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 He clung to the tree trunk, exactly 2 stories in the air.  Level with her
bedroom window.  Invisible in the dark night.  Motionless except for the
beating of his heart.....( just like in the song, he thought ).  Inside the
bedroom she stood in front of her mirror and studied herself as she slowly
undressed.  Ran her hands over her body.  Primped her hair, looking
sidelong at herself in the mirror.  Then she took a towel from the dresser
and went into the adjoining bathroom.  Closed the door.

   He stepped carefully along a tree branch, onto the small roof under her
window.  Tried the window.  Unlatched.  He crawled into the room and closed
the window silently.

   From the bathroom he could hear the sound of the shower water running.
His senses were filled with the smell of her perfumes and shampoos and
soaps.

   The closet door stood halfway open.  He slipped in carefully, and
nestled in behind the row of hanging clothes.

   Hanging clothes, he thought.  Ironic.

   She was in the shower a very long time.

   Finally he heard the water stop.  She came out of the bathroom wrapped
in a towel.  Stood in front of the dresser, used the blow drier on her
hair. He could see her from behind, and in the mirror.

   She brushed her hair.  Combed her hair.  Teased her hair.  Then she
dropped the towel on the floor.

   From a dresser drawer she got white panties, pulled them on.  And a
white bra.  She spent a long time adjusting her cleavage above the bra
cups.

   Then she pulled on a short little half slip.  And from the bed she took
a black pleated skirt, pulled it on.  The hem fell halfway up her thighs.

   Then a white gauzy blouse.  He could see her bra through the fabric. 
She buttoned up the front and tucked it into the waist of her skirt.

   From the dresser she pulled out a pair of pantyhose.  Tangled.  She
concentrated on straightening them out.  He moved out of the closet and
crossed the carpet to where she stood by the dresser.  In one hand he held
a shiny knife.

   She had her head down, never saw him coming.  The first she knew, his
left hand was clamped across her mouth, and the knife was held in front of
her face.  He felt her body go rigid, and she made a long quivering intake
of breath.  In the mirror he could see her eyes snap open wide.

   "Shhhhh" he said simply.

   She dropped the pantyhose on top of the dresser and laid her hands flat
on the top.

   She was trembling and taking deep breaths, but not trying to scream or
struggle.  He slowly released her mouth, and tapped her lips with one
finger.  Stood close behind her, pinned her to the dresser.

   From one of his coat pockets he pulled out a roll of clear packaging
tape.  Reaching one arm around her from each side, he peeled off a half
foot of tape, cut it with his knife.  Holding it delicately by the ends, he
slowly pressed it across her mouth, and smoothed out the edges with his
fingers.  Her body trembled against him, and she sobbed quietly.  The smell
of her freshly cleaned hair filled his nose.

   He took the pantyhose from the dresser top.  Using his knife, he cut the
panties away.  He gently pulled her arms behind her and used one length of
the soft nylon to bind her wrists tightly together.  Taking her by the
shoulders, he turned her to face him, leaning her back against the dresser.

   He slid the knife slowly down the front of her shirt, carefully cutting
away each of the buttons.  They fell to the carpet almost silently.  Her
breath came in ragged gasps.  Her cleavage became visible between the edges
of her open shirt.

   Turning her to face the dresser again, he slowly slid the knife up the
right sleeve of her shirt.  Opened it from the cuff to the collar.  And did
the same with the left sleeve.  He pulled the ruined shirt away and dropped
it to the floor.

   Watching over her shoulder, in the mirror, he reached around in front
and carefully cut both bra straps above the cups.  Then he used the other
length of nylon to pull her elbows tight together, watching as she had to
pull her shoulders back and extend her chest.  Her breasts swelled above
her bra cups, quivered.  Her nipples made hard bumps through the fabric.

   He spun her around to face him.  Slid the knife slowly under the front
of her bra, lifted until it cut the strap.  Her breasts tumbled out, and
the bra slipped to the floor.  Sliding his knife back into his belt, he
used both hands to squeeze her breasts.  Lift them.  Let them drop.  Jiggle
them side to side.  Twist them.  He pinched her hard nipples, twisted them.
Slapped them.

