Talk to nicely.

Now, a ripper's skills must go beyond blades, of course.

I wiped the scalpel on the part of the cloth, still covering her breasts.

No, no, there are so many other ways to dispatch a person.

Leaning down, I put my forearm against her throat and ease my weight forward.

Strangulation is favored of many a ripper, whether it be by weight.

I lean in a little harder, and the air wheezing through her windpipe starts to hitch.

When her eyes begin to bulge, I ease back, and it's like a child's whistle, the sound of her lungs, sucking in desperately needed air.

That is one way. Here is another. I go for the classic hands around her throat bows and put my thumbs to her windpipe.

It would only take a hard squeeze for it all to be over,

and I can tell by the look in her eyes that she is quite aware of this reality. She knows it,

I know it. My hands fall away. Or I could use rope or thick twine. I could use one of your stockings or your lacy undergarments.

The options are almost endless.

I point to the rope, tying the curtains back from the parlor's windows.

That will do. So will that.

I point at the arm of my jacket.

Anything, really. So long as it can be wrapped around your neck and cinched tight.

I walk away from her and sip some more tea.

It's gone horribly cold, and I set it back down.

Disgusted.

Now, my fairest one, I would be remiss if I didn't explain the difference

between strangulation and suffocation. Seeing a small pillow on her chair, I pick it up,

...