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She stepped deeper and deeper until the water line was just below her ass. She slowly dipped down then stood up gasping then back down, doing this several times before she was able to sink down until her breasts began to float on the surface. She cupped the gurgling water in her hands and held it up drizzling it over her head and down her neck, the water pulling the heat from her hair and a slow steam raised from her scalp. She lolled in the water for nearly twenty minutes until she felt her skin pruning and had finally cooled off enough. She stood and stepped to the shore giving her head a shake the wet locks spraying water in all directions. Then she stepped toward the bush where she had placed her clothes and a gasp caught in her throat, they were gone. She looked around and under then at the other bushes and quickly realized that they were nowhere to be found. She leaned up and as if it finally dawned on her, her eyes grew wide and she quickly shot one hand down to cover her. ‘Yeah! Something like that!’ We finally reached the counter. I pushed her a bit on the side and ordered. ‘Two Cappuccinos, one with one sugar and the other with two sugars.’ I turned toward Martha and said not very loud, ‘Stalking has its advantages. You ordered that the other day.’ We kept silent while the coffees were made. A few minutes later, we parted. She left for her office but after a few seconds she gave me a last look over her shoulder. I was still looking at her going away. I waved at her, she smiled, and she walked away. An hour later, I was in my van. I’ve followed all her moves since the death of Nelson. Work, home, work, home! She followed the same routine, day after day. She didn’t have a chance to meet a lover. I am not that familiar with serial killers, but there must be a period where they have no need to kill right after a fresh kill. I think she is ripe. I called her. ‘Hello, Martha Cicerone speaking.’ ‘Martha, it’s Allan Smith. I’m bored. I am in dire need of.
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