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San Francisco. 1950. The Post war economy still booms, but not everyone prospers. Heroin has become the drug of choice. Nightclubs and brothels have taken over the city’s opium dens. Like so many other cities across the country, gangs and sex workers claim the streets under cover of the night. The darkened alleys of Chinatown have snuffed another prostitute’s life, making it two this week. Ten hours from now, a third victim will be discovered. Sergeant Elizabeth Holmes will throw the growing case file on Detective David Meenor’s already cluttered desk. As for tonight…“What did you have in mind this evening, love?”Vickie sucks her cigarette, then rubs it out in the dirty ashtray. She exhales toward the ceiling, giving her client a moment to ponder the offer.“Hmmm, I want you to pleasure me first. Then, I’ll please you. How’s that sound?”The reply comes slowly, with an air of trepidation.“That sounds divine. Just relax.”Vickie kisses her index finger and places it on her client’s lips. She scratches downward, pokes her painted fingernail into her john’s chest, and sends the naked figure back onto the bed. She smirks, then drops to her knees and goes to work. Vickie takes her time without wasting any. She moves languidly, like the inked boa snaking up her thigh and around her hip. She slivers up between john’s legs. Her tongue navigates the prey’s quivering flesh. She flicks her tongue around its sex; her dancing fingers tease it. Vickie’s limbs wrap tightly around her climaxing victim as she devours it, just as a boa would. When she’s done, she lights another cigarette and flops down next to her satisfied customer.Vickie Chan is adorable. She’s a bubbly, five-foot flute of champagne, spilling happiness everywhere she goes; intoxicating everyone she meets. Seven years on the streets have stolen her innocence, but not her hope. She sees the good in people, and her smile teases it out. Its warmth is matched by glowing eyes of jade. Jet black hair frames a youthful face that’s cut at a severe angle just below her chin, incongruous to the soft curves of the teen’s body.“How was that, love?”“Just like you said. Divine. You’re amazing, Vickie. Worth the wait. You’re something special.”“Thanks. I’m happy you enjoyed it.”Their minds travel in opposite directions as they lay side by side sharing a cigarette. Vickie smiles in anticipation of what’s in store for her. She runs her finger in circles against her areola, causing her nipples to peak. The warm buzz flows through her to her core. She rubs her thighs together to kindle its heat. Smoke billows from between her lips as she sighs and passes the glowing cigarette.Its heat fills john’s throat and lungs. Vickie’s mark rolls it between trembling fingers as it burns. Thoughts of what’s to come, of what was promised, float above like stale smoke. Perspiration beads on the john’s troubled brow. Vickie’s too excited to notice.“Well? Ready yet? I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”She’s as giddy as a birthday girl. Her energy is heartbreaking. She’s not making their transaction any easier.“Uh, sure. Just give me a minute to get set up.”Vickie springs up, her hands on her knees, while john reluctantly rises to the edge of the bed.“Ohhh, you need to set up? Did you bring toys with you?”She’s bubbling, and oh so cute.“You could say that. Just a sec…”With unsteady hands beneath a dim lamp, the ‘toys’ are laid out next to a leather satchel. A foil pouch is unfolded, revealing a pile of white powder. A fresh syringe and a scorched tablespoon rest beside it. A scarf is pulled from the lamp and folded, then placed on the table. It lightens the room, but not the mood.“Let me have the lighter, babe.”“What are you doing? What is that stuff?”Vickie grabs a pillow and clutches it to her chest. Fear cracks through her questions.“The lighter, Vickie. Please.”The hopeful (naïve) girl still trusts her john. Without looking, she reaches for the lighter and hands it over.“I wish you wouldn’t do that in front of me. I had no idea you were into that kind of stuff.”“It’s not for me. You pleased me, now I’m going to pleasure you. Come here, Vickie.”Her nails dig into the pillow. She retreats to the far corner of the bed. Her jade eyes fill with fear and shimmer with tears. Confusion and betrayal fill her heart. It pounds against her sternum. She whimpers.“You don’t have to do this. Please, don’t do this.”“Listen to me, Vickie. It will be the best thing you’ve ever felt in your life. Trust me, I know. Just a little prick, and then you’re off.”“No, I don’t want to. I won’t let you! I want you to leave. Get ou—“The backhanded slap silences her mid-sentence. The smack of knuckles on her cheek fills the room and knocks her off the bed to the floor. Her john thinks that’s a shame. Vickie won’t get to experience the high that she was promised. She is out cold before she hits the carpet. The syringe that plunges through her soft skin is filled with enough heroin to knock out a horse. Vickie will never wake up.**The end of the war welcomed an economy that prospered. Men in uniform were rewarded for their service by adoring women. I wasn’t invited to the party. The draft had branded me with a pair of loafers instead of combat boots, so I joined the police academy. That was eight years ago. I was just a rookie patrolling the beat south of Chinatown, where the sleaze puddled around stagnant gutters. I first met Melanie in the spring of ’46. She was walking the streets with a different purpose. Back then, she wasn’t the woman she is now, but I saw something alarming in her eyes, something that arrested me. Four years later, it’s still there. And it still does.I look over my shoulder and into her smoldering eyes. They grab me as quicksand would. I lower my gaze to the satin sheet. Its folds soften her curves. My fingers grip those curves like my convertible Roadmaster cruising along the PCH under a full moon’s light. Our room is dim. The red neon signage cuts through the vertical blinds. It slices through my ring and revolver on the night table, then falls across her face like a mask, illuminating her pleading, amber eyes.