This is a crime thriller with some romantic sex, and a smidgeon of violent non consensual sex and interesting by-play between various characters whom I hope you'll enjoy.
Ten chapters long it follows the story of a group of people involved in an investigation into the serial attacks on homeless women.
Definition of a Sociopath – someone unconcerned about the adverse consequences for others of one's actions and with a total lack of moral compass.
*
Laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling Jake listened to the gentle breathing of his wife. The sounds of the night could be heard outside the glass of his bedroom window, a train trundling past, the sounds of late night drinkers making their way back from the pub and the sound of the odd car driving down the road.
His mind could not rest, the jumble of facts and information about the six rapes running through his head. All women taken to isolated and derelict buildings or waste grounds. Each women describing the rapist as a homeless man who had befriended them within the day or two before the rape, the descriptions of the rapist sparse, but each time he was wearing different clothes. Each rape violent, the man hitting and kicking the victim both before and after the rape, filthy names hurled at them during the assault and spat at after.
Every victim was young and homeless themselves. Vulnerable, hungry, cold and desperate the girls had trusted the man quickly, grabbing onto the slightest show of friendship, and paying for their trust with violent assaults on them by this perpetrator who preyed on the frail and weak.
Turning to his side he scooped up the sleeping woman next to him, holding her close, breathing in the smell of her, sweet and sexy mixed with the smell of baby talc and milk. Burying his nose deep into her silky hair he relaxed his body and tried to drift into much needed sleep.
Content in the love for his wife and child.
*
The man lay in bed next to the drunken girl he had picked up at the pub that night. Short and slightly dumpy, she had been easy to get stoned, happy to come back to his place and eager to let him screw her. She lay there her slightly saggy plump breasts flattened out as she lay on her back, dull brown short hair sticking out against the dark blue of the pillow behind her head, mascara slightly smudged.
Getting up on his knees he told her to turn over and position herself on her knees doggy style and entered her from behind without any foreplay, grabbing hold of her short spiky hair and grunting he pumped away into the body of the drunk woman, uncaring whether she was comfortable or not.
For him it was just sexual relief.
No feelings, no emotion, no attachment.
Cheaper than a hooker, just a bottle of wine at the pub, a quick fuck, and then kick her out into the dark night to find her own drunken way home.
Not as much fun as raping those girls, but at least he got to screw some cow.
*
Kelly sat in her flat, alone.
She thought about the smile of the man in the Architects office this morning. He had shown in that smile and his deep brown eyes an interest in her, and she was very interested in him.
He was her type of man, just shy of six feet tall, his body looked buff under the white shirt, and the rolled up sleeves had revealed sexy forearms sprinkled with dark hair the colour had matched his well styled hair on his head.
Walking over to her bed she lay down. When they did the interviews at the firm she was hoping to get him as one of hers. She felt that with a little flirting she might just get a date with the man. And who knows maybe he might be the one, with her biological clock ticking she was assessing every man as a possible option now, and he looked like a very nice package indeed.
*
The woman that called herself Janice huddled in the dark shadows of the arches with her friends, all of them homeless. Her body ached, her arm encased in the plaster cast was making getting comfortable on the hard cardboard pallet more difficult, and the cold was biting at her nose and ears.
How she hated how her life had spiralled out of control over the past four months. She missed her old life, and missed her old digs with the pretty old fashioned flower duvet on the bed and the hot water electric shower in the tiny bathroom.
On the streets she always felt dirty and cold.
She had been scared before but now she had an extra layer of terror. The memory of the rape eating into her already fragile soul, she snuggled deeper against her friend and let the tears run down her face, running down the hollow cheeks and into her hair as she cursed the bad luck that had dogged her life so recently.
*
David Noble walked up to the woman in his kitchen as she poured him a glass of red wine, bending over he lifted the curtain of hair away from the back of her neck and kissed the nape of her neck.
