On a Wednesday night another girl, who I meet at M.K. and Iplan to torture and ɹlm. This one remains nameless to me andshe sits on the couch in the living room of my apartment. A bottleof champagne, Cristal, half empty, sits on the glass table. I punchin tunes, numbers that light up the Wurlitzer. She ɹnally asks,"What's that ... smell in here?" and I answer, under my breath,"A dead ... rat," and then I'm opening the windows, the slidingglass door that leads out to the terrace, even though it's a chillynight, mid-autumn, and she's dressed scantily, but she hasanother glass of the Cristal and it seems to warm her enough sothat she is able to ask me what I do for a living. I tell her that Iwent to Harvard then started working on Wall Street, at Pierce &Pierce, after I graduated from business school there, and whenshe asks, either confused or jokingly, "What's that?" I swallowand with my back to her, straightening the new Onica, ɹnd thestrength to force out, "A ... shoe store." I did a line of cocaine Ifound in my medicine cabinet when we ɹrst came back to myplace, and the Cristal takes the edge oʃ it, but only slightly. ThePatty Winters Show this morning was about a machine that letspeople talk to the dead. This girl is wearing a wool baratheajacket and skirt, a silk georgette blouse, agate and ivory earringsby Stephen Dweck, a silk jacquard torsolette vest, all from ...where? Charivari, I'm guessing.In the bedroom she's naked and oiled and sucking my dick andI'm standing over her and then I'm slapping her in the face withit, grabbing her hair with my hand, calling her a "fucking whorebitch," and this turns her on even more and while lamely suckingmy cock she starts ɹngering her clit and when she's asking me"Do you like this?" while licking at the balls, I'm answering "yup,yup" and breathing hard. Her breasts are high and full and ɹrm,both nipples very stiʃ, and while she's choking on my cock whileI'm fucking her mouth roughly with it, I reach down to squeezethem and then while I'm fucking her, after ramming a dildo upher ass and keeping it there with a strap, I'm scratching at hertits, until she warns me to stop. Earlier in the evening I washaving dinner with Jeanette at a new Northern Italian restaurantnear Central Park on the Upper East Side that was very expensive.Earlier in the evening I was wearing a suit tailored by EdwardSexton and thinking sadly about my family's house in Newport.Earlier in the night after dropping Jeanette oʃ I stopped at M.K.for a fund-raiser that had something to do with Dan Quayle, whoeven I don't like. At M.K. the girl I'm fucking came on to me,hard, upstairs on a couch while I was waiting to play pool. "Ohgod," she's saying. Excited, I slap her, then lightly punch her inthe mouth, then kiss it, biting her lips. Fear, dread, confusionoverwhelm her. The strap breaks and the dildo slides out of herass while she tries to push me oʃ. I roll away and pretend to lether escape and then, while she's gathering her clothes, mutteringabout what a "crazy fucking bastard" I am, I leap out at her,jackal-like, literally foaming at the mouth. She cries, apologizing,sobbing hysterically, begging for me not to hurt her, in tears,covering her breasts, now shamefully. But even her sobs fail toarouse me. I feel little gratiɹcation when I Mace her, less when Iknock her head against the wall four or ɹve times, until she losesconsciousness, leaving a small stain, hair stuck to it. After shedrops to the ɻoor I head for the bathroom and cut another line ofthe mediocre coke I scored at Nell's or Au Bar the other night. Ican hear a phone ringing, an answering machine picking up thecall. I'm bent low, over a mirror, ignoring the message, not evenbothering to screen it.Later, predictably, she's tied to the ɻoor, naked, on her back,both feet, both hands, tied to makeshift posts that are connectedto boards which are weighted down with metal. The hands areshot full of nails and her legs are spread as wide as possible. Apillow props her ass up and cheese, Brie, has been smeared acrossher open cunt, some of it even pushed up into the vaginal cavity.She's barely gained consciousness and when she sees me,standing over her, naked, I can imagine that my virtual absenceof humanity ɹlls her with mind-bending horror. I've situated thebody in front of the new Toshiba television set and in the VCR isan old tape and appearing on the screen is the last girl I ɹlmed.I'm wearing a Joseph Abboud suit, a tie by Paul Stuart, shoes byJ. Crew, a vest by someone Italian and I'm kneeling on the ɻoorbeside a corpse, eating the girl's brain, gobbling it down,spreading Grey Poupon over hunks of the pink, ɻeshy meat."Can you see?" I ask the girl not on the television set. "Can yousee this? Are you watching?" I whisper.I try using the power drill on her, forcing it into her mouth, butshe's conscious