A Perfect Crime

She grinned salaciously at me, licking her lips like an evil predator about to eat its prey. "For the moment, I just want a good fuck. You were always very good at fucking me John. A little straight maybe, but you always got me there... After that, we'll have to see what I want from you."

My heart sank. I didn't want sex with this woman. I fucking hated her. The only woman I wanted was many decks below, probably snoring gently by now. I nervously glanced inside the bedroom, looking at her husband still laying prone in the same ridiculous position he had been in when I first came into their suite.

"Oh don't bother about him, John. He'll be unconscious until at least lunchtime. Anyway, even if he did wake up, he'd probably just want to watch a real man fucking me while he played with his own tiny dick." She laughed, mocking her sad, older partner with an evil chuckle.

My head was dizzy. A million thoughts trying to swirl around my brain all at the same time. Perhaps if I did do her, she would call it a day and leave me alone from now on. Maybe I can get away with it. Oh God, I don't even think I can get it up. I hate this horrible bitch, How can I fuck her with a soft cock? Maybe her husband will wake up and throw me out if I'm lucky. Maybe...I can't betray my Josie. What the fuck has SHE done to deserve this...Oh FUCK!!...

Claire climbed onto my lap. I could feel the heat from her loins on my still limp penis. Putting her hands behind my head, she pulled my lips toward hers, pressing them together forcefully as her writhing tongue invaded my reluctant mouth. She started pulling my clothes off. Ripping my shirt open and impatiently tugging it from my shoulders. I was doing nothing to help her, just sitting with my hands down by my sides, my fists angrily clenched enough for my nails to dig into my own palms.

I was getting more and more angry with her, hating her even more if that was at all possible. What right did she have to my body? She'd rejected me all those years ago and now she'd decided she wanted me again. Well if it was sex she wanted, that's what she would fucking get...

I stood up from the chair, violently tossing her naked body onto the floor. Grabbing both her arms, I dragged her to her feet and roughly bent her over the balcony rail, scraping her tits painfully on the handrail as I forced her stomach against the smooth wood. Kicking her feet apart, I thrust my right hand between her legs as my left held her down across the railing. I could feel her wet heat. I was determined she was not going to enjoy this. I had never contemplated taking a woman violently before, but now was the time.

Perversely, she started to moan with pleasure as she thrust her hips back at me, forcing my invading fingers even deeper into her grasping vagina. "NO...This isn't right. She isn't meant to be enjoying this." I thought as I pushed most of my large hand into her wide open cunt.

"Oh Fuckkkk...Yes John. Fuck me hard...You... Fucking jailbird...Make me cum on your hand you bastard." her moans of unexpected ecstasy resonated around my brain as I reached over and grabbed her swinging breast in my left hand, painfully twisting her rigid nipple in a further attempt to hurt her. "Oh Yesssss..." She moaned again.

Without any warning, I removed my soaked hand from her dripping pussy and forced three fingers as far into her anus as I could reach. At last I elicited a scream of agony from her as she stood on tiptoe as high as she could, trying to get away from my painfully invasive hand.

"Aahhh...I love this...I love it rough, you fucking jailbird. How come you never did this when we were married? You wouldn't have been so fucking boring if you had you bastard." She gasped through her clenched teeth as she pushed back at me with her pulsing anus tightly clenched around my fingers. "Fuck me up there you wimpy bastard...Fuck my arse with your big cock... Did you do this in jail, you fucking fairy?... What's your skank of a singer wife going to say when I tell her you have fucked me up the arse like an animal? Do you do her like this? Does she like it rough too?"

I suddenly felt a cold calm overwhelm me at the mention of my loving wife. I knew finally what I had to do. I knew I had to get this bitch of a woman out of our lives for good. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed her hair at the back of her neck and thrust my fingers as far into her as I could manage. Using all the strength I could muster, I heaved her writhing body up and over the handrail. Her anguished scream of terror quickly disappeared into the soft wind as her translucent body, arms and legs thrashing like a dervish, hurtled toward the almost black sea many feet below us...

* * *

Suddenly all was quiet. Only the swish of the sea at the stern of the ship a long way below me disturbed the night air. I felt strange. Almost eerily calm. My heart had stopped beating at a hundred miles an hour and settled down to its usual rate as I leant back against the table. No remorse. No regrets. It's true what they say to soldiers going to war about killing getting easier the more you do it. I hadn't had a moment's hesitation or a single qualm about throwing her overboard as soon as she threatened to try to destroy my marriage. She had it coming. I really believed she did. Her petulant, revengeful lies had robbed me of twenty of the most important years of my life. She had prevented me from becoming a father by lying and having me locked up. She'd caused the only family I had to become estranged from me, their shame at what they had been convinced I had done preventing them from ever contacting me in prison. And now, to cap it all, she had just threatened my marriage to the woman I loved more than anything in the world. No... No more worry and hate in my heart... Not any more... Enough was enough.

