Beauty and the Beast Within

Case #1. Catching a train. Accidentally crushed by a subway car. Case closed.

Hoping to catch something other than a sexually transmitted disease, Susan sat alone at a high class bar. Looking as beautiful as she could for her to stand out from the pack of women who were desperate for their soul mate of a man in shining armor, she was looking for love. With the bar alive with activity and the noise of people having a hundred conversations all at the same time, the too loud music was giving her headache.

Obviously, not the only one looking for the right man, she had a lot of competition tonight. Just as there were lots of men looking for a one night date, there were a lot of women looking for something more, someone special, and a beginning to their lives that had a happy, fairytale ending. Just as there were lots of men looking for sex, there were lots of women looking for love.

"I now pronounce you man and wife...and they lived happily ever after."

Only she knew that life wasn't a fairytale and even though she was just as beautiful as Cinderella, Rapunzel, or Snow White, she was still single. After breaking off relationships that weren't going anywhere, she didn't even have a boyfriend. Alone with her lonely self, with most men not wanting to commit, most women she knew wanted to get married and have a baby.

In the way of Captain Hook's crocodile in Peter Pan when looming too close, with her clock ticking louder as each year passed, she was twenty-nine and still not yet even in a committed relationship. At this rate, she'd be living alone with her cats while her already married girlfriends live out their dreams of having children. Her version of her own fairytale that she didn't have a clue how it would play out, Alice in Wonderland's fantasy was Susan in never land's reality.

'Tick, tick, tick, tick.' Desperate for a man but not just any man, she wanted to be married to someone good looking, kind, smart, generous, and successful. She wanted to start her new life with a good man by her side. She wanted a house with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. She wanted to be driving a Honda minivan to soccer practice. She wanted what seemingly everyone else had but her. She wanted to be married with children. Yet even more than that, she wanted to be in love.

* * * * *

With her makeup perfectly applied, her long, blonde hair cascaded down her back as if she a model making a hair commercial. As if she had a light over her head that flashed, her blonde hair was her beacon that told all available men that she was a sexy siren ready for sex when she'd much rather have love. Her natural beautiful blonde hair acted as if it was a flag that waved for the attention of a man, but not just any man. She wanted the right man.

Men were attracted to blondes, especially beautiful blondes with big blue eyes, and big tits. In a bar full of women, setting her apart, men noticed the blonde women first, especially natural blondes. Between her complexion and blonde eyebrows, a man didn't have to see her trimmed, blonde pubic hair to know that she was born with this hair. The first step, she just needed them to notice her and she'd take it from there.

Her blouse was unbuttoned just enough to show her long line of cleavage and to show that she big tits. As pretty as she could be without having a hair and makeup person following her around everywhere she went, she hoped that her perfume would add to the scent of estrogen that she was putting out there. Sitting there sipping her drink, with her hook already baited and dangling in the sea of life, there was nothing more that she could do other than what she's done. It was now or never, she really didn't want to be sitting on the same stool at the same bar next year without her man and her new life.

* * * * *

Risking startling her, he leaned down to whisper his words in her ear while ever so softly touching her hand.

"How can a man like me get a woman like you to go home with him?"

Playing her role as the woman who didn't have any obvious issues, she looked up at him as if she always looked like this, so perfectly put together. He looked at her as if getting women was a problem for him when he was so handsome. Just as he was, no doubt, hoping to get laid, she knew that he was the one to give her all that she wanted for the next forty years.

"That's easy," she said. "By swearing your undying love to me while on one knee and holding a small, blue box from Tiffany's," she said with a straight face and without laughing. "In the meantime, you tell me that you're rich, don't live with your mother, and aren't married," she said laughing this time.

He looked at her as if he was already in bed with her naked, out of breath, and sweating. He looked with eyes that told her that that he had as much intelligence as he had passion for life. Yet, with just a look, she could tell that he was a player. With just one look, she could tell that if she left this bar with him, instead of walking down the aisle to the altar, she'd be going for the ride of her life.

