Page 330 of Rage

“Tara, wait. Fine, just come inside.” Dr. Halloway stepped aside, allowing me entry into the living room.

It wasn’t what I was expecting. It was neat, homey. There was a dark, blue-grey suede couch and matching loveseat surrounding a mahogany coffee table, with tall silver lamps and a flat screen television on the wall above his fireplace. A simple dark brown rug was on the floor underneath the coffee table, and there was a single glass of what I assumed was whiskey on the tabletop.

Picture frames of his achievements and diplomas were on the opposite wall, along with photographs of his family and artwork from his younger patients. A bookshelf full of medical books and vinyl records was on the wall next to the fireplace, and a vintage record player sat neatly tucked away on a rolling cart next to it.

“Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab some blankets out of the closet for you. Either of these couches are free for you to use. The remote for the television is on the mantle,” he said, finally peeling his eyes off of my chest, and turned to walk down the hall.

I dropped my duffel bag on the floor next to the loveseat and plopped myself down onto the cushions. My eyes found his vacant glass on the coffee table, so when I heard his footsteps returning, I sat up and downed it as he returned to the room.

“Tara!” he said, surprised, swiping the now empty glass out of my hand.

“What? It was there,” I said with a shrug.

Trying to remember how that assistant in his office acted with Adam, I mimicked what she did when she was giving him looks. I looked Dr. Halloway up and down, forcing a smirk to pull up the corner of my lips. He swallowed hard, visibly affected, and collected himself before speaking.

“Help yourself to anything in the refrigerator. I’ll be in my bedroom for the evening; the last door at the end of thehall. Knock if you need anything.” He pivoted around without hesitation and walked down the hall, closing his bedroom door behind him.

Standing up from the loveseat, I reached behind me to unsnap and remove my bra to get comfortable, and get ready for what was to come with dear Dr. Halloway. I lifted my duffle bag, placing it on the loveseat, and shuffled through it, looking for my sleep shirt. It was nothing fancy, just an oversized man’s undershirt that fit me like a dress, but perfect for my plans. I peeled off my skinny jeans, laying them out neatly on the cushions. Reaching up, I release my hair from my ponytail, letting my black waves fall haphazardly around my face. Shaking out my hair, I smirked as my eyes found my knife in my bag.

Finally…

Gripping the handle, I held it up to eye level, studying the blade on it. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the mental image of the sharp metal slicing through the skin of his neck. My “pre-kill calm” I liked to call it, washed over me, and I wandered towards Dr. Halloway’s bedroom door. Taking care to keep my knife hidden behind my back, I didn’t bother knocking, and just walked right in, wearing just my shirt and black lace thong.

“Tara? Are you alright?” Dr. Halloway placed a newly filled whiskey glass down on his nightstand and looked over the book he was reading in his queen size bed. He was shirtless, wearing only pajama pants, relaxing on top of the comforter, and leaning against the headboard.

“Just looking for the bathroom. Wrong room,” I replied, looking around the room.

“It’s two doors down on the right and–” He stopped mid sentence as I sauntered up to the foot of his four post bed.

“How does it make you feel, Tara?”

Images of the crime scene photo he always shows me flashed in my mind; the man tied to the bed, the slice in his neck…

“What are you doing? Tara?”

Ignoring him, I climbed onto the foot of his bed, subtly tucking my knife away underneath a blanket draped across the foot of the bed. On all fours, I crawled my way up towards him, in between his legs.

His legs stiffened as I reached his waist, and his confused eyes met mine. Reaching up, I took the book from his hands and tossed it to the floor.

“You’re the doctor, Timothy; you tell me.”

Crawling towards him made my shirt ride up, revealing my ass in my lace thong. His hands twitched, and I knew he was desperate to touch.

“Tara, this is just–”

“Shh…” I cooed, adjusting my knees to rest outside his hips to straddle him. Reaching above his head, I tossed all the pillows to the floor, so he was laying flat on his back. I hovered over his lap, not lowering myself yet, watching his eyes darken with lust, my hands resting on his bare shoulders.

“How does it feel, Doctor?” I taunted, lowering myself to sit on his lap, rocking my hips, feeling his cock stiffen underneath me. Gently digging my nails into his skin, I dragged them towards me, earning the softest groan from him.

“Tara…”

“Mmm, there it is,” I smirked, feeling his now hard cock under me.

“Fuck, Tara… We can’t… We can’t do this…” He groaned as I started to grind on his cock, his length sliding perfectly along my pussy over my thong.

“I’ve imagined this every day, Doctor, just like the photo you showed me,” I whimpered as his hands slid up my bare thighs, to my ass.

He gripped the flesh of my ass in both hands, guiding my movements.

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