Serial1

Serial 1

The frat boy pressed his back against the wall, next to the closed door. Tried to control his breathing. Felt his heart pounding in his throat, breathing in ragged gasps. His hands clenched white knuckled on the coil of rope....

In one of the college apartments upstairs he could hear her footsteps. Moving from one room to another. Cheap apartments, four in a group. Quadplexes, they call them. Floors so flimsy every step can be counted by anyone in the building. And window blinds so cheap and flimsy you could see through them, or around them, with binoculars. From his frat house across the street. He'd been watching. Planning. Studying her in her bedroom. Seeing her as she dressed. Undressed. Slept. The image of her nude body burned it's way into his mind. The decision to kill had come slow and hard. But once made, the rest was easy. The method.....no question there. Just cover your tracks afterwards. But don't be a fanatic about it.

So he stood in the basement laundry room of a cheap quadplex. Panting and sweating with excitement and summer heat. Listening as somewhere upstairs, in her apartment, she moved from room to room. They were alone in the building. He had watched carefully. Planned. Moved when the time was right. He was waiting in the basement laundry. Her noose was already tied. The rope ran over a heavy pipe at the ceiling, in the middle of the room. He held both ends in his hands, behind the door. She wouldn't see it as she entered the room. And now he waited.

He heard the sound of her apartment door open. Her footsteps on the creaky stairs to the basement. The door next to him opened. He stood behind it. Through the crack at the hinge side he caught a glimpse of her. Short blonde hair. Carrying a laundry basket. And ( his heart slammed against his chest ) wearing cut off jeans and a bikini top. Neon pink, halter style, tied at the back and the neck. She walked straight across the room to a washing machine. He moved silently behind her. Filled with the thrill and terror of it all. Almost not believing he was really doing it. She set the basket down on top of the machine. He dropped the noose over her head from behind. Moving fast, he pulled the other end of the rope tight, and moved back across the room, past the pipe the rope was over, pulling her with him. She gasped as the rope dropped around her neck, and then it was too tight to breathe. She never did scream. He held the rope with both hands and lunged across the room. She was dragged back from the washer, both hands at her throat, and jerked clear of the floor. He tied his end to another pipe along the wall. And stood and watched.

She hanged in the center of the room. Eyes wide. Fingers at her throat, trying to get beneath the rope. The knot was straight behind her head. Her long legs and bare feet swung forward and back, like a mermaid swimming. She made a quiet gargle noise. He moved behind her and with shaking fingers untied her bikini top. Reached around in front of her, between her elbows. Grabbed the fabric and pulled it away from her. He briefly felt the soft warm flesh of her breasts as he jerked the cloth away. She was kicking her legs now. One leg kicked back while the other leg kicked forwards. Her bare feet reaching for the floor. She moved her hands away from her throat and gripped the rope above the hangmans noose. Her breasts swayed and bounced, nipples huge and hard. Tried to lift herself with her hands, her chests heaving with the effort. He stood against the wall. Mesmerized. Watched her. Watched her moving breasts. Her flailing legs. Her wide eyes, and gasping silent mouth. He tried to control his breathing. His chest was heaving as hard as hers.

He sunk to his knees and watched while she held on to the rope and stopped flailing her legs. Hanged still with her knees bent up a little in front of her. Her face had a hint of blue under her tan. She pressed her knees together and lifted her legs a little, thrust them slowly down. Again. And again. She's cumming! his mind screamedl. Her body trembled and shook. Her nipples jigged on the ends of her swaying breasts.

Then her hands started to slide slowly down the rope. Past the coils of the noose, down to her shoulders, and then her arms went limp and flopped down. Her hands caught briefly on her breasts, making her nipples bounce as her arms slipped free. Then her arms laid straight at her sides, bending slowly at the elbows a little, back and forth. Her legs dangled straight down, her bare feet twitching. The rope stretched her slender neck impossibly long, making her head look down between her breasts. Her eyes were almost closed.

Slowly her hands clenched into fists at her side. Her toes curled into tight little balls. Her body was racked with a spasm that made her legs flail out once move, and her breasts bounce heavily. She mermaid kicked once more, and then went perfectly limp. And hanged perfectly straight and still.

The rope over the pipe creaked softly. Somewhere, in the distance, a dog barked. He crawled weakly to his feet and staggered from the basement. Somewhere soon, he would do this again. He knew that. In the laundry room, she hanged in her noose from her pipe. Her bare breasts motionless, nipples still hard,  her long legs dangling from the hem of her cutoff jeans, her toes pointed straight at the floor. At her sides, her fingers were curled into loose half fists. The rope creaked softly again.