Succubus nosleep

There had been three of them at that point in time. They were all single men who lived alone. They had all been found in their bed rooms with multiple stab wounds to the jugular vein.

The second time that the police aired information regarding the victim, I scoured the victim's social media platforms. He had facebook, instagram, twitter and tumblr accounts. The third victim had all of these accounts as well. I also found him on OkCupid and Squirt. The first victim's accounts had been shut down before I could investigate.

They had all been murdered on a Saturday night. There had been no clues on social media. This is where both the police and I had been stumped. Both of the deceased whom I had researched had been intelligent loners who rarely mentioned friends or family members in their posts or comments.

There had been a comment to which both men had replied on facebook. There was a meme of a blow up sex doll with the caption “The perfect girlfriend” to which victim #1 had simply replied, “lol”. There was a duplicate picture of the sex toy to which victim #2 made a comment. The caption said, “Keep Calm and Feel the Glory”. Victim two had replied, “Simple Simone, haha”. Both of the memes had been uploaded by the same person.

Simple Simone is the name of a seedy movie arcade on the outskirts of the city. I knew from personal experience. The private porn viewing rooms all had a small opening to the adjacent room or rooms at waist height in the walls. Perverts like me call these portals “glory holes”. You can have an anonymous encounter with a stranger in the dark and dirty place without actually being in the same room with the other person. Because of this naughty detail,I considered the dead men's comments as inside jokes. I spent my weekend nights stalking the establishment while waiting for any consistent patrons.

While surfing facebook one Friday morning, I saw the same blow up doll picture with a new caption - “I'm not a high maintenance bitch”. There were two comments. The first one said, “Will you marry me? Haha!” The second person replied, “ ;) “.

I researched both of their profiles immediately. The first responder was a pimply kid who entertained himself by making crude remarks to catfish with fake pics. The second person was a wait-staffer at a high end lunch and dinner restaurant downtown. I followed all of his links and I cyber-stalked him properly.

That night as I watched the patrons go in and out of Simple Simone's smut house, I recognized the man who had replied to the meme. A car door opened on the far side of the parking lot and a lady emerged as soon as he entered the establishment. She had short brown hair and a thin frame. I could see freckles peppering her androgynous symmetrical visage. I remember thinking that she was too pretty to be in this shitty dump. Nevertheless, she walked in her knee high Doc's into the building.

After she stepped inside, I considered that she may have been watching me watching the door. I parked my car in a different location. I walked out and got their separate license plate numbers. I then drove home to do more avid research.

It seems as though all of my hobbies culminated in this circumstance. I have a drone with night vision capabilities. The government had afforded me skills when I had served time in the U.S. Army. The government also awards me with disability checks and a blind eye to my IT side work income.

It was Saturday night and the fourth mark's car was parked in front of his apartment complex. I waited until I witnessed her park and walk around the side of the building. She texted into her phone. Minutes later a stairwell door opened and the waiter opened the door with a smile. He looked around cautiously as she entered. He didn't notice me.

This is where my inner novice reared it's boyish head. I had twenty minutes power on my drone. What if she stayed all night? What if they immediately went into the bedroom? Were the other marks clothed when they had died? Only the police knew these answers which had not been leaked to the general public.

Fuck it. I powered my drone and I flew it up to his balcony. He was sitting on a chair in his dining room. She was giving him a massage. He was smiling as she walked into the kitchen and removed a beer from the refrigerator. She was speaking to him with an easy demeanor. He answered her with closed eyes and happy cheeks.

She returned and resumed massaging his neck and shoulders. He seemed satisfied as he gripped her wrist. He leaned back and he slapped her ass. She appeared to laugh and they both sat on the sofa in the living room. They looked into each others' eyes as though they were deeply in love.

My drone's power was low. I resigned the task and I flew the drone back to me. Sadly, I drove home. If there was a murder, I reasoned, I would be at the scene of a crime with only evidence that I had been stalking the latest victim.

Sunday morning brought news of a new victim. Bachelor #4 had died at the hands of some unknown assailant. Blood loss was the reason. It was the waiter.

My thoughts curdled. My mind began to work against me. I liked the waiter. He was a decent dude who had a vanilla sense of humor. His likes were on the side of sentimental. His comments had been inoffensive yet evidenced a hint of mischief. His life had been an open book on the various social media platforms and this catfish had closed his chapters forever. I wrestled with moral dilemmas for two weeks until my curiosity got the better of me.

It was a Monday. I drove to Simple Simone's, but this time I exited my vehicle and I went inside. I walked into an empty booth and closed the door behind me. I put a twenty dollar bill into the dock. The pornographic images and sounds filled the cubicle. Some minutes later I heard a knock on the door. I answered, “Yeah?”

A voice answered with a question, “Donation?”

I answered with a question, “Benjamins or Jacksons?”

She said, “Cum, Daddy.”

I answered, “Yeah.”

I heard the door next to mine close. Grunting and moaning resounded from her booth after she put money into the bill dock. I could see her eye through the glory hole. She stuck her tongue through the opening and curled it upward.

I stood and eased my erection into the wall gap. I pressed my hands against the wall as she handled me like a professional. I grunted like a wild animal when I arrived within her mouth. She swallowed greedily.

As I zipped my pants a rolled up note fell onto the sticky floor of my booth. It read, “Be here Friday. Maybe we can date Saturday.”

I said, “Maybe.”

Another note dropped. It was the blow up doll picture words were written with a sharpie, “Objectify Me. FB Succubus1357”.

Her voice said, “Put in twenty more dollars, let time run out and leave after that.”

I started another movie as her door closed behind her. I put in an additional twenty as I sat in the glow of the screen feeling purely terrified. Would she be in the backseat of my car? Would she be waiting for me at my home? I had officially been rendered paranoid. There was a dilemma that churned in my mind. I knew the facebook code. I knew that she would return on Friday, but I sure as Hell was not planning to willingly see that psychopath again. At the end of the week her meme was posted. It was the open mouthed blow up doll which had the caption, “Objectify Me.”

I did not respond. I stayed at home as I considered that I may be saving someone's life on the next evening. I tinkered with my drone and I ran personal errands in order to keep my mind occupied that Saturday. On Sunday morning there was no news flash about a murder fitting the young lady's method of operation.

I resumed side work as a tech during my days. At night, I abstained from visiting Simple Simone's. A year has gone by and I have seen no notices of a victim #5. I could give the police an anonymous tip. I could make a heroic gesture and show my creeper drone video to the authorities. I can do neither of those things, however, because victim #3 should have been her last. Now I have to live my life afraid of glory holes, anonymous encounters and every bump that I hear in the night. She may not have killed me, but she has drained my joys of living in their entirety.

Submitted September 25, 2017 at 08:17AM by latchkey_49 http://ift.tt/2yCp72u nosleep