Lydia sat on the couch a bowl of overly buttered cancerous looking popcorn placed in front of her.

Her favourite show was about to air. She sat tensely, her body filled with the excitement of someone who was ready to ride a rollercoaster.

Who knew what the show would talk about tonight. Would it be UFOS, John Wayne Gacy, unsolved terrifying grisly murders, or lost love? Okay, that one was probably her least favourite. If she wanted to watch some mushy love shit she would watch a chick flick or maybe Breakfast at Tiffany's, but she wasn't wanting that. She was wanting deep dark scary stuff that would fuck her head up even more than it already was.

"Wacky Martin's Blood Shack."

Wacky Martin was this guy that actually talked and looked like a robot. He stood in his trench coat, his eyes as cold as the killers he was talking about. His name didn't really suit him because he looked a bit too serious for a Wacky Martin. That name should belong to someone a little more like a used car salesman.

But despite that, the show was massively addictive. It even had a really intense theme song that gave her the chills.

Wacky Martin stood, his face serious, in front of a prison. "Tonight we are at Florida State Prison, where the infamous Ted Bundy met his maker in the electric chair."

He went on that Ted Bundy was born Theodore Robert Cowell November 24th, 1946. And would later go on to kill at least thirty. His favourites were brunettes with long parted hair. 

Lydia felt herself instinctively run her fingers through her own long brown hair. It made her feel nervous.

The phone broke the silence, It was Aubrey. "Turn on the TV. Wacky Martin is on!" She practically screamed into the phone at Aubrey.

"You know I don't give a fuck about Wacky Martin. They always just blame some black man, or it turns out to be the husband, too boring."

"Fine then. I'll talk to you later," Lydia said with a click.

Lydia knew that Aubrey was probably murmuring to herself about what a rude bitch she was.

The show, as always, kept her on the edge of her seat.

When it was over she went about her usual routine of checking every last window and door, locking them and setting her alarm.

She went to take a shower. As she began shampooing her hair she thought to herself, "This is exactly when I'd get murdered. Naked and exposed. The beads of water trickling down my breasts. Killers choose to strike when it's fucking inconvenient. When was a convenient time to get murdered?" She idly thought as an odd smile formed on her face.

She laid in bed, tossing and turning, all kinds of thoughts running through her head. As sleep eluded her, she turned her thoughts to trivia.

Ted Bundy had a dog named Lassie. Gacy seemed like a Republican but was a Democrat. His name was Pogo the Clown. She needed to own one of his paintings because that would really tie the room together. Her trivia musing resumed. America's first serial killer is considered to be H. H. Holmes, Fred, and Rosemary, West's address was 25 Cromwell Street, Gloucester. And finally, Dennis Rader worked for ADT and that wasn't comforting at all.

As she lay determined to win the staring contest with her ceiling the first rays of the 5:00 am sun started to peer unwelcomingly into her window and the birds chirped like the little asshole fucks that they are. She buried her head under her pillow and drifted off to sleep. For all of two hours before her alarm shrilled and she had to get up for work.

She had to stop watching Informative murder porn and an overdose amount of horror films before bed. Maybe some cartoons or even anime would be a helpful upgrade.

Lydia took a hasty cold shower and then chugged a Monster Energy drink, letting her inner Kyle come out and threaten her drywall. "This shit's good," she mumbled.

She got to work just two minutes late which was a big improvement. "There you are," came the horrible raspy monster voice of her coworker Agnes. "I'm glad you're here. We have a ton of books that need to go back on the shelf immediately; before people start getting here and seeing clutter." 

"Ugh. Agnes, I just woke. Can this wait, I need to sit in the beanbag room for a bit. My head's pounding." Her voice sounded a bit desperate and whining at that last part.

"How many times have we talked about this? No, you may not go nap on the beanbags. This is work. You get paid to work here. Not to come in looking like hell, and sleeping in the Children's Book-Nook.

"Yeah, okay," she said with a grunt picking up a heavy stack of moldy old books and making her way to the back of the library. As soon as Lydia was out of sight of the old crone she dropped the stack of books on the library restock cart and made her way into the book nook curling herself up into a ball on her favourite bean bag.

ooOoo

Lydia blinked her eyes slowly trying to open them. "Stupid goblin. How did you get in here?" she murmured quietly. As her eyes finally opened and adjusted she realized that she had been asleep. A bit of drool in the corner of her mouth had spilled down into a cold puddle. "Oh, you're just a normal child. Not a goblin," she said with a yawn. "Who's dead. Did Agnes finally die?"

Just as she was saying that a large group of children came back with a very angry looking Agnes whose face was even more wrinkled up than normal.

"You scared the children again, Lydia." Her voice was stern. Luckily Betty came rushing in before the old bag had a chance to unload the lecture she was clearly ready to give Lydia. "Come quick. You gotta watch the TV." Betty's voice was annoyingly frantic and loud. It was the voice of someone who enjoys spreading mass panic just so her own life isn't so boring.

