Love Him To Death — Part Two
A Short Erotic Thriller of Hidden Desires and Fatal Consequences
Claudia, dissatisfied with her marriage to the privileged, wealthy and vengeful Wilson, has been having a secret affair with Dominic. They meet regularly in an apartment owned by one of Dominic’s friends, whom Claudia has never met.
When Dominic unexpectedly suffers a fatal heart attack during one of their trysts, Claudia tries to resuscitate her lover, but fails. Claudia panics. She cannot confide in anyone about Dominic’s death without risking exposure and losing everything.
So Claudia finds herself in a stranger’s apartment with a dead body. What is she to do?
The bottle of wine sat, half-finished, on the side table next to the sofa so Claudia emptied it down the sink and rinsed away all traces. She put the bottle into her bag; she’d get rid of it later.
Her brain clicked into automatic cleaning mode and she wiped the side table and the kitchen bench then washed, dried and put away the glasses. The bedroom door was wide open, so she pulled it half-closed. Claudia returned to the living room, plumped the sofa cushions and surveyed the scene. She nodded, feeling calmer.
She now had two choices.
One: she could call the police.
But they would want statements. His death might be deemed suspicious which meant the coroner would call her to court to give evidence. Dominic’s wife and Wilson would find out. Strike out choice Number One.
That left her with Number Two: leave him here.
But how long was his friend away? A month? Or longer? Dominic’s wife would report him missing. A search would take place but nobody would find him because they didn’t know about the apartment. Would the smell of his decomposing body alert the neighbours? How long would that take? It didn’t bear thinking about!
What if she rang the ambulance anonymously and left before they arrived? But the paramedics would call the police and, even if she spent the next two hours scrubbing every surface, the cops were sure to find enough DNA to prove somebody else had been in the apartment. And what if a neighbour saw her arrive or glimpsed her leaving?
It would only be a matter of time before the police knocked at her door.
Claudia shuddered, picturing a pimply-faced, uniformed constable requesting she accompany him to the police station to answer questions, then the look of bewilderment on Wilson’s face, followed by shock, then hardening into suspicion.
No!
Wilson would never forgive her. He’d be ruthless. She’d lose everything.
What if she called the police herself and explained the situation to them? Mightn’t they understand? They were human… chances were they’d seen it all before. They might accept her statement and let her go. Maybe they’d agree to inform his wife without mentioning the circumstances in which he was found?
Claudia gave a bitter laugh. In your dreams, girl.
Why hadn’t Dominic gone home when she suggested it? Why did he have to be so damn greedy for sex? If he’d listened to her, Dominic would be at home right now with his bitch of a wife and she’d be at home with Wilson. Then Dominic would still be alive and she wouldn’t be going out of her mind with a dead body in the next room. Claudia pounded her fist against the armrest. Damn him to hell! Damn! Damn! Damn!
Stop it!
She had to think straight or she was lost.
Had anyone ever seen them together? Claudia didn’t think so. Whenever they were out in public, they always met at an obscure bar or café where nobody knew them. Kate was the only person she’d ever told. And Dominic swore he’d never mentioned her name to his friend with the Aston Martin. Claudia exhaled a long, slow breath. Maybe it would work out after all?
A scuffling noise sounded at the door.
Claudia froze as a key turned in the lock. The door opened. Something dragged across the floor. A suitcase? The door slammed shut. She struggled to her feet. Where could she hide? Frantic, Claudia’s eyes scanned the room. There were no curtains on the windows, only blinds. She ducked behind the sofa just in time.
Purposeful, masculine steps strode down the tiled hallway towards the kitchen.
Her bag! It was still on the sofa! What if the man noticed it? She held her breath. Water ran in the kitchen. Claudia peeped above the back of the sofa. No sign of the man. She grabbed the handle of her bag and yanked it towards her, her heart thumping against her chest.
A cupboard door opened and closed. Footsteps again. They walked towards the bedroom.
“What the hell—?” the man exploded.
Claudia caught a glimpse of him as he darted across the hall towards the kitchen. He was tall and slim and blonde; a handsome, elegant man… like James Bond… the type of man who drives an Aston Martin BD5.
But what if he found Claudia hiding behind the sofa? How could she explain what happened to Dominic? He might detain her in a citizen’s arrest and call the police. She gritted her teeth in frustration. Why hadn’t she left earlier when she had the chance?
Buttons beeped on a telephone. The man must be calling an ambulance or something.
Okay. It was now or never. She had to risk it.
Rising from her hiding place behind the sofa, Claudia swung her bag over her shoulder and tiptoed towards the front door, her legs feeling like cooked spaghetti that might give way at any minute and send her sprawling to the ground.
She stopped when she reached the entrance. The man was on the telephone, his voice demanding and authoritative. Claudia heard snatches of the telephone conversation: “Yes… in the bedroom… dead… worked… I don’t know… soon… wait…”
She opened the front door carefully, slid through and closed it behind her, the lock barely clicking. The elevator dinged, stopping on the floor below. Claudia pressed the button and waited, stealing sideways glances at the apartment door, praying the owner wouldn’t emerge. Hurry up, she begged. The elevator arrived and the door rolled open.
It was empty. Claudia exhaled and stepped inside watching the numbered lights descend until the elevator reached the bottom. She peered from the open door. The coast was clear.
She scurried towards the stairwell door. Claudia opened it tentatively: a large room with a cement floor, four washing machines and four dryers lining the far wall. Untidy rows of garbage bins flanked either side of the fire exit door.
Claudia weaved her way through the bins, pushed open the door and slipped outside, finding herself in a tiny alleyway at the back of the apartment building. She looked left then right. Head down, she clutched her handbag to her chest and hurried along the street, only slowing when she turned the corner and the apartment building was out of sight.
She’d done it!
Nobody had seen her leave. Dominic was dead but his body would not lie, rotting and stinking, in that lonely king-sized bed. His friend — the tall, blonde man — would have to break the news to Dominic’s wife. Even if he called the police, the trail would never lead to Claudia because nobody knew she existed.
Claudia took a deep, slow breath and gazed at the sky. Delicate wisps of white fluff swam in a sea of bright, clear blue. Tears of relief welled behind her eyelids and blurred her vision. Now the horizon resembled a Monet painting. She wiped her eyes with her hand. Wilson loved art. When Claudia got home, she’d suggest they visit the Art Gallery — or, better still, what about the Louvre? It would be autumn in Paris now.
Claudia sailed down the street, peering at the displays in the shop windows, mentally planning her wardrobe for the upcoming trip while she waited for an empty cab. What if she rang Wilson now and suggested the trip to Paris? He’d be charmed, she was sure. He was always saying how much he loved her impetuosity.
Claudia reached inside her bag for her phone.
Where was the damn thing? She always kept it in the side pocket. Had it fallen to the bottom? She rummaged around: keys… wallet… lipstick… tissues… sunglasses… but no ‘phone.
Oh God…no!
Her phone was still at the apartment!
To be continued…
More Tantalizing Tales? ♦News — read/subscribe ♦Write 4 Us ♦Follow