Calmly I looked back into the bedroom, making sure her husband was still where he had been laying. I knew that if he had have been awake, he would have had to go overboard too. Luckily for him, he was still sleeping and snoring heavily. I swiftly pulled my shirt back on and fastened it up as best I could, straightening my trousers and hair afterwards so I was looking almost exactly the same as when I had entered the suite just a short time earlier. I had a last look round to make sure nothing was left to indicate I had ever been there, no sign of a struggle or anything untoward. I spotted the couple of my shirt buttons she'd ripped off laying on the floor and swept them with my foot under the railing and into the night air. Emptying the remaining champagne over the side, I placed the bottle back on the table next to the empty glass. Her discarded robe was left draped over the back of her chair. Quietly I let myself out of the suite and gently pulled the outer door closed behind me. I knew the ship like the back of my hand, so I had no problems with making my way unobserved down to mine and Josie's cabin where I swiftly undressed and slid into bed next to my gently snoring, gloriously naked wife. I didn't sleep, the adrenaline still coursing through my body prevented that. Instead I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling and listening to my wife's breathing until the sun came up once again. It was finally over...

Chapter 18

The shit figuratively hit the fan just after lunch the following afternoon. A rumour started circulated around the ship like wildfire that a passenger had gone overboard the night before. Apparently her husband had woken from a drunken stupor and discovered his wife missing and despite appeals over the ship's tannoy she had not reappeared. The general consensus amongst the crew and other passengers was that she had accidentally fallen from her balcony when she was almost incapably drunk.

The captain decided not to turn round and look for her. We were in the middle of the Atlantic after all and no-one had any idea when she actually fell overboard, so the chances of ever finding her alive, or even finding her body, were almost non-existent. Me and the rest of the staff of the cocktail lounge had to make written statements to the First Officer about the woman's condition when her and her husband had left the bar the night before, apparently that was the last place they were in before they retired to their cabin. Her husband was distraught, blaming himself for getting so drunk he was not able to look after his wonderful wife. Of course the rumours soon started. They had had a drunken argument and he had pushed her off the balcony; She had something terminal wrong with her and had decided to end it all by jumping from the ship; Her husband had been shagging her bent over the balcony rail and they'd got carried away in their drunken passion and she'd accidentally fallen overboard. All the wildly inaccurate fantasies that tend to spread amongst almost four thousand passengers and crew when none of them has a clue as to what did actually happen. Well that wasn't strictly true of course. One person knew exactly what had happened to the poor woman.

And I wasn't saying a fucking word...

* * *

Sadly, I wasn't able to tell the rest of the passengers that the poor dead woman wasn't worth grieving over and the mood on the ship became rather sombre for the last leg of the cruise back to Majorca. All entertainment was cancelled out of respect for the poor victim and her husband which meant Josie was able to spend the evenings in the bar with me instead of performing. The lounge was very quiet, just a few passengers and crew sat at the tables and not drinking much- all no doubt thinking there but for the grace of God etcetera- so I was able to spend much more time than was usual with my lovely wife. I wished I could tell her what had happened and how my early life now had the closure I had always felt it needed, but decided that perhaps it would be better if I just kept my mouth shut and instead concentrated on our future together.

We eventually docked two days later in Palma where we had to give our statements once again, this time to the Spanish police. They thankfully decided that the conclusions drawn by the ship's captain were correct and the incident had just been a tragic accident that happened occasionally on cruise ships when someone had partaken of far too much alcohol. All-in-all I couldn't have planned things better if I'd tried.

* * *

So that's it really. The end of my story about how I committed the perfect crime and got away with it. Did I have any guilty feelings? Not really. Well not at first anyway. I had served twenty years for a murder I didn't commit and this just evened the score in my eyes. Now, almost fifteen years later, I do feel a little remorse sometimes when I look back on that dark day in my life. When I consider things rationally, I tend to think that maybe I do have something to thank Claire for, despite the fact she got me sent down for a huge chunk of my early adulthood. Looking at things from a 'glass half full' perspective, if I hadn't have been sent to prison I would never have met my best mate and only true male friend Archie; If I hadn't have met Archie, I would never have gone to Majorca; If I hadn't have gone to Majorca I wouldn't have met the true love of my life, Josie. So, everything considered, if I had never met my ex-wife I would not be living the happy life I live now.

However, those feelings of remorse don't last long on the odd occasion I think of Claire. What is it the mafia say? "An eye for an eye - A life for a life". Well she'd taken a significant part of my life from me so I'd done the same to her. She had changed from a lovely, pleasant little girl into a nasty vindictive bitch and in the process turned a good, ordinary, hard-working man who loved her dearly into a cold-hearted, stone-cold killer.

So... Fuck her!...

* * * * *