"When did Betty get here?" Lydia asked.

Agnes narrowed her eyes in Clint Eastwood fashion at Lydia. "More than two darn hours ago."

"Fuck," Lydia was thinking, "I hope whatever's on that TV is actually interesting and not just some ad for Activia. God knows Betty gets excited over debating what's better, Progresso or Campbell's."

As she neared the lobby she saw several people were gathered around the TV. 

Betty was hushing people as the news anchor was speaking. 

"This just in. Thirty-eight-year-old Roxie Phillips has been arrested today after it was learned that she has killed, not one but, two husbands over the last few years after taking out an insurance claim on them. First in the quaint little town of Storping and then again in Valley View."

"Woah. Valley View, that's right here. Where we are," said a random dorky looking guy who had a mullet and pink fanny pack. He looked like he dropped out of the eighties. "Totally un-rad man. So uncool of her. She's totally harshing Valley View's buzz..." he continued on. 

"Did I do drugs last night?" Lydia wondered. "Maybe I fell asleep and woke up in the fucking Twilight Zone. Why is there a guy in here looking like some sort of Uncle Joey from Full House clone?"

She wasn't even listening to the story now. She was pretty sure she was still asleep but then someone exclaimed, "I didn't know killers could be that fine." That caught her attention. When she looked back up at the screen she saw a blonde woman with a haunting looking face and deep sad eyes being led into county jail in handcuffs.
 
"Hope she looks good in orange," someone else said, to the sounds of chuckling and some high-fiving.

Lydia looked over at Betty who was now talking and gesturing at the screen clearly enjoying this moment. "You just never know folks, this type of thing can happen anywhere even in Valley View." She was trying to sound upset but was clearly loving it. Feeling fueled by the hysteria and being part of the moment. Obviously feeling important.

Lydia couldn't deny that she was also now starting to enjoy this. Probably not in the same way as Betty.

"She's dangerous. She's a gorgeous cold-blooded goddess." Lydia wished she was the one cuffing her, but obviously to a bed.

"Okay, stop thinking that stuff. That's weird. So fucking weird. You need your head examined," she thought.

Needlessly to say her thoughts continued on even after work. They continued on into the shower and followed her all the way to bed. She did her best to ignore them.

Every day Lydia would see her on the tv and couldn't help but tune in and watch in awe. The whole town was following along with the case. It was all she heard them talking about at work. The Widowmaker, as they called her. Her face was quickly becoming plastered on every magazine cover. Soon Lydia was taping her gorgeous face all over her room. Like it was 2003 and she was crushing all over Marilyn Manson and the girls of Kittie. She was just as obsessed as everyone else. The story had taken them by storm.

One day on her lunch break Lydia just sat down and started writing The Widowmaker a letter and before she could change her mind she sent it off. She never expected to hear back so when she got a letter in the mail with a prison address on it she nearly dropped it.

"Darling Lydia,

"It was very good to hear from you. In fact, it's been one of the only good things to happen to me in a while. Shocker. I can't answer all the questions you asked but I do understand your curiosity. I too am morbid and nosey.

"If you would like to come to visit sometime I'd enjoy it. Anytime that is until, you know, Haha.

"Love R.P.  
"xo"

She stood still for a moment just staring at all the fine handwriting in ink on the paper. Her heart pounding loudly in her chest. She slowly brought the paper up to her nostrils and inhaled deeply before she even realized it. 

Over the next few weeks, they wrote a few more letters, before Lydia got up the courage to go see her.

The best letter came just two days before Lydia's trip to the county jail. It was a small package that instantly aroused her curiosity. Slowly she opened it careful not to tear it up. Out spilled a small pair of black lace panties that fell neatly to the floor. She gasped a little then her cheeks began to turn red. She slowly picked them up and saw a small note attached to them which read:

"Darling Lydia, Something tells me that you'll enjoy this, but something also tells me that you'd really enjoy being between my legs in real life more. For now, enjoy this.

"Love R.P. xxx

"P.S. Wear my panties when you come to visit me...

Later that night Lydia found herself lying in bed. She was fresh out of the shower. Her small black lace nightie on, which actually matched the panties Roxie sent. "It must be fate," she thought with a small smile forming on her face. Lydia bit lustfully down a little on her bottom lip and brought the panties up to her face inhaling deeply. Taking in Roxie's perfume that still lingered on the panties.

Idly her tongue ran over them, tasting as she closed her eyes and her fingers moved between her legs, What followed next was euphoria. A tidal wave of pleasure that she had never experienced before washed over her. She screamed loudly not caring if the neighbors next door heard.

