Gerald unlocked the half dozen locks he had installed on his apartment door, swinging the door wide then moving off to the side to allow his beautiful young companion to enter first. He slid in behind her flicking on the light illuminating his humble abode.
She looks so pretty doesn’t she, Gerald? She could look better.
Gerald’s apartment was as modest as one can be. The furniture, while decent and clean, was a hodgepodge of what he had been able to find at the curb on garbage day. He found it amazing what the affluent will throw away. There was a brown leather couch along the back wall which looked black as they entered through the fluorescent light of his small kitchen. In front of the leather sofa sat a large coffee table with a few scattered magazines littering its top. Unseen from the vantage point of the kitchen were two chairs. The main chair, an orange monstrosity, was a recliner while the other was an ugly floral patterned Queen Anne’s chair. He found their battle for “ugliest chair in history” abnormally humorous. Lastly, a small plain end table sat between the chairs with a small uninteresting lamp set upon it. The mismatches were enough to make an interior designer’s head explode.
Gerald led his new lady friend into the living room instructing her to have a seat on the couch. He accompanied her snapping on a tall brass standing lamp whose intricate tree of life design was as out of place as everything else. An ignorant artsy type might justify the random assortment of furniture as eclectic while any casual observer could see it was simply a mish-mash of trash. You’re only considered “eclectic” if you’re rich, Gerald was not. Gerald flicked on the radio, another dumpster find, for the sake of ambience before taking a seat beside his lovely companion.
“Would you like a drink? I have pretty much anything you could want at the bar over there.” He waved his hand over to his humble wooden bar, another garbage day treasure.
“Sure sweetie, how ‘bout you surprise me. I’ll drink anything except whiskey, honey.” His companion’s annoying nasally, high pitched voice cut through the air like nails on a chalkboard.
“Okay, anything but whiskey. Got it.” Gerald smiled broadly before getting up.
She’s so pretty, Gerald. You know that just won’t do, Gerald. That isn’t good enough, not at all.
Gerald only knew a few simple drinks, anything beyond a screwdriver or whiskey on the rocks was out of his wheelhouse. He decided on the most exotic drink he knew how to make. He grabbed his stainless steel shaker and a martini glass, one of the few things in his apartment that didn’t come from someone else’s trash, poured in a healthy amount of vodka, a dash of triple sec, a splash of lime juice and some cranberry juice. He added a few ice cubes then shook the ingredients vigorously, acting as though he actually knew what he was doing, then poured the Cosmopolitan through the strainer into the martini glass. He smiled at his date for the evening then poured a club soda over ice in a rocks glass for himself adding just a splash of cheap gin for the smell of alcohol. He had every intention of staying sober… his companion, on the other hand, was a different story.
He handed her the Cosmo setting the shaker with the remaining mixture on a coaster in front of her on his coffee table. He was in no hurry yet though his mind wandered to how the night would end. His female companion for the evening was paid for in advance despite any hopes she may have of a big tip later. He had picked her up across town coaxing her to his apartment with a wad of cash and a promise of more to come.
She’s so pretty, Gerald. Too bad her cheeks are still so warm and rosy. They don’t have to be, Gerald. Make her beautiful, Gerald.
He didn’t like having to bring a prostitute back to his apartment but he didn’t exactly have a way with the ladies. He had tried numerous times to hook up with women at bars but, while he wasn’t ugly, he was absolutely inept at talking to women. His words always came out awkward and, if he was being honest, a little creepy. He had never been very good with the ladies and it had only seemed to worsen the older he got. He was rather average looking at six foot tall, a dark complexion and short cropped black hair, nearly military-esque. He had a thin, frail build yet was much stronger than he looked. He was clean though unkempt with a faint five o’clock shadow. Gerald wasn’t what any woman would call a looker.
“Drink up! Enjoy yourself. Mi casa, su casa.” Gerald flashed the hooker his best thousand watt smile.
“Not a bad place ya got here, sugar. Been here long?”
“Long enough.” Gerald’s conversational skills were reaching their limit.
Almost time to make her beautiful, Gerald. She’s so pretty. You should play with her, Gerald. What are you waiting for? Let’s make her pretty, Gerald.
