The Killer Page

6 ft 4in, 250 pounds, wealthy businessman. Noah Lacmore was the American Dream. His nudeness was captivating. His magnetic touch, created a magical stream of moisture, between many thighs. Small moments with him, was a force of tranquility. There was no denying the innate ability to fall in love with his charm. But my desire for Noah grew deeper beyond the rims of my heart. I desired his life, his happiness, even his family, but never his heart.

It took 6 years to find Noah Lacmore. With the world at a halt, one wouldn't think tracking down a millionaire in Georgia, would be such a task. But he was more than a rapper millionaire. He is the city’s mayor. He hid behind his political titles, in an attempt to clean up his street profits. The bad guy, good guy persona, was intriguing. Most women craved his presence. I wasn't one of those women for sure. At least, for the moment.

"Kira Stokes. I am here for a 9:30 meeting with Mr. Lacmore."

"Yes, please. Right this way, he is expecting you." The pale, nerdy receptionist, retrieved a white envelope from her desk, and quickly led the way down, the long corporate-like hallway. Young ambitious men and women, seemingly in their early 20's, tapped away in small cubicles. "Mr. Lacmore. I have Miss Stokes here.”

"The City Council Commissioner opening correct? Have a seat. And thank you, Lauren. I will take it from here." The receptionist left us to be. As the door closed, Noah's attention refocused on my presence.

"Tell me about yourself, Ms. Stokes. Please do bore me with your talents.”

I became a bit anxious. I switched side to side in my chair, before speaking. I watched closely, as Noah's eyes moved up and down my cleavage area. Taking in my slightly exposed breast. Without warning, my left breast slipped out. I ran embarrassingly from the office. People were whispering. I made my exit just in time for the tears.

"Good morning Ms. Stokes. The agenda for today awaits in your email. Mr. Lacmore has asked for your presence, at today's luncheon with Dr. Douse." Today marks 9 months as City Council Woman. Not even an exposed breast, could deny my works. It was Memorial Day, and everyone had gone home for the day. I opened the door to Noah's office, where the masculine energy was vomit-worthy. I moved quickly, looking through drawers, bookshelves, and locked boxes. Growing flustered, I began to sway my arms around, in defeat. The antique lamp toggled over, drawing my attention to the now opened bookshelf. The area was like a dimly lit passage. Entering the way, I noticed boxes of valuables. One small area was consumed with rare stones and pure gold. I glanced over my shoulder, at a small black notebook, hidden behind a digital fingerprint glass case. With no time to think, I immediately retrieved a few pieces of gold and jewels and exited the room.

"Mr. Lacmore, I assume, this is the beautiful Angie Lacmore?"

"Aww, Ms. Stokes you would assume correctly. My dear Angie, meet Kira Stokes. The mind behind the Yumti Solar. Ms. Stokes here has found herself a gem. Why don't you share with Kira, your views of her company my love? I will leave you two to be."

Noah removed himself faster than, a mother's bird removes her babies. Without another word, his large frame disappeared into the crowd of people.

"You listen up, Ms. Stokes. I don't give two shits about your little solar company. I have seen women of your sort around here before. Your kind doesn’t last long. Sleeping your way to the top, bearing down on good men, destroying homes. We don't want your goddamn ideas, or solar. We want you gone."

And just like her husband without another word, Angie Lacmore, left me standing speechless.

Noah's shadow cast upon the walls, leading into the Grand Suite. The crowd was thick, so I pushed my way through the bulks of people dancing. The shadow moved hastily, through the stairwell, before coming to a sudden stop. I walked with a bit of urgency halfway up the small staircase. There was a conversation between Noah and an unfamiliar male. The tone of the unknown man was deep and stern. His words towards Noah, groomed malice. Noah, the usual asshole wasn’t very boastful. His head hung low, and his shoulder slouched. The gentlemen’s threats were chilling. Panic set in, as I watched the shadows appear before me. Before Noah could speak, I made a dash for the main exit. The automatic doors opened, just in time to prevent a collision. The area was clear, and there was no sign of Noah. I searched the parking lot for my car. I fished out the key card to sound the alarm, no response.

“IN THE CAR MS. STOKES!”

“Noah I promise, I did not hear or see anything. You have to believe me.”

Our eyes never made contact. The driver’s door open. I contemplated running, but there wasn’t time. The dark hair caucasian man, lift my body into the tinted Towncar and sped off.

The door swung open, hitting against the wall. We kissed passionately, as we tore away at each other's clothing. Without effort, Noah cuffed my breast into his mouth. The warm moisture of his tongue grasping the succulents released from my inner pleasures. He slowly began to lift my body from the floor. We kissed with intensity, as he carried me in the nude over to the bare sofa. He slowly placed my back against the soft cushions. Noah’s approach was easy. He took his time placing his fingers, into the moist area of the vagina. His mustache rubbed against the clitoris, creating an overwhelming pleasure. Noah moved his head, tongue, and fingers simultaneously, in multiple motions. We made eye contact at that moment, and never let go. My body came to an orgasmic finish. We made love that night, all night. The kind of love only written about in books and cast in movies. I have never experienced this love. I heard stories of it happening. This love was different. It was the kind of love, he made with Kelsey, my sister.

