Defective - A Psychopath's Tale

Chapter 9

"What's the matter little girl? Don't go runnin' away like that. Bring that ass back over here!" The words a boy was saying several tables away that had just been seated wafted into my ears pulling my attention from Sheila.

He had the laugh of an entitled prick pushing himself on some little person a bit too hard. I eased my attention in the direction of the voice and laugh. I saw a fat prick laughing in the manner elitist pricks do when they're laughing at something they've done when they have people they are above around they want to laugh with them. Staci was at his table, now on the other side of the table away from the boy. The people with him were feigning amused looks. Their eyes told another story.

This wasn't my problem. I turned my head and attention back to Sheila, but she'd also had her attention drawn to the fat prick. The expression on her face spoke loudly to me; there was venom in her eyes. The way she held her shoulders spoke of murder with their poise. As her focus hardened I moved my attention back to the table the wine steward that served us was at.

This was something about myself that befuddled me; it was like I was two people in one body. I could put a bolt through a girl's face and leave her dangling from a wall with no problems. Then some fat prick plays grab-ass with some twat I don't know in the slightest, then I've got problems. I'd never seen this twat before and I'd probably never see her again after tonight, but fat boy's treatment of her... chapped my ass.

The twat... no, Staci, she wasn't a mark, she also wasn't anything to me; Staci had completed her round of the table and had to interact with Fat Prick again. As she came up to him his eyes narrowed showing he was about to utilize the prick side of his personality again and at maximum potential. Sheila saw this too and muttered something under her breath.

I could see Staci speak to the boy again but I couldn't make out what she said, she was mostly turned away from me and had a softer voice. Didn't matter, she was doing her job and would have said something relating to the service aspect of her work. Fat Prick's hand went for her bottom. I assumed he'd grabbed her before by the standoffish manner she held.

"Why don't you sit on my lap and we'll discuss the amount of the 'gift' I'll give you tonight!" Fat Prick said to her while he fondled her bottom and tried to pull her towards him.

Those with him feigned their amusement at his antics. I glanced over at Sheila, she wasn't amused, and I most certainly wasn't amused. My eyes returned to Fat Prick's table, Staci had pulled away from his grubby grasp and was proceeding around behind him towards where her cart was. As she passed him by on his other side he swung his other hand at her smacking her on her bottom. Others in the restaurant were forcing themselves not to notice what Fat Prick was doing to the wine steward

Fat Prick made some snide and rude comment to Staci about her bottom and her. About the time she was at her cart, Edmond spoke bringing our attention to him. He was setting our bread and cracker plate on the table.

"We have three soups for your choosing tonight." He announced looking to each of us and smiling. "The first is a velvety lobster bisque made from Chef Madivaqua's own personal recipe." He'd finished placing the plate and now held his hands clasped mid-chest with a delighted look on his face and went on to tell us of our other two choices for soup.

Sheila was as distant as I was in ordering her soup. I thought her ears were focused on the table Fat Prick was at just like mine were. Edmond complimented our selections then informed us the wine steward would be right with us.

When Staci waited on us I kept my cold elitist disposition with her, though it softened on its own some. My heart wasn't in it, I think she could tell this along with Sheila. You just didn't treat girls like Fat Prick had treated our wine steward, at least in my book you didn't. Girls were my favorite part of life. Sure, I'd picked hundreds up for the night just to fuck them, but I always treated them well. Girls were what made life worth living, the best part of life. You don't shit on the best things in the world; the Mona Lisa, a plate of cannabis, girls, don't shit on these things.