Richard wanted to go back to Bleu Fish but feared he would be recognized. Too bad the bitch had died. How he picked such a useless woman was beyond him. He needed another to take her place before he took the trip through the canal.



With tourist plentiful, Richard had almost an unlimited number of places to search for the right girl, but he really wanted a certain class of person. Not any blonde would do. He needed someone who was amazing, beautiful, refined, and sophisticated. Someone who already thought lowly of themselves would be too easy to break.



His last one, well his last real one, had been perfect. Eventually she'd submitted to anything he'd asked. He wanted that again.



Richard chose the Library bar at the One and Only Club. The women were the type he liked, very rich and very blonde.



He sat on the far side of the room, not in too obvious of a spot, but a great place to people watch.



A waiter approached. "What will you have sir?"



Part of blending in and going unnoticed was being exactly what the person expected. "Macallan Scotch, neat."



The waiter raised his eyebrow, obviously impressed with the order. "Yes sir."



He watched the women sip their drinks and eat their cucumber sandwiches. No one caught his eye.



The waiter stopped by once more but Richard was done with the place. Disgust filled him. Nothing inspired his artistic side. He should go back to Bleu Fish where he would find more variety. The women at the One and Only Club were too stuffy.



After paying cash for his thousand-dollar dram of scotch, he decided to stroll through the grounds. He saw rich women who were way too snooty without the animation he required. It was almost like they were already dead.



Dressed in expensive clothes he'd nicked somewhere along the way he looked like he belonged so no one questioned his wanderings. The grounds were nice. He would love to do his work here. Just imagining a supple blonde tied up between the columns gave him a heady lift. He almost skipped down the colonnade but held back.



He slipped off the path and into a copse of trees. The cool damp earth smelt rich. If only he could rent out the place for the week, send everyone away. He could have so much fun on these grounds.



With cat like grace he moved through the trees, thinking about doing his work here. He'd gone a few hundred yards when he heard a couple arguing.



"Don't care."



"Listen, Shana, I'm not going to fight you on this. If you want to stay here and make a fool of yourself, fine. But I think you are making a huge mistake."



"You would."



"I'm going to leave now."



"Fine, go back to her."



"It's work, nothing more."



Richard wished he could see the couple. If the woman were blonde he would take her. He would find a way to get close to the bimbo and have her for his own.



"Damn it, William, I'm sick of being second."



"Shana, you are not second and you never have been. But work is work."



"You don't even need to work. You're selfish. You fucking bastard."



Richard heard steps receding. It was the heavy footfalls of a man. The woman remained behind. Just perfect.



He inched forward, searching for the lady. Every cell in his body ached for her to be blonde. With every step his heart beat faster. The unknown of the hunt excited him.



The soft hiccups of a woman crying could be heard through the trees. Inch by inch he moved nearer. He could taste her pain, smell her anguish.



The exhilaration of the moment drove him forward. Through the foliage he spied her ankle atop a slick red stiletto. Her toes were painted black. Enticing.



He let his eyes travel up her shapely legs. Her deep red skirt was short, and rumpled. She must have slept in her clothes, or maybe she and the man had gone a round in the bushes.



His gaze traveled up her body, pleased with the roundness of her breasts. He closed his eyes, not wanting to ruin the moment and find that her hair wasn't blonde. The tension in that instant made him hard.



It was litmus test time. Blond or no blond.



He popped open his eyes to see her walking away. Dark hair covered her head. Damn and double damn. He went limp as a deflated tire. No way he could take the bitch and use her for anything worthwhile. If she weren't already moving away he would probably kill her just because. Just thinking about how all these rich assholes would react to a murder on the Club's property lifted his spirits.



Richard marched to the reception area, hailed a cab and took it to Bay Street. He'd find a woman in one of the bars and take her.

Copyright Sara Thacker 2011