‘Mrs. Franklin’s been a bad girl,’ he sneered. The Killer took a deep breath and began to lay out the grainy pictures of Mrs. Franklin and her l...ver in various compromising positions. He went through this ritual every once in awhile to ensure he could go through with it all, to make her pay. The ritual was the Killer’s moral compass, reminding him what he had to do. He took in a deep breath and exhaled. He stood up and put on his suit. He took extra care to ensure that he hadn’t missed a spot. Perhaps Miss Hancock could find a placement for him with someone who owned a flower shop, he pondered wistfully. He knew that he’d always be a bum-fucked sissy bimbo, but he’d like to do something with flowers in his spare time. He was so preoccupied he didn’t hear Jennifer coming along the landing in her rubber soled ‘catch-em-with-their-pants-down’ shoes, but she noticed at once how the satin sheen of his bare thighs slipped into the soft and slightly plumped out swell concealed in the peep. More

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