Page 67 of Caution Tape

Her eyes flutter shut, and she tosses her head back in frustration. My fingers are slick with her arousal. I want to taste her, but I refrain. “I’m going to stand over his wife on the bed. I’m going to take the axe and—“

I move my hand sharply, like I’m swiping paper off a desk and her words dissolve into a moan. Her legs try to close around my hand. “Keep your fucking legs open and finish your sentence.”

“I’m going to chop off the bitch’s head! Then I’m going to bury this blade in her husband’s fucking skull! Is that what you want to hear? I’m going to see if I can hit the spot between his eyes. I want to watch it split. I want to see if it’s like the movies! I want to see what his mouth does as he tries to comprehend what I’ve done to him.”

I spit on my palm and return it to her clit, rubbing it in while sinking two fingers inside her. She groans, grinding against me. “That’s one victim, little killer. What should we do with the next?”

She turns to me, her eyes wide in the clown makeup. “I want you to fuck me on top of their headless bodies.”

It’s my turn to moan, my erection straining against the grey sweatpants I’m wearing. Her hand sneaks over and grabs it, pinching the fabric around it. “What’s the matter?” she taunts. “Did you think you were the only one with nasty thoughts?”

It’s midnight. The Parkers are respectable people with good office jobs. They have to be awake early in the morning.

They must be asleep. And I can’t wait anymore.

We get out of the car, our heinous reflections glinting off the car as we are dimly illuminated by distant streetlights.

Cora takes my hand. I have rope. She has the axe.

Together, we walk toward the Parker house, ready to paint the walls in blood.

Cora

Nolan finds a seam in the sliding windows and manages to wedge his fingers in between the glass and the window frame. He pops it out, and silently shifts the pane of glass to the side, letting me climb into the house first.

We’re standing in a dimly lit kitchen; a granite countertop sits in the middle of glossy tiled floors, and the gleaming stainless-steel appliances. It smells of lemon scented kitchen cleaner.

A thought crosses my mind. I wonder if the Parker’s have ever fucked on this kitchen floor.

Striding quickly through the house in a murderous haze, I head toward the stairs until Nolan’s hand catches my wrist.

“What?”

“Slow down,” he hisses. “I can hear your footsteps.”

“Are we going to kill them or not?”

His hand covers my mouth and I’m shoved against the wall. A hanging photo of the Parkers at a bar, raising glasses to the camera, shudders beside us but doesn’t fall.

“I am not getting caught because of you,” he murmurs. “You don’t know what these people have. They could have a panic button that alerts the police of a break-in. They could have a gun, and I’ll be collecting your guts off the ground because you couldn’t keep yourself in check.”

My hand snakes down and grabs his cock through his pants. He’s still hard and becoming even harder beneath my touch. I twist my head around, freeing my mouth from his grasp. “Still want me to stop?”

“Just… slow down.”

“Slow down?” I question, creating more friction as I rub him faster. “Are you sure?”

He groans.I let go abruptly and begin walking through the house. There’s a spacious living room that has shelves full of action figures and collectible toys. There’s a vintage sewing machine in the corner and one of those cube sofas that are made to be disassembled and rearranged.

Nolan trails behind me. He makes his way to the action figures, and gazes at them, before touching one of their upraised little swords. He paces around, looking at the framed movie posters and coffee table carved out of wood into the shape of a Star Wars spaceship. “I’m so glad we’re killing these people,” he whispers.

“Why?”

“Nerds. Stop…. buying things. It bothers me. Collecting plastic.”

“You collect jawbones,” I shoot back, catching a glimpse of something resting on the end table. After examining it, I let out a small giggle.

“What?” he asks, tearing it from my grasp and looking it over briefly. “Looks like they’re behind on their mortgage.”

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