CONCERNED CITIZEN By Phil Stokoe As the shiny steel of the knife slowly traced a line down her throat, she could feel a bead of sweat running down between her breasts and stop as it met the lace of her bra. It was a hot and humid sort of night, and sticky with it. Her whole body glistened with a fine sheen of perspiration. The tip of the knife was cold against the hot skin and it made her whole body tingle with a mixture of fear and anticipation. It slowly slid down over her collarbone and followed the contours of her body until it also reached the sweat soaked bra that covered her stiff, erect nipples. It lingered there for just a second, before it nicked the material and sliced open the flimsy lace. She stood there, almost naked. The shadowy moonlight that shone through the window cast an almost eerie silhouette against the bedclothes. The black leather clad finger then traced it's way down over her shoulder and followed a path down to her breast. The gloved finger and thumb took hold of the nipple of the right breast and squeezed it gently, slowly rolling it and feeling it get stiffer by the second. Her whole body was on fire. She could feel little rivers of sweat rolling down her back between the shoulder blades. Warm for a second and then turning colder as they rolled further south. She had never felt so alive, so on fire, so hot with longing and desire. Her thoughts were racing, her breathing began to speed up and get deeper, as more beads of sweat began to stand out on her forehead, plastering her hair to the sides of her face. She felt as if her knees would buckle at any second, like a house of cards unable to support any weight. She had never wanted anything so badly in her entire life. When they had first discussed the whole idea after a particularly lack lustre session between the sheets, she didn't know if it was such a good idea. She had always thought such things to be the realm of disturbed perverts and certainly not for good little catholic girls like herself. But Jim had persuaded her that it would be fun, that it would put a little spark back into their sex sessions, which they both agreed had gone more than a little flat since her Father had caught them. His reaction had been dramatic to say the least, most Father's would object to finding their daughter bent over the kitchen sink with someone fucking them hard from behind, but when your Father was the local priest it brought an added dimension of eternal damnation. And, as a result, every time that they had been able to sneak a chance for a sexual encounter in the last six months it had fizzled out before it had started, Before they had a chance to start one of them would have one eye on the door expecting it to burst open and to be confronted by a crucifix wielding priest spouting about how their souls would burn in hell. Enough to put you off sex really, which was exactly why Jim had come up with his little role playing scenario. Karen's father was going away for a weekend seminar, and had made her promise to be good...remember, The Lord sees all. As well as the Lord so did Mrs Jenkins who lived across the street, if Jim came to the house or if Karen left it, she would know, and not long after so would Father. Jim, however, had other ideas. All she had to do was go about her day as normal. He would arrive after dark, dressed in black, and armed with a knife. He would climb the trellis to the rear of the house and let himself in through the window that Karen had previously left ajar. He would then be the masked madman that would slowly torment her, tease her sexually, make her beg for him and then let her have him. Despite the fact that she was totally unsure, Jim could be very persuasive. It also didn't matter how much she tried not to think about it, she loved to fuck, especially Jim. Since losing her virginity at the relatively late age of twenty-one, to her first real boyfriend, Howie, a good Catholic boy that her father approved of, she had been awoken sexually by Jim. Her Father did not like Jim. He was not religious, he blasphemed, and was bad, but as far as Karen was concerned that was good. It wasn't until they first had sex in the back of his battered ford van that she realised how good it could be. And now here she stood, bathed in moonlight, acting out a sexual fantasy in her own bedroom. A masked intruder with a knife was inspecting her. Running the blade of the knife all over he almost naked body making every nerve spark alive. She loved Jim, and she was going to show him exactly how much. A shark ringing shattered the moment. The phone was ringing. Karen had no intention of stopping now, her machine could get it. The tape clicked and began recording..."Karen...". She froze as icicles of terror squeezed her stomach tight, the voice was Jim's. "...sorry, I'm late, I'll be there in about twenty minutes, but baby, it'll be worth the extra wait, I promise. Catch you later!" And the machine stopped taping as the line fell dead. Karen was rooted to the spot. She tried to swallow but couldn't. If that was Jim, then who the fuck was this in front of her. Before she had time to think any more about it, or react, the blade that had made he feel oh so hot only minutes earlier, now felt freezing cold as it punctured the tanned skin of her midriff, and sliced through to her very insides. As the pain burned deeply within her, she looked up into the eyes of a stranger that locked for the first time with her own. And realisation slowly dawned. "Daddy...?", she croaked as she fell into a heap of blood on the floor. "That's right Angel.", he said as he peeled the mask back over his head. "I couldn't have you keep disobeying me with that trash. When I overheard you talking it all became clear how to solve my problem. He gave me the perfect opportunity and scenario to do it, and now when he arrives in about twenty minutes, just as the police get here, my problems will be over. No-one will whisper behind closed doors about how the priest's daughter is a no good harlot anymore, they will all be sorry for my loss. And they will all condemn the murderer who was caught at the scene of the crime. I'll miss you angel, but it's all for the best. Only God can judge me now! You understand, don't you?" But she was already dead before he asked. He slowly made his way toward the door, to head down the street to the pay phone to report the screams that he had heard from up the street, and if they asked who he was, just a concerned citizen with too much time on his hands.