A Killer of a One Night Stand Ch. 03byMaxSebastian©
It was 10 days after seeing Becky that Jonah had his next encounter through the No Strings website. During that time, two potential 'dates' had turned into nothing - one had failed to turn up at all, while another had canceled the night before.
He didn't blame them, didn't feel bad about it. Jonah knew well enough how terrifying it was meeting up with complete strangers, even after introductions by email. It had to be worse for young women, too. Their vulnerability in these situations.
The killer Jonah was pursuing had been targeting young men, however. The police were now admitting that publicly. The newspapers had been going wild over it, naturally dubbing her the "Black Widow". A few journalists had even contacted him, trying to get his word on developments in the case, as a close relative to one of the victims.
So far he'd refrained from talking to the press, though with the police apparently ignoring his hunch that the killer was finding her victims through the "No Strings" website, he was beginning to consider the possibility of taking up a reporter on an offer of a public platform.
His one phone call with the lovely DI Mulray, however, since she'd visited him at Nate's apartment, had seen her strongly advising him against any public mention of the dating website angle. There wasn't evidence, she argued, and the way the media twisted things, he could easily cause an unnecessary public panic.
So he was left to pursue the angle himself, still driven by the pain within him at losing Nate, and the burning desire to see justice, to ensure his brother's death was not meaningless.
Tonight, Jonah was waiting for another date at a table in the enclosed area outside Brown's, a bar-restaurant housed in a converted old brick warehouse on the gentrified dockside, just a stone's throw from Nate's actual apartment at 1 West India Quay. He was hopeful he wasn't facing a third strike in a row.
From his correspondence with tonight's date, someone who called herself Jessica, he was fully expecting her to show. She was more of a forceful type than others he had corresponded with so far through the website. Recently, he'd been actively seeking out a few dominant personalities in the women he'd been adding to his 'interested' list. Thinking he ought to be pushing the boundaries if he wanted any hope of catching up with Nate's killer.
She had to be at least a little dominant if she was a "Black Widow" killer, right?
His two successful 'dates' so far had been fun, but he couldn't see Emma or Becky in the role of murderer.
Tonight, he already had a feeling things were going to be different.
To start with, Jonah was projecting a sharper image this evening. He had spent the day carefully shopping to buy an outfit to fit the kind of City image his brother had projected. He now sat in a designer suit, smart tie and shirt, and spotless leather brogues.
Secondly, it was a much later start than his previous encounters - 9pm, on the dot.
Jonah was nervous again. It didn't seem to get easier this online dating, though he wasn't really very experienced in it yet. The waiting was the worst part - once she arrived, once he knew what he was up against, it wasn't so bad. The uncertainty chewed into his stomach walls.
He examined the female faces walking by outside the restaurant, and the few wandering around the tables inside this little enclosure. Down here on the dockside, there was a row of relatively large restaurants, all converted from an old brick warehouse. Lots of people around, even for a mid-week night. None of them seemed to be looking for Jonah.
What did he know about her? She was called Jessica, she was 29 years old, two years older then he was, and worked in the City and had a team of 10 traders underneath her, revealing in her profile that she liked telling arrogant men what to do.
Their brief email exchange after he'd added her to his list had not added an awful lot of color to his knowledge of her. She'd ignored his questions for the most part, though asked him some: if he could handle a strong-willed woman, if he'd get scared off by someone telling him what to do, if he gave good head.
Faces drifting by - none of them looking for anyone.
She was ten minutes late. He'd already finished his beer, but couldn't afford to leave his station to get another. There didn't appear to be enough waiting staff to actually reach his table, either.
For a moment, he half-recognized the back of someone's head, or thought he did. He knew it wasn't Jessica, she being a blonde according to her website, not a brunette. She didn't turn, didn't show her face. Maybe he was just being paranoid. There had been a couple of times in the past week where he got the feeling he was being tailed, but when he'd turned to look, tried to alter his route to catch out his shadow, it had come to zip.
He turned to find a waiter - a male one at that - bearing a large tray with only a single shot glass perched in the middle of it. Not Jessica, then. Was someone playing a prank on him?
