I WAS WATCHING MYSELF IN THE TV. My little downtown flat was quiet. The heavy curtains blocked the light, leaving me in a comforting semidarkness, and I was sitting on the couch with a glass of luscious Montepulciano d'Abruzzo and feet on the table. The tv set flickering straight into my brain. Media was all over me. The only answers I was able to deliver were mambo-jumbo. I had no clue, no one had any clue, and seemingly everybody was aware of this fact. Still reporters from newspapers, radios, television were asking and asking. The same question, again and again. I was tired. And gave them the same words: at this stage of the investigation I can not give out any information, and as soon as we think that the public needs to know more we will hold a press conference. What a crap. I, or anyone else at the police, had no information at all. We were just floundering in the dark. The media - as usual - was all over us.
Not that I gave a shit. All I had in my mind was the last night... Everything was burned into my memory, into my flesh and senses. When I woke up she was already gone. To my big surprise, as it was only five thirty, just before sunrise. My body was still yearning for dopamine - large amounts were released in the evening, and now the withdrawal symptoms were almost painful -, I had a grueling cupidity for her. Even though we both had quite a few orgasms, and I only slept about two hours, I had to masturbate under the shower. The result was a pathetic little sperm drop. She really got everything out of my balls.
Then I just sat there, with my thoughts on her while the world seemed to go mad. When I should have tried to figure out much more important things. But I couldn't fight that frenzied chemistry. I started to sink into a simple limbic system controlled life form.
She, she, she... I don't even know her name.
The day before, the day I met her I attended the academic inauguration of a few old friends from the Forensics Institute in the grand neorenaissance building of the Academy of Sciences. Leading academics were delivering the usual boring speeches. Not that I paid attention. I was rather captured by the beautiful frescos, marvellous chandelier and greek female statue pastiches on the inner balcony of the ceremonial hall.
Until I've noticed her. Three rows to the right in front of me. At first I could only see her brown ponytail, the shapely shoulders and the stilted posture. She looked like a ballerina, but thoughts escalated quickly in me and I imagined her in skin-tight black leather as a tough mistress - especially when she turned and eyed me. As if she felt my staring. Her face was beautifully carved with just a slight vestige of harshness. It seemed to me that she tried to hide this, maybe she wasn't even aware of this quality, but my always alert senses revealed her little secret at first glance.
I couldn't wait for the end of the ceremony. And the reception to start. I felt an irresistible allurement, like if she's spread her pheromones that were pronouncedly targeting me. Looking around I haven't seen anyone else noticing her. Or at least not the way I did.
Halfway during the event I stood up and left the hall. I had to get out, get away. But then I was just walking up and down the corridor like a lion in a cage. The buffet meant to comfort the academics after the nonsense they were exposed was already open. The sassy waiters were filling the rows of wines. Red, rosé and white. I beetled in the club room. Grabbed a glass of red and nestled myself in one of the sumptuos leather armchairs by the window. For a couple of minutes I was just staring out the window, watching the traffic of the Roosevelt Square in front of the Academy building flowing towards and over the bridge. With the Liberty Hill in the back.
Then my thoughts were back on the case. Staring out of my head, but not perceiving anything from the outside. There is a rapacious predator out there. And I don't even know where to start. He - I'm sure that it's a male - is always steps ahead. Not leaving a trace, not making mistakes. Only lifeless females. Without an apparent pattern. Although I am sure that there is something I, the pathologists, my colleagues do not notice. Something small, but imporant. Still, my mind was idling.
It was about time to get myself together. Damn!
To be continued...
Read the Prologue here!
Not that I gave a shit. All I had in my mind was the last night... Everything was burned into my memory, into my flesh and senses. When I woke up she was already gone. To my big surprise, as it was only five thirty, just before sunrise. My body was still yearning for dopamine - large amounts were released in the evening, and now the withdrawal symptoms were almost painful -, I had a grueling cupidity for her. Even though we both had quite a few orgasms, and I only slept about two hours, I had to masturbate under the shower. The result was a pathetic little sperm drop. She really got everything out of my balls.
Then I just sat there, with my thoughts on her while the world seemed to go mad. When I should have tried to figure out much more important things. But I couldn't fight that frenzied chemistry. I started to sink into a simple limbic system controlled life form.
She, she, she... I don't even know her name.
The day before, the day I met her I attended the academic inauguration of a few old friends from the Forensics Institute in the grand neorenaissance building of the Academy of Sciences. Leading academics were delivering the usual boring speeches. Not that I paid attention. I was rather captured by the beautiful frescos, marvellous chandelier and greek female statue pastiches on the inner balcony of the ceremonial hall.
Until I've noticed her. Three rows to the right in front of me. At first I could only see her brown ponytail, the shapely shoulders and the stilted posture. She looked like a ballerina, but thoughts escalated quickly in me and I imagined her in skin-tight black leather as a tough mistress - especially when she turned and eyed me. As if she felt my staring. Her face was beautifully carved with just a slight vestige of harshness. It seemed to me that she tried to hide this, maybe she wasn't even aware of this quality, but my always alert senses revealed her little secret at first glance.
I couldn't wait for the end of the ceremony. And the reception to start. I felt an irresistible allurement, like if she's spread her pheromones that were pronouncedly targeting me. Looking around I haven't seen anyone else noticing her. Or at least not the way I did.
Halfway during the event I stood up and left the hall. I had to get out, get away. But then I was just walking up and down the corridor like a lion in a cage. The buffet meant to comfort the academics after the nonsense they were exposed was already open. The sassy waiters were filling the rows of wines. Red, rosé and white. I beetled in the club room. Grabbed a glass of red and nestled myself in one of the sumptuos leather armchairs by the window. For a couple of minutes I was just staring out the window, watching the traffic of the Roosevelt Square in front of the Academy building flowing towards and over the bridge. With the Liberty Hill in the back.
Then my thoughts were back on the case. Staring out of my head, but not perceiving anything from the outside. There is a rapacious predator out there. And I don't even know where to start. He - I'm sure that it's a male - is always steps ahead. Not leaving a trace, not making mistakes. Only lifeless females. Without an apparent pattern. Although I am sure that there is something I, the pathologists, my colleagues do not notice. Something small, but imporant. Still, my mind was idling.
It was about time to get myself together. Damn!
To be continued...
Read the Prologue here!
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