Two days later Lydia found herself picking out the sexiest little black dress she could find. As Lydia walked up to the steps of the county jail her heart felt like it was going to explode. Roxie's panties, which she was wearing, were already soaking and clinging to her.

She could hear her best friend Aubrey's voice in her head, "Are you seriously going to meet this lady who kills people? You are actually going to try to fuck her. You are one horny bitch. Hope you don't end up with an ice pick in you then." 

Lydia was expecting that she'd have to talk to her through a glass on one of those annoying little phones, while sad families talked to their loved ones behind bars, but Instead, she was let into a room with her.

She felt her face flush and a little nervous sweat form as she looked at her face-to-face for the first time.

Roxie sat still her hands folded on the table in front of her.

Her eyes were still the same haunting deep pools Lydia had seen on TV, but they had a bit of a gleam in them now and she was smiling. She was looking pretty fucking radiant for someone who was behind bars.

When she had first imagined this it kinda played out like a porno flick in her head, but more passionate. Kind of like a Mexican soap opera. In a perfect dream-like way she would instantly run-up to her and kiss her hard and then like magic their clothes would vanish.

In reality though here she was just standing there. Her face was actually starting to turn red which caused Roxie to smile more.

"Aren't you going to come closer to me, Lydia?" she spoke, her voice thick with confidence and lust.

Slowly, with her legs trembling, Lydia moved towards her. As she did Roxie stood up. Then she took her by surprise by pushing her against the wall, kissing Lydia hard. Her teeth were lightly digging into her bottom lip. Lydia parted her lips invitingly as her tongue slipped in and twirled with hers. Hot and wet, their saliva mixing together. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest it sounded like a thousand butterflies trying to escape their cage.

Their breasts pressed together and Roxie kept her pinned to the wall. Her hand moved slowly downwards until it was between Lydia's legs. She moaned softly as her fingers rubbed against Lydia's or rather her drenched panties. Her fingertips pressed in moving back and forth. 

Meanwhile, the lace was becoming increasingly wetter if that was possible with each movement of her fingers. She broke their kiss and looked deep into Lydia's eyes deeper than anyone has ever looked before. If it was possible to pierce someone's soul with just a gaze then she had. 

"I can tell you are just as turned on as me, and you wore my panties as I asked. Good girl," she said with a smile.

She started stripping off her orange jumpsuit. She stood in front of Lydia. Her perfectly naked body was the kind that anyone would envy and desire, with grade-A fucking excellent tits like Julia Ann.

Lydia started to remove her dress, but Roxie stopped her. "Let me." She stepped behind Lydia and unzipped the dress slowly. The sensation of the zipper sent bolts of sexual electricity and need throughout her body. The dress finally fell to the floor and she stepped out of it, kicking off her heels. Quickly she unclasped her bra and tossed it.

Lydia was debating whether or not she should remove her panties but before she could debate any further Roxie was down between her legs her tongue sliding over them. "God, we taste so fucking good mixed together," she moaned out before continuing her licking and teasing, her nose pressed against Lydia's clit moving it up and down.

Finally, she gripped the panties and pulled them until they ripped. "There really is nothing quite like the sound of lace ripping. Something about it is so erotic," Roxie said lustfully.

Before Lydia knew it their bodies were in a passionate tangle on the floor their pussies grinding together. Their swollen lips rubbing together, juices mixing. Their breathing hard and fast as their clits began rubbing together. Their moans were so loud. At one point Lydia tried to stifle the sounds she was making when Roxie stopped her.

"No one can hear us, it's a soundproof room. We can do anything we want. Not that they would really care. In fact, I imagine that if a guard could hear he would be stroking his cock to all the delicious sounds we are making."

Their hips rocked back and forth grinding into each other. Lydia was near the verge of an intense climax when suddenly Roxie's hands wrapped around her throat and began squeezing. She started to reach out to stop her, but instead, she started cumming. Her pussy pulsated as her juices squirted out of her in a hot wet torrent. She was cumming harder than she had ever cum before.

Roxie let out a loud moan and began cumming at the same time, squirting all over Lydia's pussy. There were juices running down to the floor in a puddle. Lydia's eyes started shutting. She couldn't breathe and suddenly she was scared.

Right as Lydia was about to blackout and probably die Roxie released her. She saw the look of fear in Lydia's eyes. Fear and lust, what a strange combination to have. Roxie laughed a little. "You thought I was going to kill you didn't you?" she smiled, her eyes gleaming as she collapsed on top of Lydia.

Lydia's throat was aching and her thoughts were whirling.

Roxie whispered in her ear, her breath hot against Lydia's neck. "I won't lie, for a moment there I actually was thinking of killing you."

"What made you change your mind?" Lydia asked in a hoarse voice, almost afraid of the answer.

"You are just as fucked up as me. I might fall in love."

Her words sent shivers down Lydia's spine. She had to get her out of here.