Believe It or Not, But It’s Love

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They don’t call me the Angel of Death for nothing. It’s a job that has little to no requirements, other than to kill those who need it, want it, or deserve it. It’s not a hard job, though I do complain a lot to my new dead friends that I won’t see any more once they reach the receptionist at the pearly gates. I will miss you, Janet. She was the only one who understood me, I think. She was the kind of girl that had a lot going for her. Popular cheerleader, grade A student, and sex enthusiast, Janet could have become a famous stripper if she wanted to, only if she hadn’t met Jack. Geeky Jack. He changed her to become a stay at home mom with three ankle biters who don’t give a damn about anyone else except themselves. She wasted away in that two-storied house, watching stupid reality TV shows and making sure dinner was ready by six o’clock. Poor Janet, I knew I was doing her a favor by giving her a sudden aneurysm while she was cleaning her small, dirty kitchen. She practically thanked me! I have never been thanked before let alone praised. She sure was different, that Janet.

Car accidents, sudden aneurysms, terminal cancer, and just plain old bad luck are my specialty. Though my colleagues believe that I am a stupid amateur- dirty deaths and whatnot- I am good at my job. You give me a healthy thirty year old that spends most of their time at the gym and I can end that sucker in a heartbeat, literally. I’m good at what I do, that’s why people know my name and only my name.

The Angel of Death. If you see her, you better stop what you’re doing because you aren’t going anywhere. Most of my colleagues change into small pets or insects in order to get close with their potential dead clients. I, on the other hand, just turn into any kind of person I want to be that day. It’s no secret that I am good at what I do. My clients don’t struggle as nearly as bad as the others and I am doing them all a favor, I hope. Before I set the motion to their death, I like to first get to know the people I’m about to take. Taboo in our industry, but who says rules shouldn’t be broken? No one, that’s for sure. It’s beautiful in my opinion because I get to look into their personal life story, before I take it away of course. I’m also doing them a personal favor, like what I did with poor Don.

Don, short for Donald, was drinking away at an old shabby bar in an old shabby lake town. His ex-wife took him to court to discuss about their young five year old daughter. The custody battle took two long years and thousands of dollars, but in the end his ex-wife took the distraught young girl away from her crying, broke father with no more than a one day yearly visit under strict supervision. It tore Don apart.

I changed into an overweight, potbellied truck driver and sat next to Don, bought him a beer, and struck up a conversation. He took a long swig of his beer and ate the nacho chips that I ordered.

“Fuck! I miss her man… not my ex, fuck that bitch.” He muffled to me. I sat there quietly, staring at him from my peripheral vision.

“I know how you feel. Happened to me once, and only once. Bitches aren’t meant to be trusted nowadays.” I didn’t quiet agree with my statement, but I needed him to open up a bit more. I wanted to know more about him… it was intriguing.

“Donna and Donald, the perfect couple. Perfect my ass. She was a lazy piece of shit that didn’t do shit. She has my girl and I can’t do shit. I wish I could fucking die!” He spat at his half full beer. I’m an optimist. I don’t believe in half empty glasses.

“Come on Don, don’t wish for something like that. Your girl needs ya.”

“I can’t do nothin’. The courts won’t allow it. I didn’t do nothin’ to that poor sweet girl. That bitch faked it all.”

“What’d she fake, Don? How bad was she?” I pried.

“Bitch told the courts that I hit my girl. Constantly hitting, bashing her head against the bed. The bed was soft! It didn’t hurt her…I would never hurt my girl.” He tried to convince himself of the crimes he did not commit. “She just…couldn’t stop crying. I fucking hated it when she cried. My girl…”

“Don, I think you need to collect yourself. Your girl is in a good place. No need to worry.”

“With that bitch? She lies. She lies to everybody! Telling them I’m a drunk retard who hits children. I don’t drink that much anyway!” He then drank all of his remaining beer, stood up and said, “I’m going to the loo.”

“Alrighty, Don. I’ll save your seat for ya.” I said as I pat him on the back.

The next day I was at a local coffee shop drinking cheap coffee while reading the daily newspaper. On page eight there was a small headline that said in bold letters “Man Falls And Dies At Naked Penguins Bar”. Tsk tsk, Don. Your wish was my command.

