Stalker and the Stalked Ep. 07

I was on my computer immediately Googling frantically trying to find anything on this Bo Culpepper. I was striking out everywhere I tried. I decided to go to the library and use their resources (maybe even sort through some microfiches of old newspapers, if I was lucky).

I tried "Who's Who in the USA" for the 1930s and couldn't find his name. Then I started in on the newspapers—Alexandria and Washington D.C. What date did his headstone say that he died? It only had the year—1937. I began with January and read through them all looking for some story or reference to him or his death. Finally a thread of something! An obituary for Beauregard Culpepper! It was a typical staid piece and had no illuminating details except for his actual date of passing. Going back a couple days and scouring those few newspapers got me something tangible.

Buried in the police blotter section, there was a summary of a report of a gruesome death that the Alexandria Police had uncovered. It seemed that Culpepper's body was found in a stream bed, stabbed to death - 100 times! The article then went on to state some of the activities and associations the man had maintained - secretive cult following... encouraging various forms of sexual perversion and "expression"... outwardly questioning religious principles... maintaining residences that would house his own cult members in an open sex community... many run-ins with local community and religious groups...chemistry lab in basement of house...clairvoyance... psychic communications with the living and the dead...

Holy shit. This guy was part sex cult leader and part meth lab cook? He died 80 years ago, though. What is the connection (a powerful connection!) with my mystery woman? I'd uncovered a very strange story, but my research was only just beginning.

It was becoming clear that I had to get inside of this woman's mind to understand this potential mine field of stimuli. I needed to gain access to her apartment and check around for more evidence. What did I know about breaking into homes or apartments? Nothing! There was another way, though and it demanded that I escalate my interaction with her—much earlier than I felt I should. And much earlier than I really felt comfortable or safe(!) doing. I had to expose myself to her desires to be able to be drawn in.

That same day, I was at her apartment building and looking at the lobby. The outside door had an electronic key lock and the apartments' mail boxes were inside. I could not read the apartment numbers or names. I had to try to gain access into the lobby to take any next steps. Having spent a few minutes viewing her apartment windows, I noticed that the drapes were all closed. She may or may not be at home at the moment. Should I wait for her to return or should I confirm that her apartment was empty before I attempted something? My mind was swimming in a pool of dangerous ideas, none of which I was capable of progressing.

Then I saw her drapes move slightly. Someone had just repositioned them so that they were completely closed. She was inside.

Three other ideas, then came to mind. One, was to send her a proper note through the post, since I had her address and we had been "introduced" to one another. Two, was to devote a lot of time trying to trail her secretly and plot her movements, so as to be certain of when she was away from the apartment when I broke in (however I was to do that!) And three, since she was inside her apartment now, I could simply ring the intercom to her apartment number and ask for her to meet me again. Whoa, was I even ready for that? Was I certain of what I would even say?

Beads of sweat suddenly emerged on my forehead, as I realized that I had not planned sharply enough to deal with this - to deal with HER! I turned and walked back away from the building to my post—leaning up against a tree on the street a ways from the building. I wanted to touch myself just thinking of her. Or was it the situation, itself, that was exciting me?

I walked back to the front door of the apartment building, found the number of her unit and pushed the intercom button. Immediately, the buzzer came on to unlock the outside door and I walked into the lobby. Thoughts flooded into my head. Why didn't she ask who I was prior to buzzing me inside? Did she know it was me? She must have. Was there a "lobby cam" for each renter's intercom unit? In any case, I wasn't turning back now.

Knowing where her unit was within the building, it wasn't long before I was standing in front of her door. I gathered myself and knocked at the door. The door began to open and i was greeted by A MAN! He carried a toolbox and excused himself, as he had simply made some repairs for the occupant. He walked away and I exhaled. Whew. Did not see that coming!

Then I saw a female hand pull the door open and my mystery woman met me, by saying, "I give you credit. I did not think you'd be able to hold off as long as you did before coming to my door." She invited me inside.

I had to mentally regain my bearings, as I was, first and foremost, on a reconnaissance mission to learn what I could about this strange perversion with Culpepper. It immediately became hard to focus, however. Her apartment smelled wonderful. It smelled like her—her fragrance permeated the space. She was cool and aloof, but smiled at me (for the first time, I believe). She didn't ask me why I was there, but simply asked, "What can I pour you?" I stammered some response and she went to fix a couple stiff drinks.

