Beach Babe Iller

Tommy hadn't come here to kill women but sometimes it was so hard to resist. The beaches of the gold coast lay just an hour from Brisbane, twenty miles of gorgeous golden sand backed by huge condominiums, fast food stores, souvenir shops and restaurants of every description. Garish and glitzy, breathtaking and exciting. Like the women

Tall, petite, slim, voluptuous, muscular, blondes, brunettes, and redheads - he had never seen so many striking women and on day three he discovered the best of them all.

He woke from half slumber in the afternoon sun to a vision like that of Venus emerging from the sea on a surfboard. At least six feet tall, with glorious breasts, a dancers legs and a butterscotch tan everywhere not covered by the tiny silver swimsuit.

She walked with and easy grace and confidence, casually ignoring whistles and invites of the men she passed to head toward a small group of girls talking and lounging by the steps from the beach. Their welcome seemed normal but with his acute, almost psychic, perceptions he thought he detected a slight undercurrent of hostility for the splendid surfer girl. If they were jealous he could see no reason. None of them had a physique like his Venus but all were attractive and one, with a baby face, and hair that ran like a river of silver down her back caught his heart with her nervous innocence and fleeting smile.

Gathering his towel and sun block, he walked leisurely past them. He gazed at from his Venus to the baby faced blonde and back again. He wasn't here to kill women but if they were here tomorrow, it would be a Sign.

They were not there. But he did see the baby-faced blonde again - she was on the cover of his morning paper: 'Beach Babe Killer, Victim No. 4'.

For a moment he was angry, red spots invaded his vision and he gripped the paper till it was ripped and his knuckles were white. How dare this man kill one of his women?

He fetched his razor. He would not be cheated his rightful prey.

Two days of searching and he saw his Venus again - she was alone and now wore a fiery red bikini. It didn't suit her but that didn't stop the leering stares. She wasn't surfing today but swimming; powerful, smooth strokes effortlessly drawing her through the water. He watched her for about an hour before emerged from what looked like the final swim of the day. He stood in front of her, blocking her path to the monster towel that lay waiting.

'I watched you the other day.'

Her reaction was neutral, sizing him up.

'Where are your friends' he asked, pressing her silence.

'Why?' Her response was almost a slap in the face, her words pitched low as if she could kill with merely the tone 'Do you fancy one of them? Want to use me to get to her? Well if its Jessica then you're to late. She's dead!"

Her voice was thick with emotion and she turned away, back toward the sea. He gripped her bicep and pulled hard 'til she turned back. Still cool from the water he could nonetheless feel the glorious heat of her body. The look on her face was a challenge.

He stared into her eyes, deep blue into almost icy silver, not the best looking of men he nonetheless had a magnetism that women found hard to resist.

He lowered his voice and she had to almost strain to catch his words 'I don't want the others, I want you. But I see you are beyond persuading' He released her arm and walked off. He was sure he had her now.

'Stop', her voice was less sure as she called him back 'What did you have in mind?'

'Why not join me for dinner?'

She had an apartment in a condo off William Street. Minutes away from the beach it was a luxurious three-bedroom suite with a view of the sun bleeding slowly into the sea. Red light like a tide of blood. She had kept him waiting nearly half an hour now and he was becoming restless, nervous for the first time he could remember. He pulled the straight razor from his boot. It was so sharp it could cut a leather strap. Scarlet flashed compulsively from it as he waved it in the light of the dying sun. He didn't think he'd use it but sometimes it pleased him to think how much the blade terrified them before they learned what real terror was.

Minutes dragged further and the shadows grew unnoticed into darkness until a sudden light at the door to the bedroom startled him from his reverie.

She wore a black lacy dress. Silhouetted as she was, it was practically invisible and did a perfect job of showcasing the body that had had so many men in awe on the beach. She had done things to her hair too - it was now wound tall on her head in an intricate style adding to the impressiveness of her height and slight glitter had been applied to her cheeks. They sparkled like exploding stars as she moved in the doorway, almost undulating, changing position to find the ultimate tease in moves that were more challenge than dance.

He didn't remember shedding his clothes. He wanted too much to be a part of her, fuck her brains out to screams of delight and then make her scream in other ways.

He almost ripped the dress from her, hands on the full heaviness of her breasts, flaring hips, smooth thighs. God, he wanted this one.

She steered him to the bedroom, a black silk clad double bed. Cool sheets slippery under him, he kissed her nipples gently, moved up to the graceful neck and gorgeous, glittery face.'

'No. I'm sorry, I can't do it this way'

He was gasping, ready. 'What... what do you mean?' Confused.

'Like this, I like it different. I like you but I just cant get off like this.'

He would do almost anything; it was necessary for the first part to be ecstasy 'How do you mean, "Different"'

She hesitated, looked ashamed 'I like to make out I'm raping my man; tie him up - that sort of thing. I know its not normal but...'

He stopped her, finger on her lips. The idea of being tied excited him, made him shiver in anticipation. He told her so.

Minutes later, his hands were connected to the head of the bed by sturdy, padded handcuffs. On the way to his feet she stroked a gentle, powerful hand down his torso, past his groin. He nearly exploded, hot semen shooting across his chest.

Nearly. One more like that.

His legs were spread, manacled to the bed but he didn't even notice as she lowered herself onto him. Hot, tight velvet engulfed him.

She started slowly, a maddening rhythm. Just as he felt he could take no more, she would stop; lean forwards breasts within inches of his face, teasing just out of reach. He made a grab for her but was pulled short. Her laughter tinkled merrily and he could feel the pressure building within her, small shudders. She moved faster and faster and he passed the point of no return. Roaring and bucking and screaming they came together and she fell across him.

Lying, sweaty in the faint illumination of the street outside, he basked in the internal glow and daydreamed of what he would do to her before morning.

'Jessica hated me, you know, they all did. Ridiculed me behind my back. The men too - I know you only wanted me to get to one of them. It's a very bad trick but up to now I've stuck to punishing the girls.'

He opened his eyes. A razor like his own flashed across his face and burning blood flowed.

The Beach Babe Killer.