Leggy

Rupert hovered over the young woman laying on the bed like an ever present wasp, barb extended and waiting, just waiting, to dig it into soft white flesh. He had the look of desperation in his eyes, that wide eyed madness that is seen in the eyes of slavering, starved wolves. Specks of spittle were present at the corners of his mouth and his lips were slick and shiny with drool. He groped her exposed flesh, starting at the ankles and working upwards. He snorted.
"I see them, you know? Everyday. Every single one. Young, old, male, female. Makes no difference. They're all here. A happy family. Happy, happy family."
He snorts again, continuing his caterpillar journey up the nude body of the woman, who has remained passive to all of his words or touching. Asleep. Or dead.
"They say it gets easier after the first and then easier every time. Is that a good thing?" he asks.
No reply. He works his way up to her torso now, sitting on her. He locks eyes with her. She stares blankly up. He gives her a sharp smack and then laughs. He leans forward, lips puckered. And then takes a bite.