The Hunter

[Gio]

They call me "the Hunter".

I do not like very much this name. Actually I do not hunt: I provide a service. I offer pleasure and sex to girls and women who need it. The problem is, they usually do not know that they want it. But when they moan and cum under me, they all realize the power of my cock.

The other problem is the police. They do not like what I am doing, not understanding my mission. "The most cunning and resourceful serial rapist of the decade" I have been called.

So they have assembled a whole team of detectives to catch me.

This time they have been lucky. They have "almost" caught me. Their trap was good, but fortunately I managed to escape without harm. But my customer was deproved of the experience that could have changed her life. Too bad.

The leader of the detective squad is a woman. A very smart and intelligent woman. Not only a detective, but also a psychologist and a profiler. She is around 30yo, very attractive. From the newspapers I know she is not married and she lives alone.

I look at her picture, cutted from today's journal. Maybe it's time to pay her a visit.

[Gio]

(I forgot to specify... obviously it's open for a victim, serious, smart and intelligent... ^_^)

[Little Sweet One]

The day is almost over. Good, cause damn, this braid is killing me. I look up at my partner, who is busy working on some papers. I sigh, my gray eyes turning back to the picture of the missing woman the sobbing parents wanted me to find, flicking the ends of my black braid across the palm of my free hand, pursing my red stained lips. The Hunter was the one, I knew it. I had been trying to find that bastard for the longest time now.

"Ice?" my partner said, using his nickname for me, my real name being Isabella, though he prefers to call me Ice because of my cold attitude on the job. I'm a nice woman, though at twenty seven probably "seasoned" for this line of work- all depends on who you ask. I click my black one inch heels together, hating them because I am already 5'7", what do I need them for? Plus my 128 pound frame doesn't like the pressure of heels.

I throw my braid over my shoulder, and it hits the bottom of my shoulder blades. "Yes, Jake?" I say quietly.

"You need some rest. You are playing with your braid again, meaning you are tired."

I nod, and stand up. "Can you-"

"I can take it for the rest of the day," he smiles, his warm blue eyes making me laugh just a bit.

"Thanks," I say as I head to the door, my briefcase thrown into the backseat of the silver pontiac in the parking lot. I climb in and drive to a gas station, changing my clothes in the restroom to comfortable blue jeans and a black t-shirt, throwing my black business suit in the back, along with the heels and nylons that have been traded for socks and black sneakers.

It's not a long drive home, and I tug at my braid at the door to the car, my hair slowly falling loose. I shake my hair free when I enter my apartment, ready to take a shower or hot bath and a nap.

[Gio]

Sitted in a rented car parked outside the house, I talk to myself.

There is a thing I simply do not understand.

This woman, this detective... why she hates me? They call me the Hunter, but actually I am the hunted. Why she thinks I am doing something wrong? Why she wants to catch me?

Surely it is a misunderstanding. She needs to learn. When she will be submitted to my cock, she finally will accept my mission. Yes.

I know she is in the home: I have seen her return from the police department. Now I just need to find a way to enter inside the apartment.

[Little Sweet One]

I see a car across the street when I glance out the window, but I think nothing of it. I strip down in the bathroom and turn on the water, adjusting the temperature and slipping in with a pleasured sigh. The water fills quickly.

I know I locked the door, but it doesn't occur to me I forgot to lock the back window in the kitchen. From there is the dining room, then turning left is my location of the small bathroom.

[Gio]

Stretching my legs, I exit from the car. The air of the summer night is pleasantly warm.

The home of the woman who tries so hard to catch me is very nice. Even from a distance, I can see that the main door is big, and the lock is strong. I will not even try it. But maybe on the rear...

It is dark, and no one can see me while I turn around the house. There is no back door, but there is a window. And it is not locked.

Slowly I open it. It squeaks a little... holding it with an hand, I pull out a little spray can from my pocket: lubricating oil. Some drops on the window hinges and I am able to open it without noise.

Very good. Now, let's find my prey. Slowly, and silently. I have a message to deliver to Detective Ice, and I do not want to spoil her surprise.

[Little Sweet One]

I hear a squeak, and don't dismiss it. I sit up instead, and grab the emergency phone in here. Call me paranoid, but there is one in every room, all on separate lines. I call to Jake... but dammit, he doesn't answer.

I sit up and hang up the phone. I am ready to call the police, but I think that whoever is here will hear me. I silently curse myself for coming home early. For not being married, or having a gun in here. But if I can get out of here without being caught, I will.

I wrap a towel around myself and dash out to the front room, then grab my gun from the drawer of the hall table. I pull off the safeties and chamber a round. Every second counts. I keep the gun down but my finger on the trigger, keeping my back to a wall. Nobody can sneak up on me like this.