"Yes? That's me."
The waiter gave a quick nod. "I was asked to give you a message - and this drink."
"She said you should drink this and then find her in the parking garage round back, across the street."
The waiter leaned in to offer up the small glass of clear liquid, and Jonah felt no option but to take it.
"Thanks," he said. "Did she say anything about where she'd be in the garage?"
"She only gave me this to give you," he said, fumbling in a pocket in his white apron before handing a small silver-and-black object to Jonah.
It was a key, quite plainly a car ignition key, complete with a small black plastic unit for opening a vehicle's central locking system.
"That's all I got, mate," the waiter said, holding up a palm to indicate he was now done, message passed, job complete.
"Thanks," Jonah said, shaking his head at a final offer of another drink before the waiter withdrew to serve a nearby table.
Well, this was different. He had to go find her. In a parking lot. He vaguely knew there was one around the back of this building, attached to the Cineworld movie theater. What, was he supposed to go around pressing the button on the key, see which car it unlocked? Did this mean they were going to drive somewhere?
Jonah looked at the shot glass he held between thumb and forefinger. What if it was poison? Drugs, perhaps, to dull his senses, make him compliant.
He recalled nothing from any newspaper report or police interview on TV to suggest the Black Widow had used poison or drugs on her victims. Still, there wasn't any hard and fast rule that a murderess had to stick to her exact same Modus Operandi all the way through a murder spree.
The fact that a waiter had handed him the glass seemed to suggest to Jonah it was just a drink.
He had to take it on trust. Do what he was told. She was softening him up, that was clear.
With a deep breath, he touched the glass to his bottom lip, then upended it, tilting his head back as he threw the ice-cold liquid into his mouth. Fire hit the back of his throat as he swallowed, wincing as much at the strong aniseed taste as at the bite of the strong alcohol.
Jonah sat for a few moments, waiting. Feeling the liquor warming his insides as it filtered through into his bloodstream. God, it had been strong. He didn't remember drinking anything like that. Absinthe was green, though, wasn't it? It couldn't have been that.
If she'd drugged him, or poisoned him, how would it make him feel? It couldn't be a fast-acting reagent, if she wanted him to go find her in the parking lot. But, sitting there a few minutes, he began to feel confident enough to make a move.
Rising to his feet, he felt the powerful alcohol take a little of the edge off his balance, though it had also softened some of the nervous flicker inside his stomach.
It was a short walk around the end of the building to the parking lot.
He entered via the most obvious entrance of the place, assuming this was where he would be expected to enter. It was beginning to get dark, lending the rows of cars and the stark concrete of the structure an air of menace.
A few paces inside, and he tried the button, not really expecting anything. Expecting her to want to put him in his place and make him search for her.
To his surprise, he heard a bleat from a car alarm, responding to the signal. It must have been a powerful system - it sounded as though the vehicle was a floor down, and some way away.
Jonah walked into the direction of the alarm, feeling more than a little intimidated by his surroundings. He could feel his heart pulsing inside his chest, his step seeming to fall in line with his pulse.
Then he rounded a concrete pillar and saw her. He caught his breath.
She was leaning up against a large silver Mercedes - a beautiful blonde with violent red lipstick, her hair tied back in a long, tidy ponytail, she appeared to be about Jonah's age or thereabouts. Wearing clothes fit for the office - white blouse, suit skirt falling to just above her knees, black tights or stockings, and the kind of high-heeled shoes that could have killed a man.
Her picture on the website hardly did her justice.
She nodded her head once, twice, ordering him to her.
Jonah took a deep breath, wondering if this young woman could be a killer. Was she going to drive him somewhere? Somewhere he'd have no chance of defence? Suddenly, he longed for the bland comforts of a hotel room.
She gestured for him to approach her, and as he did, felt her eyes trailing all over him, assessing him, checking out his threads and what might lie underneath them.
"Hi," he said, coming within a few feet of her, breathing in a chestful of her exotic perfume.
She did not return his greeting. There was no air-kiss, no pleasantries. She just pointed to the ground, face neutral, impassive. There was a beat where Jonah wrinkled his brow in confusion, but he hazarded a guess as to what she was telling him, and kneeled before her.
