The wind blew a few strands of hair back from his brow as he watched the house. She had come home maybe a half an hour ago, and he had crept closer to be able to see into the windows. Now he was between a hedge and the outside wall of the house, watching her as she moved about the house. Finally, she began her ritual bath routine. Now was his chance.

He went to the front door, but found it locked. It wasn't unexpected, though, because he had been dropping subtle hints to her for almost a week now. A rose on the hood of her car. A bottle of perfume on her dresser. He had probably spooked her a little.

Taking the locked dorr in stride, he picked up the flower pot to which she had moved the spare key, and fished the house key out. Silly girl. Quickly and quietly, he slipped it into the lock and turned the bolt. The door opened inward without a sound, and he slipped inside, just as silently.

Once inside, he could hear the water running faintly down the hallway. He shifted the weight of the rope on his shoulder as he moved down the hallway, past the sound of the water, and into her bedroom. Glancing around, he made his way to her closet, where he ran his fingertips over the soft fabrics she wore about her body.

Suddenly, he realized the sound of water had abruptly stopped. He darted behind her bedroom door, knowing that she would be coming out of the shower and into her room at any moment. But, oh, that moment was pure agony. Anticipation coursed through him.

He heard the bathroom door open. (Agony) The robe she had sheathed her moist, nude body in. (deargodtheAGONY!) Her soft footfalls coming toward him. (Panting anticipation) And then the quick glimpse of her through the crack between the door and its frame. (Angelic!)

She moved toward the closet, hidden from his view. He closed his eyes imagining her movements. Slowly, he pushed the door away from him, closing it.

Shedding her robe, she didn't catch the movement in her peripheral vision, but just before it closed, it creaked a little. She turned, just in time to have a hand clamped over her mouth, and shoved against the wall. He forced himself between her thighs as he pinned her between his frame and the wall.

And then he was inside her, the dampness from the shower easing the friction. She squirmed and moaned against his hand, but he was unrelenting. Every time she moved to get away, he forced her head backward against the wall and bent thrust harder.

Eventually, it was over and he gently slid her to the floor. Poor thing didn't even realize where she was anymore, probably. Maybe it was just as well...

He slipped the rope from his shoulder, and began to bind her hands and feet, effectively hog-tying her. The world was a blur to her as he carried her through the house, still nude, and outside. He opened the side door to the van he had rented and parked down the road a bit, and laid her on the plush rug he had placed inside.

Neither were ever seen again.

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Burn, bitch, burn.