Am I being paranoid? I ask myself. Better safe than sorry, right? Just Jesus, don't let anyone realize this is a well modified blank gun...

[Gio]

Under the kitchen table, in the dark, I quietly await.
The Detective is very smart, very fast: I heard her reaction to the window noise. I have seen her silhouette moving quickly in the corridor... did she wear only a towel?... and then a drawer being open.
Surely now she has a gun.

Excellent.

I remember my last customer: she had a little revolver in her purse, a small deadly silver toy. She tried to pull it out when she realized I was there. It has been a wonderful experience.
But enough past memories: now I must deal with my sweet, gorgeous, professional Detective. If I guess correctly, now she will start a search in every room, just to be sure. And obviously she will start from the front room, where she currently is. If I can sneak inside that room just after she has finished, she will never find me.
If otherwise she starts from the kitchen, she will look under the table, and... well, I will be ready for that, but it would be less funny.

[Little Sweet One]

I don't move. I have seen all to many movies where a lone woman with a gun goes out, and gets raped and or killed, neither of which are on my agenda.

If he were to learn this isn't a real gun, just a blank one that looks incredibly real, I'd be horse meat. I try Jake again. No dice.

"Damn," I mutter, then decide I need to get the fuck out of this house. I can see the kitchen from here, but not the table, and I need to get out through the dining room. I walk slowly in there, reaching to my right for the old door. It's jammed. I tug at it, then turn around and yank at it again. Fuck! It's almost like it's been barricaded, or the lock has been frozen until it sealed!

It takes me a second to realize I am still in a towel. My neighbor is a woman. She's elderly, but a woman. I shall go there- if I can get this door open!

[Gio]

Under the table, I hear the desperate attempts of Detective Ice to open the door. I have done nothing to lock it... it's just the panic, preventing her to unlock it.

Panic. So the mighty Isabella, psychologist, detective, profiler, police squad leader, is a woman after all. She is deeply scared right now just by a little noise in her home.

I have two alternatives. I could jump from down the table, run to her and submit her violently to my will.
Or, I could simply wait. I am not here to scare her. I am here to offer her my services, to teach her some lessons, and to learn from her. I cannot do that with a panicked woman.

"Not now" I whisper, with a smile. Now she is expecting trouble. I want her to experience the complete surprise.

At last Isabella opens the door and escapes in the road. Very good.

There is her purse on the table. Quietly I take a piece of wax from my pocket and I take the shape of the door keys. After just ten seconds, I exit from the back window and I return to my car.

Now she will call for reinforcements, and she will search the house, but she will find nothing. And tomorrow she will be ready for me.

[Little Sweet One]

I finally get out, and run to my neighbor's house. I knock on the door, ignoring the wolf whistles a few men in a passing car give. I wait- for about five minutes, then I realize something.

FUCK! She's... not home. I feel so stupid now. I tighten my towel and slowly walk home, redder than hell. I get inside and fix that damned stuck door, damn thing's always given me trouble. So, what now?

I go back and put the gun away, my cheeks still hot, and then decide to finish my bath. I return there and do such, and am in a classic pose of embarrassment. My legs bent and my hands on them, my head is down as I stare at the water.

About a half hour later, I get out and drain the water. I rewrap the towel. I wring my hair out and go to my bedroom, unwrapping the beach towel and drying off. I drop it on the floor, looking down at my trimmed apex. I hate the feeling of untrimmed hair in my clothes, but I can't stand the raw feeling of having it shaved. So I keep it trimmed down. It works rather well to have it long enough to make it downy when the hand is ran down it, but not prickly. They are not curly, thank God, that looks so odd to have a curly brown bush down there.

Oh God. I didn't lock my door. I pick up the towel and wrap it loosely around my body, walking into the hall to lock the door. Suddenly, my cell rings in my purse, and I head to my kitchen. I pull it out and it's Jake.

"Is everything alright, Ice?" he asks.

"Yea. Just wanted to make sure you were ok, handling everything. I'd had something on the Hunter, but dammit I can't remember," I lie smoothly. He has a smile in his voice when he answers.

"You are always thinking of the job. Settle down a bit. Hey, they found that girl, she'd been a runaway. She's alright now."

"Good," I smile. "Glad to hear it. Goodnight, Jake," I say.

"Goodnight, Isabella." he says softly, and hangs up as I do. I return to my room, which is dark. I try to turn the light on- and the bulb blows. Fuck. I don't like lamps, so I don't have one. I just shrug, and sit down on my bed, dropping my towel and sitting just to sit and think. My mind has been in another world lately. I need to settle down, maybe find a husband. My partner, Jake, that might be a bad idea if the relationship doesn't work. I've given my body to two men in my life, and dammit, neither worked. I won't do it again just to lose the man. So, then, just stay single? Hell no. After I catch the Hunter, I'll look around.