That Friday evening, Belle found herself on the grounds of a luxurious upstate villa. It was her old boss- turned multimillionaire’s home. When she’d texted him that she was feeling horny and lonely, he had presumably creamed himself. He said that he would be dropping his wife on a spa trip and would be getting very late, near midnight. After that, he had promised her sex just as good as when they had an affair. Belle sighed. ‘Men. They’re all the same’ she had thought. The sex hadn’t been that good after the first couple times anyway. But like any good gold-digger, Belle hadn’t let on to that. Belle, who was now a NYC girl, had to rent a car to get there and left before the Hertz closed, hence arriving a few hours early at the upstate villa. She was also paranoid the police would pay her a visit over the missing Nuclear Plant owner and his daughter, not that she couldn’t deal with the cops.

Belle was surprised to see that she was not alone at the villa. She knew of course that there were probably a few live-in staff, but she saw that some facilities had been rented out for a wedding. She could see in the distance the white-clad bride and tuxedoed groom posing for photos at dusk. She felt a surge of anger. The bridge and groom had managed to both be wealthy enough to have a wedding at a villa such as this, but also were successfully starting a family. It was easier for men, she knew. Rich and powerful men put no effort into dating, and his bride had probably not been dumb enough to try and start a career of her own. But her mood improved quickly. The wedding entourage was moving towards the main house where she was staying. She had also brought her shrink ray with her.

After her old boss has texted her that his flight home had been delayed (why on earth did he fly commercial? She wondered), she made the decision to infiltrate the party. She’d like to take away the bride and groom, and maybe the best man and bridesmaids too. She felt a surge of pleasure knowing that she had been a bridesmaid at her own friend’s wedding just 6 days earlier. Belle subconsciously knew that her internalized self-loathing made her aroused at killing young women just like her.

Putting on her nicest low-cut blouse and a tight skirt (both black, to compliment her porcelain white-skin and blonde hair) she’d eased her way into the wedding crowd, who were having the reception in a downstairs ballroom. She’d simply idled by the bar. She knew that one of the men, especially inebriated ones, would come up and hit on her. They wouldn’t even have to buy her a drink. She wasn’t disappointed. Just a few minutes after her arrival a hearty, ruddy-faced boy, with red buzzed cut hair, probably in his early 20s, sat on the stool next to her.  He wasn’t bad looking, she thought. He looked like a portrait of a boyish “greatest generation” soldier. “Bartender, pour this lovely lady a drink” he said with a wink to Belle and Southern drawl. Even better. He was one of her kind of people. Belle herself was from Alabama. As the bartender poured, she turned towards the boy, while tilting her body forward just enough so he could get a view done on her blouse at the ample cleavage. She allowed her knee to gently touch his as she spoke.

“What part of Alabama are you from?” she asked warmly. The boy looked taken aback for a second then he too smiled.

“Near Huntsville”. Belle’s elitism was triggered. ‘An Appalachian hick’ she thought. It didn’t matter anyway; he wasn’t going to get any of her sweet plantation-owning pussy. “I’m from Mobile” she replied.  ‘Oh. So who do you know at the wedding?’ he asked, surprised. Uh-oh. Belle thought fast. Slapping his knee playfully, she said “I could ask you the same thing!”. The boy blushed cutely. “Well the groom is my commanding officer in the Alabama Guard” he said.  “It’s a long haul up here, but the bride wanted to be near her New York family for the wedding. Lieutenant Shelby (the groom’s name, presumably) always liked me since I helped fix his truck. I trained as a heavy-machinery mechanic”. Belle moved in for the kill. “My truck has been acting up. You know us southern girls and our vehicles. Why don’t I show you?”. She grabbed his hand as if to lead him away, and he followed her out. They both knew she had no truck. Instead they went upstairs to the guest bedroom.