Ifound myself back at my new favorite house several hours later. This time, I had switched out the sunglasses for my skull bandana. I had it tugged up over the lower half of my face in case they had exterior cameras.
I could have taken the time to investigate and disable any cameras, but realistically, if I ended up murdering this guy, I could just do that later. I was getting that twitchy itch that tended to creep up if I went too long without murder or a good fuck, and I was getting anxious to just get to the act itself.
Murder and sex were more or less interchangeable for me. I could go without one but not the other, and since I had stoppedpartying so frequently, I had been finding it more difficult to come across willing assholes to sink my dick into.
Because, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, assholes were my preference. I had tried pussy a few times because, let’s be serious, I’ll fuck anyone if I’m rolling on molly. However, the older I got, the more I realized I had a pretty complicated relationship with women. One that didn’t translate well into sex.
The only relationships I had with women were with my fucked up mother and my two precious sisters, neither of which really gave me‘let’s get naked’vibes.
It was too common for me to be hooking up with a girl, then blink and suddenly find my demon-ass mother looking up at me. The first time that happened, I had almost killed the poor girl.
Cass had made me go to therapy after that. Turns out I suffer from PTSD, and my triggers become more volatile when I’m aroused.
I think I would have identified as bi if I didn’t have so much emotional trauma around women. So, for the time being, I was going with gay, and that was just A-OK with me.
I loved fucking dudes. There was just something about bending over a pretty alpha male and making him see Jesus through his asshole. Nothing got me off faster than a good ol’ fight for dominance that ended with meliterallyon top.
The angry muscle girl from earlier floated to the forefront of my mind as I stalked through the shadows and made my way to the back of the large funeral home.
If she had been a man, she was exactly the type of asshole I would get extreme pleasure from either murdering or fucking.
Like I said.
Interchangeable.
Wondering if I would catch another glimpse of the angry muscle woman while on my stalking adventure, I found myself peering into the warm glow of one of the back windows. Shewas masc enough that I wondered if I would be able to stomach a hookup without triggering myself… My dick had certainly reacted positively at the sight of her. Maybe she swung both ways.
Hmm.
There was a massive garage back here that seemed to have a guest house built on top. The garage door was open, and twohugehearses were parked inside.
I grinned again.
Fucking sick.
Maybe I should buy a hearse? Suddenly, my Bentley felt super boring. Scratching my chin and filing the idea away for later contemplation, I returned my attention to peeking inside the home.
This back part of the structure was decorated much differently than the public space I had entered earlier.
Everything was still done in the original Victorian architecture, but it was much less somber.
This part was clearly where the family actually lived, and it was full of handmade lace doilies and tablecloths. There was a kitchen that was all pastels with cabinets that were mint green and ruffled salmon-pink drapes.
It looked like it could star on the cover of‘Granny Magazine,’if there even was such a thing. I smirked and moved onto the next window, making sure to stay flat against the side of the house so my silhouette wouldn’t be spotted by anyone inside.
This next room was painted in a similar mint green with an accent wall done in vintage wallpaper. There was an ancient coral couch on one side, and the little kid from earlier was sitting cross-legged on the floor watching TV.
There you are. Found you.
My smile widened behind my bandana, and I leaned against the wall, settling in for the more tedious part of my hobby.
Waiting.
If you’re considering a fun and exciting career as a mercenary, let me tell you, it’s not all stabbing and killing. Most of what I do is shit like this. I camp out in my car or on rooftops, following marks around and learning their patterns and behaviors. There’s also a lot of research involved too.
Like today for example, before coming back to Fairview Funerals, I spent quite a bit of time learning everything I could about the Fairview family.
Muscles, who I had spoken to earlier, was actually named Theodora, and she was the elder of the two. Her brother, Ryan, though younger, had been the one to take over the family business when their father, George, died a few years earlier.
