I was club hopping with my BFF, Jeannie, when I found myself, in deep trouble! This was the 1970’s and it was quite popular to go to a discotheque to meet someone to date. These dancing clubs were springing up across the Tampa Bay area and we were always interested in checking out the newest one.
So, we ended up at a discotheque on Dale Mabry Highway. Upon entering the building, I noticed a large python displayed in a glass enclosure. The word "predator" struck me like a ton of bricks, but "prey" never entered my mind. Seeing the snake should’ve been a warning, because that evening I would become the prey for another predator.
Jeannie and I ordered the "ladies’ night special" the club offered, which was a large, paper cup filled with ice and wine. The cost was only one dollar. We managed to find an empty table, sit, and slowly sipped on our drinks. It didn’t take long for the club to become packed with young men and I was asked to dance.
His real name was William, but he liked being called, “Billy.” Billy was rather tall and not much of a dancer. When he asked about getting some fresh air, I didn’t hesitate, since the place was overcrowded.
Once we made it outside, there were a few people hanging around. I didn’t know Billy was a predator at that time, since I didn’t get a weird feeling being around him. Later, I would learn Billy assumed there wasn’t anyone in the parking lot, so he could force me into his car and take off. Therefore, he had to come up with an alternate plan.
Billy convinced me he was an undercover narc and had some weed in his car that he needed to get. I asked him what he was doing with a joint, if he were an undercover agent. He came up with a good story about getting arrested for carrying weed and instead of having to serve time behind bars, he was released as long as he became a snitch.
Billy needed to get a joint from his car and sell it to a potential customer, someone in the parking lot, to meet his weekly quota for helping the police. I asked him why he would do such a thing, and he claimed if the person was dumb enough to buy it, then that person deserved some time in jail.
I walked over to his car and stood near the door, watching as he fumbled around, looking for this so-called joint. Since he couldn’t find the non-existent joint, he picked up a pack of cigarettes off the dashboard, removed one and lit it up. He asked if I’d wait for him to finish and then we’d go back inside.
Billy reached over and unlocked the passenger door and insisted I should sit, while he finished his cigarette. Once I sat down, with the car door opened, he started up the car. He completely caught me off-guard, as he drove away. He mumbled about going to his place to get a joint.
I thought about jumping out of the moving car, but for some reason I can’t explain, I felt it was better if I didn’t.
We weren’t far from the club, when he pulled into a driveway. Since it was dark, I could barely make out a small wooden house. Billy ordered me to stay seated and not to get out of the car, and after he said that, my stomach began to act up. I had a strong feeling he was testing me. I just knew if I’d left the car, I’d become his prey.
Once Billy returned, he took me back to the club. There was no more mention about selling a joint. I told him that Jeannie was probably worried about me and I needed to head back inside. Billy went with me and followed me as I walked over to where Jeannie was sitting with some guy. We made eye contact, and I mentioned about heading home, since it was getting late, and we had church tomorrow.
I said "goodbye" to Billy, but he blocked me from leaving. Literally, he stood in my way and commanded, “You will be back here next week, is that understood?”
“Of course,” I lied, staring up at him. As he walked away, I knew he was convinced I’d keep my promise.
Jeannie and I didn’t say a word until we were in my car and out of the parking lot.
“What was that all about?” asked Jeannie.
“I don’t know! Something is wrong with that guy?”
“I can’t believe you went outside with him?”
“Neither, can I?”
Wearing a grin on her face, Jeannie couldn’t help herself and ask, “Are you coming back next week?”
“HELL, NO!”
I don’t know how long it was before I read the headlines about a serial killer named, William Mansfield, Jr., otherwise known as Billy, who buried his victims on his parents’ property in Hernando County. At first, it didn’t click, until I saw his picture and his car. Yes, indeed, I was just plain lucky, not to become one of Billy’s victims.
Sharon Oberne (pen name: Sharon Brown) has always felt like a magnet, since she seems to attract predators. As such, she is the author of Innocence Splattered, which is available on Hoopla, Born Magnet: Innocence Splattered Ebook by Sharon Brown | hoopla (hoopladigital.com) and other digital platforms.
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