Murder Can Be Fun ... For Her by Amy Fisher, amyfisher1984@gmail.com "I'll be back in a couple of hours," said Amy to her son's babysitter handing her some money. "OK ma'am," replied the sitter, eyeing Amy with envy. Even though she was much younger than Amy, she actually looked older. "God knows what she does to look so young," she muttered to herself. Amy got into her silver Jaguar and rode off into the night for her destination. She knew exactly where the building, the address of which she had memorized, was situated having scouted the location a few days back. As she drove, she began reminiscing. "Do your job and you will be looked after well," she remembered her boss telling her. She remembered being scared when she was about to do her first 'job', but after it was over she was surprisingly excited and liked it. Maybe this was what she was meant to do. She remembered the fear in the eyes of the man just before she had done it and it thrilled her to bits. Amy reached her destination and parked her car some distance away from the building and got out. She looked at her watch. 11 P.M. Not a soul was in sight. She thanked her luck and began walking towards the apartment building. She knew exactly which apartment she had to go to. The night guard, Adam, had just looked up from the newspaper he was reading when she saw the woman. He pursed his lips at the sight of her. Wearing a white belly shirt under a leather jacket, leather pants and leather gloves, this blond beauty was looking ravishing. His eyes fell on her exposed midriff and marvelled at how toned it was. He could see the dazzling belly button ring and kept staring at it. Amy reached the gaping man and noticing his line of view, cleared her throat. Adam immediately looked up, looking embarrassed. "I am here to see Mr Peace, Apartment No 323," she said in a sweet voice, smiling at him. "Yes ma'am," Adam stammered. It's on the third floor. The elevator is over there," he pointed. "Thank you, mister," she said. "Is there a Ladies' Room on the ground floor? I would like to freshen up before I meet with Mr Peace. Had a long journey to get here, you know." "Yes, ma'am. Over there," Adam pointed again this time towards a different direction. "Please could you be so kind to show it to me," Amy appealed. Adam did not want to abandon his post, but he couldn't say no to this woman either. Without another word, he started walking. On cue, Amy started following him. As soon as they reached the rest room, he stopped and turned towards Amy. "There you go, ma'am." "Thank you so much," said Amy. "One for thing, I am sorry but I have to do this. Certain procedures I have to follow." Before Adam could raise an eyebrow, he felt her hands on his throat. Amy viciously pushed him into the rest room and closed the door with her foot. She slammed the now frightened man against a wall, his breath gradually being taken away. He opened his mouth to cry out but couldn't find his voice. Just a croaking strangled sound could be heard. Amy didn't want to make him suffer. After all she wasn't here to kill him. He was just a problem she had to take care of. She flicked her wrists towards the right and instantly Adam's neck was broken. She let the corpse drop to the floor and stepped back a couple of paces. She saw Adam's head bent in a crooked angle and was satisfied with her handiwork. No way could be anything but dead. Amy took the elevator to the third floor. Locating the apartment was not a problem. Soon she was standing in front of the door. As soon as she knocked, the door opened and she saw a man in his mid forties. "Mr Peace, I presume,' enquired Amy. "Yes," replied the man. "I am Amy. We spoke on the phone earlier. As I had told you, I have a proposition for you I think you might like. Please may I come in?" Mr Peace raised an eyebrow. He spent a minute studying her from head to toe before stepping back and allowing her to enter. She saw with satisfaction that he had locked the door from the inside. "You live here alone?" asked Amy looking around even though she knew everything about this man. "Yes. I am a widower and my son is away at college," said Mr Peace amiably. "That is where I come in, sir. I can give you so pleasure that you will forget your loneliness," said Amy hoping that her act of a hooker was a convincing one. "Thank you," replied the man. They sat on the sofa and Mr Peace was the one who moved first. Kissing her on the lips, he began to unbutton his shirt when Amy stopped him. "May I have something to drink?" she asked. "Sure, I'll just bring something for you to drink." He went to the kitchen to get her drink. As soon as he came back to the living room, his moth fell open. Amy was standing there wearing just her leather gloves. "Can we move this to the bedroom?" she asked innocently. "Sure," Mr Peace blurted out. He had forgotten that he was holding a glass in his hand. Amy shuffled towards him and took the glass from his hand and set it on the table. She took him by the hand and gestured that he take them to the bedroom. Mr Peace was elated. As soon as they entered the bedroom, Amy seized the man by his shirt collar and pushed him towards the bed. He collapsed on it in a heap very surprised. "Oh sorry, did I hurt you?" asked