April was the greatest love of my life.
She made me understand all the meaninglessness I was drowning
in before we met. She transformed me from an egocentric monster
into a man of reason and even tenderness.
So, of course, I had to kill her.
We met, quite by chance, at a local
coffee shop. It was mid-morning and I was in a desperate need
for a caffeine fix. I had spent the day doing research for
my next book, and was drained from the human interaction it
required. As I stumbled into the coffee house, the aroma of
freshly ground beans perked my senses. I wished I had ordered
all the books online and not had to hassle dealing with the
pretentious sales clerks who look at me with no attempt to
veil their abhorrent disgust at my choice of reading matter.
However, my impatience turned out a stronger call than my
desire to live as a hermit. And my addiction to caffeine had
an even stronger pull on me than all my multitude of insecurities
So there I was, ordering a triple shot
espresso, when I saw her. Her features, to the average observer,
I suppose would be considered plain and ordinary. She had
mousy brown hair held back over her forehead with a large
faux tortoiseshell barrette. On her nose perched a pair of
reading glasses that reminded me of something straight from
doubt purchased at a budget drugstore that specialized in
the blue rinse aged group. Her figure was amplebordering
on plump. But two things separated her from any other girl
I had ever seenher
lips. They were red, full, pouting and oh so inviting. Plus,
the deal breaker was that she was heavily absorbed in a booknot
overly unusual in itself; however this book is very special
the Children by John Saul. As my attention returned to
the barista who was handing me my fix, I remember thanking
him, as my mind tried to frantically search for an angle to
create an introduction.
I have had limited interaction with
members of the opposite sex. Not that I hadn't had desires.
God, have I had those
I just never had the confidence
to follow through. It seemed that fate, in this instance,
was on my side, for a stumbling business man, too interested
in his cell phone call, managed to trip over her feet, spilling
a third of his steaming coffee on the table where she was
seated. The man didn't apologize but just continued his way
mindlessly to the exit, without even pausing his conversation
for as much as a glance back. Grabbing a towel from the barista,
I sprung into heroic action.
As I dabbed up the spilt coffee, trying
to conceal my nervousness, she looked up at me with curiosity.
"Thanks," she uttered softly.
"That guy redefines the term 'asshole'." Her perfectly
formed mouth fashioned into a welcoming smile. I found, to
my delight, that I was smiling back.
"Mind if I take a seat?"
I asked, discovering my mouth now dry and not quite believing
I was actually talking.
She gently nodded.
And so it began.
We sat there for over an hourdrinking
coffee after coffee and discussing everything from politics
to global warming, but most importantly we talked about books!
It turned out that we had a mutual obsession with the macabre
and even more significantly, the thin line between pleasure
and pain. We discussed in great detail the pleasure people
achieve watching someone else being hurt. The fascination
people have as they drive past a car crashthe
one that makes them slow down, almost despite themselves,
to catch a glorious glimpse of carnage. It is an impulse etched
deep into our genes. Hence the popularity of such movies as
Saw and the ilk; the human animal, as a general rule,
extracts unparalleled pleasure from scenes of intense goreand
the more gruesome and blood-soaked the victim, the more enjoyment
is attained. Yet, whereas most people are in denial of this
dark side of them, maybe even ashamed or embarrassed by it,
or considered it as religiously tabooApril,
just as I, embraced it.
Talking to her was different, unlike
any other conversation I had even had in my life. The cliché
says there is somebody for everybodyI
always mocked the concept, thinking that my passions for the
dark underbelly of human compulsions were unique. However,
to my delight, it was proving deliciously true.
Our first date was of a midnight showing
of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre. We sat there
enthralled, giggling like two adolescents throughout the entire
performance. Afterwards was the first time we kissed. And
oh, what a kiss! It was as if the movie had acted as some
amazing aphrodisiac! I swear, every single part of me, spiritually
and physically, became sexually aroused. As our tongues energetically
explored each other's, I felt her teeth clamp down, to be
rewarded with the sweetness of my blood. I did not pull awayon
the contrary, this only aroused me further, and I allowed
her to suck away for a good twenty minutes. I almost felt
as if my very soul was being drained from me, yet I was savoring
each blissful second. Finally, alas, the elongated kiss came
to an end, and we stared into each other's eyes, not needing
anything as simplistic as words to communicate.
From that point on the relationship
progressed quickly. Two months later she agreed to move into
my cold, scantily furnished residence was transformed by her
decorating abilities into a home. She brought with her Stoker,
a black moggie of dubious heredity. Yet, I came to adore that
cat, as each night I watched, almost envious, as he went out
for his midnight prowl unfettered from social taboos that
restricted polite modern society. It hunted, it screwed, and
it lived each moment to the fullest, relishing in all the
carnal and primeval pleasures life had to offer.
Our love making was also becoming increasingly
exhilarating. Our bedroom quickly transformed, in a matter
of weeks, into a room resembling more of a torture chamber
than sleeping quarters. Through various internet auctions
we accumulated bizarre instruments to induce various levels
and degrees of pain. The bed itself, a rather mundane four-poster,
was replaced by an eight-foot-square rubber mat which was
two inches thick; I strongly recommend them. Not only was
in incredibly soft, absorbing our sexual acrobatics with amazing
other bodily liquidstains
were remarkably easy to eradicate simply using a cloth and
an over the counter disinfectant. The instruments we used
for our beating sessions were varied and included various
types of whips, crops, canes, a taw, belts and my personal
favorite, a leather paddle.
