Bone: A Dark Billionaire Romance (With bonus book Exhibit!) (3 page)

I tell them that Yalzut killed himself in a prison cell while awaiting conviction, although it is unsure even to this day, how he managed to get hold of the means to do so.

I like Yalzut. I mean, what he did was obviously despicable, but as a character, and the style in which he went about his work, and from a purely psychological point of view, he is fascinating. I could go on for hours about his methods, about his vision and why he did what he did, but Jasper is looking at me with hungry eyes, and the Japanese tourists are beginning to look a little restless, now they've taken photos of almost everything they have around them and there isn't much left to photograph. I smile.

"That's it", I say reluctantly, desperate to continue talking, but aware I probably shouldn’t. "I hope you've enjoyed it. Does anyone have any questions?"

I think the guy that looks like a serial killer in waiting is about to ask a question, but what he does instead is take a cigarette out of the packet he removes from his top pocket, light it deliberately, turn away without giving me so much as a thank you and walk back up the street.

The Japanese couple look at each other briefly, look to Jasper and then over to me.

"Finish?" the woman asks in strong, accented English.

"It's finished", I say. "If you'd like to leave a tip-?"

I don't even need to finish the sentence before the man has taken out his wallet, fished around inside and pulled out a fifty dollar note. My eyes go wide when I see it, but I try not to let on.

"Very good, thank you", he says, and hands it over.

An orchestra of bowing, hand pressing, smiling and one last photo follows, before they rush hurriedly back out to the street and off towards some other appointment or goal.

When I look up, the hottie is leaning casually against the wall with his arms folded, smiling at me. His look is so smoldering it's making my panties melt. For a second my mind is blank, and then when I do go to speak, I trip over my words. Out of the corner of my eye I see Jasper giggling away to himself, and it makes me even more flustered.

I don't know how this guy has done it, but I feel completely incapacitated. Incapacitated and super turned on. Suited and booted isn't really my style, but it's more about the look he has in his eye than the way he's dressed. Instantly, I can tell he's one of me. Either that, or I'm about to be arrested by the sexiest IRS agent in the world for operating without a license. Thankfully, with my inability to speak, he begins to fill in the gaps.

"You know your stuff", he says. "Not many people know much about Yalzut, which is a shame, because he's a real artist. I'm Christopher by the way, Christopher Alexander."

He extends his hand and I take it. Finally words come back to me.

"I'm Maude", I say, losing myself in his eyes, and holding on to his hand for a little longer than perhaps I should.

Jasper coughs. When I look at him, he's holding my umbrella out and smiling, his head tilted ironically.

"And this is Jasper", I say. "My faithful assistant."

"Pleased to me you", Christopher says, his eyes going to Jasper briefly, and then coming back to me at full pelt, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

"How long have you been doing the tour?"

"This is the third week", I say. "I'm hoping it's going to get more popular."

"I wouldn't have guessed", Christopher says, "you seem like a natural to me."

"It's kind of my field", I say.

"Ah ok, are you a criminologist?" Christopher asks.

I have to giggle a little at that, and it makes Christopher smile too. Perfect teeth, full lips, this guy is something else. "No, I just mean. I've got a bit of an obsession, that's all. Maybe it's a little unhealthy."

Christopher regards me for a moment. I can't tell what he's thinking, but the look he gives me is raw, animalistic sexuality. Like he either wants to fuck me, eat me or kill me, and perhaps all three. The thing is, even though I should probably feel intimidated by that, it just turns me on even more. Maybe I am sick.

"Tell me", Christopher says, a mischievous glint in his eye. "What do you know about Bone?"

T
his girl is incredible. Young, attractive, knowledgeable, enthusiastic, passionate and full of raw energy. Just listening to her speak about these things sends shivers up and down my spine. We've decamped to a cafe to talk about my proposal. I'm utterly convinced she's the one I need to run this thing, so it's just a matter of getting her on board. I have to be careful not to scare her off, but to be honest, I think it might take something quite strong to do that.

