The artwork

“Ah come on, sweety…Let’s leave this nightclub and go somewhere more private”, he said while his svelte fingers caressed over the black silk stockings she wore. Earlier he had put some fifthy Euro notes between the legs of the young prostitute. “Nice red nailpolish” he said, purposely touching her hand which rested on her leg.

She looked one moment too long into his captivating emerald eyes, got lost in his seductive
glance, nod and followed his lead out of the club. Outside he hailed a taxi and they drove to his house in the affluent suburb. The woman was impressed by the luxuriousness of his house and didn’t care at all anymore that she was alone there with a stranger in his home.

He made her drunk and when she wasn’t no longer in control of herself he asked her to do
striptease for him. She did it without any hesitation, slowly to Ravel’s Bolero playing on the stereo. With growing lust he observed her movements, eager for what he has planned next.

When she provocatively threw him her bloodred lingerie he caught it with his right hand, took a smell at it and dropped it to the floor while he stood up. Slowly he walked over to her. “What do you think honey, isn’t it time for a little bit more action here?” he asked her with a venomous smile, as he run his fingers gently through her hair before he strangled her barehanded.

Unsuccessfully she tried to fend him off. When she drew her last breath he arranged her
naked corps on the wooden floor and with a satisfied smile he took a couple of  photographs for his art show. Afterwards he buried her in his garden, under the weeping
Higan cherry tree,  right by the side of the thirty other woman he had murdered in the past three years.

~ The End ~

© Copyright The Storyteller’s Garden

₪ ø ιιι ·o.

This story was inspired by the photographs ‘stockings, cash, and nails’ and ‘X-rated’.


About The Storyteller's Garden

Creature of the night ₪ ø ιιι ·o.
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