Replacements

Welcome to my newest story.  This is going to be something of an experiment for me, as I'm going to write this as it needs to be written every week, and not work it as I would my other projects.  It'll be interesting, if nothing else.

That said, this is always a first draft, and if I missed something in editing, don't beat me up too bad.  Remember:  you get what you pay for.

Replacements

Part Seven

It was time to do my research once again.  Craig had presented himself to me as a threat, and I wasn't about to be threatened by anyone.  In particular someone who I'd once thought of as a potential romantic possibility.  He should know better than to scorn a woman who was once obsessed with him . . .

I was going to fix Craig; I was going to make him very sorry to believe he could fuck with me.

In the days that followed our confrontation in my office, I was slightly astonished by my anger, and my desire to "get even".  Though I wasn't actually looking to even things between us:  no, I was looking to eliminate Craig completely.

As a literary character once said of murder, "Ask any soldier, asshole.  After the first one, the rest are easy."  That was how I felt now:  getting rid of Olivia and taking over her life was easy.  It wasn't my intention to take over Craig's life, so removing him from his old life would be even easier.

My new life--my new role--was having this effect upon me.  Some would likely say I was crazy, but their opinion was far from anything approaching reality.  Being Martha's mistress had changed my perception of life, and how I should live.  It taught me not to be an observer, but to act, to lead, all the time.

And should anyone get in your way, should anyone threaten you, or your life . . . then deal with them in an as expedient manor as possible.

That was my plan.

There were several problems that needed my attention, however.  First, I needed Martha out of the way for a while--maybe a few weeks.  It would be difficult to tell her not to be with me during that period, because even as submissive as she was, it was likely she would suspect something was amiss.

My first problem actually arose from my second problem:  I needed to find someone, someone who wouldn't be missed for a short period of time--at which point they would likely show up babbling crazy shit about actually being someone completely different.  Assuming they woke up after I'd finished with them . . .

Finally, problem three:  was there a way to do all this and continue working as well?  Martha and I were in the same department, and though we had no contract that wasn't professional while on the job, were she to see me every day, she could question my reasons for keeping her away.

How to do this all?

Fortunately, the company came to the rescue.  Our R&D center in Corona, California, was running into problems with safety protocols that had been instituted a few months before.  What better way to kill of a number of personal issues than to travel to Corona, and be on-site while the problems were resolved.

At best, I'd be away from my office for two weeks.  Time to look like the take-charge executive I was, get away from Martha . . . and look for a person who wouldn't be missed.

With that I was off to work.

The business end of the operation wasn't that difficult.  It didn't take me long to figure out what wasn't being done, and it was a very simply matter for me to fix it.  So simple, in fact, that I trickled out the information in bits and pieces, so I could stretch out my stay.  There was never any fear I'd be questioned about why I needed two weeks:  my superiors knew I would take whatever was needed to fix the problem, and if I told them I'd need two weeks, then it was mine.

My nights were busy.  With access to a car, I was able to go to travel to many places.  And since I had a free weekend while in Corona, I could even do a stay-over in another town if I felt it was needed.

As it was, I located my target almost immediately.

Before leaving for Corona, I checked up on places where women could gather and not draw attention to the fact they were with other women.  I would be staying right outside the Los Angeles region, so lesbian clubs were everywhere.  I picked a few that were outside Corona and began looking about.

It was at the second club, on my third night in California, when I spotted her.  She was perfect, but I had to know if she was perfect, so I slid up to her and began chatting her up over brandies.  I missed Martha, and I needed her reassurances, so I wasn't lying when I said I was from out of town, lonely, looking for someone I could sit and speak with, maybe cuddle, maybe . . . more.

The woman I'd found understood, though she indicated she wasn't into one-night stands.  I wasn't either--which was also true--so we arranged to meet for dinner the next night.  I knew she was saw:  beautiful woman, dressed well, had expensive tastes, and was looking to treat someone special.  I knew she wanted to find out just how special I'd treat that someone . . .

We dined.  We stayed to ourselves, so not to draw attention.  We came off to the other diners more like girlfriend catching up on old times than possible sexual partners.  It was how I wanted it, how I planed the evening.  I knew very well that hiding in plain sight was easier than one might imagine.

This was how I took things:  slow and careful.  I called infrequently, and did so with a mobile phone I stole at the first bar I visited--a phone that would disappear and never be found, as happened with so many every day.  I never pushed the issue between us, just let things build slowly.  So when I finally suggested we spend some time together on Saturday afternoon and night, she was ready to enjoy herself.

I was telling the truth when I said I wanted to head up by Edwards Air Base, because I wanted to see the desert.  I was telling the truth when I said one of the reasons I'd rented a four-wheel drive SUV was because I wanted to get off the main roads.  I was telling the truth when I pulled off Dove Spring Canyon Road because I wanted to be alone with her.  I was telling the truth when I stopped the SUV, kissed her, and said, "Let's walk a little.  I want to enjoy the desert with you."

I was telling the truth when I told her I was sorry as I murdered her with a knife to the back of her neck.

We were in the middle of nowhere.  There was very little of my DNA on her, because beyond a kiss or two, I'd not touched her.  With the wound to the neck, there was very little blood.  I dumped her body down into a secluded arroyo, so it would be difficult, at best, to find her.  The desert environment would destroy my DNA, and since I'd bagged her clothes before dumping her, I could ensure they would vanish after a good cleaning.

More importantly, I had her DNA, and her identification.

If all went according to plan, both would be put to good use in only a few more weeks . . .



Read Part Six Again.


One important thing:  Next week is not the last chapter.  The story will turn through the last Monday of September.  So two more to go!

If you have anything you want to say, leave a comment!