She was wearing a black dress that fit her VERY well. Conservative cut, but well fitting. This is how I'd pictured her in every image that I had conjured in my mind. She wore black pumps and a pearl necklace. She was stunning. I snapped out of my trance and quickly had some glances around the room. One thing that I noticed was her decorating style. She had numerous antiques or reproductions of fixtures and items from the Art Deco period - from the 1920s and 30s. A very old book was fixed into a book stand and was open to a specific page. A quick glance told me that it was not a christian Bible. It appeared that the book was hand written.

I remember in our earlier meeting, after the "follow me" walk to the alleyway, that she was very prescriptive regarding how I should act and what I could or could not say. She had demanded control of the moment. In fact, she had had control of every moment—including this one. I told myself to continue this posture and allow her to do the talking.

I thanked her for the whisky and she began. "So, David, do you enjoy watching me? You've been following me for some time, now. Do you know where all of this is going?" That was a very good question, indeed. I was completely taken by this woman. She had dominated my thoughts, since catching sight of her eyes at that fragrance counter. And where did I think this was heading? I had no clue.

"This is a romantic twist of a stranger on a train kind of thing, from where I see it." I said.

She gave me a slight smile and took a deep pull from her drink. "Is it romance, then, that you are after?" she asked. Again, I thought that that was where I was heading, but she had been leading me in strange directions. Our views of the "momentum" were plainly different. "Because, romance may not be what I can provide." she said.

She then walked over to a countertop and pulled a lipstick out of her purse and began to refresh her application. She pointedly stroked the cream over her lips and gazed at me as she went. She was able to read my reaction instantly. It was obvious that I thought that the application of lipstick on women's lips was supremely sexy. I was squirming in my chair in arousal. She was well attuned to this "fetish" of mine and played with it as if I was hanging onto a thread that she was twisting in her fingers. We both realized that, again, she had me where she wanted me and I was not about to do anything to compromise the position that I was in. I was entranced.

I was also very much aware of the fragrance the emanated from her. Her signature scent was heavy in the air. I had been able to smell her in my dreams, and now, here in her apartment, it was intoxicating.

"Now, why would you say that romance wasn't in the cards for us?" I asked.

She put her lipstick tube down and walked over to where I was seated. She leaned over, with her face close to mine and said, "I never quite said that. What you need to know is that "romance" might not be what we share."

With that she kissed me long, deep, and in an impassioned way. Her creamy dark cherry lips slid seductively over mine. It was all I could do to not reach out and take her in my arms, as I sensed that this would violate the emotional control pattern that she had been dictating. She backed away slightly and then kissed me again. My loins were reacting like crazy and my head was starting to spin. I didn't want her kisses to ever stop. I was in another very strange place and it felt like heaven.

I wanted to grab her passionately but for some reason was unable to do so. She kissed me full, again, and I felt waves of warmth gushing over my face and then down my body all the way to my toes. It was almost a chemical reaction running throughout my body. It was an extreme feeling of pleasure that she was infusing within me. Her kisses were narcotic and beautiful! She kept it up with wide open mouth, soft creamy lips, and an explorative tongue. She was overwhelming me with passion and I was in a daze underneath the onslaught of her hungry lips.

She reached down, took my hands in hers and pulled me up from the chair. My knees were wobbly from the passion that had been slathered on me. She gave me a knowing smile and led me to her bedroom. She sat me on her bed which was dressed in white satin and undid each of the buttons on my shirt. As it draped open, she applied her hands to my chest and surveyed the landscape. She was beautiful. She wore dark grey eye shadow and the dark cherry lipstick, both of which looked dramatic against the backdrop of her pale skin and black hair.

She then backed away, turned her back to me, and asked if I'd undo the hook at the back of her dress. After that she seductively began to disrobe and prepare herself for what she had in store for me. I was in a daze, but shook myself out of it and told her, "I know that you have insisted upon maintaining control of this situation and control of how I am to act, but I can no longer agree to that. I need to assert myself with you."