enough, has strength, to close her teeth, clampingthem down, and even though the drill goes through the teethquickly, it fails to interest me and so I hold her head up, blooddribbling from her mouth, and make her watch the rest of thetape and while she's looking at the girl on the screen bleed fromalmost every possible oriɹce, I'm hoping she realizes that thiswould have happened to her no matter what. That she wouldhave ended up lying here, on the ɻoor in my apartment, handsnailed to posts, cheese and broken glass pushed up into her cunt,her head cracked and bleeding purple, no matter what otherchoice she might have made; that if she had gone to Nell's orIndochine or Mars or Au Bar instead of M.K., if she had simplynot taken the cab with me to the Upper West Side, that this allwould have happened anyway. I would have found her. This is theway the earth works. I decide not to bother with the cameratonight.I'm trying to ease one of the hollow plastic tubes from thedismantled Habitrail system up into her vagina, forcing thevaginal lips around one end of it, and even with most of itgreased with olive oil, it's not ɹtting in properly. During this, thejukebox plays Frankie Valli singing "The Worst That CouldHappen" and I'm grimly lip-syncing to it, while pushing theHabitrail tube up into this bitch's cunt. I ɹnally have to resort topouring acid around the outside of the pussy so that the ɻesh cangive way to the greased end of the Habitrail and soon enough itslides in, easily. "I hope this hurts you," I say.The rat hurls itself against the glass cage as I move it from thekitchen into the living room. It refused to eat what was left of theother rat I had bought it to play with last week, that now liesdead, rotting in a corner of the cage. (For the last ɹve days I'vepurposefully starved it.) I set the glass cage down next to the girland maybe because of the scent of the cheese the rat seems to goinsane, ɹrst running in circles, mewling, then trying to heave itsbody, weak with hunger, over the side of the cage. The ratdoesn't need any prodding and the bent coat hanger I was goingto use remains untouched by my side and with the girl stillconscious, the thing moves eʃortlessly on newfound energy,racing up the tube until half of its body disappears, and then aftera minute—its rat body shaking while it feeds—all of it vanishes,except for the tail, and I yank the Habitrail tube out of the girl,trapping the rodent. Soon even the tail disappears. The noises thegirl is making are, for the most part, incomprehensible.I can already tell that it's going to be a characteristicallyuseless, senseless death, but then I'm used to the horror. It seemsdistilled, even now it fails to upset or bother me. I'm notmourning, and to prove it to myself, after a minute or two ofwatching the rat move under her lower belly, making sure thegirl is still conscious, shaking her head in pain, her eyes widewith terror and confusion, I use a chain saw and in a matter ofseconds cut the girl in two with it. The whirring teeth go throughskin and muscle and sinew and bone so fast that she stays alivelong enough to watch me pull her legs away from her body—heractual thighs, what's left of her mutilated vagina—and hold themup in front of me, spouting blood, like trophies almost. Her eyesstay open for a minute, desperate and unfocused, then close, andɹnally, before she dies, I force a knife uselessly up her nose untilit slides out of the ɻesh on her forehead, and then I hack the boneoʃ her chin. She has only half a mouth left and I fuck it once,then twice, three times in all. Not caring whether she's stillbreathing or not I gouge her eyes out, ɹnally using my ɹngers.The rat emerges headɹrst—somehow it turned itself aroundinside the cavity—and it's stained with purple blood (I also noticewhere the chain saw took oʃ about half of its tail) and I feed itextra Brie until I feel I have to stomp it to death, which I do.Later the girl's femur and left jawbone lie in the oven, baking,and tufts of pubic hair ɹll a Steuben crystal ashtray, and when Ilight them they burn very quickly.
AFTERWORD
So I know that we are on 40 chapters done with the businessman trilogy's first part and I am really happy to see how fast this is blowing up actually because it is already reached 20k views..... And I am so happy to see this so like now I am wondering what to do next and I know I said that I will write my other novels like I know I told that I will like upload and regular basis but at moment I am not able to as I'm kind a busy I have to like rework some of the older chapters because this stuff that I didn 4 years ago and what I am planing for now I am not reliable to match then that's why I and when I wrote them is back I used to write like chapter around like 20 pages.... thank you my friend/editor SDK for helping me out
Thankyou
BHARATH_SHYAM