The May Day Murders Sequel

by Scott Wittenburg

  Dinner would commence very close to seven-thirty. By then Claire would have finished her first two glasses of wine and begun her third. She would appear to be mellow as she sat there delicately dining on the food she had prepared, but he knew her outward appearance wasn’t revealing what was going on in that pretty head of hers. He had recently learned what made Claire tick and why she seemed so despondent and reclusive. She had lost the love of her life to cancer only a month ago. Claude had been her main man for several years but he had never made any sort of real commitment to Claire in all that time. She had once joked that he was gay and that was the reason for his reluctance for them to become a real couple. He had just blown her off, saying that he wasn’t the marrying type but that he loved her deeply, which was all that mattered.

  Then he had been diagnosed with colon cancer seven months ago. Claire had endured the horrible experience of watching her beloved Claude become weaker and sicker by the day until he finally succumbed to cancer’s insidious onslaught. After Claude was laid to rest, Claire retreated back into her own little solitary world, refusing to socialize or accept any comfort from her friends.

  As Mason had suspected, Claire came from a wealthy family and had never had to work a day in her life. Her parents provided everything she needed from the elegant apartment in Paris to this charming little country hideaway. She had been an only child, and unlike himself, had been showered with everything that money could buy throughout her entire life.

  It had been easy getting to know Claire Fournier. All he’d had to do was spend a few weekdays in this little cottage as if he owned the place while she was in Paris. The woman was naive beyond words—she had never suspected that an intruder had literally spent entire days in her home. What an idiot!

  Mason had in fact so enjoyed taking over her home that he’d spent an extra week here just for the fun of it. Claire had been keeping a diary since she was eleven years old and Mason had spent most of his time sitting before her cozy fireplace scanning every entry she had made over the past nineteen years. For some reason Claire preferred using her cottage as home base for her diaries, updating her last week’s experiences each weekend she came out to the country. All nineteen volumes of Claire’s life were stacked neatly in the antique chest that sat at the foot of her bed.

  And what an uninteresting, ungratifying life she had led. Claire’s diary makes it clear that her parents were forever buying her gifts and anything she ever desired for as long as she could remember. But what her parents never seemed to realize was that the more they gave their precious daughter, the more she resented them. Claire needed something their wealth could not buy. Simply put, she needed to feel they truly cared for her.

  Her parents had hardly ever been around. While they were away on their many trips to the coast and business ventures throughout Europe, poor little Claire was left at home in the care of nannies. These elderly, conservative women were who Claire depended on for everything while her parents were away. And each time her parents would return bearing gifts they had picked up during their travels, Claire would pretend to be thrilled while deep down inside all she wanted was for her mother and father to actually show they loved her enough to spend some quality time with her instead of forever flitting away from home and their little princess.

  This lack of personal attention and companionship had made Claire an insecure, withdrawn young woman. She’d always been shy around boys and in fact hadn’t had any sort of romantic relationship until she was in her early twenties. That was when she had fallen hard for a young man she’d met in college named Albert. Albert was bright, witty and really seemed to care about Claire. They had even talked about getting married someday. But then one day Albert totally blew it. While they were making out at one of Albert’s friend’s parties, Albert got carried away and started putting some major moves on Claire. Claire was still a virgin and not yet ready to go all the way with somebody so soon. She asked him to lay off but he refused to and when he stuck his hand in under her skirt she had hit him so hard it had nearly knocked him unconscious. When he recovered, Albert got pissed off and told her he was through with her—that she was nothing but a big prick tease.

  This of course had broken Claire’s heart and hadn’t helped her sense of self-esteem much at all. She became even more withdrawn and it wasn’t until Claude came along and swept her off her feet that she finally had sex.

  These two men in Claire’s life were the highlights. It was only in those diary entries that she seemed to come alive and animated while describing her experiences. The bulk of her diary recounted little more than the humdrum details of her daily routines. And the weather. He couldn’t believe how Claire went on and on about the weather each day as she desperately tried to fill in the space on a page with something other than the same old thing from one day to the next. At least the weather changed—Claire did not.

  She was washing the dishes now. He observed her as she did the kitchen clean-up, taking his eyes from the camera’s viewfinder occasionally. Five minutes later she poured another glass of wine, turned off the kitchen lights and moved toward the rear of the cottage.

  Mason didn’t need to move an inch to know what Claire was doing now. First she would stop at the bathroom to turn on the water for her bath before going to her bedroom to begin undressing. When he’d seen the tightly closed blinds in both her bathroom and bedroom he knew he’d have to resort to other means in order to watch Claire go through her evening routine. He had spent an hour or so concealing tiny video cams in both rooms the week before, allowing him a front row seat to Claire’s bathing ritual.

  Later, after he had retrieved the memory cards and replayed the footage the first time, Mason was in awe. What a turn-on! Claire had a way of removing her clothes that made him feel as though she knew he was watching her. As she slipped off her bra and stared directly at the hidden camera, he saw an ever so slight, coy smile appear on her face. He knew he had probably been imagining that, but it didn’t make any difference. The woman seemed to know exactly what she was doing to him!

