Darkness was the Universal Bid for Anonymity
The serial killer picked up a delicate smell of perfume and beer that lingered in the air. He looked around the bar and his eyes lit up. It was his third stop and he knew this was the perfect place to reel in his next victim.
The serial killer glanced around the bar, figuring that darkness was the universal bid for anonymity. A married man could sit with a dancer all night and not be recognized. A serial killer could scout out his next victim and his face would never turn up as a suspect. He made a cautious visual around the large four sided room, avoiding the corners and keeping an eye on the shadowed nooks and closets. There was a lot of activity near the rear of the bar room. Men apparently wanted to be lead into the private rooms for either a lap dance or sexual encounters.
The bar was known for attracting various undesirables and under age women who were tricked into becoming prostitutes. This place was more his style than the last few clubs he tried. It appeared no one really cared about anything here. There was a dancer on stage with C section scars on her belly, and a piercing on her lower lip. There was also a no talent transvestite waiting for his turn on the flimsy stage. Then he saw her. His next victim was a young Puerto Rican dancer with full lips and heavy make-up. She was one of the hard working girls and as a reward her life would come to an end.
The serial killer slipped into a dark booth, motioning across the room for that woman to join him. She turned away once, but when he flashed a fist full of dollars she changed her mind. He knew that he was going to score big time.
The serial killer made another quick survey of the bar. He wanted to make sure everything was a go. The young woman ignored the turned heads and she sat directly on his lap.
He exchanged small talk with the Puerto Rican female as she poured his drink. She was almost pretty, but the make-up she had caked on made it too difficult to tell. She was very thin with pale olive skin and red wispy hair. Her accent was heavy but not without a certain charm.
Another female placed another drink on the table and the serial killer over tipped her. It was more for show. The Puerto Rican female gestured with her chin to the bouncer with that beat them up and drag them out look. He opened a door near the side bar and nodded back to her.
The serial killer and the young woman stood up and walked toward that open door. When they entered the room she closed the door and the room was only lit by a small candle on a window’s ledge. He was thinking, because there was a lot of movement outside the door. The young woman turned and held his face in the palms of her hand. It was a gentle gesture and he closed his eyes. When she kissed his nose she felt a blade rushing into her chest. It was a weird sensation as the serial killer quickly removed the blade and slit her throat. Despite the darkness the serial killer knew she was staring right into his face. That made the kill much more amazing and thrilling.
After the serial killer cut into her flesh some more he realized that he wasn’t getting anymore satisfaction. She was clearly and visibly dead. He wiped the knife on her cheek and tucked it away carefully. He walked out of the room and handed the bouncer a fifty dollar bill.
The serial killer walked toward the exit and glanced once more at the bouncer. He understood that look of confusion as the bouncer gave him an irritated glare. Then he saw several other bouncers stumble over some tables pointing frantically at him.
He knew once he left the bar there was nothing they could do to stop him. It was too dark and he again realized that darkness was the universal bid for anonymity.
If you enjoyed this flash crime, you'll certainly enjoy the ones below:
© 2013 Frank Atanacio
More by this Author
A young teenage black boy from a drug plagued neighborhood would probably get lost in the shuffle. Chambers wanted to give that boy a voice. He was hoping something would ...........
Hoping and wishing. His mind was still veiled in a gray haze. He couldn’t remember the past. He couldn’t remember their childhood. It was all in a dark cloud. The laughing and joking was not there. The...
The killer didn't need heart failure as death, pain and agony waited in silence, The killer stood up fixing Anne Carter with a cool, contemptuous gaze. Anne fiddled a bit with the toothbrush, but she