"I'm rich, I don't live with my mother, and I'm not married," he said with a laugh.

"That's a good start but what about the diamond ring," she said holding up and waving her finger.

"How about if I just buy you a drink for now?"

"That will work," she said.

And that was how it all started three years ago. Now, the thoughts of him merged through her head with the painful sounds of a high speed train whizzing inside of her brain. She had another headache and this time the pain was excruciating.

* * * * *

Normally never invisible, a tall, beautiful, blonde with big tits, Susan was difficult not to notice most times. Yet, today, purposely hoping not to be seen, observed, and/or interacted with, she went out of her way not to be identified by anyone, especially by anyone in the crowd of people who surrounded her. They were a noisy, impatient bunch of people. They were a captive, bored audience, stuck on the underground subway platform while waiting for the train to pick them up and rush them through the darkened tunnel to their final destinations.

With people talking and laughing too loud on their cell phones, fortunately too wrapped up in themselves and in their conversations, people were too busy to notice her. That's good. In the way that she always wanted to be noticed and in the way that Christopher noticed her the first time they met, she didn't want to be noticed now. Wanting to remain anonymous, she counted on being oblivious to everyone.

Lost within a crowd, just another person waiting for the train to take her home, the swarm of people added as much to her disguise as did her dark clothes. As if she was innocuously invisible, the larger the crowd grew, the easily she was able to hide herself within them without being noticed. Even if the surveillance cameras happened to capture her image in the crowd, all it would see was a black form and nothing more than that. Part of a living, breathing organism, she was a single cell. Yet part of the whole, human element as if she was the entire unit instead of just one within the multitude, she was alone with her bad self.

Motionlessly, she stood there not moving as if she was the pole holding the ceiling. Hiding herself by not doing anything to call attention to herself, Susan stood against the concrete column dressed all in black as if she was part of the painted background. Looking like a tall, thin, albeit shapely ninja or a paid, female Mafia assassin, even if someone did notice her, if staring at her long and hard enough, someone may, perhaps, possibly perceive that she was a woman and not a man. Yet, even though it was quite difficult to hide her big tits, her oversized, dark clothes hid her shapely form and her womanly figure enough that no one bothered looking closely enough at her.

With her head down and her hood pulled down far enough over her head and with it covering most of her face, she tilted her head lower to hide her identity and to remain anonymous from the constant and continual view of the invasive, always recording cameras. As if wearing a uniform, she looked like any other gang member standing on a subway platform while waiting for the train. The only other thing that gave evidence to and revealed her being a woman is when the wind that the subway blew in to herald the arrival of the train forced out a strand of her long, blonde, lush hair tucked inside of her hood.

As if she stood there alone while contemplating what she must do, she was silently deep in thought within herself. In the way that no one noticed her with her keeping her head down, she didn't notice anyone either except for the one man that she was waiting for and watching to arrive. Being careful to never make eye contact for her to jog a memory in anyone, she stared at the floor of the train station. Having to remind herself not to make eye contact, she didn't want to be remembered enough to be positively identified should they suspect her, capture her, arrest her, and put her in a police lineup.

With her just another working stiff in a crowd waiting for a train to go home, she tried to be as anonymously invisible as she could. Not wanting to be accused of murder and not wanting to be a prime suspect in a police murder investigation, she didn't want to spend her last days in jail. With nothing perceivably different about her and wearing nothing to make her standout, other than being dressed in all black, she hoped that no one would notice her and/or remember her.

* * * * *

Christopher Snow was a stock investment analyst. He owned his own business on Wall Street. He persuaded Susan to invest all of her life savings with him. Being that she trusted him, she took his financial advice and gave him her money. Instead of investing her money with her new company in their 401K plan or rolling over her previous 401k to invest elsewhere, she invested all of her money, her life savings and the only money she had except for her weekly paycheck, with Christopher. Being that she was in love with him, she trusted him.

