[ WP ] Netflix and Kill . She lures unsuspecting victims to her apartment with the promise of a `` special night of watching BBC nature documentaries . '' When the documentary ends , the victim is quickly dispatched , tonight , however it might be different ...

It's really shame I thought. He was quite charming, and not unhandsome. And his dry wit had been a refreshing change of pace over the usual imbeciles that so easily for this ruse. 
 
 Though I questioned his interest in me. He seemed to enjoy speaking with me in the days leading up to our `` date'', but now that he was sitting on my couch, he seemed unsure of what he wanted. Most guys after all made a move almost immediately. Did he really believe my invitation to watch nature documentaries had been to actually get stoned and watch nature documentaries? 
 
 I moved closer to him, but his red eyes remained fixed on the screen, his face still. Reaching for his wrist, I leaned my head onto his chest, wrapping his arm around me. He embraced me for a moment before his arm went lax. His eye shifted for just a moment to look down at me, as a small grin appeared at the corner of his mouth. 
 
 But I kept watching his face. As I slipped my hand into the pocket on my sweatshirt, gripping it tight. Slowly drawing it out, pausing as he lifted the joint up to his mouth and slowly inhaled the last remnants of the drug. He held the butt before his pursed lip. In a moment he would turn to his head as he reached to place it in the ash tray on the end table. Which is when I will plunge the needle into his neck. 
 
 And he paused, his hand lingering next to his mouth. Still close enough that he might be able to block my needle if he saw me lunge. 
 
 I held my breathe. I willed my heart to beat steadily and my hand not to tremble. My whole body tensed, waiting for my opportunity. Could he feel my rising pulse? Sense my cruel intentions? 
 
 His head turned. My syringe darted, sinking into the flesh of his- hand? A gasp escaped when I saw the needle driven through his palm, cupping my hand. The poison uselessly drained from the tip that had approached within just an inch of his neck. 
 
 His grasp on me was tight, blocking my escape. He breathed deeply, and let out something between a sigh and a laugh. My grip become limp. His arm released me, reaching for the syringe left dangling in his opposite hand. He pulled the hollow, metal needle free and placed it on the end table. His injured hand flexed twice before his eyes. 
 
 And then he wrapped his arm around me, gently nudging my head back onto his chest. I lay there, my heart drumming, the tempo quickening when he kissed the top of head. 
 
 `` I knew you would be fun,'' he whispered to me.
