Scott Wittenburg - The May Day Murders

Stanley unzipped the nylon backpack, took out a powerful telescope and set it aside. He removed the tripod, extended its legs, positioned it on the roof and secured the telescope to it. Peering through the eyepiece, he deliberately swung the telescope around and downward until Sara’s apartment building came into view. He carefully panned from side to side until he had a bead on her well-lit living room window. After fine-tuning the focusing knob, Stanley smiled to himself when he saw the crystal clear image come into view.

Sara Hunt was doing her nightly aerobic exercises and apparently felt secure in the fact that no one could possible be watching-she was wearing nothing but her panties. Stanley felt his pulse quicken and his mouth salivate as he stared at her gorgeous body, reveling in the notion that she was performing For His Eyes Only. At the moment, Sara was standing a few feet from the window, her left side facing toward him, her arms extended straight up into the air. Stanley observed her as she did twenty-five reps of this exercise then stopped and turned to face the window.

Sara paused for a few moments and merely stood there motionless, as if awaiting a cue of some kind. Then she suddenly began a totally different exercise. Stanley surmised that she was exercising to music and that she had just paused to wait for the beginning of the next song. As Stanley watched Sara grind her hips from side to side, his breath came in gasps. Her copious breasts were heaving and undulating to the rhythm of the music that he was unable to hear, yet could almost feel. He was all but certain that it was the Rolling Stones she was grinding to-most likely one of their more danceable tunes… Honky Tonk Woman, perhaps?

He had discovered that Sara Hunt was quite possibly the most devoted Stones fan still living judging by the extensive collection of their CDs and vinyl LP’s she had in her possession. He had never seen so many records by any one artist before in a single collective bunch, short of those found in a record store.

But Sara’s love for the Stones was just one of many things Stanley had learned about her as a result of his surveillance over the past couple of weeks. He knew that she was an actress, but not a very successful one, and that acting was by far the most important thing in her life. Her apartment was littered with dozens of copies of Backstage, The Village Voice, and other publications advertising casting calls and screen tests in the NYC theater forum, and when she wasn’t waiting tables at a Greek diner in the Village, Sara was auditioning for parts in every conceivable type of acting job available: soaps, films, commercials, Broadway and off-Broadway productions-even the occasional porno film, he had been surprised to discover. Stanley still couldn’t forget his absolute shock at finding a suspicious looking videocassette entitled Josie Loves Dick stuffed behind a stack of old magazines on a back shelf. His curiosity aroused, he had taken the time to play a quick run-through of the film on Sara’s VCR and sure enough, there was Ms. Sara Hunt portraying the gifted Josie Jobber sucking some big old stud’s prick! Watching her perform her artistry on the man had done nothing but disgust Stanley and only bolstered his desire to kill the slut all that much more.

He had wondered what Sara’s parents back in Pennsylvania would have thought of their daughter’s stellar performance when he suddenly come across several dozen letters, all unopened and apparently from her parents. Stanley had decided (perhaps without thinking, he had to admit now) to risk opening up one of the letters and reading it. The letter had been from her father, begging her to forgive him for all of the pain and suffering he’d caused her as a child. He had gone on to tell her that he’d only done what he had done to her because he loved her and begged her to please come home and give him a second chance. Stanley had read the rest of the letter and it didn’t take a genius to figure out by reading between the lines that not only had her father sexually abused Sara but that he was in fact the very reason she was in NYC now acting out other people’s lives in an effort to try and forget her own fucked up past as an abused child.

Stanley had also learned that Sara Hunt was very methodical and faithfully kept a journal of her everyday activities, which she logged into each night before she went to bed. He had quickly skimmed through it and learned that she had recently broken up with her boyfriend and that she now felt “lonely and directionless.” His name was Jonathan Baker and Stanley had later found a photograph of Jon-boy in her photo album. On the back of the picture Sara had written: Jonathan, before he shaved off his beard. I miss that beautiful beard!

Based on what he’d learned in the process of investigating her apartment, Stanley had eventually come to a conclusion: Sara Hunt was a mess. She was insecure, naive, and lonely, had had a terrible childhood full of abuse, and was probably about as vulnerable now as she had ever been in her life since having recently lost her boyfriend of the last three years. Stanley was glad for all of this-the bitch certainly fucking deserved it.

As much as Stanley despised Sara Hunt (and everything that she stood for) he had to admit that she still had one beautiful fucking body. He felt the almost overwhelming urge to masturbate right now as he watched her half nude body gyrating to the music he couldn’t hear. The expression on her face was intense and provocative as she lip-synced the lyrics to whatever song she was grooving to. His hand went down to his crotch for a brief moment and he could feel his rock-hard erection pulsating with the nagging need for release. But he suddenly took his hand away with resigned determination. Tomorrow, Stanley thought, he would have the real thing. He would slice that bitch from both sides and have her screaming for more…

Perspiration had formed on his brow as he continued peering at Sara through the telescope. She was really getting into it now, her hands cupping her luscious tits and her eyes closed tight in ecstasy. He could almost sense that she knew he was watching her and that she was regretful for having ever double-crossed Stanley Jenkins all those years ago at high school. She wanted to make it up to him now by giving him something that would really please him and hopefully make him forget how angry he was with her. She was treating him to his own little private audition and she was going to make it one of her most unforgettable performances yet…

Sara suddenly stopped and froze for a moment. Stanley could tell by the annoyed expression on her face that something had distracted her, possibly the ringing of her telephone. He watched as she turned and headed toward the door, just visible at the far end of the living room. She stood by the door for a moment as if listening to what someone on the other side was saying then suddenly shrugged her shoulders. She said something then moved out of Stanley’s sight. When she returned a moment later and resumed her exercises, it was only for a minute for so. Sara then left the room in a huff.

It started registering with Stanley what may have just happened. A neighbor had knocked on her door and complained about the music so Sara had turned it down before resuming her aerobics. But the lower volume evidently wasn’t to her liking so she had decided to give it up for the night.

Stanley continued peering through the telescope until he saw Sara reappear several moments later. She was carrying a glass of water as she made her way across the living room. She flipped off the light switch before continuing toward the other side of her apartment. This would be her bedroom, Stanley knew, and both of her bedroom windows unfortunately faced the front of the building, out of Stanley’s field of view.