Dressed to Kill
“Where the hell are you Edmund?” She mouthed the words as she paced back and forth staring angrily at the phone. It had been three hours since she left a message with his secretary for him to call her.
“I hope that useless, sorry excuse for an assistant got my number right.” She held the scissors tightly in her hands to the point that the skin on her knuckles turned whitish in color where they griped the handle. She raised both her hands above her head before bringing them down hard and stabbing the magazine on the wooden table in front of her. Frantically, she ripped the publication to shreds. She continued slashing and ripping and slashing and ripping until her anger-induced frenzy was interrupted by the ring of the phone.
Gently placing the scissors on the table besides the destruction she had just created, she ran her fingers through her hair and stood up straight trying to make herself more presentable for the call. As she picked up the phone, she lowered the tone of her voice in an effort to camouflage her current psychopathic state.
“Hello.” She managed to pull her emotions together long enough to sound normal.
“Did someone from this number call my office about a case?” Edmund seemed irritated by the anonymous nature of the message left for him.
“Yes, Mr. Fox, I called. I need some legal advice and a friend of mine highly recommended you.” She was excited about hearing his voice and curled her fingers around the phone cord while talking to him.
“What kind of legal advice do you need?” His voice was still ringing with irritation, but that did not matter to her, it turned her on none-the-less.
“It’s an extremely sensitive matter that I don’t want to discuss on the phone. I need the best lawyer in town, and I was told you’re the best.” She knew that catering to his ego would soften his mood.
“I think I have a few openings tomorrow. Call my secretary in the morning to set up an appointment, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow….Ms…?
“Jones. My last name is Jones, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hung up thinking how generic the fake name sounded, but it was the best she could think of on the spur of the moment, and at least it got her an appointment to see him.
As the line went dead she thought to herself, “You will get yours Edmund! When it’s all over you will wish you were never born!”
She picked the scissors up and stabbed them into the table once again. On the other end of the table were several more magazines, she had been collecting them for the project at hand. She grabbed another one and began flipping through the articles for the words she needed. Cutting them precisely from an array of different shapes, sizes and colors; she finally had enough clippings to construct the message she wanted to send.
“You’ve messed with the wrong woman Edmund. I was “One Too Many for you.”
The white gloves were lying on the bed. She grabbed those first and slowly, one by one, put them on, smoothing out the wrinkles as she slid her fingers into their properly fitting spaces, ensuring that there would be no fingerprints as evidence of who the sender was. After she had composed her message of hate, she put her reading glasses on to review her handy-work.
“Perfect! You Shit head! She thought out loud, grinning mischievously. “Squirm in your skin like the fucking snake that you are.”
Pleased with the mental head game she was about to play, she used a wet sponge to seal the envelope, leaving no DNA evidence, before she addressed the letter to Edmund. Feeling content in her actions, she walked to the closet and pulled out her outfit of torture; canary yellow in color with matching shoes. It was form fitting and event fitting as well. The perfect tool to make a man drool as someone ended his life.
She smiled as she put the wig on first, smoothing each strand with care, and then removed the plastic dry cleaner protective bag from her weapon of mass destruction. She slid the snug fitting dress upon her exercised obsessed sculpted body. The dress fit her like a glove with all the prominent areas being accentuated in the manner she desired. Standing in her full-length mirror, looking at the vision before her, she murmured to herself, “You’re dressed to kill. Edmund won’t know what hit him. Stupid bastard!” She grinned an evil grin from ear to ear, thinking about what a wonderful life it would have been if only she could have tamed her “dog.” If only she could have kept Edmund in line, life would have been fine. But that was a different life…in this one she would put him in his place. She would “train” him at all cost, even if that meant over his dead body.
Sliding her size seven and a half feet into the matching two inch heels, she was euphoric at the overall package she had created.
Sexual but deadly.
She had accomplished her goal.All dressed up with no one to kill “just yet”, she opened the scrapbook of Edmund that she had been nurturing into a shrine for years. As she placed the book on the bed next to her, she seductively ran her gloved fingertips across pictures of Edmund and the written chronicles of his successes and his life. With the help of an inside informer in the justice system, she had cloned Edmund except for his physical form. She laid down next to his accomplishments tapped down under plastic, and rubbed one hand over the scrap book while rubbing her breast with the other hand. As she moaned in excitement, she thought to herself, “It’s not the real thing, but for now it will do.”