Gerald had picked the girl because she was very young hoping her street smarts were fairly low. Also the hard life of living on the street hadn’t been imprinted on her beautiful face yet. Her milky white skin was, as yet, untarnished by the sun, weather and the brutal johns certainly in her future. Her clothes were terrible street walker fair, leopard print skin tight leggings, matching purse and a sheer, see-through top barely containing her more than ample breasts. Whatever her original hair color had been was anybody’s guess but it was pink with black highlights now. She still had the appearance of innocence he knew would surely fade once the meth, heroine or some other drug took its toll. If she hadn’t met Gerald tonight then a year from now she’d look twenty years older but she wouldn’t have to worry about all that now.
“So sugar should we get down to bizniz? What were ya lookin’ for? With what you’re payin’, honey, you can do pretty much whatever your lil heart desires.” She winked flirtatiously pinching one of her nipples then waited for him to answer.
Time to make her pretty, Gerald. She’s begging to be pretty, Gerald. Her skin’s still warm and you know that just won’t do, Gerald.
Gerald tentatively put his hand on the young prostitute’s knee rubbing it lightly. He knew she was a hooker but he still didn’t have the confidence to move fast. He slowly moved his hand up her thigh when she stopped him, taking his hand and standing up.
“Why don’t we go in your bedroom, sweets? You can live out any fantasy you want tonight, baby.” She smiled and winked pulling Gerald gently to his feet.
Gerald shot her a wicked smile but didn’t say anything. Her mind couldn’t fathom the fantasy she was about to partake in. The thought of her lying on his bed waiting for him, the way he liked best, made his cheeks flush and his groin start to bulge. His excited state wasn’t lost on the young street walker. She gently grabbed his crotch leading him into the bedroom while licking her lips seductively. She thought this would be the easiest thousand dollars she would ever make. He seemed to her the type that would be finished in about thirty seconds, maybe less.
Almost time to make her pretty, Gerald. She’ll be absolutely perfect. Make her pretty so she’ll never say no, Gerald. Make her yours forever, Gerald.
They entered the bedroom which was much larger than the young prostitute had expected. A king size bed centered the wall opposite the doorway covered in red silk sheets with several bright red plush pillows. She had never laid on silk sheets before. She wanted to feel the silk against her skin nearly as much as she wanted to feel the cash in her pocket when she left. She stripped off her sheer top falling back into the cool comfort of the bed while Gerald pulled off her leggings in one fell swoop. She didn’t expect his sudden forwardness but she giggled thinking of her cash reward. She was actually happy as she watched her lover for the night strip down in front of her, completely unaware of his dark desires.
This will not do, Gerald. It’s time to make her pretty, Gerald. She still has color in her cheeks, Gerald. She still has life, Gerald. You need to make her pretty, Gerald!
Gerald could hardly contain his excitement, an excitement she mistook for desire. He crawled on top of her, a smile blazing from ear to ear. She saw carnal sexual craving in that smile when she should have been looking at his eyes. His eyes were trying to tell her an entirely different story. He pulled her wrists, sliding her up the bed while she giggled loving how the silk felt against her flesh. Before she realized what he has doing, Gerald locked her wrists in handcuffs attached to the headboard, his smile turning devious. The thought of money, soon to come her way, kept her smiling and playing along while a touch panic sped her heartbeat. He then slid down her body as seductively as he could manage until he was off the end of the bed entirely.
Gerald grabbed two pieces of silk rope he had made himself from atop his dresser then spread her legs tying her ankles, one to each corner post. He stood at the end of the bed smiling down at her knowingly. She was completely at his mercy and the power trip had his manhood standing at full attention. The young girl returned his smile hoping she hadn’t made a terrible mistake in coming here. It wasn’t the first time she had been tied up though.
Oh, soon it will be time, Gerald. She’s almost perfect. She will be so pretty. Make her perfect, Gerald. It’s time to play and make her perfect!
Gerald turned away shutting and locking the bedroom door. He had taken every precaution, spared no expense, to fully soundproof the room. Once the door was shut he could play as long as he wanted, even with an ear pressed to the door no one outside could hear a thing. The young street walker was still smiling, blowing him kisses and wriggling her ass against the silk sheets thinking it was her that was turning him on.
Make her stop moving, Gerald. She needs to be still. She needs to be pretty. Show her how to be perfect, Gerald.
