Imprisoned Love

It didn’t take Vicki long to find Nickerson’s address once she got home and looked him up in the local phone directory. She planned on paying him a visit in the evening when the poor loser would be more likely to be home. It was Friday night, though, so the bastard could be out somewhere in some bar or in some woman for all she knew. She’d just have to hope for the best. For now, Vicki plopped herself down on her plush couch, clad in nothing more than her T-shirt and silk panties. She closed her eyes and thought of Tiffany. Her sweet little Tiffany. Urgent desire began to form between her legs, and her hand, as if it had a mind of its own, found its way inside the waistband of her panties. She’d had many orgasms with Tiffany in mind. How desperately she longed for once and for all to be able to make love to that hot little body with both of them in the nude and in the privacy of her home, with the freedom to do as they wished without having to hold back or improvise. Vicki’s eyes opened and she glanced around the sunny living room. Ok, so the house was a bit small with three not-so-large bedrooms, one tiny bathroom and not much of a kitchen or living room, but they’d make do just fine. Tiffany would be with her in her bedroom at the end of the hall, the boy could have the room in front, and the girl could have the room in the back. She smiled at the thought and told herself that things would work out just fine, closed her eyes once again and studied Tiffany from head to toe within her mind’s eye. Again her hand slid under the soft, silky fabric of her panties, and this time it remained there until she came. When darkness fell, Vicki redressed and headed out in search of Mr. Nickerson. His apartment building was in a horrid section of the city. One she would absolutely forbid her precious Tiffany to enter, for she was too good for it. She parked the car near the rundown building and turned off the engine. She then sat back and took a deep breath as she felt the metal object that was in her jacket’s right pocket. After a moment she exited the car and located the correct apartment. She was glad to see it was on the ground floor. That way she had less chance of encountering others. She rapped on the chipped, sun-faded door. “Who is it?” a male voice asked. “It’s Tiffany’s friend. I’ll only be a moment if I could just have a word with you.” The door swung open and there stood her competition, even if it wasn’t much of one, wearing jeans and no shirt. He had a Bud in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Hi,” Vicki said, turning on an instant smile. “Remember me?” “Yeah, what’s up?” “May I come in for a moment? I’d like to talk to you about Tiffany.” “About Tiffany?” he asked, opening the door wide enough for her to enter the filthy apartment. “Yes, Mr. Nickerson.” “What’s wrong with her? She ok?” “Well,” began Vicki as she glanced around the cluttered, smelly apartment. The puny place made her little house seem gigantic. “Are you alone?” “Yeah, why? What’s going on?” asked Eric, growing impatient as he shut the door. “Well, there is a bit of a problem.” Eric squinted with confusion. “Here, let me show you,” Vicki said as she pulled her badge from her jacket’s left pocket. She showed it to Eric. “I’m actually a cop as you can see.” “Yeah, so?” said Eric, crushing out his cigarette in an ashtray that was overflowing with cigarette butts and setting down his beer. “She’s not in trouble again, is she?” “Oh, no not at all.” The two stared at each other a moment, then Eric said, “Well, I’m sorry, Officer, I still fail to comprehend why you’re here.” “It’s simple,” said Vicki, repocketing her badge that was actually part of her jail uniform and pulling out a sandwich bag from the same pocket. “It’s time to go, Mr. Nickerson.” “What? Go where? What in the world are you talking about, lady?” “Well you didn’t think I came over to suggest one big old happy threesome, did you?” “What!” exclaimed Eric with shock now added to his confusion and impatience. “Get to the point or get lost, will ya? I haven’t got all night to play word games with you.” “Ok, then let's stop talking and have you get a piece of paper and a pen.” “What the fuck for?” Vicki pulled her revolver from her other pocket. “I suggest you stop with the questions right now, Mr. Nickerson.” “What the fuck? Are you out of your mind?” “What did I just say?” Vicki demanded sternly as if reprimanding a child who wouldn’t follow orders. “Get the damn paper and pen now!” Eric turned and fumbled clumsily with some items atop his cluttered table as Vicki held the gun on him. He knocked several things off the table till he located a pad and pen. “Now sit down,” Vicki demanded, trying to keep her voice loud enough, but at the same time out of other people’s apartments. He sat. “Write ‘I just can’t take it anymore. I’m sorry.’” “Why do you want me to…” “Write it!” Vicki watched as Eric scribbled the words on the pad’s top sheet. “Ok, now put the pen down and look at me.” He put the pen down. “I said look at me!” “Ok, ok, lady. Take whatever you want and get out. I won’t say a thing…” “I don’t want to take anything from you. It’s you who wants to take from me and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you.” Eric looked up at Vicki with disbelief, confusion and fear just as she threw the sandwich bag on the table in front of them. “It’s your choice, Mr. Nickerson. Either scarf down those sleeping pills or be shot.” Eric’s eyes widened. Now the real fear was settling in. This was really happening. It was no sick joke, nor was it a dream. This bitch really was hell-bent on killing him. “Aw, come on now. You don’t really intend to…” “Yes, I do, Nickerson, now choose your method of death and let’s get it over with! I haven’t got all night for word games either or any pathetic, hopeless pleas for mercy from your lame ass. You never gave a damn about Tiffany, you certainly never gave a damn about the kids, so don’t even think you can fool either one of us into thinking otherwise.” A realization hit Eric just then and he said, “You’re her girlfriend, aren’t you? I should’ve known you were a lesbo out for…” “Let’s go, Nickerson!” Eric was a hundred percent sure the crazy bitch would start shooting if he didn’t take the pills, and die sleeping he’d certainly rather do than bleed to death from a gunshot wound. Hey, when your time’s up, your time’s up, he told himself. You may not exactly be ready to die, but at least you never had much to live for either. Still, he was angry at this crazy loon for playing judge, jury, executioner and God with his life. “You’ll never get away with this, you sick bitch from hell, never.” Vicki smiled arrogantly as he washed down the first few pills with his beer. He tried to keep his hands steady, unsure of just what awaited him on the other side. This made him kill himself a lot slower than the sick pig wanted. “Speed it up, Nickerson, and Bud your way to the pearly gates a little faster, will you?” A few more pills went down with the Bud. “You s-sick bitch,” he slurred. “Keep going. You got about fifteen more pills to pop there. Get to it, guy.” “They’ll g-get your ass for zis.” “Uh-huh,” said a non-intimidated Vicki. Once she was certain that all thirty pills were swallowed, she waited about a half hour longer to be sure that Nickerson, who was now slumped over the table, was in fact dead and not just in a deep sleep in which he might, by some fluke of a miracle, be retrieved from should someone show up and call for help as soon as she left. Not wanting to leave any physical evidence like fingerprints, she watched and listened instead of feeling for any signs of life that may be left lurking in his body. The eventual smell of urine and feces, along with the fact that he had swallowed so many pills, gave her a pretty good idea that her mission had been accomplished. She smiled with a sense of accomplishment. Not bad for my first kill, she thought to herself. She then left the apartment, pleased that there’d now be one less thing for her and Tiffy to have to worry about.