To suggest my interest in women had any purpose beyond the acquisition of power is quite ridiculous. My very existence depended on the continual absorption of the life force of others and the most prized variety was the carnal jetsam of unrestrained sexual submission. Perhaps initially my purpose might have been construed as a search for mutual pleasure, a mingling of souls towards a higher plain but in truth that ideal had soon been trampled beneath the charging hooves of my search for the essence of personal aggrandizement through magic. Catholicism is such a wonderfully natural precursor to sorcery, investing as it does the performance of ritualistic incantation with metaphysical happenstance and the sweet intermingling of psychic manipulation and fucking is beyond parallel.
The Eurostar terminal in St Pancras was my preferred port of departure. I had on occasion used the intermediate alternative at Ashford but found the inconvenience of not being able to both study my prey from the outset and the possibility of not having my exact choice of locale vexing. Some lesser humans failed to realize their place and somehow assumed they could claim precedence over my wishes. I had no wish to waste energy on reeducating such nondescripts however much the pleasure of opening their veins might appeal. A spider by necessity needs his web suitably in place before the victim can be ensnared and time and experience had taught me the essence of subterfuge.
"Excuse me Sir, are these seats taken?"
I slowly raised my eyes from the newly acquired first edition of Justine to acknowledge the addressee with a broken toothed smile. My visage was as always carefully manicured for this moment, the heavily mirrored spectacles, the carefully groomed van dyke, the spotless Grade Three Habana Cuenca Panama all chosen to accentuate. Amazing how much one can recognize in a glance, dissect the individual as completely as in a postmortem to stare into their very soul. I removed the mountaineer's glasses with a flourish and looked deep into her bright green eyes.
"I would be extraordinarily honored to have you use these rather unworthy seats my dear young thing."
She flushed a little and laughed, not crudely but rather with a natural innocence that made both my mouth salivate and penis twitch pleasantly. The train slowly began to accelerate and as she leaned forward to regain balance she inadvertently placed her palm on my right knee. The wonderfully timed accident momentarily bought us close enough for her aroma to fill my nostrils. Yes, I was suddenly very hungry.
"We sitting here then Lizzie?"
I glanced at the boy standing behind my next meal and inwardly steeled. The attraction of such unfortunate specimens to the female sex had always mystified and to a degree irritated me. But for the fact that his inane stupidity and irksomeness made my obvious good breeding doubly illuminating I would quite happily have shoved him out of a window immediately to be splattered along the tracks in gory magnificence rather than waiting for a more opportune moment.
"Be nice please Roddy."
Roderick attempted to look aloof and dignified but was obviously singularly unhappy to be chastised, unable to willing accept that such is the penalty for existing as a fool and cad. I decided unilaterally to make his last few hours extraordinarily unpleasant.
Justine was proving its usual mix of comedy and pedestrian-ism. I am an admirer of De Sade's writing in its most brilliant form but his insistence on poeticizing even the most banal of physical acts reeks of the somatic narcissist. Call a fuck a fuck I always say, no need to reach for the thesaurus at every turn. Elizabeth had assumed her seat opposite me, Roderick having decided as the 'man' he had pervue over the window seat. Personally I always found the aisle seat far more convenient dually because of my own ease of access and its threatening nature for whomever might dare to risk an invasion of my bench. I sat as always with my back to the engine allowing a modicum of relief from the unavoidable discrepancies in the speed and regularity of our progress. That Elizabeth had chosen to wear a skirt on this day was of course a great benefit and I was pleased to note when her thighs parted occasionally through the carriages vibrations she was not only sans panties but diligently hirsute. In my general experience a well groomed labia points to a proficiently maintained vagina and by extension and far more importantly a clean anus.
Each journey lasted approximately two hours and thirty five minutes. I divided this allowance into three sections, the reception, the meal and finally the laundry. The reception was the most enjoyable, allowing a choice of menu, the decision to eat al fresco or perhaps more traditionally, the preparation of the food, the cooking and serving. The meal itself was by necessity repetitive, after all there are only so many gastronomic experiences to be had on a moving vehicle but of course each finale, the crème caramel for want of a better term was always exquisite. The laundry was a matter of arbitrary preference, sometimes purely linguistic, occasionally commercial and on the unfortunately few truly satisfying of occasions requiring a total cleansing. I kept the latter to a minimum, however adept I had become at the art of prestidigitation there was always the chance of some unfortunate glimpse behind the conjurers mirror and that would mean having to totally redesign my preferred feeding habits, something I considered abhorrent.
We had departed St Pancras at just after twenty hundred hours and being still only early February in comparative darkness. The night wore a full moon that cast an eerie glow across the landscape as we traveled through the outskirts of Greater London before reaching the flat fertile plain of Kent. Elizabeth and Roderick were obviously in the midst of that kind of silent argument only truly tragic relationships can manifest. Hard enough to muster words when there is some point to discussion however fraught but when the only sound discernible is the scraping of fingernails slowly losing traction on any jointly held emotions silence marks a battlefield visited with familiar repetition.
"Going for a Slash."
Roddy broke the heavy curtain between them more as a warning to Elizabeth to mind out of his way rather than any real attempt at communication. For her part the girl looked heartily embarrassed, both at his unnecessary vulgarity and the public humiliation of such verbal aggression. I had surmised from the slight twitch that had started to spread across Roddy's face that the need was for relief of a totally different kind and the way he frantically checked his jacket pockets as he rose only confirmed my suspicions.
"You had better take your ticket if you are going to be a while then."