Gerald turned to look at the prostitute now tied to his bed raising a finger to the wicked smile on his lips shushing her. Again she smiled back, hopeful, but knowing now she had likely made a mistake. She decided her only chance was to go with it, maybe he wasn’t going to do anything terrible. Maybe she could earn even more by playing his game. She had little choice so she silently began to writhe on the silk sheets for him loving how smooth and cool they felt on her skin. She began grinding her hips up and down hoping all he wanted was her complete submission.
“Hurt me. Cut me. Make me pretty, my love. I want to be perfect for you.”
Did she really just say that to him? He knew he couldn’t always trust his mind but the words came from the sexiest lips he’d ever seen. Was she trying to seduce him? Were they really her words? He decided he didn’t care, they had done their job.
See she wants to be your perfect woman. She wants to be cold beneath you as you make her yours. Go ahead, Gerald, give her what she wants. Make her pretty. Make her scream for you!
Gerald moved to his dresser removing something from the top drawer that she couldn’t see before returning to the bed. He crawled up her body barely touching his bare skin to hers. He took his time pausing to kiss her belly and breasts. He sucked her nipples erect before moving up to her thin lips smothered in bright red lipstick. He sat up, ramming his knees into her armpits while smiling into her bright eyes as he let the blindfold he had removed from the drawer unfurl. She continued to play along praying it would be over soon so she could be on her way with a wad of his cash. She smiled as he leaned down securing the blindfold over her eyes. The world went black which she found titillating despite the danger.
Gerald leaned down to her ear whispering, “Pretend that you’re dead. Do not speak. Do not move. The rest of your money depends on your cooperation.”
She needed no further instruction. If he wanted to pretend he was screwing a dead girl then she would be one cold, dead fuck then she’d collect her cash and get the hell out of Dodge. The other girls walking the street had warned her that some guys asked for some really strange, creepy stuff, pretending to be a dead girl wouldn’t even crack their top ten creepiest requests. She had only been working the streets for a few weeks so this would top her personal list. For reasons she didn’t understand, she found herself strangely aroused by the blindfold and being told to simply lay there. This was going to be easier money than she had thought!
Right where you want her, Gerald. Time to play. Time to make her pretty. Make her bleed and scream. Make her perfect, Gerald. She wants it!
Gerald slid off the bed crouching at the footboard as though trying to hide. He pushed a hidden latch opening a secret door pulling out its lone item. He set the tattered black medical bag, he had found in an antique shop years ago, down on the carpet, closed the hidden door then unfastened the small leather snap on the bag’s top. He couldn’t help smiling as he looked inside his little black bag of goodies. The bag’s polished silver handles glinted even in the dim light of the room while he dug inside. He knew exactly what tool he wanted tonight though he felt unable to stop himself from caressing each one, it was his obsession.
She lay silent and still on the bed just as he had instructed. She made no sound while he moved around the room, never flinching. She laid perfectly still. She knew better, she wanted to get paid so she wasn’t about to jeopardize an easy payday by ruining her john’s fantasy. If a dead girl was what he wanted then that’s exactly what she planned to be. The smell of sulfur from burnt matches stung her nostrils which she assumed was him lighting candles yet still she didn’t flinch. She was content to lay there “dead” for as long as it took him to empty his wallet.
She looks so pretty but you know it won’t do, Gerald. She still has color. She still has life. This just won’t do at all, Gerald!
The monster clawing at the back of Gerald’s brain drove him on. He had tried the illusion of paying women to just lay there, pretending to be dead, but it was about as satisfying as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when he longed for a steak. He had fought his dark urges for years, his need to feel cold flesh beneath him, but he found it an impossible task. It was like trying to stop the Titanic from sinking with one rusty bucket with a hole in the bottom of it. He fought against it to no avail before succumbing to his obsession, now he was addicted. He lit more candles casting his new lover in an eerie glow, the beginning of his ritual.
She played the game well, better than most of the others. The young prostitute let death become her with visions of dollars dancing behind her eyes. Gerald had to look closely to see her chest move slightly with each breath. She looked so pretty, to him, cast in the warm glow of the candles. He longed to feel her cold flesh pressed to his lips but she had warmth. They could never fake that part and that just wouldn’t do. He admired her smooth skin yet it remained pink when he yearned for the ashen blue hue of the departed. He did love playing his game when they still had hope of a big payday that would never come.
