I wrote this story for Halloween 2015. Back then I was posting my stories to Facebook Notes and sharing with friends. Today I’m letting this one out to see the world. This one may have a few elements you might find distasteful. You’ve been warned.

“I hope I don’t seem too nervous. It seems like a hundred years since I’ve been on a date,” she told him as he reached to pick up the fork she had dropped. Before he could pick it up himself a new fork had appeared next to Alda’s plate, and the waiter disappeared just as quickly with the one that had touched the floor. Alda Wachs coyly smiled at Armin Maris, and Armin was slightly uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to fancy restaurants like this. Sometimes he’d find himself in a diner with a lonely woman. More often he’d just spend a few dollars on coffee. This woman was different though. He thought it was possible she could be someone he’d like to be with for more than a few months. She was very attractive, but so was he. He was caught off guard since she was the one to approach him first. Since he was already involved with another woman he would have to make some adjustments. He could let the chase go on longer than usual, and devour her later.

“I don’t like to be forward, and I don’t usually ask strange gentlemen out to dinner,” she said.

“That’s okay. I don’t usually get asked out by pretty ladies such as yourself,” he responded. “This is a little more fancy than I’m used to though.”

They sat in silence for an uncomfortable moment, each catching the other looking away before their eyes accidentally met. At once they picked up their forks to take another bite from their appetizers, and it made her giggle. He smiled as he chewed his cabbage. Before swallowing he had to ask, “What’s so funny?” He cupped and wiped his chin, wondering if he’d spilled something there.

She waved it away, shaking her head, “No, there’s nothing there. Just…the forks…”

He continued chewing, then took another forkful before realizing what she meant. It helped when she mimicked the same movement again. “Oh, I get it,” he said, chewing, “Same time, heh.”

Alda felt embarrassed, and put a bite of the beef stuffed grape leaves in her mouth. She looked away, half smiling, certain he wasn’t feeling as giddy as she seemed to feel. “I’ve never eaten Vietnamese before. I think the spices are making me blush.”

“There’s a lot more Asian around here than most people expect. They think they come to the Midwest, and it’s nothing but truck-stop burgers and freedom fries. There’s a Thai place about ten minutes from here that’ll knock your socks off,” he told her. “We can go there some time if you want,” he said.

“Why, Mr. Maris, are you already asking me on another date?” Alda asked tucking her pinky into the corner of her lip.

Armin wasn’t sure himself. He never had anyone act so blatantly smitten over him. He was never married, and any play he had with women was based in emotional manipulation. Despite having successfully lured, killed, and consumed multiple women over the course of the last twenty-four years he never felt comfortable in extended periods of conversation. Maybe now he’d found someone who could help him learn to be “normal.”

“Maybe I am,” he said.

Earlier she’d told him she was new to Minnesota. Moving from New Orleans, she wasn’t sure what to expect. She felt it was important to be as open as possible if she hoped to make any new friends. When they bumped into each other in her hotel parking lot he apologized, and kept walking; but there was something about him that caught her attention. She forgot to ask what he was doing there. He seemed to be in an awful hurry, but she took a chance. She hoped to capture him with some enchanting dialogue. After a minute or so it was clear he was attracted to her, but he didn’t try any pick up lines. She knew she’d have to take the wheel, so she asked if he’d have a drink at the bar with her. When he was finally clued in to her advances he agreed. Their exchange was mostly superficial, and she could see he was a serial novice in the art of conversation. Before he had a chance to decline she had asked him if she could offer him a meal.

“Well, now, good sir. I do believe you’re the one who’s making me blush. How can a single woman be certain you’re a man of good intentions,” she played with him. “I’m new in town, unfamiliar with my surroundings, and at the mercy of your charm and wit. If I should decline your offer of hospitality how would I be certain you would accept my rebuttal gracefully?”

Armin winced, a little slow to understand her humor. She was definitely a different breed. He thought they shared some interests. The signs were there. She acted as if she was the one who was asking, and when the cards were on the table he thought she might be uncomfortable with him. He was used to lonelier woman with less confidence. Getting a drink in them sometimes helped his operation. Finding them with drinks already in them was more commonly what made him comfortable. He was a handsome man, and found that women would talk to him. He was just never very good at talking back.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“Silly,” she cracked, “I’m totally into Thai. I’m just toying with you,” she said playfully poking at the beef on her plate.