Why wouldn't she entrust him with her money when she's already entrusted him with her heart? At the time, they were living together as man and wife but without the ring on her finger and without having exchanged vows. At the time, she loved him and she thought that he loved her. Having expressed their love for one another, they were talking about marriage and about children. Now with her thirty-two-years-old, she thought he was going to give her an engagement ring for her birthday, for Christmas, for Valentine's Day, for Earth Day, for Arbor Day, or for Flag Day but he never did.

He was so handsome, so smart, and so successful. They lived together for two years after seeing one another for nearly a year. She believed him when he told her that he loved her and wanted to marry her. Now, after he used her, dumped her, and stole all of her money, everything he told her was a lie. How could he do that to her? Why did he do that to her? How could she be so stupid to trust him?

He told her that investing her money with him was the safest and quickest way to have financial security. Now she knew that was a lie too. Joining the ranks of common thieves in the likes of Bernard Madoff, she didn't know his investment strategy was nothing short of a Ponzi scheme to bilk millions of dollars from trusting and unsuspecting clients while he lived a lavish lifestyle.

His perfect victim, not only did he use her emotionally and sexually, he used her financially too. Now broke, he was the one responsible for her not even having enough money to pay for her own funeral, never mind for her not able to afford health insurance. Next on her short list, for him playing her and breaking her heart, he was doomed to suffer a similar fate as her neurosurgeon, Dr. Paul Martin, would soon suffer. Oh, yeah, going right down her short, soon to be dead list, her ex-boyfriend was number one on her death wish list.

* * * * *

Having ridden in with him in the morning and leaving with him in the afternoon, she knew his schedule. So predictably precise, he never deviated from the time he went to work or the time that he left the office for home. Thinking his precision made him a safe bet for investing her money with him, he was totally opposite from her. Impulsive and creative, she was more the writer type. Anal and exacting, he was more of the accountant type. Thinking they were a good match, obviously they weren't. Obviously she loved him and he used her.

Now that she was dying of her suspected but not yet medically diagnosed brain tumor, if she was dying broke then, taking him with her, he was dying broke too. Evidentially, just as he didn't know that he'd be dead soon, he didn't know that she had a duplicate set of keys to his apartment made. If he knew she still had keys to his apartment, no doubt, he would have changed his locks.

A survivor of sexual abuse who was bit obsessive and compulsive from what happened to her after having been sexually used by men, her job to keep herself safe, she always double checked doors and windows to make sure they were locked. Apparently, he didn't. Apparently, he had a normal childhood.

Always wanting to stay safe, she made the keys when she first starting living with him. She always carried two sets of keys with her, even the keys to her car, just in case. When she returned to him the original set of keys, he obviously didn't know that she had another set of keys. He never took the time to learn who she was. Had he taken the time to know her as well as she knew him, he would have known that she had a duplicate set of keys.

Figuring that he was cheating on her and in case she ever wanted to surprise him, she more expected that he was cheating on her with other women than using her to steal her money. In the way that Zero Mostel romanced elderly, vulnerable women out of their money in The Producers and later Nathan Lane did the same in the remake of the movie, she suspected that Christopher was romancing younger as well as older, more vulnerable women for their money. Yet, not wanting to believe that he was using her just for her money, she didn't think that she could be so stupid.

A smooth talker, he was such a player. Even when she was living with him and even when he told her that the women he had drinks with were just clients, she suspected that he was seeing other women on the side. She suspected that he was cheating on her and coming home sticking of perfume and sex, indeed he was. Even though she knew he was cheating on her, still not believing it, she was so hurt that when she found out that he was.

She trusted him. She loved him. He broke her heart and now he must die.

* * * * *

Not much of a gentleman, especially when eager to get home after working hard to steal people's money all day, he was so predictable. He was always first waiting at the exact spot where the train's door would stop so that he could beat the women inside the train to get his chosen seat. When she spotted him in the crowd, nervous that he'd recognize her even when hooded and dressed in all black, she moved closer to him. She worked her way through the crowd to stand one person behind him. She knew that he'd be more focused on the arrival of the train than who was standing behind him.

