He was always a light sleeper.

“I like this hotel better than the last, the curtains compliment the carpet. Very few of the rooms we’ve been in have been able to accomplish that.”

Lust attempted to make conversation since she had already woken him up, but he seemed already distracted by the fact that she was completely naked. Engulfed in only the patterns of smoke flowing upward from her cigarette, she poured some rum into a glass.

He grabbed his sketch pad and murmured, “You’d make a great corpse” as he scratched the surface of the paper with his worn out HB pencil.

“You’d make a great man whore. Oh wait, you already are.” she replied as she laid in front of him smirking.

He put down his sketch pad.

“I want a massage, I had to lift a cadaver earlier and I strained my back. Be a doll and get to it.”

She laughed at him and began to put her clothes on.

He grabbed her arm, and held her down firmly.

Her pupils dilated and the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention.

She nearly wanted him once more.

“You’re the only broad I’ve ever met who needs to be told twice. Does it entertain you when I put you in your place? I believe it does, because you constantly provoke my authority.”

She downed the glass of rum and told him what he needed to hear.

“You creatures, males as they call you, are creatures of habit. You hunt, catch, and devour. Well, I’m the antelope who makes you run your little lion heart twice over. My speed, different from the rest, attracts you. Although you could catch another, much easier to subdue kind of prey, you want the one you can’t have. You are right. I provoke you. I challenge you. And I damn right make you put me in my place because by doing that I remind you that you are the roaring lion, and I am the graceful antelope. Yet sweet confusion, does the question then not arise? Am I the one keeping you in your place or are you putting me in mine? Is the man the head and does the woman turn the neck every which way she pleases, or does the head move the neck only when needed? You can answer that Thursday. We’ll meet back here, I like their curtains.”

She grabbed her holster and slammed the door on her way out.

He looked toward his lab coat and sighed, there were three more days until Thursday.

“Levator Labii Superiorus. Don’t tempt me, you know we’re on the clock.”

She brushed her hand up against her gun and was reminded of the tasks at hand.

The lights flickered as she watched his shadow disappear and reappear.

He flowed as he worked, like a king in his throne, he was right where he needed to be.

The perfect temptation.

“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”

She remembered seeing that on one of her victims mugs one time.

She began to recite this, but he interrupted:

“Don’t speak.”

Like a doe in the forest, her eyes spoke of caution, her body swayed only slightly.

“You speak of your cages, yet you provoke the lion in his den. Do you not see that your beauty is your only protector? If it were me out there playing cats and dogs, in an instant the games would cease. With you, it’s flawless. It’s unexpected. They look at you and see magazine covers, not realizing that you hold army knives in your garters. It’s a psycho-potential mockery of every male out there who’s life you end. Yet you sit here, provoking the very man who cleans up your messes.”

Lust is red with fury, her fists itch and her spine rattles.

“What if I decide to no longer colaborate with you? Just one day, up and decide that I’m no longer your anatomical janitor. Hm? What then sweet princess?”

She grabs her duffel bag and an extra pack of ammunition.

“You’ll get a psycho-potential mocking and a goodbye kiss like the rest of them, sweet prince.”

“Oh aren’t you sweet.” he mumbled as he turned around to zip up the rest of the body bags.

He didn’t have time for her provoking, and she was already late.

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.

We are stagnant.

A stagnant addition of worthless deoxyribose scum.

Mmm, how delicious that does sound.

Cruel, diminishing, misunderstanding, impotently unintelligent relatives of the hair mammal.

Mmm, how true that does sound.

A glimmer of tertiary hope and despair, wrapped in a box of I don’t care.

Viscious female glares, and careless male flares.

Idignant polination, yielding instignation.

Mmm, how ill repented and kill stimpented that does sound.

All in hope that we are found, sitting in a pile of sweet cucumber’s mound.

In attempting to create art, do we interpret an image from our brain mechanically skilled hands, or do our mechanical hands beautify the image already contained in our minds?

Why doesn’t anyone contradict the idea that 1+1 = 2? When a man and woman get married, they do not make two, they make one. When two elements are added together, they do not mix into two separate liquids, but into a single element. Primitivity, I fear you greatly.

Is writing the talent of arranging words together, or is it the arranging of words that makes it a talent?

All humans lust. All humans are sexual in nature. So must a naked woman be such an atrocity in this society? 

Does make-up make a woman beautiful, or does it just hide her true beauty?

Does a vein fill with blood, or does blood fill a vein?

Does nail polish dry in the wind, or does wind dry nail polish?

Does this, ever end?

I highly doubt it.