Serial- Part 25

He reached under the back seat to retrieve a duffle bag. Must look the part, after all. In a flash, he had completely changed his attire and shoes to fit in with the club crowd. He looked like a different man as he paid the cover charge. I’ll take that charge out of her collagen-filled lips and liposuctioned ass. He strolled to the bar and ordered a drink: club soda with a twist of lime.

            “I’m the designated driver tonight.” He offered as an explanation.

            “Good for you, man. Arrive alive. Nah, it’s on the house.”

He thanked the bartender and slipped him a twenty as a tip. The bartender’s eyes popped when he unfolded the bill.

            “Wait! I think you must have grabbed the wrong-”

He held up his hand to stop the bartender.

            “No, I know what I handed you. Kindness should always be rewarded. I’m guessing all these wannabe players stiff you when it comes to tips, huh?”

            “You don’t know the half of it. The waitresses with their skimpy skirts and breasts popping out rake in the serious cash but when the men come up here to get a drink we’re lucky to get a couple quarters.”

He shook his head and commiserated with the bartender for a few minutes before his eyes caught sight of his target. This place is going to be a veritable smorgasbord of victims. I definitely need to make a few return visits. But, for now, there’s the girl I need to meet. He watched her first, as she interacted with the other girls around her. He watched as she treated waitresses and waiters like dirt or practically spat in the faces of men who asked her to dance. He flagged a waitress and sent a round of drinks to Miss YouWish’s table but asked not to be pointed out. Moments later, he sent the waitress over with another round. The girls pranced around the dance floor and his redheaded victim exuded an air of arrogance. Yes, soon you will be mine. He strolled over to the same bartender to place an order for the BMW driver.

            “Hey! How’s it going? Another club soda DD?”

            “Thanks, no. I have a special lady friend I’d like to surprise. How about an apple martini? Make it strong, buddy, I need all the help I can get.”

            “You’ve got it, brother. Good luck!”

He moved to a corner booth with the drink and seconds later a colorless, odorless, tasteless powder dissolved into the drink. Step two…complete.

            “Miss? Hi, I’m sorry. I got her a drink and, well, now I’m too shy to give it to her. Would you?”

            “Aw, you’re too sweet. Between you and me, you’re too good for her but I’ll deliver it if you want. Same table, right?”

            “Yes, please.”

            “What if I pointed you out to her? How about that?”

            “Oh, gosh. I don’t think I could. Wait! Would it be corny if I wrote her note and asked her to meet me by the door?”

            “Well…Here, go ahead and use my pad. I’ll deliver it but don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

He handed the note to her and a hefty tip. People never remember the faces of a big tipper. The note simply stated, “Please enjoy your drink. I find you very attractive and I’d be honored if you’d meet me outside on the deck. It might be a bit chilly--Wear your jacket.”

He slipped outside and waited. After ten minutes, he started to wonder if she’d refused his offer. She seemed like the type who would storm out there, entourage at her heels, to humiliate some poor sap. By the time she’d make it outside, the drug would be kicking into high gear and he could sweet talk her into chatting for a while, alone. Just as he made his way toward the door, a woman staggered outside. The hood of her black coat covered her head as she fell into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her to his vehicle. Fellow men from the club gave him “the nod”, that head-tipping, knowing look that meant: we’ve all been there, buddy.  It never raised suspicions when he needed to drag a victim away from a bar or club. Her legs had stopped moving altogether by the time he reached his SUV. He dropped her into the back, tossed a blanket over her, and raced back inside. He went back to the bar and ordered a soda. He threw another ten at the bartender and said goodbye. Next, he sought out the waitress.

            “Thanks for your help. She shot me down but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Have a great night, miss. Here, this is for you.”

He dropped a ten on her tray before heading out the door. On the outside, he had an air of calm but on the inside he was chomping at the bit to get home. It took every ounce of self control not to run to his vehicle; even more not to speed or run red lights. It felt like an eternity until he made it back to his humble abode. He left the garage light off as he lugged his cargo into the basement. Upstairs, he could hear his dog sniffing under the basement door but he remained in darkness. His new victim would be unconscious long enough for him to get her shackled to the table and prepare her for whatever struck his fancy. Once she was secured in the windowless room, he finally flicked on the light.

            “What the hell? Who are you?”

The girl on his table had short, blonde-almost-platinum hair. The cute pixie cut flattered her rosy cheeks. He was wondering how he’d ended up with the wrong girl when her steel blue eyes fluttered open.  This is all wrong! Not the right girl and she should NOT be waking yet.

            “Wha? Wh-Wh-?”

            “Who are you?”

            “M-Ma-Marie. Thir-sty”

Scowling, he stormed out of the room and returned a moment later with a bottle of water and a straw. She slurped nearly half the bottle before the coughing fit erupted. He was near seething by the time she’d recovered.

            “Where am I and who are you?” She demanded.

            “I’ll ask the questions here.”

            “Screw you! You kidnapped me you twisted f-”

Before she could finish the word, he stuffed a sock in her mouth and slapped duct tape over it.