Now standing poised close enough behind him to be within striking distance but not close enough to be noticed, as soon as she heard the train enter the station, she was ready to make her fatal move. With him standing with the toes of his wing tipped shoes nearly over the yellow line, all it would take for her to launch him off the platform and in front of the train would be a quick hand and a stiff arm. Having the body of a pasty faced accountant instead of a blue collar jock, it wouldn't take much of a shove for him to lose his balance and for her to push him from the platform.

Positioned within the crowded train station, bored much like everyone else, she waited impatiently for the train. Unlike everyone else, she looked down instead of looking up or looking to where the train would be emerging from the darkened tunnel to enter the train station. Keeping her eye on the back of his shoes, if she could see his shiny shoes, then she knew he was still standing right where she needed him to stand. Then, timing her move by maintaining her watchful surveillance for the train out of the corner of her eye, when the white light that signaled the train was coming extinguished, she had it precisely timed how long the train would take to reach where Christopher was standing.

The light extinguished. Ten, nine, eight. She could see the train's headlight light up the tunnel wall. With the sound of the train rumbling in the station, seven, six, and the squeal of the steel wheels against the steel track squeaking as if screaming, five, four, the train commanded the crowd's attention but not hers. Keeping her eyes glued on him, three, two, one, it was someone else who jostled him while jockeying for position.

Stuck within a crowd of seething humanity, as if playing musical chairs, they all moved forward at the same time in anticipation of the train opening the doors for them to steal a seat. Just as she reached out to push him forward, someone from behind her pushed her away and moved in front of her to steal her spot. She missed pushing him in front of the train but accidentally, whomever it was who got in her way, accomplished what she needed to do with a shoulder. It was done and he was dead.

* * * * *

She watched him fall at the same instant that the train was there. Then, horrified and not believing her eyes, she watched him reappear in his panic to scurry back up on the platform. How could she miss him? How could she not have pushed him off the platform? She was right there poised to take her revenge. Son of a bitch, you lucky bastard. Why isn't this man dead? Only, it took her a moment to realize and understand fully his fatal dilemma. Not all of him made it to safety. Half of him was still dangling in the pit.

"Oh, my God! Someone help!"

As if they were all glued together, the people who stood on the edge of the platform moved back all at the same time. When she looked down, Christopher was looking up at the crowd smiling as if there was nothing wrong. He looked more embarrassed than hurt. Obviously in shock, maybe he saw potential investors but with blood beginning to trickle from his mouth, eyes, ears, and nose, his days of stealing the money of hard working people was over. Stuck between the platform and the train, why he was still alive was a mystery to her.

As if stuck in an elevator shaft between the elevator and the floor, he was stuck between the train and the platform. But for the blood beginning to form, from the waist up, he appeared perfectly normal and healthy. Even his dry cleaned white shirt was totally free of dirt, grime, and blood. Yet from the waist down, with his body twisted and mangled from the speed of the train rushing in the station, as soon as they removed the train and extricated him, his vital organs, if they weren't hemorrhaging already, would hemorrhage, and he'd die. Held intact by the train, as soon as they removed the train, he'd explode and he'd be dead.

"Serves him right," she said for no one to hear. "Payback is a bitch. What comes around goes around, especially when you fuck with Susan Jill Parker."

* * * * *

Just a matter of time before he was identified and taken away, as part of her recompense, she needed to rush to his apartment to get what money and valuables he had stashed there. He had a safe behind a picture in his office and she knew where he kept the combination. Maybe with what she'd steal from him now was more than enough to replace what he stole from her before. With her no longer able to work because of her soon to be verified brain tumor diagnosis, the money she'd steal from him would at least make her comfortable. The money she took from him would at least pay for her funeral. What little money she had left, she'd leave to her family.