Friday night, a bedroom lit only by candlelight;

He had lost count. Was it really over 450? He closed his eyes and thought again, straining his recall as he traveled back in his memory to the first one. He had been fifteen, her name was Elaine. She was a teacher's assistant at Jefferson High those many moons ago. He had stayed after school that day, and she had taken him into the janitor's closet and got down on her knees.

Yeah, that was surely the first one.

For the next three years of high school he had about fifty different girls. Had quite a reputation also. Got into a lot of fights with angry boyfriends. Always managed to walk away with his ego rather than his body bruised, most times.

In college he learned he was bisexual, truly, not in the denial style of some, but in the "guys, gals, different equipment, same outcome" style. Truth be told, though, he did prefer the ladies, but a guy would do, in a pinch.

Another truth? He had loved them all. Some where only one night stands, some were actual relationships that lasted a few weeks, but he loved them all, he did.

The one lying next to him now kicked the covers off. He pulled them back over her. She was having a hard time relaxing; they all seemed to have a hard time relaxing these days. He had lit several jasmine scented candles earlier as well as some musk incense, these scents were supposed to have calming and sensuous effects on people…but folks today just did not know how to calm down and enjoy the moment. Always on the move, they were, as if their bodies were hooked to electrical chords that kept jolting them into states of convulsion. Orgasms with out the pleasure.

He got out of bed softly and went to the bathroom, which was also lit with candles. The electricity only came on for a few hours in the evening these days. But he made do. Turning on the tap, he washed his face and hands and took a rag and wiped the sweat off his body and then put a robe on. He was forty years old now, but in the soft glow of the burning, he could pass for thirty. Seems that this nasty old world he was stuck in could not diminish his good looks no matter how hard it tried.

On the floor was yesterday's newspaper, the headline screamed, "THE DEAD WALK". "Now tell me something I don't know", he said, kicking the paper aside.

Turning from his reflection, he looked in on his bed partner. Her legs shackled to the oak bed frame. She was a runner; he needed to make sure she would not wander away. Her mouth was covered with a leather gag so she could not give him a hickey, or worse. The rest of her though was white and pure. She was still fresh, and they had made love for hours the night before. She never once complained about anything he wanted to do to her. That was a plus. Then again, nobody complained these days.

Walking over to the bed he undid her chains. She sat up drunkenly and her arms stretched out for him. He put a thick dog collar around her neck and attached a heavy leather strap to it. He led her from the bedroom to the hallway and down the steps, actually he pushed her down the steps. She landed at the foot of the stairs, got up and again stretched her arms out in his direction. He took a small pistol out of his robe pocket and shot her in the middle of the forehead. Her head exploded in a mass of gray and red.

Clorox would take care of that stain, he had discovered.

Her body was placed in the basement furnace along with the others. Later on he'd fire up the hearth and reduce her to ash. He blew her a kiss thinking about her cool flesh against his hot skin, the way she arched her back when he entered her, the way she thrashed when he climaxed. She was one of the better ones. He really loved her.

That done, he went back up stairs and shaved. Then he splashed on some cologne and put on a polo shirt and a pair of clean slacks. He looked good, a real lady-killer. He grabbed his duffel bag, which had a stun gun, a Colt 45, and several leather masks and pairs of handcuffs in it and slung it over his shoulder.

It was Friday night, and he was ready for a date.

Opening the front door, the smell of rotten flesh notwithstanding, he took a deep breath and smiled, "Ready or not, girls, here I come", he said out loud. Then he locked his front door and made his way downtown.