"The thing I love about Bone", Maude says, the sugar from the pastry square still glistening on her lips, and matching the sparkle in her eyes, "Is that he hasn't finished yet."

"What makes you say that?" I ask her.

Maude leans in towards me, as though what she might be about to say could be dangerous in the hands of the wrong people. "He's taken a different bone from every one of his victims, right?"

"Ok", I agree.

"If his goal is a full skeleton, something no-one else has ever even tried before, he's got some way to go."

"There are two hundred and six bones in the human body", I say, "that's ambitious even for a master like Bone."

Maude gives Jasper a look for slurping too loudly on his drink, and he takes the hint. He apologizes quietly, before removing himself from the booth entirely, and entertaining himself at the arcade machine in the corner.

"I still reckon that's what he's got planned", Maude says, as though she's the first one to come up with the theory.

"It's going to be hard when they execute him", I say, just to see her reaction.

"Garimund Bartner?" she says. "Please. You and I both know he's not the one responsible. Garimund fits the profile, but he's not clever enough to do what Bone has done."

"How do you explain the absence of victims then? Nothing since 2013."

"Either Bone's changed the way he does things, or he's waiting for the right moment."

"Every single one of his victims has been found so far. He doesn't hide them. It's part of his game. Every single one has been killed in the same way, and every single one has been a woman, a virgin, and under the age of twenty five. He is as methodical as the best of them, that's what makes him so interesting."

"Then he's biding his time."

I nod. "Maybe he is."

There is a moment of silence that passes between us. I already know without needing to ask her. She's a virgin. She blushed when I said it, and looked down towards the table. With this type of girl there is absolutely no doubt.

"You said you have a job offer", Maude says, returning to the reason I've brought her here.

"I do", I say. "I've been fascinated by Bone for all of my life. I've been fascinated by the macabre, the dark and the obscure, but as far as I'm concerned, Bone makes everyone else pale in comparison. The guy is a master at what he does. He's a sick bastard, let's make no mistake about that, but he's a true master. Twenty seven bodies discovered so far, twenty seven bones taken."

I raise my left hand and wave to Maude. "That's the left hand entirely he's made up."

"Just another one hundred and ninety nine to go", Maude says with a smile, and I can feel my cock tingle, the head begin to swell and gently press against the cotton of my boxer shorts.

"He's from Brooklyn too", I say. "That makes him important for the city of New York and for The States as a whole. There is no one else like him, anywhere in the world."

"I've got to agree with you on that one. Lots of serial killers kill virgins, but none of them do it in the way Bone does. None of them do it with such care, reverence or delicate, discerning perfection. The torture, the removal of the necessary bone and the resulting mortal wound is all performed with the precision of a world class conductor guiding the Philharmonic orchestra to a career best production."

"Some of them are tortured for days, and there are never any signs of forced entry or non consensual sex. And then when he's ready, he cuts the axillary artery and the victim bleeds to death in less than a minute."

"After which he washes them, dresses them, poses them either on the bed or sat in a chair so they can be found, and then moves onto the next."

We could be talking about a renaissance artist or a world class mathematician.

"Except Catherine Jameson was the last."

"Until he begins again."

I pause to take a sip of my drink. "There are twenty seven victims and twenty seven houses all over Brooklyn", I say. "I own them all."

"Wait, what?" Maude says.

"I bought them", I continue. "I've been buying them since they came onto the market. Sometimes even before that."

"Why?"

For the first time in our conversation, Maude looks a little nervous.

"Because I have an obsession", I say, careful not to trip over my words. "Have you ever heard of interactive tours?"

"Do you mean sort of like the stuff they do in the city in fancy dress?" Maude guesses.

"Yes, kind of like that, but much, much better." I say. "Imagine every single one of Bone's murders, reconstructed for a paying audience. Imagine standing so close you can smell the flesh rotting. Imagine blood squirting out of an artery and covering your shirt. Imagine being able to touch the victim as the life runs out of her."

My cock is rock hard now, throbbing away and demanding to be seen to. Maude shifts uncomfortably in her seat. I can tell she's excited too, but perhaps not comfortable enough to show it.