Amy. "A little, but I can manage." Amy mounted the man and sat heavily on his chest straddling him. She bent down and planted a kiss on his lips placing her hands on his stomach. A moment later she sat up again, her hands on his chest. "Do you know why I am here?" she asked. "Yes, you told me, didn't you? You're here to give me pleasure." "Actually I am here to give myself pleasure but alas you have to die in the process." Her hands were now sliding up. Before the man could realize what was happening, Amy placed her gloved fingers around his throat. "Now I am going to strangle you to death with my bare hands," she said smiling. "Yes you will," said Mr Peace thinking she was joking. "You think I am joking, Mr Peace. I am a professional hit woman and I am really going to kill you." Before he could utter anything else, Amy tightened her grip, a smile lurking on her lips. Immediately Mr Peace caught her wrists and tried to jerk her hands away but couldn't. Every passing moment, Amy's grip on his neck tightened until it was like a vice like grip. Mr Peace began thrashing his legs. He looked at Amy's face and found her still smiling. Good God. He was dying and she was having fun. His face turned red, his tongue lolled out of his mouth, his eyes seemed ready to explode. She kept on strangling him, slowly crushing his wind pipe and taking away his breath. Mr Peace was now having difficulty in drawing a breath. Amid laboured breaths, he urged her to stop doing what she was doing. "Sorry. I can't do that, got paid for this," she replied. Suddenly there was a knock on the front door. "Shit," Amy reacted. She had not expected this. She had no idea who it was and even though she did not want to reveal herself to this stranger, she realized she had no choice. "I have to kill this person too," she thought. Mr Peace was dead by now. She kept her grip on for some more time to absolutely make sure he was a goner. Making certain that he would never breathe again, Amy removed her hands from his throat and got up. Without bothering to put anything on, she quickly went to the front door and opened it. "Surprise...," the young man standing outside yelled before stopping short. He couldn't believe his eyes as he saw Amy standing in front of him, completely nude. "Where's my pappy?" he asked. Amy realized that this was Peace Junior. "Come in and shut the door," said Amy in a shrill voice. "You wouldn't want your neighbours to know that there was a naked woman in your father's apartment, would you?" The young man hurried inside and locked the door from the inside. "Where's my pappy?" he asked again. "Wait, I'll get him," replied Amy walking towards the bedroom. Soon she dragged the corpse out to the living room where she found Peace Junior pacing. No sooner had he laid his eyes on his father's body, than he cried out. "Pappy," he shouted running towards him. He knelt beside the body, tears streaming down his cheeks. "What happened to him?" he demanded. "Nothing, just his throat got caught in my hands," said Amy nonchalantly raising her hands in the air as if she was giving this new comer a demonstration. "His neck got caught in your hands?" the son said in an incredulous voice. "Yes," replied Amy still smiling. "You couldn't remove your hands from his neck?" The young man couldn't believe he was asking Amy such stupid questions. Amy thought that the young man had lost it, seeing his father was dead, but answered the question. "Yes, I could but you see I didn't want to." "You bitch, you killed my pappy. I am going straight to the police," roared the son rising. "You think I will let you leave this place alive?" Peace Junior looked stunned. "Listen to me pea-brain," snarled Amy, her smile had vanished. "How old are you?" "19." "I don't want to hurt you. You remind me too much of my own son. If you promise not to tell anyone what you saw here, I will let you go." Peace Junior realized what she was saying was true. He knew he was unarmed. God knows what weapons this woman might have, but wondered where she might hide them. "OK," he replied and sat down on the couch, holding his head in his hands. A little later, he looked up and saw Amy standing right in front of him, the familiar smile, sinister as it was, was back. Her right hand was a blur. She caught Peace Junior by the throat and hauled him up. Peace Junior was now standing on his feet, his neck being compressed with just one hand. Amy wasn't done yet. She raised her right hand even further and Peace Junior found his feet leaving the floor. Soon his feet were dangling in the air. "Sorry honey, I lied. There is no way I can let you live." He couldn't believe his eyes. The woman had actually lifted him off the floor, with just a one handed grip on his neck. Amy shook him like a rag doll, her vicious grip snuffing out his young life, virtually hanging him with her bare hand. Amy kept her grip on for a minute, seeing Peace Junior's head sagging; she threw the dead body to the floor. She looked around the apartment. She had killed three men with just her bare hands and loved every minute of it. "Who says women are a weaker sex?" she cried out, an exhilaration sweeping over her body. Her 'job' successfully completed, she dressed and left the apartment quietly.