This said, here comes the explanation, and an apology. Skip this if you only want to read the story.
When I started this blog, I had planned to write 24 flash fiction works inspired by sentences from one of my favourite books. I came as far as 16 before work and life in general got the better of me. If you were enjoying the project, I am very sorry to have disappointed you so. I haven't given up on it yet.
This post does not belong to the original project, though. It's for a flash fiction challenge of Chuck Wendig. He gave us lists of subgenres, elements to include and themes from which to choose any combination and write a 1000-word story. I chose the following:
Element to Include: Serial Killer
Theme/Motif/Conflict: On the Run
Fine, here we go; 988 words and not enough room for sex.
He was Chris Parker at the moment, an unemployed engineer in his early thirties, travelling the country in order to find a job. It was an easy enough role to play, as he had a talent for technics and had used the character before. The motel he had chosen for the night was cheap, but in an acceptable state - clean and insulated from the Autumn chill and the rain. It even had a small bar, where he sat over a beer when she came in and sat down two stools away from him.
Chris watched her out of the corner of his eye. Her light-brown hair was in a fuzzy bun high on her head, exposing the soft skin of her neck. She only wore a low-cut knitted sweater, so he assumed that she'd come from inside the motel. She still had heavy boots on, though, partly hidden beneath her comfy jeans. He'd estimate her age to be between 23 and 28.
"One Rum'n'Coke, please," she said to the barman.
"I'll pay that, if you don't mind," added Chris and smiled at her.
She smiled back at him and nodded.
Her name was Julia, and she was a sales rep working the area. Chris hadn't asked what it was she sold and she hadn't elaborated. After two drinks they'd left the bar together, agreeing to keep each other company in Chris' room, to alleviate the dark pressure of a stormy night in an impersonal motel.
Their first kiss was hesitant - they weren't drunk enough to pretend not to know what was going on, so they were careful. Chris allowed his fingertips to caress her neck as Julia leaned against him. She responded by opening her lips a fraction to make way for her tongue. His lips parted to welcome her, and before he knew what was happening she had pushed him against a wall and was kissing him fiercely.
Chris enjoyed her owning him for a moment. Knowing from experience that, as a man, it's not advisable to make a similar move on a woman you just met, he took her behaviour as signal to let got of any reserve. His hands found their way underneath her sweater with ease to discover that there was nothing beneath it but warm skin and a bra. He opened the latter expertly before moving one hand up to grasp her neck and pull her lips away from his.
Julia gasped for air as he held her there, his eyes fixed on hers. Then his other hand moved around her and between them to take hold of one of her breasts. She groaned as he squeezed, and Chris bent forward to press his lips upon her throat. He could feel her pulse quickening through the thin skin. A moment later, her hands were unzipping his pants.
Chris grinned to himself and pushed her towards the bed. She sat down, smiling up at him as she removed his trousers and shorts. He pulled the sweater over her head and Julia shook the bra from her shoulders, exposing firm breasts with erect nipples. Then she took his hands and let herself fall back, dragging him with her.
Their lips locked while her hands travelled over his back, pulling up his shirt; a short break of contact later he was naked on top of her. Julia wrapped her legs around him as their bodies pressed against each other, and Chris allowed himself to relax and fall into her warmth. He was surprised, therefore, when he suddenly felt the cold pressure of a knife against his neck.
He froze, his mind racing. The knife must have been in one of her boots, that much was obvious, but the knowledge didn't help him now. He wasn't on the run for nothing, though, and wouldn't be as successful with it if it weren't for his reflexes. Without stopping to think he pushed the arm with the knife away from his neck, at the same time rolling off Julia to the other side. Chris had one of his own knives hidden between the mattress and the elevated foot end, for which he now reached, just in time before Julia was on top of him.
They had reached stalemate, both with a knife against the throat of the other. Time to calm down.
"You're damn good," he panted.
"I could say the same about you." Julia was also breathing heavily, and Chris' knife accidentally drew a blood-red line across her skin. She looked down. "It seems I can also safely state that you seem to enjoy this surprising change of action."
Chris didn't even blush. "That you're threatening me with a knife doesn't make you any less hot; on the contrary. But, tell me, what are we going to do now? I usually don't kill women. They are too precious." He reached up with his free hand to cup one of her breasts. Julia flashed him a warning look, but didn't hold him off.
"I usually kill men who like one-night stands instead of sleeping with them."
He considered this and then said: "I understand that. I only kill men who treat women badly, myself. Seems we're in a similar line of business."
"Really, now? So we shouldn't kill each other?"
"But this is still a one-night stand, right?"
Chris tried to shrug. "Relationships are hard to maintain on the run."
Julia hesitated, then retreated slowly, the knife pointing at Chris until she was standing upright. Watching him intently, she let the knife slip from her fingers and undressed. With a smirk, Chris let his knife fall to the floor at the other side of the bed, his eyes never leaving her.
"Maybe we can change that," she suggested. "I have to warn you, though. If you're gone in the morning, I will hunt you down."
He sat up and pulled her towards him. "Try me."