He smiled again, half realizing that he meant it. She actually made him smile. He had interest in her beyond his regular appetite. Interacting with her was beginning to feel uncomfortably normal. He had never relied on actual flirting, and barely knew how to do it. But she was making it easy for him. The other women made it easy for him too, but she was different. He wasn’t sure how, but he wondered if this meant he was changing or if he would only end up savoring her more than anyone else.

“What about tomorrow night?” he asked.

“Armin, am I crazy? I don’t know a thing about you except that you are a single, mild-mannered, middle-aged white male who lives in the suburbs of the Mid-West.” She leaned in for effect “For all I know you’re some kind of serial killer.”

Armin flinched, “What?” came from his mouth involuntarily.

“Relax,” She put her hand on his. “I’m only kidding. I asked you first, remember?”

He shook it off, and grinned again. He thought of how easy it seemed. Maybe he was just getting better. Maybe he had been honing his talent for luring women so long that he could do it unconsciously now. No. He was attracted to her in a different way. They continued their discussion over spicy beef noodle soup. Armin only ate the noodles. The broth was fine, but the meat was too tough for him.

The restaurant shared a parking lot with her hotel, so when they finished their meal Alda had insisted on covering the check. Then she’d asked that he escort her to her room. She turned to him, and hovered into the partially opened door. He stood, half expecting, and half unsure. His weight shifted back and forth. He wondered if he was supposed to kiss her. She touched her finger to his lower lip, and withdrew it, touching it to her own lips. “I had a nice time, Armin. Will you call me tomorrow?” She asked.

“Of course!” he said. “Thai food. We can meet there, or I can pick you up, or…”

“Call me, Armin,” she smiled, and disappeared into her room. The door shut, and he heard her lock the bolt.

Armin turned, and reached into his pocket for a keycard. He walked down the hall, bypassing the exit, and turned left. He stopped at the door on the end of the hall. Sliding his card into the lock the indicator light turned green, and he stepped into the tiny hotel room. He didn’t turn the light on until he was inside and the door was secured. “You have a busy night ahead,” he said to his own reflection as he began to strip his clothes off.

“Sorry, miss. I had a detour on the way back.” He eyed the deep red water in the tub, and reached his hand in to pull the plug. As the water drained he grabbed the two large plastic lined duffle bags he’d left on the bed. He then unsheathed a chef knife. “Let’s get you home,” he said to the corpse who was sharing the room with him.

The following evening Armin paid the check with cash as Alda took a last spoonful of her fried banana and coconut cream. “Nothing like a little sweet to cool off the spices. You were right. This place is amazing. I’ll have to put it on my list of places to come back to,” she said.

They’d spent over two hours eating Pad Thai and spicy chicken. Eating off each other’s plates, they laughed, and talked about childhood, school, and all the latest celebrity gossip. They agreed reality television had gotten out of control, and they both enjoyed the new trend in bringing horror to weekly serials. They agreed music had become an industry with no soul, and that the couple seated in the corner were both married, but not to each other. The waitress wasn’t Asian, and they wondered if it was racist to wonder why she worked in a Thai restaurant. Through all their playful banter neither mentioned work. It had become a perfectly stress-free dinner conversation.

Armin opened himself and spoke more freely. Alda hoped she wouldn’t appear too glutenous as she nibbled from her plate while listening to his stories. One was about the nosey old lady next door. Another was about his mother. She was long gone, but he seemed to remember her fondly. She was pleased to see progress in making him more comfortable. Her desire for him began to intensify.

It was only a day after they’d met, and Armin found himself on a second date with a woman who was potentially going to be a feeding him through most of the winter. He’d already done his hunting, and brought home his prey for the next few months. Maybe this winter he would splurge, and enjoy healthier portions. No. Alda was different. He enjoyed her company. He wondered if he should share his hobby with her. Not all at once, of course. He could treat her to a taste of his cooking, and gage her interest. “That’s crazy,” he thought to himself. “What am I thinking?”

They found themselves in the parking lot behind the restaurant. “What now?” she asked.

Once again, floundering in awkwardness, Armin put his hands in his pockets, and shrugged. Alda slid her hand inside his elbow, and squeezed his lean, muscular arms. “Walk me to your car,” she instructed as she let him lead her.

When he pulled the keys from his jacket pocket she playfully snatched them away, and unlocked the car herself. Standing close to him she tilted her head back so that her breath would tickle his neck. Her bobbed blond hair whiffled across his lips as she turned to get into the driver’s seat. He inhaled her scent, and his ears began to feel warm. She smiled before closing the door. He smiled back, and wondered, “What now?”

