Lust contemplated her answer as she listened to the sound of the food crushing in her mouth.

“I think its a contemporary lack of self control. We refuse to deny our true beings. We realize that we are animals, and that the predator will always seek its prey. Murder is a feeling, and so is rage and happiness. You and I do not separate the three among them. You see just as much beauty in a painting as you see in a dry corpse. I see just as much beauty in the first breath of a child, as I see in the last breath of a victim. It’s in all of us, we are just the ones who choose to unleash it.”

Vinnie took a deep breath. He had to control himself from ravishing her right then and there.

“You’re somethin’ else you know.”, he spoke in a muffled tone so she would not hear the desire in his voice.

She smirked as he turned his back and remembered that one night where his self control was not as ingrained as it was today.

The sound of the gloves snapping on his hands awoke her from the entrancing day dream. She watched as he dug his hands into the bubble of fat that laid on the examination table and thought,
“Those same hands have been all over me.”

He threw the over-sized liver into the weighing bin and began humming an old french song as if he was in a welcoming cafe, not a cold and sinister morgue.

This is what Lust enjoyed about him.
He too saw the beauty and the macabre elegance of being elbow deep in things most people fainted only thinking of.

They were both the anomalies.

The rejected elite.

She continued to elaborate her theory. Knowing full well that she would reel him in with her every word.

“You see my dear, it is like a beast. Most choose to contain this beast, deep into the cages of the soul. We choose to let it breathe. We choose to let it roam free. A calm creature that feeds only ever so often. The others harness it, and just as any encased beast does, it tears at the walls of its confinement. The struggle translates into curiosity and soon the people find it harder and harder to deny the fervor. That is when you hear the bimbos on TV say:

“A middle aged man was arrested today and is being investigated in the murders of three women. Friends of the suspect say that the event was completely out of character and that they would have never expected a good man like him to commit such horrendous crimes.”

And so you see my sweet pea, they burn the candle at both ends until the cage no longer holds and the beast no longer folds.
We are the lucky ones. We are made of flesh and the omnipresent talent to allow ourselves to be the creatures we truly are. The predator will always seek its prey.”

He unbuckled his belt and she knew her words had reached their goal.

The predator will always seek its prey.

Destination? Las Vegas, baby. A need for cool-down atmosphere.

The events back “home” are out of hand, perhaps lethal.

This vacation will suit her, the elite will breath, and perhaps her impertinent mistake will be looked over.

Several vulgar words seep, as coffee swims under her tongue.

As distinct as white light in darkness, the plan continues, nevertheless in-accepted by the one and only.

She sighs and continues on.

Adrenaline junkie? A higher power? Sick distortion of morality?

All wrapped with a slik red bow?

Yes, perhaps.

Two small scars on her right hand, one on the left, reminders of the times she dared to love.

No more of this will happen, she is fierce, she is never making that mistake again. This was a one time deal, an event to never look back on.

Be the wit, the fear, the lust.

Complete this and you have done it, set yourself apart from humanity, done a service.

Everything happens for a reason.

Few remain, but the tasks are daunting.

Its time she picks up the pace.

A sense of completion grows as realization of the events occurred sink in, many years and hours of planning have come to an end, it is done, bids signed, blasphemous inquiry due to further rendering will cease.

Petting her freshly cut hair, a small smile creeps causing light wrinkles that will never truly show to make their presence.

The mind cannot but fully comprehend the shallow feeling of the love for power, yet so dangerously subdued in her thoughts, she cannot help but be reminded that the end soon awaits.

A call need take place, a task need be finished, never to understand she spares him of her naive belief in love and hopeless possibility.

A true dedication to the one she held dear, he will now and forever be somewhere beautiful, away from the dark and grotesque, the fearful and mundane.

As the first fall of dry leaves in calm autumn, or the mild breeze of winter hitting warm cheeks on a thursday afternoon. Patiently waiting, she sets refusal to high priority.

Material of inexplicable joy, her hand dances to the beautiful sonata carelessly wandering through the walls of imprisonment, a sip of illegal concoction will relieve all tenuous strain.

Ah what a beautiful site a good accomplishment is, Vesalius would be proud, complete de-scripture of the human stomach, a beautiful site ever to be found on the second shelf of cherry wood lines.

Preparing for certain understanding, she misses the dot on the i, and crosses the t with revering charm. The slight raise in her eye brow signals the promise of content, perhaps entitled to opinion, a slight gesture in the hand, superb engineering continues.

Dilated bright red sits precariously up-top a silver utensil, and what a beautiful song to take place in such an event.

An elegant bow, and the still audience remains motionless, these shoes will tap their way to your frontal lobe, numb instillment will run its way to pure finding.

Not to understand, only if known by truth, she sits in the puddle of blue royally touched by oxygen.

Stiffness surrounds her, as her apron drenched in cells shows insanity at its finest, only but a while ago layed the two souls unbound.

Only but a while ago. 

Her bracelets jingle as her lips touch the sweet alcohol,casually sipping while observing her surroundings.

Man #1, casually dressed, jeans, t-shirt, hair cut short, two day stubble, probably likes a girl if she is a cheer leader or model, could care less what her mind flutters, and probably just wants someone to bring him a beer while he watches football. He laughs with his friends as if he were actually funny, occasionally uses a lame pick up line, and thinks the world is his oyster.

Man #2, armani suit, gel greased hair, a hair cut between 200-500 dollars, cigar smoker, and oh yes, married but still in bars at 3 am. Not usually looking for anything serious, and pretentious as to what her breast size is, always a joke teller, perhaps even funny, he thinks he still is young and can run around like a 20 year old boy.

Man #3, interesting style combination, punk rock meets classic windsor tie, long but soft hair, typically pierced and tattooed in numerous places, drinks european beer, and knows when the next great rock concert is, doesnt agree with who is president, and never wears abercrombie and fitch, is highly opinionated when it comes to music, and can discuss art for hours.

Normally she would go for Man #1, but now she is lust.

Lust being a human emotion generally used to describe a heightened state of sexual desire, often exclusively physical in nature.

She makes her decision, she will have Man #3 tonight, picking up her glass she passes him and purely by accident drops a napkin on the ground, slightly bending over to pick it up, she spins a web he cannot refuse.

Small talk is exchanged and the bathroom is their next stop.

Quite agressive as he is, she enjoys it and is refreshed by the new events taking place.

As she reaches climax she remembers how innocent of a child she was, pig tales and all.

An ironic laugh signals the end.

She makes her exit, and doesn’t look back.

He has left once again, this time never to return.

Numerous fights, withheld problems, fed up has taken its place.

Sitting there, feeling his smell, she is inspired.

Sheets,pictures,cards,flowers,anything to remind her of the years wasted.

Memory crematorium, welcome these gifts for me, please.

Clothes,Toothbrush,Keys.

She is leaving, open to a new beginning, new perspective.

Slam the door, start the car.

Our new cruising speed is 120 mph. Put on your seat belts.

Forgotten adrenaline rush, what had she been doing all this time?

Cooking?

Cleaning?

Stranger, be prepared, finally released from this cage, she will devour a every man that comes her way.

Forbidden secrets of womanly power are unleashed.

She will play with your mind like the quiet dolls of her childhood.

Consequences have created something unstoppable.

Be prepared.

Lust is born.