He felt like an obedient puppy, but there was something darkly thrilling to knee on the concrete floor, face inches away from her shapely nylon-clad legs, waiting for his next command.
It seemed to him that she was still deciding on him, perhaps there would be a test before she either took him somewhere, or rejected him.
Now she eased up the hem of her skirt ever so slowly, revealing that her upper thighs were clad in the elegant black lace of stocking tops, held by suspenders.
Jonah stifled a gasp as she continued drawing up her skirt, and he detected a hint of spice in the air along with her perfume. Jessica was not wearing panties, so there was her pussy, right in front of him, without so much as a 'how do you do'.
If he hadn't been hard before, he was now. Brutally so. She had a beautiful pussy to go along with everything else, with a tidy patch of blonde hair on her mound, and pink pussy lips glistening with her moisture. Jonah breathed in the scent of her arousal, gazing in awe at the sight before him.
"Show me what you can do," she said firmly.
He leaned forward, hands flat to the ground in front of him, wondering for a moment whether he was in a position to cut and run if things did turn dangerous.
He took another long, slow breath filled with her scent, but whether or not she perceived it as hesitation, she clearly did not intend him to take his time. She grabbed him by the hair and now pulled him to her, his face colliding with the raw heat of her hot, wet pussy.
She tasted sharp and salty, but Jonah was given little time or space to appreciate her. He extended his tongue, but it was Jessica who controlled the movement of her pussy on his face - using him, caring little how forcefully she held his head, or crushed her searing folds against his face.
Jonah could only hang on and go with the flow, licking her, sucking her where he was able. He wondered if she worked out regulator - she seemed strong, and holding him with both her hands, it felt as though there was no way he could escape now other than fully satisfying her.
Was this what Nathan had experienced before the end? A loss of control?
All manner of dark thoughts passed through Jonah's mind as he put every ounce of his energy into pleasuring this beautiful, frightening woman.
Then she was shuddering on top of him, the pressure of her weight on his face lightening, and her pussy was gliding over him lubricated by copious juices. She was quivering, trembling, rocking, and he could tell she was making special effort not to cry out.
"Thank you," was all she said, pushing him away, allowing her skirt to fall back in place to cover her crotch.
Jonah watched in astonishment as she quietly stepped around to get in her car, and fire up the engine.
He had to get quickly out of the way to make sure she didn't knock him as she made her exit.
Watching her drive off, her taste smeared over his face, Jonah felt a little used and somehow more alive than he'd felt in ages. His cock was so hard in his trousers, still, that it was a wonder he hadn't had a leakage problem.
He took a moment to pull himself together, feeling a little unsteady as he straightened up on his feet once again, before he ventured back out of the parking lot. What a strange encounter. Perhaps that was all too common when you were using a website to arrange sexual encounters - it didn't necessarily mean a romantic candle-lit dinner and a comfortable bed in a nice hotel.
As he wandered back towards the bar on the quayside, he licked his lips, tasting her again, bringing the sharp lines of her attractive face back to mind. Would he ever see her again? Would it be dangerous if he did see her again?
He'd never been with a woman like that before. What an amazing thrill it was to be used solely for her pleasure like that. Her pussy clamping down on his mouth so intimately.
And in the public public lot - it all seemed so wrong, yet so exhilarating.
If he went back into the bar, would other people detect her on him? The smell of her sex? Yet he needed a stiff drink. He spotted an empty table outside, and decided that since Brown's had table service, he was safer to grab a seat and remain outside.
As he waited for his drink, he found himself thinking of ways to adjust his profile on the No Strings website to perhaps attract women like Jessica.
But was he thinking of doing that for his own sexual exploration, or because he genuinely thought the Black Widow, if that was what people were now calling Nate's killer, was that kind of woman?
He felt a pang of guilt as a waitress made her way towards him, that his trawling through the seedy sex site was perhaps mainly about his own distractions - taking his mind off the terrible pain of losing his brother - than actively making a difference in the pursuit of justice.
The voice startled him.