With that, I rose from the bed and stripped off her lacy bra and panties, cradled her in my arms and laid her down into the satin of her lustrous bed. Then I stood over her, peeled off my slacks and boxers, and freed my stiff cock from its confinement. She looked into my eyes, sat up, and placed her hands around my cock and then engulfed me in her sweet lips. Her tongue immediately found the sensitive underside of me and began to fully lick my length, providing plenty of emphasis on the underside of my tip. As I squirmed, she began to seriously suck on me. It felt like she intended to pull the sex out of me. She was stroking me up and down, sucking all along the way. I then grabbed her by the luxurious black hair on the back of her head and began to pump myself in and out of her mouth. As I pumped down into her, her tongue was busy with me swirling all around and tantalizing my cock. As I withdrew and pulled out of her mouth, I recoiled and pressed my way slowly back past her lips again. We continued penetration and withdrawal inside of her hungry mouth. She was on fire and very aroused.

I then eased her up to a standing position, placed my hands on her shoulders, and backed her up to the wall. There, I looked into her eyes and asked, "Do you want this? I'm going to drive myself into you - like a nail gun. I want to pick you up off your feet and hang you up on that wall."

She angrily looked back at me and said, "Then, damn it, do it! Fucking DO IT!"

With that, she locked her fingers around my neck and hiked herself up and I inched her up the wall about a foot. I then took my hands, swept them up the back of her thighs and cupped her ass in my palms, pulling her up even further. Her eyes were ablaze as she looked into mine and shouted, "Take me, David! FUCKING TAKE ME!"

She grabbed my cock and led me inside. She was sopping wet and hot inside - really hot. She dropped herself down onto me and I extended myself fully into her, bottoming out. She reacted immediately in a rush of pleasure. I was literally pinning her to the wall and her face contorted, showing that this was causing her pain, as well. She became more and more physical as she took me in time and time again. I picked her up off my cock and then allowed her to slam down onto me—my cock ramming up into the bottom of the pool of hot wetness that was her perfect pussy. With every slam into her she groaned and I grunted. When I screwed her tightly against the wall, I slid my hand down and found her clitoris. From that point forward I rubbed her clit as we slammed up and down. We were both sweating in waves of pleasure. She grabbed my hair and said to me, "I'm cumming!, FUCK! You're making me cum. YOU ARE MAKING ME CUM! I want to cum for you over and over. JUST DON'T YOU STOP THIS!"

When she came, I could feel a blanket of warm creamy wetness oozing down from her depths and enveloping my cock hat was rammed up inside her. She demanded and got more and more from me as I maintained my control of her, pinned up against the wall.

After I had used up every bit of energy and physical strength, I eased her down and took her back to the bed. I looked at her as if to say, "That's all I have. BUT I want to finish this." She stroked my hair in her fingers affectionately, rolled me on my back and then walked over to her purse and reapplied her lipstick. She knew that this would absolutely send me over the cliff and she was right. When she came back to bed, she kissed me in an amazingly sexual way. I experienced the same waves of warmth and almost hallucinogenic reactions that I had felt earlier.

After amazing kisses, she positioned herself above me and pressed her pussy down onto my cock again. She started pumping up and down on me and at the same time was fondling her own breasts eagerly. She then leaned over and began kissing me again. My eyes rolled back in my head and I exploded inside of her.

That climax must have had such an impact on me that I lost consciousness for a while. She had literally knocked me out! She noticed that I was awake, again, and came over to me, affectionately stroked my hair and gazed into my eyes. I was absolutely hypnotized by her face—her eyes, her mouth, her lips. I pulled her down to me and she kissed me again, long and deep. Our lips slid over one another in the cream of her lipstick. My mind then reacted with the now narcotic response that I'd developed every time she kissed me. Her lips were wonderful and I couldn't get enough of her. We kissed each other for several minutes and I was in higher and higher levels of heaven.

I shook myself awake, with a pounding headache, and found myself on the couch of my apartment. Over time I began remembering what had happened the previous day. I was startled by my current position - at home. How could that have happened? Was I drunk and did she have to get me home, somehow? For the life of me, I couldn't put the puzzle pieces together on this latest episode (although with her, time, space, and logic seemed inconsistent). I had to call her, but I remembered that I had forgotten to get her phone number. Hell, I had never even asked for her name!