I was in Southern Georgia, scouting around a small ruddy mall when I spotted my next client on my list. A 54 year old woman named Dianne who was head of a mom’s only community club. I followed her to a country club where most of the illegal bahis meetings were held at. A rich, nice neighborhood surrounded the country club, with it’s greener than green grass and bluer than blue swimming pools. Yapping children and adult chatter can be heard even before entering the pristine black gates of the country club. I knew I had to stir up some conversation so I decided to disguise myself as a sweet caramel looking woman with long black hair, red ruby lips, and eyes shaped like perfect almonds. Exotic features for an ever exotic body. This should be good. I can already feel the heavy gaze of envious adults who wished that they had features like mine.

I reached the receptionist, took off my too-big-for-my-head sunglasses, and said in a voice filled with sex and far off places, “Hello, I’m looking for Dianne Hall.”

“Dianne Hall? She’s not here yet. Can I have your name, Miss…?” The receptionist, a young female with short golden hair asked me warily.

“My name? Why, I don’t like giving out my name to people I don’t know. Just point me to the direction of the meeting and I’ll be out of your way.” I said with a smile. Frankly, I couldn’t think of a name on the spot. I like to give unique names to the figures I create. It makes me proud.

“I’m sorry but I can’t do that. It’s a private meeting for members of the community. I believe you are not part of the community.”

“I just moved here a few days ago on Rye Street. My two children attend Saint Michael’s elementary school where I’m sure half of the kids here attend. I am part of the community. Now. Where is the meeting held?” I said in a clip voice. I liked making people uncomfortable in certain situations as this. Its fun to see them all riled up.

“It’s in Hawaii Hall, straight down then turn right. I hope your day is as pleasant as you are.”

“As well as to you.” I turned and walked to Hawaii Hall. A conventional name for a place that is void of all things related to Hawaii.

As I entered into Hawaii Hall, I noticed about 15 women with fake tans and Gucci purses sitting around in a circle, discussing matters that may seem irrelevant for the average minimum wage worker. I gave a small cough and all eyes turned to me. About 15 pairs of eyes stared from my head, all the way down to my big boobs, my flat scar-less stomach, and to my long athletic legs. I felt a wave of gratitude as they eyed my work. Creating an imaginary body from scratch is hard work that’s why so many of my colleagues prefer transforming into animals or insects. It is less complicated.

I walked to an empty seat and sat down next to a woman that looked like her face was about to be ripped apart from the center. I sat there silently, waiting for Dianne to enter through those big giant doors. More women started entering into the Hall, all of which I gave no notice to. I did not care about them, the only person I cared for was Dianne.

At long last, Dianne entered through the door and all of the women in the room gave out a squeal of congratulations. Apparently Dianne was given a certificate of appreciation from the community for being active and involved. How lovely for Dianne Hall.

“Thank you all! I’m so grateful to each and every one of you for voting for me. Now, it seems like we have a new member! Hello there! Why don’t we all introduce ourselves to our newest member! My name is Dianne Hall and I am the founder and leader of Moms of Charleston Community Club, or as we all like to call it, the M. Triple C. Let’s go in a circle and start introducing ourselves, starting with you, Melanie.” Dianne looked to her right to signal Melanie to start introducing herself. I couldn’t quite care about who was in the club or of their life story. I was only here for Dianne and Dianne only.

“Hello everyone! My name is Janet Dimes and I have three young kids and I live on Rye Street. My loving husband is Jack Dimes. I like to dance, paint and cook on my time off from my ever hectic life, if there is ever a time off. I am a stay at home mom and what can I say? It’s a tough job but I’m doing the best that I can.” I looked towards Janet and I knew that she was trying to hold herself together. Her smile was fake as well as her little speech. She sat down and her fake smile did not die down. She was use to this, similar to that of an actor use to performing in the same skit every day. I was interested now.

I realized that there was silence and I looked to my fellow members and I saw that they were all looking at me. Oops. It was my turn to say something sappy and unrealistic. “Hi! My name is… Olivia Valenci and I moved here a couple of days ago from Florida. My two daughters go to Saint Michaels and my Husband works as a travel agent in the city. I like to learn, read, as well as sing on the days when I am free of my beautiful little girls. Thank you.” I sat down and I looked towards Janet. I temporarily forgot about my client, Dianne. Dianne’s death can wait. I need to cure this itch illegal bahis siteleri of curiosity that Janet has bestowed upon me.

