick my way through.

Once inside I had to wait while Fat Prick took a shit again. When he came out finally he was half dressed and carrying a towel. He sat his fat ass down on a couch and turned on his TV. After a minute he got up again and went into the bathroom, then I heard water running. At first I thought I'd have to wait for Fat Prick to take a shower but he returned to the sofa, letting the shower warm before he got in. I made my move. My face was covered, hands gloved, and clothes easy to dispose of. I came up from behind while he picked at his nose. I was ready for him.