An intruder enters Julia’s bedroom through the open window, he wears an old-style hockey mask to hide the lower part of his face, black leather gloves and black combat trousers with a black t-shirt. He steps slowly into her wardrobe and pulls the door closed without letting catch click into place. Patient and silent, he waits.
Julia returns to her room after showering and dries herself off; she crosses the room to switch off the light then drops her towel onto the floor. She climbs onto her bed and her wet hair soaks the pillow darkening the wine red satin to a much deeper shade. She lays on her back with her eyes closed. The intruder watches her closely through the gap of the wardrobe door, his eyes wide as he absorbs the image before him. Her pale skin contrasting against the dark sheets, the moonlight flooding in through the window and making her skin glow. Her hands slowly move to her stomach and being gently moving up toward her breasts, stroking around her nipples before pinching them gently. She slowly slides her right hand down between her legs finding her clitoris and rubbing gently. She moans quietly to herself as she imagines the hands of a stranger caressing her body, she imagines that she is blindfolded and tied down as her secret captor takes advantage of her predicament.
The intruder slowly opened the wardrobe door and stepped out before moving into a shadowy corner of the room to observe his victim. He had wanted Julia ever since she began working as a waitress at the restaurant, he worked in the kitchen there, washing up. But somehow she was different to his other victims, he hadn’t cared about any of them, but Julia was special, he wanted to keep her, her wanted to be able to repeat this night whenever he felt like it. He knew she had noticed him as everyone does, his face was covered with burns after being in a horrific car accident. He knew she had seen him and stared as everyone does with revulsion at his disfigurement. Now he has the chance to stare at her, he gazes upon her with awe, taking in every curve of her smooth flesh and watching the deft movements of her hands as she pleasures herself. Jealousy burns within him as he watches her slip two of her fingers into herself, wanting to touch her, wanting to feel her body writhing at his touch not her own. He pulls his knife from the sheath on his belt and steps forwards towards the bed. Julia is so lost in her fantasy that she fails to notice his presence as he slowly pulls a ball gag and some lengths of rope from his rucksack.
‘If you scream you die, you filthy slut,’ he says as he walks towards her, the blade held out and shining in the moonlight, ‘masturbating like some depraved bitch on heat.’