As the meeting conjured, I walked towards Janet as she was gathering her water bottle, yoga mat, and sunglasses. Typical items that these type of women carry every day. She seemed rather distracted, as if something was on her mind.

“Hi! Janet, is it? I’m Olivia.”

“Hello. Sorry, I was just lost in thought. So, how’s suburban life for ya?” She asked. We started walking together out of Hawaii Hall. She was pretty, this Janet Dime. She was young, probably around 26 years old. She could have been a model, with her long blonde hair and nice physique.

“Meh, it’s boring but I just arrived here. It’s safe though, for my two little girls.”

“Tell me about it. All these women are good for is gossip and sweet tea.” She added a short clip to her voice. It seems as if suburban life was not suiting her for the better.

“You’re funny. Do you want to go grab a coffee or something? I need friends.” I didn’t know why I said that. I don’t need friends, never have and never will. I find them… extinguishable.

“I was actually heading off to my house. I got some chores to do. If you like a dirty house you can follow along.” We started heading out of the gate and entered on to the streets of the neighborhood.

“Sure. I could use the company.”

We entered on to Rye Street. I looked towards the houses, all lined up accordingly with their nice white picket fences, fancy cars, and kid friendly Halloween decorations. Corporate America, as seen on TV. We turned onto Rye street and entered into House 2311. A house that was similar to the rest except for the house number. I entered into a living room that was streamed with toys and the smell of diaper in the air. It was hard not covering my nose up.

“Sorry about the smell. Don’t ever have three kids.” Janet placed her bag on the couch while I took a seat on the loveseat, taking a small train out from underneath my butt. Janet entered into the kitchen and brought out two wine glasses and a bottle of unopened wine.

“I don’t have coffee or anything. Is it bad to start drinking this early in the afternoon?” She asked me.

“It’s still morning, but I don’t mind. I need a glass after that meeting.”

“Tell me about it. I’m obligated to go since I live in this god forsaken place.” Janet poured herself and I a glass and we both started to get comfortable.

“So Olivia, why on Earth are you here? Tell me your story. Entertain me, please.” Janet drank all of her wine and started pouring a new one.

“Well, I…umm… came here because I thought it would be good for my daughters to live in a place that was safe and also had a cohesive community that will look out after them if they -“

“Okay, cut the bullshit. That’s not the real reason. It may be a real reason to those Botox injected women at that meeting today, but not to you.”

I was having a dilemma. No one has really fazed me as much as this woman did right now. Maybe it was because she saw the bullshit inside me that I saw in her when we were at that meeting. Janet was different, real, and cold just like me.

“I came here because I was looking for someone. A long lost relative who happened to enjoy the simple life.” I saw Janet give a nod and she sipped her wine this time. I took a sip at mine and began looking around her house. There was only one picture on a white wall, a picture of a potted plant, and just toys everywhere. A flat screen TV with a stereo was placed neatly on a TV stand where there were more pictures of potted plants. It was strange. Not your typical decoration that you’ll find in a house like this.

“I’m too lazy to change the pictures, if you’re wondering. I’m too lazy for everything apparently.” Janet says to me. I gazed back towards her.

“Who says that?” I asked.

“My loving husband who I despise.” She said it with such malice.

“Why are you even with him then?”

“Because it’s all in the act.” Janet replies.

I became enamored with Janet over the past several months. She complimented me so well, it was strange. I never felt this way with any of the other humans before. She was real, emotional, and she had so much dark opinions on the world. It was fantastic! It felt as if I actually met a friend. Every day while her kids where at school we would just talk and drink wine. We would go through a two bottles of wine before the clock struck three, when it was time for the kids to come home in their new school buses that the community purchased. Janet dreaded the chime of the clock as it struck three, as if seeing her children was what caused her the most agony in life.

Dianne died from a heart failure on a Sunday, and the next following Sunday there was a funeral at the local funeral home. She was to be buried next to her loving husband, who I took about five years prior. Everyone in the community as well as Janet canlı bahis siteleri and myself joined in prayer as we said our farewells to Dianne. It was her time, after all.