We delved deep, through text after
text, in the deliciously wicked mind of the Marquis de Sade,
delighting in his delicious, and flagrant, licentiousness.
This not only elevated our sexual exploits to amazing new
heights, but also proved to be excellent fodder for a novel
I was writing which revolved around an autoerotic theme.
We also experimented with asphyxiophilia,
taking it in turns to limit, by the use of a crimson silk
kerchief, the amount of oxygen reaching our brains to both
extend and heighten the pleasure from orgasm.
Yet, after several more weeks, and
after pushing our insatiable bodies to the maximum, even this
began to lose its desired impact, our lovemaking exploits
and experimentations almost becoming dull, tedious, and worst
of all, predictable. We both desperately craved morethe
ultimate sexual experienceat,
and this is an important point to interject, whatever cost.
We experimented with electricity next.
Quite the experience, let me tell you! We plugged in a transformer
and attached the positive connection to the big toe of my
right foot, and the negative to April's left toe. She giggled
in apprehensive anticipation as I turned the transformer on.
I had the dial on lownothing
more than twenty volts at first. Wherever our bodies met,
there was the tingling sensation of the current being completed.
I blindfolded April with a black scarf and she lay down on
the rubber mat. And then ever so gently I allowed my index
finger to gradually explore every enticing curve and crevice
of her sumptuous torso. She trembled with delight and delicious
expectation as I ventured into her most sacred of places.
She wiggled and moaned in pleasure, and as I withdrew, she
begged me to continue. I knew that we were on to somethingthat
none of our previous experiments had come anywhere close to
the thrill of electricity.
Then I increased the voltage to eighty
and embraced. The sensation was erotically sublime. Every
nerve in my body tingled with pleasure, and she screamed my
name repetitiously in pleasure as her eager mouth navigated
to my left ear and her teeth bit down hard. She was rewarded
with the taste of my blood and simultaneous orgasm.
Yet still we craved more.
I turned the dial to the maximum240
April was still blindfolded and was
unaware of what I was doing. But she kept murmuring under
heated breath... "More, more, for God's sake, more
I realized that what I was considering
was risky. Damned risky, in fact. However, a small part of
my brain kept insisting it was the right thing to do. Perhaps
that was a little devil inside of meor
perhaps, more likely, the real me, the me that I all
too often tried to suppress. The very same me I try to tame
and control as I use his screaming voice to write my successful
horror books. But now I could not censor or manipulate it,
as it screamed repeatedly and assertively within my skull.
"More, more, more," begged
April. "Give it to me, baby. Give me all you got
So once more I allowed my finger to
caress her soft skin. However, this time she did not moan
with pleasure; her body literally convulsed at my touch. I
felt the electricity surge through my body causing me pain
I never even dreamed was possible. Yet, despite this, I was
exhilarated more than I had ever been before. I was fully
aware that I was playing with death, almost taunting it. Yet
this only aroused me further. April's body reacted to the
jolt more dramatically than I did. For where I was more or
less able to maintain a steady hand, her body continued to
convulse and dance at my touch. I could see her trying to
formulate words; her mouth, that luscious, inviting cavity,
hung open. I slowly allowed my finger to crawl up her stomach,
gently brushing her belly button. Then I realized that I too
was starting to convulseI
felt as if my heart was about to beat out of my very chest.
It took every ounce of self will I could muster to maintain
contact with her. Agony and pleasure filled my every sense.
Every memory of the past, every dream of the future was extinguishedall
that remained was the powerful now, eclipsing every sensation
I had ever experienced. My finger made it to the enticing
cleft between her heaving breasts. I could tell by the twisted
smile on her face that she was experiencing ecstasy as much
as pain. Her shaking was intensifying now. All at once I plunged
my finger into her mouth, and she reflectively bit down, again
causing me to breathe. For a few moments we were joined more
than I ever considered it possible for two people to be connected.
She met my gaze; her eyes told me she was experiencing intense
pleasure that neither of us had ever even contemplated up
to that point.
Then she stopped moving.
I withdrew my bloodied finger and methodically
turned off the transformer.
I was drained from emotion at this
point, and was very matter-of-fact about the whole experience.
As I wrapped my bleeding finger with
tissue, I examined April's motionless body. There was no question
in my mind she was dead. But there was no doubt in my mind
that this is precisely what she had wanted. Her contorted
mouth appeared to still be smilingand
her eyes, despite being dead, still appeared to be filled
with more life than I had ever seen in them. My only regret
was that I, somehow, perhaps miraculously, had survived the
ordeal. It was then a seed of emotion began to grow and fester
in my gut. Not one of regretbut
one of jealousy. Through death, I had given her the ultimate
experience that life can offer.
I am writing this account to explain
the bizarre circumstances that are surely soon to be uncovered.
Some of you, reading these words, might consider what I did
was an act of crueltyand
almost a deed of premeditated murder. And perhaps to a degree
you are correct. But I am also equally sure that at least
one of you grasps it for precisely what it wasthe
ultimate expression of love and sexuality.
I am now about to take the transformer
to the bath tub. I am intent on filling the tub with water,
climbing in, and dropping the transformer turned onto its
maximum output into the water. This time death will have to
envelop me, and I shall once again be joining Aprilalmost
certainly in Hellfor
And I have to confessI