Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 WARNING: This story contains sexually explicit material.

   It is not intended to be read by anyone under the age of 18.  This is a
work of fiction.  Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.  Copyright 2007.



   Title: Fireball

   Author: geraldine

   Story codes: MF, torture, snuff



   I am carrying a heavy shoulder bag with me tonight.  I am in the mall in
town, well, one of many, but the one with a huge Sears on one end and the
biggest food fair in town.  I love this mall.  It is very open and clean,
especially on a Wednesday night.  I came here tonight to shop, but also to
play a little game.  That is why my shoulder bag is so heavy.

   I shop for a couple of hours, wandering around by myself in the almost
deserted shops.  I am bored.  I don't buy anything.  I spend a long time in
front of the pet shop, looking at the kittens sleeping in a glass case in
the front.  They look so vulnerable and trusting.  I don't tap on the
glass. Everyone always taps on the glass.  I hate that.

   The kittens are completely wiped, lying on top of one another.  I count
four of them, all brothers and sisters, all sleeping together.  They look
very content.  I crouch down to get a better look at them and only rise
when it feels like my knees are about to explode.  My knees crackle and pop
as I rise, but the kittens continue to sleep.  One of them has his front
paw on the nose of another.  I wish I had a camera.

   Closing time.  It is nine o'clock.  I head out to the parking lot.  I
have parked, not in the mall parking lot, but in a residential area close
by.  I don't need anyone seeing my car.  Suspicion and all, y'know.

   I am excited.  I know this is dangerous, so I am trying to keep it under
control.  I feel like I have ten liters of coffee coursing through my
veins. I am a huge coiled spring.  That thought makes me smile.  I am so
naughty.

   There is a car in the far end of the parking lot, all by itself.  A line
of bushes separate it from the sidewalk and main road.  I go out to the
sidewalk.  There is a bus stop very close to the car.  I sit in the bus
stop and wait.

   Minutes pass.  I am getting bored.  The owner of this car better be
worth it.  I have caged my excitement.  I am ready.

   A man approaches the car.

   I get up from the bus stop as he gets closer.  I make sure my hair is
down now, tousled around my face.  I am showing a lot of leg in my short
skirt.

   "Hi," he says.

   "Hi.  Um, I was wondering if you could help me," I say cautiously.  The
man is quite good-looking, and well-dressed.  He is obviously a mall
employee.  He has short, spiky dirty blond hair and a light wool sweater
and crisp dress pants.  His shoes shine in the lights of the parking lot.
Fresh and clean and ready.

   I notice one of the parking lot lights is right over us.  Not good.

   "You okay?" he asks.  He cocks his head to the side.  He is checking me
out.  He looks me up and down, his head moving very slightly, almost
imperceptibly.  He thinks he is in control.  Perfect.

   "These buses at night, y'know, they never come, and I need to be at a
party already...  Oh, it's not very far.  Could I get a lift?  Would you
mind?" I flash a big innocent smile and try to look sexy and submissive at
the same time.  His eyes are all over me.  Come to mama, baby.

   "I think I could do that."

   Oh, this is so easy.  He must be nineteen or so, and he is so beautiful.
I take a step closer.  This has to be quick.

   He gives me a broad smile.

   "Can I get into your car?" I want to be out of the light in case anyone
is watching.  I rub my hand across the top of my thigh,
absent-mindedly-on-purpose, and I watch out of the corner of my eye as he
follows my hand.  Intently.  So easy.  I can feel his hunger building,
rising.  I make sure he cannot feel mine.  I think of flowers, perfume,
smiles, sunshine, kittens sleeping, trying to take my mind off of my raw
hunger.  My hunger is so strong it takes so much energy to control my
breathing.  I know I will succeed.

   "Sure, let's go," he says, and comes to the passenger door and unlocks
it.

   He is looking around, too.  Trying not to let me see that he is nervous.
It is moving too fast for him and he is starting to feel his control
slipping.

   I love this.  I get into the car and place my heavy bag between my legs.
My legs wrap around the bag and my skirt rides up a little.  I bet he knows
that I am not wearing any underwear.  I see him look at my legs again.  He
does not notice that I am looking at him.  He takes a long look.  There is
a fresh heat coming from him now.  This is what I live for.

   He comes to the driver's side and unlocks the door.  He slides in.  He
looks at the steering wheel as if he has never seen one before.  Nervous.
Trying to look cool.  He is the man who is always in control.  I bet he is
so charming with the ladies.