The window lowered about halfway, and they gazed at each other, both expecting the other to say something.

Alda leaned toward the opening, and looked into the sky. There were no stars, and the air felt damp. “Looks like rain,” she said.

“Can I get you a drink?” he offered.“I thought you’d never ask,” she said.

“There’s a place just over…” he was interrupted.

“Let’s got to your place,” she said.

Armin was taken aback. She was more forward than any woman he’d ever met. Alda definitely looked younger than he did. It must be a generational thing. She never mentioned her age. He assumed she was about a decade younger. At least she looked that way. Armin was 44 years old. He guessed Alda would have to be in her early thirties at the most.

She flirtatiously dipped her chin, and raised her eyebrows. Tilting her head away slightly, she asked, “Should I follow you or are you getting in?”

He mentally toured his house to determine if it was presentable. Were there clean sheets on the bed? Was he being presumptuous by trying to remember? He felt a tingle in his groin that panicked him. There’s no way he could go through with this. She obviously wasn’t looking for a one-night-stand. They’d been on two dates—sort of. It was apparent that she liked him, and he was certain he liked her too.

He shuffled his feet, and curled his toes inside his shoes. His discomfort was plainly obvious to Alda, and she thought it was adorable. She let him squirm a bit more before starting the car. She turned to him again, confident he’d invite her back to his home. She reached a hand out, and pressed a button on a different key fob. The brake lights on a car a few spaces away lit up. The interior light illuminated blue behind its tinted windows. She dangled the oversized keyring, and said, “I want to drive your car. You can drive mine.” She winked, and dropped the keyring into his hand.

Armin knew that this was a deciding moment. There were three options here. He was going to lose his virginity tonight, which was out of the question. The pressure was too much. This left only two other options. He would decline, and meet her again for another date on a different night. Eventually, though, she would circle around to the same uncomfortable proposition. This left only one option. He rationalized that he was deluded in thinking Alda was different. Of course he couldn’t have sex with her. What next? They are boyfriend and girlfriend? That sounded so immature. They marry? He couldn’t have a wife. He liked things the way they were. He took care of his mother’s house, and no woman would ever come along to complicate his life. She was still young enough to have kids. She’d want to have kids—probably several. There would be diapers, and laundry, and shopping lists. He’d be buying all the wrong food. His towels would be too rough. She’d want to change the curtains, and cancel Cinemax from the cable subscription. She’d insist he doesn’t eat cereal in his underwear while watching sports. She probably would insist they go on regular dates to keep their marriage exciting while the kids drive him crazy with the things they want. Baby sitters. More uncomfortable dates. Nightmares. Bloody noses. Parks. Picnics. Expensive vacations they can’t afford. Polo shirts and golf shorts. Cheap beer, and pizza night. His imagination spun faster than he could keep up, and it was making him dizzy. He was going to have to kill her.

“Follow me,” he said as he turned to walk to her car.

Alda wasn’t impressed with the house when she drove up behind Armin’s car. It didn’t really concern her. She was prepared the minute she turned into the neighborhood. There were rows of vinyl-sided and brick-faced houses, all with lazily manicured lawns and bicycles left in driveways. The occasional home was decorated with autumn-themed wreaths and super-market stenciled jack-o-lanterns. It occurred to her that there were no cars on the street. It probably meant she was supposed to park in the driveway. She followed her car as he turned in, but he stopped at the end.

A light rain had begun to come down during the short ride to Armin’s home. Alda turned off the windshield wipers when she stopped, and she watched the beads form across the glass. She could see the garage door lifting, and they both waited. Once the door was completely open Armin pulled quickly in to the middle of the garage, and at once the door began to lower. “Okay…” she wondered out loud.

She watched her car disappear inside the garage. The brake lights illuminated the rain on the windshield making it resemble drops and trickles of blood. She was momentarily distracted when she noticed something else that was peculiar. Along the back wall were three oblong white metal boxes. Freezers? He never mentioned it, but she was certain he was a hunter.

She turned off the ignition, and a moment later he came dashing out the front door with an umbrella.

“I thought you were leaving me out here to fend for myself,” she told him.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to bring your car inside,” he made a gesture pointing out the rain.

“It’s a rental. I wouldn’t have minded coming in through the garage.”

“No,” he said, “It’s a mess in there.”

He escorted her across the walk, and he held the front door, “How about that drink now? Won’t you come inside?”

She smiled and walked in ahead of him, “That sound’s lovely. I’m very thirsty.”