“Where the hell are you Edmund?” She mouthed the words as she paced back and forth staring angrily at the phone. It had been three hours since she left a message with his secretary for him to call her.
“I hope that useless, sorry excuse for an assistant got my number right.” She held the scissors tightly in her hands to the point that the skin on her knuckles turned whitish in color where they griped the handle. She raised both her hands above her head before bringing them down hard and stabbing the magazine on the wooden table in front of her. Frantically, she ripped the publication to shreds. She continued slashing and ripping and slashing and ripping until her anger-induced frenzy was interrupted by the ring of the phone.
Gently placing the scissors on the table besides the destruction she had just created, she ran her fingers through her hair and stood up straight trying to make herself more presentable for the call. As she picked up the phone, she lowered the tone of her voice in an effort to camouflage her current psychopathic state.
“Hello.” She managed to pull her emotions together long enough to sound normal.
“Did someone from this number call my office about a case?” Edmund seemed irritated by the anonymous nature of the message left for him.
“Yes, Mr. Fox, I called. I need some legal advice and a friend of mine highly recommended you.” She was excited about hearing his voice and curled her fingers around the phone cord while talking to him.
“What kind of legal advice do you need?” His voice was still ringing with irritation, but that did not matter to her, it turned her on none-the-less.
“It’s an extremely sensitive matter that I don’t want to discuss on the phone. I need the best lawyer in town, and I was told you’re the best.” She knew that catering to his ego would soften his mood.
“I think I have a few openings tomorrow. Call my secretary in the morning to set up an appointment, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow….Ms…?
“Jones. My last name is Jones, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hung up thinking how generic the fake name sounded, but it was the best she could think of on the spur of the moment, and at least it got her an appointment to see him.
As the line went dead she thought to herself, “You will get yours Edmund! When it’s all over you will wish you were never born!”
She picked the scissors up and stabbed them into the table once again. On the other end of the table were several more magazines, she had been collecting them for the project at hand. She grabbed another one and began flipping through the articles for the words she needed. Cutting them precisely from an array of different shapes, sizes and colors; she finally had enough clippings to construct the message she wanted to send.
“You’ve messed with the wrong woman Edmund. I was “One Too Many for you.”
The white gloves were lying on the bed. She grabbed those first and slowly, one by one, put them on, smoothing out the wrinkles as she slid her fingers into their properly fitting spaces, ensuring that there would be no fingerprints as evidence of who the sender was. After she had composed her message of hate, she put her reading glasses on to review her handy-work.
“Perfect! You Shit head! She thought out loud, grinning mischievously. “Squirm in your skin like the fucking snake that you are.”
Pleased with the mental head game she was about to play, she used a wet sponge to seal the envelope, leaving no DNA evidence, before she addressed the letter to Edmund. Feeling content in her actions, she walked to the closet and pulled out her outfit of torture; canary yellow in color with matching shoes. It was form fitting and event fitting as well. The perfect tool to make a man drool as someone ended his life.
She smiled as she put the wig on first, smoothing each strand with care, and then removed the plastic dry cleaner protective bag from her weapon of mass destruction. She slid the snug fitting dress upon her exercised obsessed sculpted body. The dress fit her like a glove with all the prominent areas being accentuated in the manner she desired. Standing in her full-length mirror, looking at the vision before her, she murmured to herself, “You’re dressed to kill. Edmund won’t know what hit him. Stupid bastard!” She grinned an evil grin from ear to ear, thinking about what a wonderful life it would have been if only she could have tamed her “dog.” If only she could have kept Edmund in line, life would have been fine. But that was a different life…in this one she would put him in his place. She would “train” him at all cost, even if that meant over his dead body.
Sliding her size seven and a half feet into the matching two inch heels, she was euphoric at the overall package she had created.
Sexual but deadly.
She had accomplished her goal.All dressed up with no one to kill “just yet”, she opened the scrapbook of Edmund that she had been nurturing into a shrine for years. As she placed the book on the bed next to her, she seductively ran her gloved fingertips across pictures of Edmund and the written chronicles of his successes and his life. With the help of an inside informer in the justice system, she had cloned Edmund except for his physical form. She laid down next to his accomplishments tapped down under plastic, and rubbed one hand over the scrap book while rubbing her breast with the other hand. As she moaned in excitement, she thought to herself, “It’s not the real thing, but for now it will do.”
Pre-order your copy of HIDING IN THE SHADOWS by Claudia Brown Mosley at www.peaceinthestormpublishing.com.
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