Thread: Killers Affair —  [LackingInHeart & Death by orgasm]

Maximilian was escorted out the the interview roughly by two guards after Jillian had been escorted out. They manhandled him around as they tossed him back into his cell, the guards grumbled about him getting extra time and all sorts of rhetoric about him going to get punished. He had a meeting with the Director the next day. Who promised to do all of the same thing and more that the guards had promised. Threatening to extend his sentence to in a multi-year sentence, hard labor and so-on. Max politely tried to explain that her lack of professionalism, and overall lewd conduct of an interview fell on dead ears. The Director told him if he behaved perfectly for her next two meeting that he wouldn't penalize him for his foolish, and brash actions. Max was surprised to hear that he would be seeing her again at all after the incident. He honestly didn't want to see her again, but if that was part of his terms then he guess he would have to comply with the rest of whatever she needed. Coming to an agreement, Max was escorted back to his cell. Over the course of the next week, Max's thoughts had become rampantly repetitive around Ms. Grant. While he was still entirely irked about how she was asking such brazen questions without any proper introduction or purpose. Max recognized trouble when he saw it, especially the silent and unsuspecting ones. Maximilian's image and general persona didn't scream criminal, he just looked like a young kid who was in an orange jumper. She suspected him as a frat boy, who liked to date-rape girls. The more he thought about her and how arrogant and condescending she was being it only enraged him. He thought long and hard about all of the terrible things that he'd do to her, fuck her face until she passed out, whip her into shreds, rape her ass so she couldn't touch a chair for a week. His mind swirled with frustration and mania. However mad he was about her, he knew that he would have to literally leave it all aside and just have a short winded conversation with her and get her out of his face. He fell asleep each night masturbating of the the memory of the sound of her heels as they clicked across the tiles. The looks of disgust across her face as the spit landed in her face, cumming wishing that he could do more than just spit in her face. Max talked to as many rapists who he knew within the prison over the course of a week. He wasn't able to find a single person who was also interviewed by Ms. Grant. Not having a clue as to how many people she was interviewing, his search was futile. Max was narcissistically mentally reliving his most current crimes over the last 2 years. He was a far bigger rapist than he was a murderer. Murderer generally get caught before a rapist does only killing when a window was left open for him to climb through metaphorically speaking. His list of killings was enough to fit on a single hand. He rarely killed on a whim or impulse. There were some exceptions to that. He had killed one person on impulse, and one person for hire. The for hire job was when he was passing through a town while traveling. Max meet this man in a random bar one night, staying until last call he meet a very drunk man who had been screwed out of a few million dollars due to poor work and no permits. The target was a contractor who had screwed over the large property dealer. The target had offered him an offer that was too good to be true, he seemed genuine all around. He had delivered on his end of the deal, and everything looked good. Until he got audited on several properties, the fees came out to three-forths of this gentlemen's worth. They talked as they exited the bar, Max jokingly said he'd kill for him 500k, and the drunk man told him he would give him 750k. Max took the man's phone number down, and said good night. Several days later contacting the man when he was sober. His bar friend insisted that he still wanted the man dead at the price he had quoted him a few night earlier. Max had to stay in that town for three more days to locate, study, and track his target. He saw a good window of opportunity as he followed him out to a construction site on the outskirts of town. Despite being the middle of the day, it was isolated, passing only two other cars tailing him out of the town. He had parked a few blocks away, walking up to the construction site with only a revolver. He wasn't an assassin, with silenced pistols and fancy equipment. He only needed a weapon, any weapon and he'd take care of it. Approaching the man claiming to be lost, Hey man, sorry for tailing you but I just need to find my way back to the highway. The stranger in the hardhat was annoyed but would give him directions as long as he got the hell out of his construction site. As he turned to point back towards the road they had came in on, Max extended him arm to this temple shooting him at point blank twice. He dropped on the first, the second was a guarantee. Max had collected him money, told his bar friend that all the proof would be on the evening news. No witnesses, no leads. Max's mind and ego tortured himself looking for validation to throw at her, not that he wanted to prove her wrong. However, he did want to let her know that she was entirely mistaken on who she perceived him to be. The day of the second interview Max had spent the better part of his morning masturbating and meditating. He was trying to release any extra testosterone that may make him overly-aggressive like last time. Trying to quite his inner rage and his own egotism he slowly came to a calmed center of mind as the two guards from last week dropped by his cell to collect him for the interview. The guards were just as rough as they were escorted him after last week's incident. They clearly remembered Max's stunt at the end, but he didn't care for them. He knew that Ms. Grant wouldn't have forgotten him so soon. Max expected her to be far more condescending and dismissive of Max the second time around. She would have to put on this persona that he was untouchable by him even though he had already disproved that. Returning to the same room he had been interviewed in, the placed Max into his seat, and this time the chains on the handcuffs didn't allow him to stand from the table. They intended to keep him sitting like a good boy. Making the off-comment to the guards, I can still spit across the room even if I'm seated. Slapping him across the back of the head, they left and several minutes later would return with Ms. Grant in their company. The guards stared with beams of hatred at Max, as he flicked his hand at them in the motion to get out of the room. The grumbling guards left them alone the still silence filled the room. Sizing up Ms. Grant, she still was adorned in professional attire, and she even had the decency to wear sneaker this time around. Leaning back in his bolted down iron chair, he did his best attempt to get comfortable with his limited mobility. So you missed me as much as I missed you? He could feel Ms. Grants eyes rolling in the back of her head, even if she didn't actually roll her eyes. Giggling at his own bad pun, he cleared his throat, But no really--I understand that these meeting have been prearranged and are mandated. So I will try to be more to your assistance this time around. Finishing his thought, he sucked on his teeth and inspected Ms. Grant again, Perhaps we should reintroduce ourselves. Since you've had a little practice you could properly bring up why you're here. And I'll try to push my selfish insecurities aside and give you something useful. After all this should be a mutually beneficial interaction. Shifting his butt in the metal chair he struggled to get comfortable, yanking on the short handcuff chains, They're keeping me on a tighter leash. After some more shifting in his seat, he ended up in the only position he could get a little comfy in, I was told I am to apologize for my behavior of last week. I do deeply apologize for that, I haven't slept much because of how ridden with guilt I am. Smirking to himself, he covered his tracks, But all sarcasm aside...I'd like this meeting to end on slightly better terms, maybe you can spit on me. Max was still a genuine jokester, even if only he only laughed at his own jokes.