Murderous Marielle

She stirred from her light sleep.

Rolling over, Brad's dead body waited patiently. The Bar Maiden struck again; this time, Marielle had hit up a gay bar, running in to a straight guy and his pals. The friends were mostly homosexuals, but, Brad had come along on the adventure to fit in with his coworker, Davis. At least, that's what she thought he'd been saying, last night. Oh well.

Brad looked peaceful, with his paisley scarf. The scarf was her addition, tied loosely around his neck, post mortem. He'd died from the Coastie in his drink. Actually, Coasties were overkill, a little. They shut down the liver, and various other organs, one by one. Not quite the thing for a little night of poke-n-prod.

Marielle flopped Brad's body over, busying herself with the buttplug. Pulling it out was a little challenge, being so buried in his ass as it was. Prying the poop-blocker out, leftovers streaked out on to the white sheets. She took the clothespin off the top of his knob, as well. Piss leaked out, with a smidgen of blood. She tweaked his testicles, as if testing for tickleishness. She smirked, a little vague-minded.

Yawning, she left the bed.

Another afternoon, with the promise of another night. Another night to wreak havoc upon the bar scene of Spou. Dipshit town that it was, there were at least 12 bars in town. After Spou, she'd be heading north, to Canada. She didn't think her passport would be questioned, seeing as her name hadn't been linked to her spree yet. No matter; hitting Canada would mean new contacts, new passports, and a new look to get used to. Shorter hair this time, maybe?

Musing, she considered Ireland, wondering about the bar scene in that country. Would that be a good place to branch to?

Blowing a kiss Brad's way, Marielle danced to the bathroom. Getting dressed took little time, seeing as she'd laid everything out in advance. She left the nightie. Why take that silly thing? She kicked it behind the toilet. Lipstick was applied to her face, before the housekeeper's intrusive knock could cast her arm askew.

"Housekeeping," a dull voice announced.

"Ah, come back in an hour, okay?" Marielle called back, adjusting a button on her blouse.

"Fine with me," the voice replied, accompanied by the squeak of its tool cart down the hall. "Housekeeping," it announced to the next room's occupants.

Waiting a few moments, Marielle tested the hallway. All clear. She headed out, leaving via the back door. No bill, hoorah.

Goodbye, Brad – enjoy your time with the coroner.

She tugged her denim jacket closed, facing the summer rainfall with the top of her brunette head, head high. A man whistled at her, leering a little. She crossed the parking lot, unaffected. Heading down the road from there, she strode towards the parkcade on Selle Street. Generic vehicles passed by. The rain lessened to a patter.

The parkcade attendant nodded at her. She passed by, going to the third level via a staircase. Her little red Honda sat, waiting, in a oily stall. She stood before it, leaning on one leg. She crossed her arms, thinking. She counted the other vehicles. Nothing else vaguely matched hers, so, she decided to take the Honda for one more roll. She'd ditch it outside of Canada, picking up something even more familiar. Maybe a Dodge Shadow, or something.

She unlocked the car, and hopped in. She fiddled with the mirrors. Closing the door with a hearty slam, she brought the key home in to the ignition. With a gentle purr, the Honda awoke. "Quite the morning for us, hey?" she muttered. Reversing, she guided the car out, and down the exit ramp.

The attendant was very helpful with his directions to the highway.

Setting the gas on 'cruise', she glided out towards Canada; navigating Spou was a little tricky, too many side roads.

Up to the chop-shop now; they'd be a little miffed that she only brought them a dipshit Honda, but, business is still business. Trade this puppy, and get a 'brand new' Chrysler, or something. Something so plain that no one would pay attention to it. Unremarkable.

Unlike tonight. Tonight would prolly prove to be a most interesting adventure. Off to Canada; a new hunting ground. For now, anyway. Travel had many appealing features to Marielle. Who knows where she'd land next.

Housekeeping would be returning to Brad's room, soon. "I bet that'll be a fun event," she chortled, keeping her eyes locked on the highway's formation. A bridge loomed ahead on her path. "I wish I could be there, to see her face."

Switching on the radio, Marielle hummed a contrary tune.

Onward--!