Machinery, Take Thy Dream

To avoid any more of the suspicions that Amy might have, I decided to join our usual afternoon threesome. Amy was in her usual wild mood but for some reason, it didn’t bother me anymore because I wasn’t thinking of Amy. I wasn’t even thinking about Isabelle.

All I could think of was Chloe. I kept imagining that I wasn’t with two girls, but only with one. I was imagining that I was with one woman who’s body was perfect; who’s hair was a flawless, natural shade of deep red. Even after Amy and Isabelle had left, I just laid on the soiled sheets thinking of her and all the things I could do to her. Yet in all honesty, I didn’t hadn’t decided why I wanted her.

I had finished the video so I could show Isabelle, but I didn’t know if I was going to use it. I wasn’t sure that it would be the best idea. I didn’t need to trick Isabelle when I had a willing volunteer who was just as gorgeous as her. Although another side of me was greedy. I could use them both. That idea brought a smile to my face.

Eventually I got up enough nerve to clean up the mess we had created. After which, I felt like I had nothing to do. I paced the living room floor, occasionally looking out of the window hoping that Isabelle would visit me without Amy, or maybe that Chloe would show up several hours early. With nothing left to do, I took my daily trip into the basement to take another look at my beautifully, killing machine.

In the basement, I sat in my chair by the monitor. I thought for a moment about how my machine didn’t kill it’s last victim. I wondered where I’d gone wrong. For split moment I thought I saw the body of the little girl lying on the table, the knife I’d shoved into her chest still sticking out. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

“What the hell is wrong with me!” I shouted into the empty air as I jumped to my feet and started pacing. The killings of Mr. Simmons, and all the others I’d killed before this wacky town had never bothered me before. Why were they haunting me now? Why was that child so different?

A voice spoke from the basement stairs, “Hallucinations are normal after killing a little tyke like Brandy.”

I instantly noticed Chloe’s voice and I smiled without turning to face her, “If you don’t really have any superpowers then how do you know that?”

“Psychology major. Harvard University. I know the ‘I‘m-going-crazy’ look when I see it. It‘s normal to relive a murder over and over again. Trust me, it‘ll get easier the more kids you kill.” Chloe’s footsteps tap quietly down the stairs and I hesitate to turn around, “Just because I reside in a nut box doesn’t mean that I am undereducated.”

I turn around and I’m pleased to see that Chloe was wearing a trench coat. I reminded me of the trench coat wearing stripper dad hired to come to my 18th birthday party. I tried to wipe the amusement from my face but obviously Chloe had already seen it.

“So, this is the famed Dream Catcher?” She inquires as she touches it gingerly.

“The one and only.” I say, watching her hips sway as she approaches the table. I was tempted to tell her that it didn’t really capture dreams but I decided against it. A woman like Chloe probably had a lot of secrets that she didn’t want me to see.

She untied her trench coat, and I bit my lip in anticipation. She let it fall around her bare feet and I was disappointed to see that she actually did have short shorts and tube top on. She teasingly smiled, she knew exactly what she was doing. With that issue cleared up, she sexily lies on the operating table.

“Well, doctor, I’m ready when you are.” She said, winking at me.

I stifled a sigh. If Amy or Isabelle were on that table, they probably wouldn’t be wearing anything. Maybe that’s why I liked Chloe. She was playing hard to get, and I only wanted what I couldn’t have.