   "I don't usually ask for rides," I say quietly.  "I am actually kind of
shy.  My name's Kara." I always wanted to be a Kara.

   "Kara.  Kara, I'm Peter."

   "Hello Peter."

   "Hello Kara." He fumbles with his keys.  Finally he gets the car
started. He is looking very intently at the windshield, at nothing at all.
He looks to me like he is thinking.  He glances at his finger for a moment.
No ring.  I know he has a girlfriend waiting at home.  I can feel it.

   "Which store do you work in?"

   Blank.

   "What?"

   "Which store in the mall do you work at?"

   "Oh, the bookstore.  I had to close up tonight."

   "I love books."

   "Oh!  So do I." He turns to me.  I can hear the gears turning in his
head.  They seem very loud to me.  I can smell the slightest bit of metal
on his breath.  Perfect.  The control is gone.  I own this moment, as I
have owned every other moment.

   "Are you so nervous?" Very quiet.

   "What?  Me?  Oh, I'm not nervous, I'm just...  Can I tell you
something?" He looks at me sheepishly and then to the dash.

   I don't let him finish.  "Don't be nervous," I say, as I reach across
and place my right hand on his thigh.

   He looks at my hand for a long time.



   Thirty minutes later.

   I have just reached my car, parked on a side street a few blocks from
the mall.  My shoulder bag is no longer heavy, except for the hammer I
brought.  I have put it into a giant Ziploc bag I have brought with me.  I
don't need stains on my shoulder bag.  The four-liter jug of white gas is
still in my bag, but now it is empty of fuel.

   I get inside my car, and I can hear sirens in the distance.  I start the
car and drive.

   Things I remember.

   I remember him telling me his last name.  Talbot.  Peter Talbot.  The
newspaper would have told me that, but I was curious anyway.

   I remember he had Talking Heads on his crappy tape player.  Old Talking
Heads, really good stuff.  When he parked at the Morning Hill Centre, not
even a mile from the mall, we were listening to Sugar on my Tongue.

   We were parked around back, facing the adjacent golf course.  I was
pretty sure nobody saw the car until after I left.  I remember him tilting
his seat back.  I remember getting on top of him, my skirt lifting up
around my hips.  I remember that he was quite good.  He was full of energy.
He was no longer nervous.  He was hungry and he showed it.  He let me taste
his hunger.  I was very hungry too.  He had beautiful skin, and he smelled
like sweat and strawberries.  I ran my tongue over him and fed on his
energy.  Young men always have a heat to them that I can feed on.

   I remember his fingers digging deep into my flesh, grabbing my ass and
rocking me back and forth.  I remember feeling his gorgeous thick cock
buried to the hilt inside me.  He felt so good, so young, so fierce and
strong.

   I remember that the windows were fogged up and I couldn't see out.  That
made it more exciting.  We cracked both front windows a crack.  I tried to
be quiet.  I enjoyed myself.  I am not very good at being quiet.

   I made sure he cried out.

   I remember he said afterward that he needed to get home, his girlfriend
would be concerned, and he became quite nervous again, agitated.  Such
crap. I told him that he couldn't just leave.  I told him I wanted more, I
wanted it again.  And he said he needed to go, this was wrong, he had to
go, he has to go now.  So rude to me.  No one denies me what I want, what I
need.  No one.

   But that was why I brought my bag along with me.  It always ends the
same way.  And it is always the beautiful ones who disappoint me the most.

   I remember lifting the hammer from my shoulder bag and silencing him.  I
remember getting out and going around to his side of the car and opening
his door, and I remember he was gurgling and trying to talk, but he was
very quiet.  And I remember pouring the whole four liters of white gas on
him and his seat, and he was suddenly so quiet I thought he might already
be dead.  And I remember lighting a match, and throwing it and running in
one fluid motion, and there was a fireball behind me, and a big WHOOMPH. 
My hair blew all around my face.

   The last thing I did was turn around and look at the fire from the other
side of the Centre parking lot, just for a moment.  That made it all
worthwhile.

   I got back to my car in record time, quickly and quietly, in the shadows
of the streetlights.  I am pretty sure nobody saw me.  If anybody had seen
me, all they would remember is my giant grin.  I wish I had brought a
camera.  He was so beautiful.