Gerald learned long ago they would always cooperate. His promise of a payment so large they couldn’t possibly turn it down coaxed them all to his home, to play his game. The first few times the illusion of death had been enough but it faded quickly, he needed more. He found their warm flesh repulsive. Their breathing obnoxious. He needed to feel their warmth fade beneath him. The mere mirage of death no longer brought him any arousal. It had to be real or he was as useless as a eunuch. The voices screamed at him to make them perfect, he was helpless against them. He had once resisted the voices then She came whispering in his ear. He was putty in her hands. She guided him, explained what he needed to do. She told him what he already knew, he needed them cold and lifeless. It was the only thing that turned him on.
He stood at the foot of the bed looking down at his prize for tonight. The illusion turned him on as he stared down at her still body though he knew it was just a game. The life in her filled his nostrils making him nauseous. A chorus in his head screamed at him to end the illusion. Through the cacophony came distinct shouts telling him what he should do to the young girl, disturbing things, disgusting things. If he listened there may be nothing left to satisfy his erotic needs. He was nothing more than a slave to their demands. He longed to kiss her cold dead lips.
Then She came whispering, She’s waiting for you, Gerald. She wants to be perfect. She’s almost there. She wants to be your lifeless plaything. She wants you, Gerald. It’s time!
Drool spilled from the corners of Gerald’s mouth, anxious to begin. He removed a long, thin bladed knife, a Liston knife, from his black bag. The knife was his favorite, an ancient field surgery knife he’d found in an antique shop long ago. He loved wondering how many amputations it had performed through the years. Its ornate whale bone handle told him it was likely over a hundred years old though it could be much older than that. He regarded the long sliver blade in a manner most men reserved for a beautiful woman, with reverence. He reached into his bag once more pulling out four homemade straps before crawling onto the bed. It was time to get to work.
She remained motionless when she felt him finally climb onto the bed again. Her thoughts were on nothing but collecting her cash then getting her ass back out on the street. If this sick little game was what she had to do then so be it. She took shallow breathes trying to give him the illusion of death he seemed to want. She knew this could be a dangerous little game, the other girls warned her to never allow blindfolds or handcuffs but the money he offered was simply too much to turn down. She found the hardest part was staying awake, she hoped he’d do something soon. How long did he expect her to play dead? Then she felt him tighten something around each of her thighs. It felt like a belt though she really didn’t care as long as he paid but damn, he fastened them tight.
That’s it Gerald, nice and tight. She looks so pretty now but you’ll make her prettier. Oh, she is going to be so perfect, Gerald. So pretty.
Gerald was dying to put his favorite blade to work though he loved the taste of the metal with it held in his teeth. He was giddy with excitement. Her soft sweet voice rose above all the others. She quieted them. He always listened to her soft whispers telling him exactly what to do, urging him on to the sweet satisfaction of fulfilling his every desire. He never questioned her, he never had the need. She knew what he wanted better than he knew himself though she encouraged him as only she could. Her sweet nothings whispered in his ear kept the others at bay. She helped him bring out the beast he kept hidden from the world. She let the beast come out to play. He moved up the prostitute’s body tightening straps around her biceps while she continued to lay still beneath him thinking she was the one playing a game. He loathed the warmth rising from her body, her still beating heart and her chest moving up and down, no matter how slight. He needed her to be perfect. He finished tightening his homemade straps then laced a thin leather cord through the clasp on each one. Now he was ready to begin.
Gerald straddled the attractive, golden haired, young prostitute noting her beauty though something wasn’t quite right. The flickering candle light showed the rosiness still in her cheeks, the healthy pink tint to her skin and her chest still moving with each breathe no matter how shallow. She was still alive. That wouldn’t do, that just wouldn’t do at all. He stared at her disappointed for another moment before removing the blindfold. She kept up the illusion for him better than expected by keeping her eyes closed. He ached for her final stillness to arouse him yet he did love the screaming. He kicked her gently in the ribs but still she maintained the façade. She was only doing as he had told her but it was making him angry now.
“Look at me!”
Should she open her eyes? Was he testing her? She didn’t want to lose the money he promised. If she returned with nothing to show for an entire night she’d be a dead woman for real. The man with the cash yelled at her to look at him again kicking her in the side, harder this time. She didn’t see any option so she cringed but opened her eyes.
