The killer's art

36

Erik Mattson slowly regained consciousness. As if from far away, he could hear a shower running and other sounds that he didn’t recognize. The roar of the traffic outside sounded different. It was louder than outside his own windows on Karlavagen. The air in the room was stale and stuffy, and the bed he was lying on was much softer and lumpier than the exclusive Dux mattress he was used to. His body felt bruised, and his groin ached. His head was pounding.

He opened his eyes and saw at once that he was in a hotel room. The events of the previous night came back to him, but before he had time to think any further, a big man appeared in the doorway to the bathroom. He dried off his shaved head as he stared at Erik lying on the bed. He was completely naked and without embarrassment dried off his penis, now hanging limply. The muscles bulged on his athletic body. His skin was exceptionally white, and he had almost no hair, not even around his dick. On one arm was a small tattoo shaped like a turtle. It looked ridiculous.

They had met at one of the city’s more decadent gay clubs, which Erik often frequented on Fridays. All it took was half a drink and a few long looks for the burly man to make his move. He was in a hurry; they had only had a few drinks before he wanted to leave. When Erik explained that he charged a fee, the other man had looked surprised and then left. But it wasn’t long before he was back, asking the price. Apparently the fee was acceptable, because they had left the club together and taken a cab to his hotel. He’d been rough and determined, almost to the point of violence. A few times Erik had felt scared, but the big man never crossed the line. Though he did come close. When he took a break and went out to use the toilet, Erik had quickly downed two of the little yellow pills, to deaden the pain and be able to last the night. His customer showed no sign of being finished; he seemed insatiable.

Erik felt that this episode had been tougher than usual. Sometimes he enjoyed himself, both sexually and mentally. It was as if he was escaping, as if he took pleasure in the destructive aspect of the whole thing. His life was headed downhill, and there was no other path to take. He might as well just let things happen. The pain sometimes even made him feel more content the next day. And the element of excitement was an added spice that couldn’t be underestimated. Whenever he entered a club, he knew that within a few hours he’d be involved in an extremely intimate scene with another human being. But he had no idea who in that club it would be. Of course there were pleasures in this double life of his, and it also kept him going financially. At the same time it was exhausting, both mentally and physically. Occasionally he would be struck by panic attacks, despair, and an overwhelming sense of emptiness. He quelled those feelings by popping pills and drinking excessively. A momentary escape, of course, but he didn’t see any future for himself. There was no other life for him. He was like a goldfish in a bowl of water, with no chance of ever getting out.

The man smiled at Erik, bringing him back to the present moment. With a triumphant gesture, he tossed aside the bath towel. One look at his swelling cock made Erik realize that he was still not satisfied.