He slips away, never glancing over his shoulder. He's caused catastrophes before; he always slips away before he's caught. Yet- unlike business, he's invested.
Emotionally, physically, socially- he's already signed, condemning him eternally.
With work, life is uncomplicated. Standard rules, familiar practices, detachment. He signs the papers, closes the deals, shakes the hands, falsely smiles, furthers the company.
His job is clear, the rules his own.
He could never live those frivolous lifestyles younger men crave. Reckless inhibition flowing through their veins, inexperience reflecting in their eyes. Still, he envies them; desiring satisfaction, coveting youth.
Harry's young, reckless, foolish.
Is that what he seeks? To corrupt Harry before he lives the life Norman's dreamed of?
He scowls at the thought, angerly punching the elevator button.
No, surely not.
Afterall, where envy leads, guilt follows. He's never surrendered to guilt, nor does he intend to.
He exists, each sound reminding him of life. He pauses, allow himself the momentary rest to look out the window.
Remodeling. His company is remodeling.
From below he hears the shouting as workers lower supplies, stacking steel. The sounds join Norman's thoughts- mingling until they're one.
Norman watches the foundation forming, solid beams providing the necessary support for the structure.
He turns away, metaphors warning him.
Each breath, each step- a sign. He relinquishes himself into his reflections- a haunting smile forming across his pursed lips.
Where do these thoughts come from?
Twisted fingers clenching fabric, sweat drenched leather, flushed skin- delicious.
He shuts his eyes, desperately seeking that particular image; praying its not abandoned with the night.
Yes! He has it.
Flushed pale skin, fearful dark eyes, gasping open mouth- perfect.
He drifts back, setting foot on earth once more, opens his icy orbs of shattering crystal.
He realizes these crimes are horrid, permanent, blood stained pleasures- yet that does not stop him from licking, and savoring the blood on his hands.
He can't wait to come home.