Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Midnight Masquerade

She was beautiful. And she was a little high on champagne. They were not celebrating anything particular; except perhaps their new found love for each other. They had dined at the ‘Casablanca’. A very expensive retro restaurant with the food as outdated as the d├ęcor. Yet, those who moved in circles similar to those of hers, frequented this place. The champagne though, had been good. She had wanted to drink some more, “I am high on life!” She had announced on a bubbly giggle.

He had stopped her. He didn’t want her drunk. He wanted her happy and alive and very aware of everything that was happening to her. He wanted her to glow with the happiness he was bringing her way. He told her as much. Her smile had wavered and then vanished. A fresh sheen of tears had appeared in her heavily made up almond eyes. “I don’t believe anybody can love me so much!” She whispered brokenly. She had then leaned across the table and kissed him.
He had been embarrassed. He didn’t like being the center of attention. He particularly hated the thought that a kiss, in a place as public as the celebrity-frequented ‘Casablanca’ could easily become tomorrow’s headlines. But he didn’t tell her that. He smiled into her eyes and watched as she settled herself on the white couch again. Her red skirt, rode a little higher up her thigh. She followed his gaze and then smiled mischievously.

He told her he stayed close by, so they decided to ditch the taxi and walk through the park which separated the two blocks. The black carpeted sky was smudged by a cloudy silver moon. The white light made her pale skin glow . She looked almost angelic. But even the moonlit sky could not soften the toughness within her. Her firm mouth, slightly wrinkled at the corners from all the smiling and her strong nose which highlighted her determined stance, looked tough always. He liked the strength in her more than the softness which defined her feminity.

She walked two steps ahead of him, her face turned skywards, soaking in the rays of the moon. Her hands were neatly folded behind her back. Even in that moment, away from the world, just with him, she could be nothing but perfect. He followed her, her red jacket draped on his arm. Her silk shirt was transparent thin and he could trace the outlines of her bra with naked eyes. He felt himself go hard with need. But he maintained his distance.

They stepped out from the shadows of the trees. The marble girl who held the fountain, looked funny as she just stood there shouldering nothing but thin air. He found himself turned on enough to trace the curves of the stone girl as well. He was so lost in looking at the lifeless form that he didn’t notice she had stopped, till he bumped into her. He mumbled his apology and stepped back.

She smiled at him and stepped closer. “Have you ever kissed in moonlight?” She asked him huskily, bringing her mouth closer to his. “I have always wanted to…” she planted her lips on his.


Her skin was perfect to touch. Soft, like unused velvet. She was kissing him with the abandon which only one secure in love can display. He returned her kiss with practiced expertise. He wanted her to moan in pleasure. He wanted her to be really happy. He wanted to take her to dizzying heights of ecstasy, so that all she would ever remember was him. She would always remember him anyway.

He laid her flat on the concrete bed of the fountain and began stripping her clothes. The park was quite and the only whispers were of the wind rustled trees. Emboldened by the alcohol in her blood stream and excited by the thought of making out in the open, she matched his passionate pace. He removed his shirt and used it to tie her hands behind her back. She struggled against the knot, dying to put her hands on his skin. She was writhing with pleasure and he was getting more and more excited.

Finally he stripped his trousers. He was hard and erect. She wanted to touch him. She made an attempt to get up, but he pushed her back. He began stroking himself and watched her eyes droop with desire.

“Take me in your mouth?” He asked huskily.

“Oh yes!” She pleaded.

He just continued stroking himself refusing to give in to her pleas. He was enjoying her longing. He wanted her to long for him. She was strong, yet now she was weak with a need for him. Adrenaline surged through his body at this feeling of power. He started stroking himself faster. He was panting with pleasure. This was no longer about her it was about him.

“Take me now!” he commanded as he pointed his penis towards her.

For the first time, her eyes snapped open. He watched as fear crept slowly into them. She tried to free her hands again. She tried to move her legs, but they too were firmly pinned under the weight of his. He dug into her hair and snapped her head back. She winced her eyes in pain.
“Stop!” She screamed. He used that chance to thrust his penis into her mouth.

Her eyes widened in horror. He smiled into her eyes. A very malicious smile. He thrust himself further. He could feel her throat make way for him. And then she began to gag. Her eyes began to water. The look of fear turned into plea. She tried to shake her head. But his hand held her firmly in place.

He thrust deeper. Her throat revolted and he could feel her spit enveloping his penis. He threw his head back and groaned in pleasure. He continued pushing. She made gurgling noises. He drowned them with his moans.

And suddenly there was just him. Her body went limp; her mouth still around him. Her flailing feet stopped. She stopped struggling with her knots. Her eyes were still wide open and staring at him. He watched as her black irises stared at him and then slowly ascended to hide under her open eyelids.

And then he had an orgasm.


He was sitting on the concrete slab beside the fountain. The ACP had been right. He had retched. He was now nursing coffe from a plastic cup, trying in vain to banish images from his mind. The forensic team had taken the body, or the head or whatever you could call it away and was now gathering possible clues.

He knew they would be a dead end. Just like Kirti Shah’s case had been. That was like two cases in a row. Everybody knew this ought to be a serial killer. But only three murders could classify a case as a serial killer. They would have to wait for one more. Would that be another seven months?

He took a sip of his still hot coffee. He remembered seeing photographs of Shivani Mehta in newspapers. She was beautiful. But somehow that was not how he would remember her. He would always remember the head.

It was clean shaven. The job of a perfectionist. Her head had been stripped off all hair. Her unseeing eyes were wide open. The tear path down her face had been traced by a black marker. Her lips had been painted red and sticking through her mouth was a brown dildo. It was about ten inches long and deep inside her. White liquid had crystallized around her mouth, making it appear like semen spurting from the dildo.

The white marks ascended down to her neck to merge with the red of the blood. And that was all there was. There was no body. Just a head severed from its body. A hunt of the park had revealed no body.

Where was the body?

In the same place at the body of Kirti Shah.

And nobody had a damned clue as to where that was!


rain girl said...

:( :(

you wrote well.. Ian Rankin types

The Sage said...

not really ian rankin types... but your style is... different. is it gonna be a series???

PS: BTW an excellent 100th post on Wild Imaginations... Congrats!!!

rainboy said...

Dark and interesting...
keep rolling the train ;D

Raj said...

100th post? woohoo party!!!!

uh...that post killed me. desire over love. ecstacy over purity. eww.

but then it was perfect.
should have guessed...
He wanted her happy and alive and very aware of everything that was happening to her.

Americanising Desi said...

and your wild imagination actually made pictures in my mind !!


sanely insane said...

didn't work for me...unlike romance i think criminal thought is a whole degree of complexity...

the vividness of the description as always was good, one could visualize the scene...but somehow it didnt feel like coming with a punch

Queen Bee said...

beautiful :)

blunt edges said...


a high quality post...the kind that makes me wanna be a serial killer too! ;)

but i found 2 typos (yeah yeah i ain't the perfect role-model 4 correct spellings but the thought of finding typos in a blog as brilliant as yours is kinda cool) :D

1. "The park was quite..."
quite or quiet? :D

2. "He was now nursing coffe..."
don't think i need 2 say anything there ;)

and no apologies 4 being a spoilsport...its been a boring day...that's why :D

AshenGlow said...




†J said...

! barbaric & psychotic !

* That was a real wild imagination.