It was a scorching Sunday of ninety degrees in Cedarcreek. I changed out of church clothes into my rose gold bikini. Threw my white sweater and cut-off jeans over it to maintain a modest look in front of the church ladies. They all would be gathering in our patio for sweet tea and pastries- mostly to gossip. It was an annual social event and I was glad to not have an obligation to attend.
         I wanted to spend my afternoon at the lake catching some son and sexy male locals and tourists attention. I could just picture myself with a chilled Corona and lime in hand. It was my only break from the whole “perfect daughter” act. My parents were strict. I was raised in a bible belt environment. My family was a socially upstanding one with my daddy being the mayor and brother as the sheriff. People had high expectations of me. I was expected to be a model student and young lady. So far, I lived up to everything my family and their associates expected of me. This year I graduated from Cedarwood High School as the valedictorian with honors and dozens of academic awards. I received acceptance letters from dozens of elite colleges. I wanted to study to become an OB-GYN.

“Mama, I’m going down to the lake. Do you need me to run any errands?” Mama smiled. Her lovely hazel eyes stood out against her dark skin that resembled my own crinkled up at the corners from years of laughter. Her happiness was infectious. She held up a finger, wiping her hands on the apron tied snugly around her waist and rushed to pick up a pan.

“I need you to run this up the road. It would seem someone brought the old Brookheimer mansion and I wanted to make sure our new neighbor feels welcome. Tell them it’s a welcoming gift from the Michaelson family.”
“Ok, mama.” She kisses me on the forehead and hands over the pan.
“Thank you, baby. Make sure you’re back for dinner.”
       I rode my bike up the rode, feeling as if a ton of bricks had been lifted off my chest. There was always pressure. Sometimes being at home suffocated me. Any ounce of defiance I had mama nearly beat it out of me with the bible and her belt. Mama Rose was mostly all smiles and laughter, but that woman was a force to be reckoned with when need be.
I giggled.
       What am I saying? I’m eighteen now and on my way to college. I wasn’t a kid anymore. What did I have to fear by being disobedient? I stopped on the side of the dirt rode and placed my bike up against a tree and strode straight into the woods. I took off my sweater and decided to walk around with just my bikini top. It was too hot for that damn sweater anyways. Took the ribbon out of my hair and allowed the dark brown waves to grace my shoulders. I wanted to take off my jeans to but ‘I ain’t about that life’ as Erin would say. I hopped back on my bike wondering what the new neighbor would think of me now. I didn’t look so prim and proper. I looked like a young hot chick looking for a good time, flirty and fun. I glossed my lips and was on my way.
           The Brookheimer manor gave me bad vibes. The place was surrounded by acres and acres of woods. Once upon a time, the place spoke of old world elegance and style. Now it resembled a haunted house from one of those classic horror flicks. Why in the hell would anyone want to live here? I suppose this house had the potential of being a beauty- once it was renovated. Rumor was the previous owners, the Brookheimers were a weird bunch of people with dark secrets. Apparently, they were the founders of Cedarwood, one of the first settlers back in the early eighteen hundreds. The entire family just up and disappeared about thirty years ago. No one knew what happened to them.  But what do I care of their history? I just came to deliver peach cobbler.        
     Don’t know what compelled me to enter the house uninvited. Maybe it was the muffled scream I thought I heard. The empty foyer opened into a grand living room. All the furniture was covered with white bed sheets. The once opulent wallpaper was dull and dusty. The floor beneath my sandal clad feet creaked as I moved through the room, peach cobbler in hand. I enter the huge dining room and placed the peach cobbler on the long dining table, deciding no one was home. I’ll just leave it here or perhaps eat mama’s peach cobbler for myself.
        The fine hairs on my neck stood. A tingling feeling ran down my spine as if I was the focal point of an intense gaze. I felt a pull in the center of my being as if my atoms wanted to cling to whoever was there. I spun, blinked and shook my head. I repeated the process to ensure this wasn’t a hallucination. What are the fucking odds? Yes, I said “fucking”. It was no better way to describe the extreme and absurd situation.
          What are the fucking odds a big and beautiful buff man that looked as if he escaped from a romance novel would be standing in the doorway of the dining room wet and naked with just a white cotton towel wrapped around his lower parts. To make matters even more absurd, he was regarding me with a hungry predatory glare as his violet eyes moved over my breast. There was just something about him that went beyond looks that caught the eye. He had something other men don’t. I’m sure it was something the human male species loss.
            It was in the sexy full lips that were currently being moistened by his tongue as he continued to regard me with that hungry glare, running a hand over his carefully trimmed beard. I gave myself a brisk mental shake and extended my hand for an introduction. Before I could utter a word, his long legs ate up the distance between us. My breath became shallow. The wet and partially naked man was so close I could smell the fresh soap emanating from his skin. He reached over me to thoroughly examine the peach cobbler.
             Next, he crossed his arms over a massive chest and splayed his long legs in an army stance, staring down at me like a child who needed scolding. Embarrassingly, I barely reached the height of his solar plexus. “Tell me how you got in.” There was a command in his deep baritone, but he slathered it with a layer of honey to seem less threatening.
“Your front door was unlocked-
“So that gave you probable cause to enter my home?” I heard someone scream is what I didn’t say. Why did I feel as if I was on trial?