“That lucky bitch. She’s gone and now everyone’s here to update their statuses to see who can get the most likes. Typical.” Janet said while we sat on her front porch drinking, you guessed it, red wine.

“Why is she lucky?” I asked.

“She got to escape this hell. Everything is plastic here, Olive. Not just this place but in the world. Everyone does what they’re supposed to do because that’s the norm. You know, I was a stripper once. I fucking loved it. I danced and danced with no care in the world. I joined when I was 18. I graduated high school, said ‘fuck college’, and joined the next stripper bar I saw once I crossed over to Texas. Guys groped me, touched me, and fucked me and I loved every single minute of it. It was out of the ordinary. I wasn’t working as a stupid accountant or as a secretary for a big name person. I did what I liked which was to get high, fuck, and dance.” She looked me right in the eye as she said all of this. It was very powerful and emotional and dark. “I grew up in a religious household, God and whatnot. My parents were those typical Sunday churchgoers. I was their pride possession. I got good grades, joined the cheerleading squad, and even became class president once. I hated it. I didn’t feel in control with my life at all. Stripping was my choice and I found myself while doing it, until I met Jack. He knocked me up and then we eloped. Got knocked up again and again and now here we are in this hellhole of perfection.” Janet threw her wine glass at the white picket fence and it broke into millions of shards of glass.

I was amazed by Janet. She was extraordinary and I felt something for her, something that I haven’t felt in a long time. I looked at the white picket fence and I threw my wine glass as well.

“Janet, let’s go. Let’s get out of here. Who cares about Jack and the kids? We know he’s fucking some other plastic chick down in the country club bathroom. Let’s just escape for just one or two days. We need the break.” I don’t know what’s gotten in me. I don’t talk to anyone who is not on my kill list. Janet is not on my kill list. What has she done to me?

“I would love to Olive, but I can’t. I need to watch over the kids.” She said miserably. We became such good friends we started using little code names for each other. Olive and J, the girls who are like two peas in a pod.

“Tell Jack that your sister or whatever is sick and you need to go. Come on! Get your life back a little bit.” I persuaded her.

That night when Jack came home from his 9 to 5 job, Janet told him about her pretend sick sister. Jack took it with a grain of salt but agreed. The next morning, Janet arrived at House 2377, my pretend house, and we both rode off to a nearby town that was less appealing than the one in Charleston. Perfect.

We entered into the crabby motel room and we settled in. I went to the local grocery store and bought hard liqueur and some potato chips. It was a nice night out so Janet and I drove to a low key stripper bar where we threw moist dollar bills to the dancing strippers. Janet was having the time of her life. She took off her shirt and pants and was left only in her panty and bra. I could see the scars and stretch marks on her belly but she did not give a damn. She was only thinking about herself and her happiness. We both took hits from a blunt that a biker guy was smoking out back. It was around 3 A.M when we decided to head back to the shabby motel. We entered through the doorway and crashed on the bed.

“Oh my God. That was so much fun! I had so much fun!” Janet screamed with happiness.

“That was spectacular! You are crazy!” I told her.

Janet looked me in the eyes and I looked into hers. They were glistening and pink from the blunt we took from the biker guy. She leaned in close to me and gave me a quick kiss. I was lost. Janet took a hold of my head and we kissed again, but with more ferocity. She took off my bra and my breasts spilled out into the cold night air. Janet took my right breast and started sucking on the dark nipple. I was underwater with lust. I pushed Janet back up against the headboard and ripped off her flimsy shirt like it was tissue. I kissed her, pushing my tongue inside her succulent lips. A moan escaped from her mouth and it drove me up the wall. We made out and groped each other as if time could not stop.

“Olive, holy shit you’re so hot. I want to fuck you right now.” Janet whispered in my ear.

“Not if I fucked you first, my pretty J.” I whispered back. I pushed her against the wall and grabbed her short shorts and pulled them down her muscular legs. I ripped up her lace panties and began to finger her with my long fingers. Janet started cooing in my ear saying ‘fuck me fuck me fuck me’. I took a hold of one of her breasts and placed my sweet mouth on her delectable nipple. I tasted a bit of milk coming out of her areola and that fueled my lust for her even harder. I sucked her and moved on the next breast.

She was screaming my name, “Olive! Fuck! Suck my damn pussy. Please, oh my God! Argh! Suck my pussy!”

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