Erika's long black hair bounce lively on her shoulders as she negotiated the steps away from her favorite bar on the corner of Fifth and Monroe, quickly: she was always in a hurry. She walked at a very early age, she finished high school at 16, she finished Harvard Law at 23, and was the youngest District Attorney for Hoboken at the age of 26, with a very impressive record as young assistant DA. Her relationships were equally fast, she fell in and out of love with equal rapidity.
She walked south on Monroe Street under the dim lights that cast long shadows among the dilapidated buildings, which held Hoboken's booming economy, at least until the 1940's when the harbor was taken over by the government and all the ships sailed into New York harbor and bypassed Hoboken. In the 70's there was only one vessel line that called Hoboken home, but even Seatrain lost it's financial footing and had to abandon the expensive and restrictive harbor.
Erika grew up in Hoboken and knew first hand the dangerous places to travel at night, but she also knew where to get excitement. This night, after a long court battle that finally put a serial killer behind bars, she sought the thrills that Hoboken's seediest places could offer. Lost in her thoughts she reached Second street, but instead of turning East and the safety of the Yuppie haven of downtown Hoboken, she turned west towards the palisades and to where the old projects still stood reminding everyone of the early 80's when Hoboken's fortunes were still to be made, and when housing costs would skyrocket from three hundred dollar a month for a two bedroom apartment, to two thousand dollars a month for the same place remodeled and painted for the Yuppies, and the Yummies of New York City to enjoy.
The street was dark; the only light coming from the middle of the block. Candidly speaking, the term light was too good for it. There was some kind of a dark glow the radiated from the bulb some sixty feet in the air. She walked along the burned out shell of the old factory on the broken glass. Kids loved to shoot into the darkened buildings and practice their night skills. Some day, she thought, some day I'll be able to fix this end of town too.
* * * * *
About half a block behind her a dark figure turned the corner, stopped and lit a cigarette. It took a long first drag deep into its lungs and exhaled, flinging the cigarette out into the street started to walk again. One drag is all he allowed himself, only one when the nicotine craving was too strong, and then angrily tossed it away. That was his routine. He had to be in control of the situation, and as always he actually failed to master his vice.
He watched the dark silhouette walking away. His pace deliberate, he did not want to close the gap until the right moment. He thought about her long raven hair, those intense green eyes as she stood by the bar. He listened intently as she said to the bartender, "...yes, the Falcon's are a great team, but we have a better quarterback in Manning..." and her words brightened his mood. She was not turning back towards First Street as he had expected, no she was walking further west towards Harrison and the dark alleys that might give him the seclusion he sought.
He wondered what it would feel to touch her skin, to sense the nervousness in her breathing and to feel her struggle under his powerful arms. He knew the night was going to bring pleasure, ever since he left his office. He headed to the bar for a drink and even the servers where openly flirting with him, edging him on and watching his reactions. The women at the bar were just sexy little sluts that knew what he wanted and in the safety of the bar and all the people played with his emotions. The servers, who by day were moms, secretaries, doctors, lawyers or whatever they wanted to be, by night in this bar they were able to let go in front of him and be the sluts that they wanted to be. He had something to show them and this night would bring him his ultimate pleasure; sexual conquest and control over another!
He quickened his pace, beginning to close the gap between him and the raven-haired beauty far ahead of him. He imagined her touch and her struggle to free herself, and his ability to control her fight. Once he'd heard her say, "...the
Falcons
..." oh those sweet words she had used for him to hear. His heart raced with anticipation of the hunt from that moment on. He had quickly ordered another Crown on the rocks and paid his full tab. The server enjoyed the peck on the cheek, the caress on her ass and mostly his tip of twenty dollars for a twelve-dollar tab. He had made it a point to comment to the bar tender that, "... no matter what the Falcons or the Giants have in common, the Eagles were going to take the east..." that's when she turned and said, "no matter, the Falcons will come out ahead in the end"
* * * * *
Erika came out of her thoughts of the day's victory and her decision to come to the bar and looked around to see where she was. She was now walking North again on Harrison, in front of the old projects. The dark streets sporadically lit by the security lights on the
Bodegas,
the little mom and pop grocery stores that where everywhere in Hoboken. She stopped to grab a cigarette out of her purse and to check to make sure her gun was fully accessible in case she needed it. She had noticed that there was a dark figure about a half a block behind her. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she knew that he had followed her down Second Street, and had turned with her when she turned north on Harrison Street.