  Once she was totally nude she made a major production of slipping into her satin robe, taking her time drawing it together, tying the sash around her slim waist. He could clearly see her nipples, still erect in the cool air, outlined through the sheer fabric. The robe was super short and showed off her gorgeous legs as she left the room.

  With trembling fingers Mason had ejected the card and inserted the bathroom footage. He fast-forwarded the tape until he saw Claire enter the room and watched in anticipation as she sat on the edge of the tub, leaned down and delicately sampled the water with the tip of her finger. There was no sound but he could almost hear her breathing become heavier as she valved in more hot water. Or had that been his own breathing?

  Once the water was at the right temperature, she stood up, removed her robe and placed it on a hook on the bathroom door. She stepped gingerly into the hot, steaming water and eased down her creamy white body. She remained still for several minutes, her eyes closed, simply luxuriating in the comfort of the tub.

  Mason recalled what had happened next and grinned. As Claire commenced to wash her breasts, he had pretended he was right there in that water with her—face-to-face. Her hands had become his own hands as he lathered up the soap and continued to work on those soft, lovely mounds. He closed his eyes as he cupped his hands, dipped them into the water and rinsed her off, feeling her hand inch toward him under the water and take hold of his rock-hard prick. From that moment on, he had let her totally take over the show and lead them both to what could only be described as absolute ecstasy.

  Mason opened his eyes and glanced at the time. Claire would be in her robe by now heading for the bathroom. He would have just enough time to ready himself for the evening’s festivities. A few minutes later he stood up from behind the fence, slipped the ski mask over his head and headed across the lawn toward the front door.

  He placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it. He nudged the door open
with his shoulder, thinking of the irony that in his hand was the key he didn’t need. This woman was either the most trusting chick he’d ever known or she really was expecting him. Although he knew it was the former he liked to think it was the latter.

  He’d worn his Nike Airs and crept silently toward the hall leading to the bathroom. He had rehearsed this moment a dozen times, thrilled that it was finally playing out. This was going to be the best day of his life!

  The bathroom door was closed as expected, a slim shaft of light falling upon the opposite wall. As he drew closer he could hear the sound of water being splashed over Claire’s body. He was right on schedule. Pausing for a moment before grabbing hold of the doorknob, Mason took a deep breath. Then he swung open the door.

  Her scream was deafening in the tiny echo chamber of a bathroom. Claire instinctively covered herself up with her arms crossed, her eyes filled with terror.

  “What are you doing here?” she cried in French.

  “Now, now—calm down, Claire. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Who are you? How do you know my name? What are you doing in my house?”

  “Whoa, let’s slow it down a bit here—one question at a time. First, I’d like you to relax, Claire. As I said, I’m not going to hurt you. So take a deep breath and get a hold of yourself, okay?”

  “You have to be kidding! One moment I’m taking a bath and the next a masked intruder barges into my bathroom. And you expect me to relax?”

  “Yes, I do. You see, Claire, as long as you do as I say, you’re going to be just fine. But if you don’t do as I say, well, let’s just say we’re going to have a problem.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that you had better follow my orders or I can’t promise that I won’t hurt you. Are you getting the idea?”

  Her fear intensified. Mason was loving this.

  “Please don’t harm me!” she begged.

  Mason cast her his most heartfelt smile of reassurance. “You have nothing to worry about, Claire. Because I know you’re going to obey me. Right?”

  “Yes,” she sighed nearly inaudibly. Pure submission. She was all his now.

  “Wonderful. Now the first thing I’d like you to do is quite simple. Just relax there in the tub for a moment while I take a photo. Oh, but you mustn’t cover yourself up like that. Remove your arms so I can see your boobs. Got it?”

  “Why are you doing this?” she objected. “You’re crazy!”

  Mason chuckled. “I may very well be. But I’m also in control of things here, so please do as I say.”

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell phone, keeping his eyes on Claire. When she still refused to move, he accessed the camera app, stood back from the tub a bit and composed his shot.

  “Okay, Claire—let’s see ’em!”

  “What are you going to do to me?” she cried.

  “I’m going to beat the mortal shit out of you if you don’t move your fucking arms—now move them, bitch!”

  She uncrossed her arms, exposing her breasts. Mason smiled and shot a quick burst of shots, the simulated click of the shutter echoing off the bathroom walls.

  “Very good, Claire. I must say you look even better in person than on video. Being this close to the real thing makes all the difference.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “On video?”

  Mason pointed up at the ceiling exhaust fan. “See that? There’s a tiny video camera mounted just inside the grill of that fan. Go ahead and smile—you’re on Candid Camera!”

  A look of absolute disgust came to her face. “You are one sick bastard!”

  Mason, unscathed, stared into her eyes. “Why would you say that, Claire? What could possibly be ‘sick’ about somebody photographing your gorgeous body? You should take it as a compliment! I went to a lot of trouble setting all of this up. But it’s been well worth it. And it hasn’t hurt you one bit, now has it?”

  “You have been in my house before?”

