Corktown

Preston Carter observed the couple from his vehicle. Their playful grabbing, the light kissing… She was doing an excellent job with Rick the Prick. Preston couldn’t help but give him a nickname; the man was, after all, groping his wife. 

The two made their way across the parking lot, got inside a black Cadillac Escalade, and drove off. Preston started his engine and followed the SUV. He wasn’t in any hurry and didn’t bother to keep up. He knew exactly where they were heading. By the time he parked outside Rick's home, the two had already exited the Escalade and headed inside.

Preston sat unnoticed in the vehicle parked under a large maple tree, patiently tapping his fingers against the leather steering wheel while he hummed. He kept checking his cell phone like a teenage girl. Close to an hour had passed before his phone finally beeped.

“I’m ready for you,” the text message read.

Preston exited his vehicle and quickly moved across the street. A tingling sensation prickled his skin as he neared the house. Within seconds he stood on the porch. He quietly let himself in, gently closing the door behind him. He could hear moaning—a man’s voice—coming from upstairs. His footsteps were muffled as he made his way up the carpeted stairs. With each step his chest tightened, amplifying the beating of his heart. He loved the lead-up; it was almost as exciting as the act itself.

Down the dark hallway, he moved toward the master bedroom. The door was slightly cracked, and a sliver of light shined out. He pushed the door open; standing near the foot of the bed was his beautiful wife, naked except for her heels and latex gloves. She reached for her dress on the floor.

“Don’t,” Preston said. “Stay the way you are. I love it.”

Katherine returned a devilish smile to her husband while waving her finger at him. Preston kissed his wife while he reached around to her behind, gripped a cheek in each hand, and squeezed. “I want you,” he whispered.

“You can have me when we’re done here,” she answered. 

Preston kissed his wife once more before looking over to the bed, where an unconscious Ricky Pricky lay naked and tied up. “He doesn’t appear to be excited.”

Katherine looked at Rick’s genitals. “Hmm, he showed signs earlier. I guess the scalping turned him off.” She laughed. 

The top of Rick’s head was a bald, bloody mess. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but it appeared to be awfully painful. Preston reached inside of his jacket and removed his own set of latex gloves and a fresh scalpel. He snapped them on and removed the safety cap from the tiny but deadly blade.

“Wake up!” Preston called out, slapping the unconscious man in the face.

Rick opened his eyes and repeatedly blinked until he could focus on the man sitting on the edge of mattress. To see another blade set loose the tears, accompanied by muffled moaning. The more he cried, the more he bled. Boohoo. 

Preston scooted toward the foot of the bed. He grabbed hold of Rick’s inner thigh and nicked the femoral artery. The instant eruption of thick red left a spattering of tiny dots on Preston’s face. He continued with the other leg. Rick screamed uncontrollably when he saw the mini geyser of life spurting from both legs.

Preston grabbed Rick by the face, forcing the man to look him straight in the eyes. He leaned in close, his stare never wavering. He brought the scalpel up and held it off to the side. Rick’s eyes darted to the blade, but Preston yanked on his head to get his focus back. He wanted to see the terror in Rick’s eyes when he opened up the prick’s neck.