I watched in agony as my sister’s killer slept, without a care in the world. I couldn’t watch any longer. The pain I felt for Kelsey, fumed inside. Moving quietly from the bed, I retrieved the small fingerprint scanner. Noah's hands were tucked away, underneath the pillow. I lowered the scanner to the exposed fingertips. The meter flashed "red" signaling the wrong fingerprint. "Damn it!" Trying not to panic. I searched quickly through my back, for anything to keep him out a bit longer. There was an old syringe, tucked away in a side pocket. It must have been 2 to 3 years old, but the medication was still a liquid form. Unsure of what was inside the syringe, I uncapped it and shoved the needle into Noah's left thigh. The slight pinch caused his body to frigid a bit, but it did not wake him. The illuminated numbers from the microwave, read 2:47 AM. The glare from the tv reflected off the glass windows, but no sound poured from the speakers. I sat there in silence, hoping the medication worked. Noah's body slowly began to relax. His arms swayed by the bedside. Rushing to his side of the bed, I crawled into the low space below his dangling hand and placed one by one each fingerprint against the reader. Red. Red. Red. There were only 2 more tries before the system would lock. I could not run the risk of locking the box, so I switch to the left hand. I eased the left thumb onto the reader. I closed my eyes tightly, anticipating the red error light again. "Green!" I yelled out in excitement. The word echoed, but Noah's body did not move. Without thinking. I dumped the contents of his briefcase into my backpack, before slipping into last night’s dress. I gave the room a once-over, making sure there was no evidence I was there. I walked over to Noah and placed a finger on the side of his neck to check his breathing. His breaths were shallow, but he was indeed alive. I made a dash for the door. While on the way to my parked car, I tossed his briefcase and any identification, into the dumpster at the end of the complex. I watched as Noah’s existence faded away in the rearview mirror.

There was only a matter of time before the housekeeper would discover Noah’s body. I hurried over to the office. Once upstairs, using the face fingerprint scanner, I unlocked the secret door. The glass case lit up. Without thinking, I retrieved a small black notebook, 2 sets of keys, and the bundled cash. I was now in a race with time. There must have been a silent alarm. I could hear the police siren rounding the building. The helicopter could be seen hovering feet above. Thinking quickly, I opened the door to the garbage shooter and slid off into the dumpsters. The landing was hard and smelt of days-old fish. Gasping for air, I peeped over the dumpster’s top, to check for police. A quick flash glanced at my pupils causing temporary blindness. I toppled over into the garbage, just in time to hear the footsteps rapidly approaching. The policemen whispered in a distance. Their voices could be heard distinctly, but eventually faded beyond the ear.

The dew skies were lit up, sunshine warmed my face, and fresh clouds formed along the sky. After 14 hours of dumpster sleep, the area was finally vacant. I tossed my backpack over and climbed onto the damp pavement. I drove for hours, in the fish clothing and pissy wig. I settled in at an Extended Stay, on the outskirts of Dallas, Texas. I entered the lobby area of the hotel. The staff huddle in front of the small plasma tv. "37-year-old, Brand Mogul, and Millionaire Businessmen, Noah Lacmore, has been found deceased in his uptown condo. There is an ongoing investigation. But our sources have revealed, the businessman’s wife, Angie Lacmore is a suspect."

I watched on, in confusion and happiness. A part of me rejoiced, but a part of me still grieved. A vibration came from my iPhone.

"Hey, this is Kira." My voice trembled as I answered.

"Hello Ms. Stokes, this is Attorney Tim Mopes. I would like to inform you, Mr. Lacmore, is deceased. And due to his untimely death, the city is asking that you step in as Mayor, until the next election. I understand this decision may need some time, but we ask that your decision is made with a bit of urgency. I will reach out in 2 days to discuss your decision. I look forward to speaking with you then, but feel free to call sooner."

I ended the call without a response. I powered off the burner phone and placed it inside the black trash bag. I would dispose of it along with the fake I.D, passports, and blonde disguise wigs. I opened the small black notebook, one last time, removing Noah’s written confession to my sister's murder, and the last inquiry showing secret accounts and passcodes. I retrieved the last of my items from the hotel room and left. I drove 300 miles South of Dallas, to Arlington, Texas, and found a dumpsite. I watched as the bag crashed amongst the shallow currents of the river, like the last 7 years of my life. I opened my bag, looking around for a clear coast, my eyes lit up, and it finally hit me, "TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLASSSS!"