Indulgences

The light catches his smooth dry scalp. All natural, he always jokes. When he was younger he never thought having hypotrichosis would work in his favor. He had too large of a forehead and the absence of eyebrows never helped with that. The glaring stares he'd receive just for existing were near unbearable. He recalls, from what could have truly been a different life, that once he snuck into his mother's make-up bag while she slept off her most recent hangover and stole her eyeliner to draw these shaky horrifyingly too thick eyebrows on his face. But as time went by and he grew more into his body, he grew into being bald. Was pretty damn good looking if he said so himself.

Having no hair also makes it a lot less likely to leave behind DNA.

He's sitting on a bench near the local colleges' campus library, eyes roaming the crowd. Saying he has a type would be inaccurate. He just knows it when he sees it. He has this terrible predisposition of slouching but when he sees her, he'll know. As if coiling with exciting in anticipation of the inevitable collision, his body will straighten until he's fully erect. Fully alert.

He looks young for his age so no one suspects anything. Small and shy too, because of his terrible posture. He could sit on this bench all day and no one would find him suspect. They won't remember him being here.

It's all been a couple hours with no success and a deep rumble is beginning to start in the base of his stomach when it hits him. This clean, crisp scent. It isn't perfume or even a soap. It's pure, raw natural essence.

Leaning forward as if trying to follow her intoxicating aroma, his spine straightens and he's on his feet. He slides into his jacket, making sure to smooth the collar around his neck and tug it down to cover his nondescript shirt and the coils of muscles laying beneath.

Following at a distance he pursues her. Thick long locks of hair bunch around the nap of her neck and he imagines what that smooth skin will feel like beneath his tightening grasp.

A tremor ripples through the length of his entire being with yearning. He must have her.

Unbeknownst to her that she has a pursuer, she glides along the walkway indulging in the warmth of the late afternoon sun before being swallowed by the shadows of the campus nature path.

With a well practiced silence, he speeds up his steps. Reaching his full height as he approaches her from behind.

Natural instinct takes over and he slides into a deliriously delicious familiar routine as one hand slides over her mouth so she doesn't scream, his chin rests on her shoulder as he breathes deeply along the base of her hairline. The scent is rich and potent. She hasn't bathed today or perhaps even yesterday, making it all the stronger. Nearly drunk off of her scent, he drinks her in.

She struggles beneath his grip, but he only presses harder against her body until there is no space between them. With his free hand flips out his switch blade and plunges it deep into her. Over and over, harder and deeper with each thrust. His liquid coats his hand and seeps between his fingers, making them slick and yet sticky with her hot fluids.

His hand slides down to her throat where he grasps tightly, pulling her neck back until it's taunt and enjoys the stuttered, sputtering gasps whimpering off of her lips as he gives a final thrust, a final burst of liquid seeping over his skin before releasing her.

She collapses to the ground with a thud, a rapidly growing dark red puddle of blood beneath her.

With the act over, his body quickly loses it's interest and he deflates, shrinking back into the innocent young man that no one would ever suspect.