A Reason to Kill by Michael Kerr

herself in the process.
    Her hands shook as she tapped in his number. She held her breath as the ringing tone sounded six, seven, eight times. She willed him to be in, and to pick up.
    “Gary Noon.”
    “Gary, it’s Marion. If it’s convenient, I need to run over your care plan with you, due to, er, new guidelines that have just been circulated. I wondered if I might drop by and talk it through.”
    He could hear the sexual tension in her voice. She was feeding him bullshit. What she wanted to visit for was more of what she hadn’t been getting for a long time. He had hit her spot, and she was aching for a rematch.
    “No problem, Marion. When would be good for you?”
    “I could be there in less than an hour,” she said, trying not to sound excited or anything other than professional.
    “I’ll be waiting,” Gary said, and then cradled the phone.
    She felt like a million dollars in her brand new, sexy underwear. And could hardly contain herself as she drove towards Putney. Christ! She went through red lights. Her concentration was shot to pieces. That dam inside her had now given way under pressure, and the resulting flood of emotions was unbounded, sweeping all before it in a rushing, roaring deluge. It was irrational to allow carnal desire to overrule common-sense. But it was as if an inner flame had been fanned and was raging out of control. She burned with a compulsion that would not be denied. If anything, the danger and attendant subterfuge heightened the reward. Not since being a child had she felt so driven. At school, she had stolen from fellow pupils who teased her over her weight and called her Porky Peterson. They’d deserved to have their possessions and money taken. In the showers after PE, they would slap, pull and pinch at her rolls of fat, laughing, jibing; mentally and physically hurting her more than they could ever know. Stealing from their lockers was the only way she could retaliate. And the risk of being caught was electrifying, enhancing the actual act of forcing the doors open with a penknife and removing any valuables. She had not been found out. Every item she stole – apart from money – was secreted behind a panel above the false ceiling in the cloakroom. She had even reported some of her own stuff missing, to allay suspicion. Her new-found and illicit sexual relationship with Gary gave her the same thrill. Putting herself in jeopardy intensified the pleasure of the act. It was how she imagined bungee jumpers must feel as they readied themselves to leap into space from a high bridge or crane.
    Gary didn’t go down to let her in this time. Just told her to come on up, and pressed the button to unlock the outer door to the building. Wearing just shorts, he went out onto the landing and watched her plod up the stairs, grunting as she laboured.
    Jesus! If her eyes had teeth they would have eaten him alive. As she reached him, he put his arms around her, cupping her sagging buttocks with his hands and pulling her tight up against him.
    She responded, ground herself against him and slipped a chubby hand down the back of his shorts.
    Gary backed up, kicking the flat door closed when they were inside.
    “Can I get you anything, Marion?” he asked. “Maybe a nice cup of tea?”
    “Later,” she gasped, kissing him hungrily on the lips before pushing her tongue into his mouth, jabbing it in and out as she tilted her hips up and pressed even closer. Oh, yes...yes! She felt like a bitch in heat; wanton and consumed by need.
    He led her through to the bedroom, slipped off his shorts, and helped her to remove her blouse and skirt.
    “You look gorgeous and sexy,” he said, surveying her stood before him in her new black bra, matching panties, suspender belt and smoke-grey nylons. He smiled at the obvious pleasure his words generated. The insincere flattery raised bright patches of colour on her distended cheeks. She now looked like an overfed gerbil with high blood pressure. And yet, knowing