Gerald was naked standing over her on the bed looking down on her with a disdain she had never witnessed before, he had disgust in his eyes. She tried smiling sexy at him then her eyes glimpsed the blade shimmering in the candlelight at his right hand. It looked gigantic to her eyes more like a small sword than a doctor’s tool. Fear overtook her hopes of a big payday instantly. Her amorous smile fell away seeing him transformed from a harmless weirdo to a crazed madman. She saw the killer he had kept hidden and began to scream.
Gerald imagined Robert Liston would be very proud if he could see him work away with his namesake. Robert Liston had developed the knife to make amputations quickly on the battlefield thus the blade was named for him. The thought of so many mangled, maimed and dead bodies excited Gerald while he worked and she screamed. He imagined Liston being amazed at how quickly he detached the whore’s legs. He made the tourniquets so tight there was minimal spillage from the stumps he left behind. He let the removed appendages drop to lay on the bed, the ankles still tied to the bed posts. He stood up careful not to agitate the leather strings tied together in a knot at her midsection. Unfortunately, his date had fallen unconscious through the ordeal. He enjoyed having the screams as his musical accompaniment. He grabbed a syringe from his bag then straddled her upper body injecting his special mix of epinephrine and cocaine into her arm. She woke instantly with a scream bringing the smile back to his lips. He let the knife dangle over her eyes dripping her own blood onto her face while she screamed in vain.
Gerald regripped the knife tightly leaning down clamping his free hand over her mouth before whispering his sweet nothings. “You’re very pretty and She says you’ll be perfect soon. Don’t you want to be perfect? You look so pretty but that warm glow simply must go, my dear.”
Her eyes widened while she struggled to simultaneously breathe and scream against his hand. When he lifted it she sucked in a breath hard nearly choking on her own scream in the process. Her pain was indescribable. It ran up her legs like liquid napalm setting fire to every nerve then he started in on her arms. She screamed herself coarse which did nothing to stop Gerald or the volcanic pain shooting through her entire body. Her dead arms still handcuffed at the wrist flopped down on either side of her head. She didn’t want to pretend any more, she wanted death to take her away.
She’s almost perfect now, Gerald. Finish her, Gerald. Let it flow, Gerald. Make her perfect!
Gerald straddled her body once more, blood dripping from the blade as he gazed maniacally into her eyes. His work was nearly complete. She continued to scream though she had almost no voice left. He stood and backed up carefully to grab the knot of thin leather laces he’d used to string together her tourniquets. He stood up straight unable to contain his excitement nor hide it as he was fully aroused. He looked down smiling like a maniac. He looked the young prostitute dead in her eyes then pulled up hard and fast on the laces releasing all the tourniquets at once. Blood exploded from all four stumps like water from a fire hose for one brief second before slowing to a slow trickle. Now she was perfect.
Gerald dropped to his knees laying down on top of her to feel the slick red coat she now wore against his skin. This was the part he cherished above all others, the brief few seconds of slippery warmth before their blood congealed. He kissed her lips staring into her beautiful hazel eyes watching the last few drops of life drain completely away. His body shook with his first orgasm, he released just as she expelled her last breath into his mouth. He writhed against her limbless form sliding up and down in the wonderful mess he’d made. A moment of pure ecstasy, the moment he lived for most of all.
Now she’s a perfect woman, Gerald! Now she’s yours to do as men do. Love her, Gerald. Love her until she’s like the others then we’ll find another. For now she is perfection, she is yours to love.
Gerald laid down next to his perfect woman cradling her affectionately in his arms. He knew when he woke she’d be cold beside him. He’d kiss her pale blue lips along with the rest of her dead flesh. He longed to run his hands up and down her lifeless body then consummate their union in this death bed. The game wasn’t over for him, this was only the beginning. He smiled feeling her body growing cold in his arms.
She turned her head kissing his ear gently. “I love you, Gerald.”
[bctt tweet=”OCTOBER TERROR 2018 Short Story Award – Entry #55 ‘Perfect Woman’ by Feind Gottes – Enjoy all this terrific, disturbing material you have in your hands, lots of horror stories at your disposal for your dark delight and vote!” username=”theboldmom”]
On October 23rd we’ll close submissions and open a poll for the readers to choose their favourite one! You’ll have a week to make your choice and on October 31st we’ll announce the winner!!!