I tucked a strand of hair behind an ear and tilted my chin a little higher meeting his intense gaze. “Listen, Mr…
“Black,” he clipped.
“Mr. Black,” I commenced, putting on my own honey glazed tone. “You have to pardon me. My curiosity got the better of me. I’m part of Cedar-Creek’s Welcome Committee and I stopped by to say welcome to the community.” My smile was bright.
His lips twitched trying to suppress his laughter. “Your cute. I’ll give you that. How should I punish you for trespassing?” Why was he looking at me like that? Oh, right. I’m wearing a bikini top and the itsy-bitsy triangles left little to the imagination.
I gave a nervous little laugh. “I should probably go now.” I tried to side step him but he boxed me in with those impressive biceps- I mean he trapped me with his arms that gripped the table on either side of me. Yeah, that sounds better.
“At the mention of punishment she runs.” His smile was wolfish. “I guess you’re not as brave as I thought.” His eyes snapped from my head to my feet. Was he goading me? “What’s your name princess?”
“K-Kaori. Japanese for Lily,” I extended my hand once again. He brought my knuckles to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to my skin and smiled. The smile looked no nicer than he did. I got goosebumps. I imagined those same lips between my legs. That beard tickling my… I shook my head. Damn this guy was making me lose my ever-loving mind.
“Kaori. That’s lovely,” His thumb continued to brush across my skin. Since he refused to give me my hand back I guess I could stay a little longer. “What should your punishment be, Kaori?” He insisted. “Hmm…you seem like the type of girl who would be less partial to a thumb in her ass.” When he sees my facial expression he adds, “Butt plug?”  His idea of punishment had me thinking kinky thoughts. And I realized it was his plan.
I smiled wickedly. “How about double penetration with some ass spanking?” Go big or go home. That’s what Kevin use to tell me. I couldn’t believe I was talking like this to a stranger.
From the way his towel had grown into a bulge, I knew he was turned on. “That won’t be a problem.” His eyes burned into me for a long moment. My traitorous eyes began to trail down his thick neck which was adorned with tattoos. Most of his body was covered with the fine art. There was something about being in this moment with him. The air between us sizzled and steamed. I wanted to taste those full lips or perhaps lick a droplet of water off those washboard abs.
“I should go,” I reiterated in a soft whisper.
I left and got the strangest feeling as if it wasn’t because I wanted to but because he allowed me to.
“I’ll see you again, princess,” he spoke to my retreating back. It was a promise.


~*~


Sheriff Kevin Michaelson stood at the crime scene deep within the woods bristling. After thirty fucking years someone had murdered on his turf. He bent and examined the body. The victim had been gutted like a fish. The entrails were missing. There were bruises around the neck and wrist. A few of his teeth were missing. Clear signs of torture.

“What kind of animal would do this?” his wife Sheriff Winona Michaelson asked as she stood behind him.

“A human being. Look”- he pointed to a space near the body- “there’s footprints. Blood in the dirt as well. Our vic was murdered here… Check out the scrapes on the bottom of his feet.”

“He was probably running from the perp,” she added.

“There’s no defensive wounds on the knuckles or anywhere else meaning he didn’t put up a fight, but why?”

“Maybe he was caught by surprise.”

“Hmm…” Kevin thought for a moment. “So, the victim was here running through the woods… he’s caught by surprise and murdered.” He shook his head. That didn’t make sense to him. First, why in the hell would anybody be running through the woods bare foot? Fact is he wasn’t caught by surprise. The vic knew the perp was after him. The lack of defensive wounds suggests the vic felt it was wiser to run than to fight. “What do we know about the perp?” You could tell a lot about a killer just from the way he kills. Were they professional or an amateur? Was it out of momentary rage or cold calculation? This was out of cold calculation. And the killer was no amateur.

“The perp is most likely male. Skilled with a…” Winona paused for a moment. “Maybe he’s a hunter from around the area.”

“John Presley is the only hunter I know around here and he’s not a killer.”

“Ok well somebody is out hunting humans like animals.”

A black car pulled up and Kevin stood, knowing exactly who it was.  What he didn’t understand was why his father the mayor was at a crime scene. “Hey dad.”

“Son,” he greeted.

“What’s going on?”

“Got an I.D. on the victim?”

This was strange. “Yeah, his name was Alexander Stanhope, a tourist from Australia.”

The mayor closed his eyes and sighed. “I want this kept quiet.”

“This is a small town, dad. People talk.” He stared into his father’s light brown eyes. This man was like a stone wall, unbreakable, but Kevin saw the fear, the worry, and the defeat. What the fuck is going on?

“Dad what’s going on?” Mayor Michaelson touched the side of his son’s face, shook his head and walked away.