He turned his head to see the familiar sight of Emma across a few tables, sitting with a gaggle of other people who looked like students. She was dressed in a fairly ordinary jacket and jeans combination - chic enough, though not like the little black dress he'd last seen her in.
As his eyes connected with hers, her face lit up at the confirmation it was him, and he felt a little tingle in his loins at the memory from the last time they'd met.
She uttered a few words of explanation to her group of friends, and hauled herself up to pick her way through the tables over to him.
He stood up to greet her, and suddenly feared she would be able to sense the lingering traces of Jessica on him as she approached. There was no avoiding her, though.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her mouth stretched wide in a broad smile. "You look very smart."
"I live here," he shrugged in return, as she now reached up to kiss his cheek as though he were an old friend, his lungs swamped with her coconut-tinged perfume.
"Or should I call you 'Robert'?" she said under her breath, eyes sparkling with mischief.
He sat back down, but Emma stayed hovering on her feet beside him. She suddenly caught her breath, thinking of something, and said: "You're not waiting for another... date... are you?"
Jonah smiled and shook his head. "No," he said. "Honestly - I do live here. Over there, in fact."
He nodded over towards the tall apartment building housing the Marriott Hotel over next to the Docklands Light Railway track.
"Very nice," she said, and briefly glanced over at her friends, perhaps to check they weren't demanding her back, before pulling out the chair next to Jonah's and dropping herself down on it.
"It was my brother's," Jonah said, thinking it no longer such a problem to reveal his personal information to her, since she'd already had a peruse of his wallet to find out his real identity. "He... passed away recently. I'm just staying there until I can sort out his affairs."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, offering him genuine pity.
He nodded appreciatively, said: "I suppose that's why I tried that dating site, you know? Take my mind off things."
The waitress now brought him a pint of beer as requested, and he asked Emma if she wanted a drink.
"Oh no, I've had plenty," she said. "Far too much already tonight."
Jonah gulped half his drink - desperately in need of the liquid.
"Don't feel pressure to catch up," Emma joked as he put the drink back down on the table. "So have you had any more... dates... since ours?"
"A couple," he said. "It's actually a lot harder to set them up than I first appreciated, I think. You must have been..."
"Something like that. Have you... had any more... dates?" he wondered if it was bad form to pry into her own affairs.
She smiled. "Actually no, but I was beginning to think about trying it again some time - you know, the fires a-burning!"
Now without asking, she took a sip from Jonah's own drink.
"Are you here on your own, then?" she asked him.
"I was having a drink with a friend, but she had to leave."
"Having a drink with a friend wearing a sophisticated suit?" Emma grinned, "Don't tell me you didn't measure up, Jonah! I don't think I'd believe that."
"It wasn't - "
"Unless she was expecting someone like 'Robert' to appear, of course," the blonde teased him. Jonah just drank some more beer. "I can't say I was disappointed that 'Robert' didn't turn up, though. You were quite a nice surprise."
"Thank you," he said, feeling a little warmth blooming inside his chest.
He saw now that Emma's friends were getting up from their table, apparently readying to leave. Yet she wasn't in the slightest bit put out when he warned her.
"They're losers, that's all," she grinned. "I thought it might be nice to give you some company."
"I wouldn't say no."
"You could show me your apartment if you liked," she said.
Jonah took another gulp of beer, and felt the hardness throb between his thighs. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? It seemed ridiculous to him - this girl was so pretty, how could she possibly be interested in an average joe like him?
And if she was truly interested, he was worried she'd be able to tell he'd been with Jessica if she did start getting friendly with him back at the flat. Would he get away with saying he needed a shower?
He said: "I'd be happy to give you the tour - but you know what they're saying in the newspapers at the moment?"
"What are they saying?" her eyes flashed with lust.
"There's a dangerous, sexy woman going around killing guys she meets on dates."
Emma giggled. "And you think I'm dangerous and sexy?"
For some reason best known to herself, Emma did accompany him back to his apartment. After the abrupt end to his 'date' with Jessica, if that was her name, Jonah did feel the hardness between his legs affecting his agenda to a large extent.