She reached back to grab her long mane and pulled it. Her fingers nimbly twisted to braid it, if she was going to have a struggle with a stranger, she did not want her hair to get in her way. She used her relaxation techniques to calm her nerves; being trained in various marshal arts. She had gone into them not as a method to fight, but more as a way of keeping her confidence and mastery over self and situations.
Slowing down her pace she turned into an alley bounded by a bodega on one side, and an old brownstone on the other. A tall utility pole had been converted to be the end for all the clotheslines up the four stories of the brownstone. It must be a multi family dwelling, something you could not tell from the front. Typically those alleys lead to a dead end. Erika had committed her first mistake, and it was all due to her not paying attention where she was for such a long time. She knew that this part of Hoboken was poorly traveled at night, and that the families in these buildings were not the type to get involved if they heard any screams at night. Erika's heart was now pounding!
* * * * *
The figure in front of him turned into the Alley next to Hector's Bodega. It was a blind alley and no way out. He worked out in his mind what he needed to do as he quieted his step and hugged the wall of the bodega. He approached the alley's entrance with a practiced stealth. He used the darkness of his surroundings to his advantage. He crouched low and looked into the alley. She'd be expecting him to enter or walk by, but the longer he waited, the more deliciously nervous she would be. The more nerves he could induce on his victim, the more likely she was to make a mistake, like the one that led her to this blind alley.
He looked in the alley and found her in the dark, huddled against what she must have thought gave her a great hiding advantage. She put her slim figure behind the utility pole, but she must have lost her nerve because she had her cell phone in hand, the light of which lit her face. He knew she was scared; how delicious. Also, how sweet it was that in the alley, with all the power cables feeding the various buildings her phone would not work, she would not be able to call for help. He looked around and saw no one except a small group of men about a half a block away, walking away and minding their own business.
Erika knew he had to be out there. The phone was not working, her hands were shaking and all her efforts to calm herself were failing. She knew what was about to happen to her, she had to still her nerves no matter what, and deal with every moment as it came. If she tried to deal with the magnitude of it all, she'd be overwhelmed and not have a chance. She wondered what had possessed her to go into the bar that particular night. Now it was too late, she had to deal with the consequences tomorrow, now it was time to take what was coming.
"I know you are in there," a deep husky male voice filled the alley. She froze. Her breath cut off. The adrenaline was now flooding her muscles, and her fight or flight reaction was in full rage. She did not respond.
He walked into the alley, prepared to jump on her at the first chance. He remembered that she carried her purse over her left shoulder, and that it would have easy access to a right handed shooter. He knew that his first priority was to knock the purse from her and to block her right hand from reaching into the purse. His next priority would be to cup her mouth and pin her to the wall, only then would he be able to have full control over her. He had thought about this moment for a very long time and had planned it carefully. He reached in his pocket, put the cropped ski mask over his face, leaving his mouth, chin and neck uncovered, and stepped closer to where she was hiding.
Erika braced herself. She knew the next few seconds would be violent and she had to come out on top.
"You really don't want to do this!" she said, after mustering every ounce of control and focusing it on her words. She hoped he could not hear the crackling of her voice.
She had committed her final mistake. He knew how nervous she was, and exactly where she was. As she got the last word out, he lunged for her purse, grabbed it, yanked it from her shoulder, and threw it to the back of the alley where it landed with a thud followed by the rattling noise of the gun hitting the concrete and the rest of the contents spilling all over. His second move was also as fast. With his left hand he twisted her right arm behind her, his hip half turned and pushing on her hips to pin her against the wall to prevent the almost mandatory knee to his groin. His right arm put significant pressure on her windpipe blocking her ability to scream for help. In less than ten seconds he had immobilized her and rendered her completely under his control.
