Olive Martini [Not suitable for children] The cold glass presses not my hand, with a grip firm enough not to break the thin delicate glass but strong enough to make me look like the alpha I deserve to be. My associate sits there with his sunglasses inside this bright bar-room. He sips a 50 dollar drink in bus Gucci suit. His hair peeled back with a ferocity that only reflects my evening activities. He spits politics at me. About the faggots trying to fuck the system like everyone else. I urge him with a sincere voice about the need to support gay rights as any other human being much like the women and the blacks. We laugh. This is the only other type of human interaction I can stand, alcohol almost spilling down my horse throat until my shiny gold watch feels too heavy to pick up the glass. And they walk over. Scum filth. She had been eyeing my watch and his suit for the past half an hour. Every muscle in my body flexes as I watch their predictable little casual stretch over here to start a conversation. What could they possibly want? They weren't going to get it. Fucking asshole. The prune titted tight dressed whore with the ass flexing out of her dress had got my associates attention. His cock leading him wherever the hell it wanted. Not me. Never me. Every muscle was under my control, ever action was conscious such as my arm resting on the cool mahogany table as I eyed my friend sitting in the yellow stained suede chair and this whore touched me with the warmness of a hot summers day. "Don't touch my fucking watch it's worth you and your friend" By her wary looking, I decided it was time to lay my hand on her bony back. The sort of bones you only see when someone is campaigning for Africa protruded out of her. Petty. She whispers in my ear with a small sense of a warm tongue touching my ear. Disgusting. I was going to enjoy at least a bit more time with my associate before I where to find one of these things. Fine. I whisper back in her ear "If you came back to mine I'd kill you" she whispers back "That toned body would be worth it". I feel each step as I walk out, I feel the cold nights air and the warm grip of the foremans handshake. The limo rolls up and we make a brisk drive down a couple of streets, the whole time she tries to find a way not my mouth. Into my mind. She'll see it all soon. My apartment was all white, everything was neat and in order. Nobody ever ever ever entered it without me. She threw her fox fur coat onto the floor and dropped the dress off of her shoulders. There. Naked. I felt nothing. "Turn around" this time without any form of emotion escaping my voice. It's filthy butch didn't deserve this body. These hours of toning. And now I feel it. Panic as she turns her back to me, ass in the air and hands against the couch. What do I want out of this? A long and slow time or a quick bash? I pick up the nearest hammer and allow the fear to flow all over me. Thwack. Smack. Crack. Hours, days, months, years, decades pass with this whores body as my hammer drills so deep inside her and her blood squirts all over my white clean floor, my face, my suits. My fucking watch. This just makes me angrier as I fuck up her disgusting little face made to permanently pout. *zip* A suit bag will do as I hang her up next to her new friends, blood being caught in the bottom of the airproof bag. Next to the homeless man with the dog who is now rather partial to knives or that faggot whom wanted me so bad he didn't see my real nature. They use their body for greed and I take their bodies greedily. The gashes from my scissors show long and strong prodding up from that faggot. He was bled slowly. His mouth still open in fear and his eyes covered in pain. The pain I feel from all this. This shit. This empty space in my heart that allows me to hear and feel every fucking thing.