"That sounds-", she begins, searching for the right words. A big smile covers her face, while her cheeks flush red. "Incredible", she finally says. "But how would it work?"

"Come with me", I say, and I'll show you."

J
asper tells me to be careful. What the fuck have I got to be careful about? I think he's just jealous I've found someone who's not only interested in giving me a job, but seems to be interested in me, me.

We connect, even if it's over serial killers and dark crazy shit that some people would prefer to pretend doesn't exist. Well guess what, the world isn't made up of balloons and fluffy bunny rabbits, it's made up of rape, murder and a whole spectrum of dark shit in between, and if it wasn't, it'd be as dull as Coney Island rock candy.

For the first time in my life, I've found someone I click with. I've found someone that possibly knows more than I do about some of the most prolific serial killers in American history, and that turns me on more than I can even describe.

I've just spent the last hour basically squirming in my seat, my panties on fire and my pussy tingling so much I nearly had to excuse myself on several occasions, to go to the bathroom and sort myself out. I know I'm still wet too. I know it'll probably take me less than a minute to come when I finally get the chance to do so, and with any luck, if this goes the way I'm beginning to want it to, I might not have to do it alone.

Apart from that, I'm super-fucking excited. I'm going to go inside one of the houses Bone killed a victim in. Not only that, he's taking me to the very first place it started, the home of his first victim, seven years ago, french exchange student Maria Laurent.

I think Christopher is loaded. Alright, not many people can buy twenty seven houses, even if they were going cheap because of the murders, but this car has bullet proof glass, tinted windows, leather upholstery, a drinks cabinet and a built in chauffeur.

We haven't talked salary yet, but whatever it is, there is no way that I'm going to decline. A guided tour of all of the murder locations of one of New York's most important serial killers? I'd sign up for the tour even if he didn't want me to give it. Fuck, I'd probably do it for free.

I know the house, even before we pull up to it. I've been outside here before, a number of times. I'd put this on my own tour list if it was in the center. I can tell you the position of the body, the time she was found, the number of lacerations she had on her wrists and the quantity of semen that was found in both her vagina and her anus. I can even tell you what she was wearing, the pose he put her in and the contents of her stomach.

"Distal phalange, index finger of left hand", I say as we pull up.

"Very good", Christopher notes.

The house is a mid row brownstone typical of this area. There is nothing that distinguishes it from the houses on the other side, apart from a slightly faded red front door.

"What else?" Christopher asks, the key poised, ready to slide into the lock.

My heart is beating. I don't know why, but it's beating so hard I can hardly breathe. Our arms are touching and I don't want to pull mine away. I can almost feel his skin buzzing.

"Vaginal and anal intercourse", I say, my voice almost a whisper. "Multiple times."

Christopher smiles, his eyes lighting up. "Very good", he says, the key going into the lock. "What else?"

I watch him pause before he turns it. "She was tied to the bed when he killed her, after which he lay her out on her back, her arms crossed together up by her neck, like this."

I demonstrate the action for him, while the door clicks open, a chink of darkness momentarily obscuring the apartment beyond. There are murmured voices. Something that sounds like groans.

Before he pushes the door open further, he turns to me.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Yes", I nod.

"What was unique about Maria?" Christopher asks. "What was different with her than any of the other girls?"

The question throws me a little. Bone is a consistent, methodical killer, there is very little that sets apart each of his works of art. I'm embarrassed I don't know, and I can feel myself going red because of it. I shake my head, ashamed I'm not able to answer him.

Christopher pushes the door, and the muffled gasps get even louder.

"Come on", he says. "I'll show you."

I
don't know what I expect to see. A theatrical performance is difficult to misinterpret, but a theatrical performance depicting a sadistic murder, that's another thing entirely. We climb the stairs, Christopher in front of me. Perhaps for reasons of authenticity, he leaves the lights off, which makes it hard for me to see much else but shadows moving in the darkness. When we get to the bedroom door, the muffled gasps are now full-on moans. Without even opening the door, I know they are fucking.