I love singing while I work. Actually, I love to sing as I do anything. If that wasn’t a sign that I had been meant for the life I live, I don’t think anything would be. I smiled to myself. It’s the little things that can make me happy on any particular day. Of course today was different, today was Valentine’s Day. And even if I was single at the age of twenty two, I do have a career so many dream of. I have four friends who were like family to me, who share my dream. (Okay, one is my cousin, but you get the picture.)
And besides, I wasn’t completely alone on this Valentine’s, while the others were out with their dates. My smile grew.
O is for the only one I see…
I looked at her, the perfect way her strawberry-gold hair fell on her shoulders in soft ringlets, the softness of her lips, the peaches and cream complexion. Also, her cup size looked to be at least a C cup. Nothing fake looking, she was au-natural.
I’m a breast man, what can I say?
I really do love this song. I love all music actually. I find myself inspired by many things. Nat King Cole is just among the many legends on that list. I smiled down at my date. Her eyes were closed then. Her neck was a little off, so I adjusted it accordingly. There, now she could be sleeping. I wonder if she was dreaming. Is that what you do when you die? I know what the bible says by heart, but maybe it’s just a never-ending dream.
I’d like to think so.
V is very, very extraordinary…
I held my instrument of choice carefully as I slid down the blouse she’d been wearing. It seemed to be a crime to mar the perfectness of her swelling bosom. I squeezed one with my free hand, enjoying the soft tenderness of it. I sighed as I slid the blade into her flawless skin. It was all routine now really. It was a need I had, a craving I had to fulfill. We all have them, don’t we? This one had been a fan, I promised to show her a good time.
I intended to keep that promise.
E is even more than anyone that you can adore…
I treated her like a princess until the time came. I even made sure that we had a room just for us. Checked out under her name of course. Now was the time for the work to be done. I’m sure now, in whatever afterlife there turns out to be, she’ll forgive me. She’ll understand. The work was messy and quickly stained the front of her blouse as well as the floor. Crimson red.
One of the colors of love.
It took time of course, but eventually I was rewarded. I had the now still heart within my hands. The blood dripped slowly from my hands as I squished the once living flesh. Hearts are amazing things. I know that people say emotions are in the head rather than the heart. I’m an old fashioned southern boy, and I still say the heart controls that more than people may think. As with all my previous loves, I place her precious gift inside the jar I had ready at my side filled with formaldehyde. I have to preserve them of course. Tonight’s love, she was number fourteen. It was fitting with the date. She was more special than the others. I screwed the lid on tight and stood, brushing myself off and drying off the blood from my hands. I’d need to change into my spare clothes before leaving of course. Sadness filled my own fragile heart.
The night had come to an end.
I began to clean the mess I’d made. I gave another smile to my love on the floor. She had been the best yet. Tomorrow would come and once again I would be Brian Littrell, the wholesome Backstreet Boy. Until I meet another girl who managed to capture my heart. Then, we could begin again, and I can capture hers in a different and special way.
Love was made for me and you…