Spare Key

* * * * *

As he reached nine hundred and fifty, Ben heard an engine roar to life outside. To be safe, he went to two thousand.

His heart was racing as he exited the flat, casually looking around while he locked his door. He found it strange that the estate agent had so much trouble with the lock. The key always seemed to glide smoothly for him.

It was difficult to control the excitement that was racing through him. His mouth was dry and as he looked around, he felt the air thickening, just as it had when he’d looked over that first time and seen her standing there.

His legs felt like jelly as he took the first step, still scanning around. Her door was only twelve steps away, but to Ben, it seemed a marathon. He couldn’t stop looking toward the end of the driveway, certain she’d reappear at any moment. He gulped down the thick air as he reached into his pocket and exchanged his flat’s key for the other one.

The beating of blood in his ears was deafening and Ben felt a slight panic as he realised he wouldn’t hear a door open. That someone could sneak up on him now. He forced himself not to look around again. He was being too suspicious; darting glances left and right. It was just too easy to imagine Theo or one of the other neighbours watching him. Watching him and then reaching for the phone to warn her. And then she’d be in there waiting for him, her face wreathed in smoke and the kitchen knife in the hand hidden behind her back.

You’re being ridiculous, he told himself as he drew level with her door but the air didn’t thin at all and the duffel bag was dead weight in his hand. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what you’re planning, he repeated over and over to himself, much as he had all those nights that he’d stood over her as she lay in bed. She doesn’t know what you’ve planned; she doesn’t know about the Red Room that you built for her…

But his thoughts couldn’t allay all his fears. She was his mother; she knew. She always knew what he was thinking… Ben drew the key out of his pocket. The sight of it forced an exhale from his lips. He shook his head. What was he thinking? He wasn’t defenceless now. He would have the upper hand; the element of surprise…

Despite his best intentions, he looked around once more as he slotted the key into the lock. Everything seemed clear but his nervousness lingered. Maybe he should wait? Maybe it wasn’t time?

No, he pushed away the doubts; they were what had cost him his revenge in the first place. There was no need for hesitation.

Ben turned the key and the lock clicked open. His doubts began to fade as he twisted the handle and eased the door open.

* * * * *

The air thinned the instant the door closed behind him and Ben stood, gasping, his heart pounding with excitement as he surveyed the flat.

He could smell her in the air: a heady mix of shampoo, perfume and deodorant with a faint undertone of make-up. An undeniably feminine smell that evoked such memories of his mother’s bedroom that Ben almost expected to hear her summons. It thrilled and disgusted him equally but his penis, still half-hard, immediately sprung to life at the connotations and as he looked around, Ben reached down and eased it from his pants.

It felt silky between his fingers as he walked a few paces inside, his mind already seeking out a linkage, something he could use to tie this back to her. It didn’t take him long but then again it never did.

The interior of the flat was a world away from his own. The wall separating the living-room from the kitchen had been knocked through, opening it out, combining with the beige walls to give the interior a light airy feel. And it was in the kitchen that he found the linkage: the slightly battered looking knife-block with the black handles jutting from the top. It was nearly a replica of the one she had owned and the empty slot in it only added to the realism. He could picture her there beside it, her face wreathed in smoke; that one arm twisted behind her back.

It was perfect; it was what he needed.

He saw there were more links too and he circled the room, slowly building it up until she was inhabiting the space. Until the horrible things she had done had taken place here. And if he thought the excitement he’d felt earlier was immense, it was nothing compared to the sensation that swelled through him as he pictured it all.

He was back in the house now and she had gone out. But she would come back and this time he’d do it. He wouldn’t hesitate. This time he’d take her.

Well then you better get ready, he thought and headed for the bedroom.

* * * * *

Ben stripped the mattress bare and ran his hand along it, imagining her stretched out before him. His penis throbbed with excitement as he moved across to the cupboard and yanked some of the clothes out and scattered them on the floor.

The bedside table was disappointingly empty except for a freshly opened pack of condoms that Ben assumed were the leftovers from the man’s visit and a small box. When he opened the box it only contained a few cheap looking necklaces but Ben grabbed them anyway and stuffed them into his pockets. Might be worth a couple of bucks. As a last touch he swiped the clock radio onto the floor. It clattered down and his eyes followed its path and fell on the shattered phone. He looked up and saw the dent in the wall and then looked back down in confusion.

A slight worry began to creep into the back of his mind. It was undefinable, not really focused on the smashed phone itself but more a general unease. He clamped down on it quickly. It’s good, he convinced himself. Shows she’s a fighter, a little bit fiery. He would be prepared.

Still it was unsettling and as he crouched down beside his duffel bag, he couldn’t stop shooting glances in the phone’s direction. Must have been one hell of a bad call.

His worry vanished as he unknotted the drawstring on his bag and slipped open the neck. He saw all his tools in there and a smile split his face as he lifted them out one by one and reverentially placed them on top of the now empty bedside table.

The duct tape.

The plastic ties.

The hunting knife…

He removed the canvas roll of knives last, laid it on the floor and slowly unravelled it. His mouth felt a little dry as one by one they were revealed. His fingers found his penis of their own accord and began to pump.

The bundled underwear on the floor caught his eyes and his hand snaked out and snagged one from the pile. When he brought it up to his nose, it smelt mainly of detergent but there was a faint lingering hint of another odour. One that excited him immensely.

He pictured her there in front of him, slowly lowering the underwear; slowly revealing her slit while he wanked for her. He wrapped the panties around his cock and imagined it was her tight grip. His orgasm rocketed out of him as he heard the echo of her voice.

Mummy needs you…