  “Duh—several times, in fact. I know all about you, Claire. You should be impressed that somebody would take such time and trouble just to get to know you. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “How much do you know?”

  “As much as there is to know.”

  “You—you read my diaries?”

  “Yup—wonderful reading, I might add.”

  Claire went into hysterics. “No!” she cried as she suddenly shot up to her feet and started to step out of the tub.

  Mason was on her in a flash.

  “Whoa, honey—where you think you’re going?” he said, taking her by the arm and twisting.

  “Jesus Christ!” she cried, wincing in pain.

  Mason forced her arm behind her back. “Listen here, Claire. If you want to survive this night you had best start getting a handle on the situation right now before I start getting really angry. Understand?”

  She broke into sobs. “Please just leave me alone. I haven’t done anything to you, so why are you doing this?”

  “Because I want to, that’s why. Now, step on out of the tub and I’ll get your robe. As lovely as you look, I don’t want you to catch your death of cold!”

  She nodded submissively as she let him help her out of the tub. Mason removed a towel from the rack.

  “We’ll have to dry you off first,” he said. He began toweling her off and gave her a warning look when she started to object. Then she closed her eyes and allowed him to dry her off without resisting. When he was finished, he took her robe off the hook and gently placed it over her shoulders. She opened her eyes as he tied the sash.

  “See, that wasn’t so bad. Now let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”

  Mason took her by the arm and led her to the kitchen. “How about a glass of wine, Claire? I’ll have a Chardonnay, please.”

  She stared at him, confused, but followed through with his request. She took a glass out of the cupboard and began to pour.

  Mason said, “We need two glasses. Surely you don’t expect me to drink alone.”

  Claire nodded, took out another glass and poured. Mason took one of them and raised it as a toast. “To us.” He smiled.

  Claire forced a smile and took a sip. Mason knew what she was thinking and it made him feel the best he’d felt in years. She actually thought she might come out of this fine after all. And maybe she would. He would just have to see how it went.

  “I’m really not a bad person, Claire. I know you think I am but I can assure you that my intentions are good. You see, I have wanted to meet you ever since I first laid eyes on you. But I’m not very good at awkward introductions and all of that. I’m also in mortal fear of being rejected by beautiful women like yourself. So you see, I do things a bit differently than most men. Does that make any sense?”

  “No it doesn’t, and don’t you think that spying, breaking into their house and busting into their bathroom during a bath is way over the top?”

  “I guess you’re right. But that’s all done now—water under the bridge. Now we’re here together, talking over a glass of wine. We can move forward now.”

  “I’m sorry, but you frighten me. There is no moving forward. So please, why don’t you just leave me alone? I won’t tell anybody about this—I promise! I just want to be left alone.”

  “I see. So you would rather just sit around this place mourning poor Claude and contemplating how miserable your life is instead of putting it all behind you and moving on? Really?”

  “How can you be so cruel? I loved Claude. And now he has passed on. There will never be another man like him in my life. You shouldn’t make a mockery of that.”

  “Let’s get real, Claire. You need somebody like me to set you free from all of this bullshit. Forget your lousy past! Today is the first day of the rest of your life! I can make you feel better—you’ll see.”

  “I’m sorry, but that isn’t possible.”

  “And why would you say that? You don’t know.”

  “Oh yes, I kno
w. I don’t want to be with you. I just need time alone.”

  “You’re not being very open-minded, Claire. We’ve only just met and the night is still young.”

  Mason started to kiss her—she turned away.

  “That’s not going to cut it, Claire. You’re going to let me kiss you and you’re going to love it!”

  He grabbed her head, forced her to face him and kissed her hard. She tried to pull away, so he grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently.

  “Listen, bitch! You seem to have forgotten who’s in control here. It isn’t you. So you’d better shape up now, or you’re going to regret it. You got it?”

  “No!” she cried. She managed to break away from his grasp and started to bolt.

  “You aren’t going anywhere!” he shouted, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her toward him. He spun her around and slapped her hard on the cheek.

  “Now look what you’ve done!” he shrieked. “You’ve gotten me all pissed off! Now you’re going to pay!”

  Mason took her by the arm and forced her over to the stove. He backed her up against it, took hold of her robe and tore it off in a single swift motion. Tossing it across the room, he grabbed Claire’s arms and pinned them back against the stove. Eying her breasts, he started kissing them, daring her to resist. The woman was so frightened now she was like putty in his hands.

  “God, these are sweet,” he moaned, engulfing a nipple with his mouth. He continued fondling and sucking for several moments, then stopped and faced her.

  “Turn around,” he ordered. “Put your hands on the stove, palms down.”

  She didn’t move quickly enough so he spun her around.

  “Take hold of the stove and spread your legs—wide.”

  Claire grasped the stove but kept her legs clamped together.

  “Okay, I’ll spread ’em for you!” Mason cried, placing his hands in between her legs and splaying them.

  “You are gonna love this!” he said, pressing his groin against her and taking hold of her breasts from behind. He fondled her breasts and kept grinding against her backside for several moments. Claire stood still, waiting for the inevitable to happen, bracing herself.