   Suddenly her grabbed her by the waist and threw her across the room. 
She staggered over the carpet and fell on the bed.  Her skirt slid up and
exposed her tawny thighs.  She lay on her back, her knees pressed together,
gasping and sobbing, her breasts sloshing back and forth.

   From his coat pocket he pulled out a length of jingling rope and
pulleys. Lightweight rope with a small block and tackle attached. 
Guaranteed to lift 500 pounds.  More than enough.  He pulled her chair to
the open center of the room and stood on it.  Turned a large eyebolt
through the plaster and into the wood of the ceiling joist.  Hooked one
pulley of the block and tackle to it.  Leaving the apparatus dangling, he
stepped off the chair, and turned to the bed.

   She was gone.

   He saw the door was still closed.  The window was still closed.  The
closet stood open.

   He knelt down and looked under the bed.  She turned her head from him
and moaned.

   By the hair, he pulled her out.  Flat on her back.  Her breasts moving
prettily while he dragged her to lay under the makeshift gallows.

   From another pocket he took a short loop of heavy white rope.  The ends
were tied together to make a loop just big enough to slide over her head.
He pulled her into a sitting postion, and adjusted the loop so the knot was
in front of her throat.  He clipped the lower pulley onto the back of the
noose.  And gently pulled the free end of the rope.  She was moaning with
each breath, terrified.  Tears stood in the corners of her eyes.  As he
pulled, the knot pressed against her throat, and her fast deep breaths
started to rasp.  She struggle to her knees.

   Slowly he pulled the rope tight again.  Her breath rasped, and she
staggered to her feet.

   Pulled.  She shook her head, pleading with her eyes, her black hair
pinned flat under the noose.  As the rope grew tight again, she staggered
in a small circle until she was centered under the gallows.  She rose
slowly on her toes, her breath high pitched and desperate.  The loop forced
her to look down at her quivering breasts.  Behind her back, her fists
opened and closed.

   He tied the end of the rope to the closet doorknob.  Reached under her
black skirt and slowly slid her panties down her legs.  Lifted her feet out
of them, one at a time.  Then he slid off her short half slip.  And then
her black skirt.  Kicked them all across the room.

   She stood nude.  Trembling.  Her skin glistened with sweat.  Her nipples
were incredibly hard, perched on the front of her breasts.  Her toes
pressed into the carpet, her heels off the floor.  Taking long, labored
breaths.

   He ran his hands over her body.  She groaned again as he did.  He slid
his fingers between her legs, found her soaked.  Her body shook and she
staggered from foot to foot.

   He untied the rope from the doorknob, and pulled her off the floor.

   Her breath stopped.  She pointed her toes straight at the floor, tried
to reach.  Couldn't.  Her legs moved slowly, treading water.  Fists behind
her back.

   Her chest heaved for air, got none.  Again.  Her breasts bounced.  She
started to flail her legs out in different directions, desperate to gain
footing on something.  The lightweight rope started to slowly spin.  He
watched her struggle, turning around and around.

   She pulled her knees up to her chest, and kicked forward.  Then pulled
her legs up behind her and kicked back.  Managed to draw one quick little
breath each time.  Again and again.  And again.

   He looked at the clock radio on her nightstand.  She'd been hanging for
5 minutes now.  Her struggles were becoming slower, less coordinated.  Her
whole body took on a shade of light blue.  Her legs dangled heavier and her
hands were held in loose half fists.

   He untied the rope and let her slump to the floor.  She drew in a ragged
breath, panted.  Lay motionless, except for her heavy sobbing.

   He pulled her off the floor again.

   Tied the rope and stood next to her.  Shoved his fingers between her
legs.  Inside of her.  She thrust her pelvis against his hand, clamped her
legs on his hand, soaked, silent, contracting on his fingers.

   He kept his hand there for her until he knew she was dead.  It took
nearly 20 minutes.  He had counted at least 3 major orgasms, with countless
smaller ones in between.

   Now she dangled motionless above the floor, her toes pointed straight
down.  Her hair was a mess.  Not a quiver ran through her body.

   He let her slump down to the floor again.  Took the loop from around her
neck.  Disconnected the pulley from the ceiling and unscrewed the eyebolt.
Put it all back in his pocket again.  Left her with her wrists and elbows
tied together, flat on her back on the floor.  He climbed out the window,
and down the tree.  And went into the night.