Pick of the Litter

Our writing exercise this week was for the narrator to be a spectator to the story. I'm not sure I got it exactly right, but here's my take:

Sometimes, I watch them and I just know they’ll be mine. Other times, they still surprise me. It’s rare, mind you, but when it happens, I can hardly contain my frustration. After all, I picked them for a specific reason, because they have that special something I’m looking for, so when it doesn’t work out I have to start over from scratch. I hate wasting my time like that.

Take Carly, for instance. I thought she was perfect. I’ve been watching her for weeks. I picked her because she has that certain something, an elegance about her, that I find appealing in any woman. The only problem is that I’m starting to think it’s all a facade.  

When she thinks no one is looking, Carly can be downright crude. I so hate crudeness in a woman. I’m going to have to watch and think on this a little longer. Thankfully, I have Tara to satisfy my needs in the meantime. 

Sweet Tara. Well, she wasn’t so sweet when she first woke up, but I’ll forgive her for her lapse into the vulgar. It would be a shock to wake up in a strange room with all your clothes removed and a clown bending over you.

Still, she kept her dignity for the most part, and she never, ever acted like a slut the way Carly does. No, Tara definitely has that special something. 

Once she calmed down, Tara was a delight to watch. She tentatively reached out to the clown to see if he was real or not, which I thought showed great courage. After assuring herself the clown was only a prop, Tara searched the room for an escape route. That part is always fun to watch. I never know exactly how they’ll search or how long it will take before they give up, but the end result is always the same. The utter hopelessness that washes over them when they realize there is no way out is delicious.

When the tears stopped, Tara got mad. I love it when they get mad. The pounding on the door, scratching at the walls and screaming just heighten my desire. It’s almost time.

She’s finally settled down and is back sitting on the bed. Now I can release the gas. I would love to just lower myself through the ceiling opening and appear while they are awake, but that isn’t feasible. I don’t believe any of the women could overpower me, but you never know what can happen when adrenaline takes over. Yes, better safe than sorry I always say, which is why I use the gas to knock them out before I enter the room. 

Here goes nothing.

That’s a girl, lay down and sleep, daddy will be there soon…