The sun was bright the next day. The final warm breeze of the season brushed through the green and red maple leaves in the tree on Armin’s front lawn. The door opened, and heavy shoes stepped out tentatively. He reached up to prop the storm door open, and then waved to the man standing outside the van parked at the curb, “It’s all yours,” he said, “Let’s go.”

He stepped aside as another man with a camera around his neck tiptoed sideways around him, “Lindsay has his work cut out for him today.”

“You’re not kidding, huh?” The man at the door said.

The photographer squatted to sit on the step, and removed the paper booties that covered his shoes. A young man holding a camera bag and tripod was rolling up a tape measure. He fumbled with a pile of index cards as he held out a plastic bag for the photographer who dropped his booties in the bag while turning back to the man at the door, “I’ve seen a lot worse. Never seen something this weird.”

His assistant looked in the bag at the white booties, puzzled.

“K-9s are in the back. Looks like there may be more.”

Two men walked past them with a stretcher, not saying a word. Ducking under yellow tape, they disappeared inside.

“More than the garage and basement?”

The man at the door looked around at the dozen or so neighbors standing across the street. A man in sweatpants, a t-shirt, and unlaced snow boots stood with two young boys. He sipped coffee, and mumbled confused words to another man wearing a tie. A small dog dragging a leash behind it, but no owner, sniffed in a figure eight on the edge of the property. A woman dressed in a blue jump suit with an embroidered name tag craned her neck to see over the fence into Armin’s yard. Another woman in a designer suit held her finger in one ear, and pressed a cellphone into the other. A school bus opened its doors, and three young teenagers got on. The bus backed up, having to find a new route to the next stop. Several police cars blocked the street, lights flashing.

He lowered his voice, “No count yet. Coroner’s sending in three more vehicles.”

“I’ve got shots of the two bodies in the hall. Undisturbed, but disturbing freezer contents. Three full-size in the garage, two minis in the basement. Two dehydrators, two refrigerators, and the basement bathroom. This guy had to be a nutcase,” the photographer said.

Just then another man stepped out through the front door shaking his head.

“Lindsay,” the other spoke.

“Carpenter’s got an ID on the male. He’s the owner of the house. Still no word on the woman. Weird as shit. I don’t even know why I’m here. There’s no blood on the walls,” He leaned closer to the man at the door, “The guy’s bone dry. A God damned prune.” He shook his head again, and gestured to the photographer, “You head around back and wait for the techs.”

A woman stepped outside, and the two men still there turned to her.

“One Armin Maris,” she said. “Blunt force trauma to the skull, and puncture wounds on his chest, arms, and neck. The woman had her neck broken.” Captain Carpenter had never seen anything like this, and it showed. She was completely oblivious to the eavesdropping neighbors. “We’re fairly certain he’s responsible for the rest of the bodies. This doesn’t make sense though.”

Before sunrise that morning a woman walking her dog had found Armin. Ordinarily it wasn’t unusual for people in the area to leave their garage door open, but her dog was acting strange. She knew the man’s car, but not his name. It was half on the lawn, parked on an odd angle as if it had been pulled off to the side in a hurry. It was obvious the garage door was open all night because there were puddles of rain inside. She let her dog lead her to the door inside the garage, which was left open too.

“Hello?” She knocked on the inside of the door in the garage that lead to the kitchen. “Hello? I’m sorry to intrude. Is anyone here?” She asked. The dog bolted inside, and the leash slipped off her wrist, “Sophie! You come back here!” The woman skulked inside, leaning one way, then the other, looking for her dog. Around the first turn she found her sniffing around Mr. Maris’ body. She gasped, and put her hand to her mouth, “Oh, my…”

Coming in through the garage, Alda eyed the newcomer, then the bag she’d left on the kitchen counter. Alda closed the kitchen door behind her, and the woman turned in muted surprise. Alda calmly removed her sunglasses, and strode to the woman who was standing over Armin’s body. She reached out to her, and twisted her head with a jerk. Her neck was instantly broken, and her body crumbled to the floor. The dog barked, but didn’t dare advance or attack.

Alda instinctively stared at the woman’s exposed neck. Half-tempted to bite it she rolled her eye’s in frustration. “What a waste,“ she said as she licked her lips, “Sorry, lady. I forgot my bag. Why would you come into someone’s house uninvited, anyway? Where are your manners?”

Before hurrying away she reached past the dead woman, and put her thumb into the wound on Armin’s neck. She put the blood-smeared thumb into her mouth, and pulled it out clean with a popping sound. “This guy is dangerous.”