Amazing men like you are so rare. People say they’re hard to find. I don’t think it’s luck that I’ve been able to find so many, yourself included. I know where to look. I pay attention. I’ll never let a good chance pass me by, not without knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’ve done as much as I can to get what I want.
That’s a testament to my devotion. That has to count for something, right? The amount of effort and time I put into finding that special, wonderful man---it has to mean something. If I thought it didn’t---if I thought this was all just a wasted fantasy---I think I’d snap. Who knows what I’d do?
I have to tell you. I have tried so hard. You wouldn’t believe how hard I’ve tried. I know you think you have some idea, but you’re only meeting me now. You haven’t seen my whole journey.
I’ve read. I’ve paid attention. I know the kinds of things that men like you look for. I’ve done everything I can to get attention from guys like you. I’ve dyed my hair, cut it, worn contacts, tanned my skin, changed the way I dress. I’ve done just about everything possible. If I could change my race, believe me I would. I even considered plastic surgery to change my eye shape when one man I fell for seemed to only want Asian women.
Not once has it worked out. Every time the rejection comes, it hurts more and more. I try to smile and carry on, look for the next man, thinking, “This time, he’ll be the one!” He never is. Maybe he never will be.
You’re certainly not.
I’m tired. Exhausted. I mean, think about it. I’m essentially doing single-handedly what whole police forces can’t seem to manage. It’s not easy, tracking down serial offenders. Many times, I’ve cursed the fact that guys like you are the only ones that can get me hot.
At night, when I’m alone---always alone---my mind runs wild. I imagine my ideal man. Tall, dark, and dangerous. Somehow, he gets into my room. I don’t know how. He looms over my bed, waits for me to wake. He wants to see the terror in my eyes. I give him every bit of what he’s looking for, and more. I’m his dream, just as he is mine.
His knife glints as he takes it out. It’s always a knife in my fantasies, but if I’m honest, I’d settle for anything at this point. He holds it to my throat and forces himself on me. Whatever he wants, I give it up to him. It hurts and I scream, just as much from pleasure as from pain.
That fantasy has kept my blood flowing on many a cold night.
Mm? You will? Oh….
I appreciate the offer, but it just wouldn’t do it for me now. I know you’d only be doing it to save yourself, not because you really wanted to. Besides, it’s not your M.O. I’ve done my research.
I’m sorry, but if I untied you now, I know you’d just take the first opportunity to run. They all do.
It sucks that it has to be this way, but just like all the others, you’ve forced me to settle for plan B, the next best thing. If you won’t take me willingly while you’re alive….
Well, I’ve never met a corpse that said, “No.”