“Come back to bed, love.”I don’t see them, I hear their pleading. I finish my whiskey and lay down beside her. Her hair spills across her shoulder like caramel. I tuck a lock behind her İstanbul Escort ear. Her eyes melt into countless shades of brown. Her mouth is voliptuous. Voluptuous. Sorry, I’m not thinking straight. Speaking of straight, the blood that throbbed in my temple’s veins minutes before has gone south and taken the throbbing with it.“Kiss me, babe. I promise I’ll make you forget everything about your case.”I wrap my hand around her throat and kiss her. I press my lips against her soft mouth and slip my tongue past her parted lips. My erection exposes my lust. She drags her nails across my chest before she wraps her fingers around me. I bite on her ear as I moan. I suck on her neck, then sink my teeth into her shoulder while she strokes me. I tear the sheet away, revealing her curvaceous landscape. I drag my tongue into her cleavage. I slowly breathe her in. A floral scent carries me into her garden. I knead her firm breasts and nibble her firmer nipples. I lick circles around her areolas, giving her rise. She begins to purr and grip me tighter, stroke me faster.I rip her hand from my shaft and throw her wrists above her head. Once I’m kneeling between her legs, I reach up and squeeze her breasts while my lips travel across her stomach and around her navel. She trembles when I lower my hands between her burning thighs. I caress her balls between my fingers. With one hand wrapped around her base, I kiss her swollen knob. I stroke her slowly, firmly. Her scrote nests in my hand. I feel them swell. I lick her pearl drops of precum as she sighs.“Be careful, it’s slippery. I had it waxed,” she giggles.She rakes her long nails through my hair and digs them into the back of my neck when I take her in my mouth. Her purring drops to a low groan and she raises her hips to greet me. The taste of her dew strengthens my hunger. I wrap my lips around her shaft and slide them down her cock until I’m kissing her neatly trimmed fur. She thrusts into me as I suck her. The musky scent of her sex and distinct taste of her cum elevate me. Her rock hard erection between the soft flesh of her thighs electrifies me. I’m losing it. I need to focus on her pleasure, or else I’m going to orgasm before she does.I slowly take her down my throat then stroke her with my lips sealed around her glans. With two handfuls of hair and her thighs pressed against my skull like a vice, she cries out before erupting in my mouth and down my throat. Her limbs collapse to her sides and I waste no time cleaning up every last drop.“Oh my God, David. No one has ever made me feel the way you do. Ever.”I could never tell her I feel the same. I run my fingertips up and down her shapely calf as I kiss her inner thigh. I want to keep kissing her and take her in my mouth again, make her hard, but it’s getting late. The room slowly begins to lighten with the sunrise. I know I should go.“Come up here, darling. Lay beside me. Rest with me.”“You know I can’t do that, Doll. I have to get home.”“Ohhhh, don’t be like that, my love. Just five minutes. Please.”I chuckle. Five minutes. It’s never just five minutes. Not even for me.“Sorry, Doll. I should’ve left hours ago. Last night’s murder makes three. I’ve got no leads. I have to grab a shower and some fresh clothes before heading back to the station. Don’t forget, I need you to come down this afternoon. Standard procedure, I just need you to make a statement.”“Ohhhh, yes Detective. Whatever you say, Detective.”“Don’t get smart with me, Sweetheart. I don’t like it anymore than you do. I’m sorry about your girls. I’m gonna catch this guy. Don’t you worry, Doll.”“I’m not worried, David. I know you will. I love you.”“Don’t forget this afternoon. The station. Got it, Mel?”Not exactly ‘I love you too, Doll’, but that’s all I can muster. I do love her.Melanie Saint Moritz was fourteen when Pearl Harbor received our invitation to the war. Melanie’s parents named their son Melvin. The boy’s confused pleas fell on deaf and unsympathetic ears. In his parent’s defense, ‘sex change’ and ‘transgender’ were frightening terms during wartime. By the spring of ’42, Melanie left her parents and Melvin behind for a life on the streets.Her story was not unlike many of the kids who lived in the shadows. She was twinked out by a pimp. Eventually, she was tweaked out on heroin. Unlike many of the kids, Melanie fought her way out. Back alley blow jobs promoted her to secretive trysts in hotel rooms with politicians more crooked than Lombard Street. Her savings grew as did the thickness of her black book, not to mention the prominence of her clientele. In time, she was able to afford surgery. And the nightclub, whose back door opened to the darkened alley where she conducted business as a teen boy? Well now, Melanie owned the place.***I always hate leaving Mel. I used to enjoy going home to Cindy. Me and Cindy were high school sweethearts. I was tucked behind the line of scrimmage. She shook things up from the sidelines. My talent took us to the state championship. Her attributes landed her on the cheer squad. Blue eyes, blonde hair, and a smile so pretty the boys rarely stole glances down at her pert A-cups. Toned and tanned legs fell from a pleated skirt, which covered a perfect, tight ass. Her attitude awarded her Captain status. I fell for the whole package. We were married six weeks after graduation. It was the summer of ’40. Marriage was grand. We were young and in love. Blah, blah, blah…“…And in local news, police are still clueless after another dead body turns up overnight. That makes three unsolved murders over the past two weeks. When asked about developments in the case, Lead Detective David Meenor only replied, ’No comm—”I twist the radio’s dial and silence the ignorant banter. Moonlight reflects off the chrome dash. I breath in the salty Pacific breeze, but it does nothing to calm my nerves. In no particular order, my current trifecta has me on edge, to say the least. The case should be at the top of my list, but I’m torn between my feelings for Mel and my commitment to Cindy. I need to focus. Box these problems up, one for each. After all, they’re not related, right? I have to tackle one at a time. I drive home as the eastern sky pushes the darkness toward the Pacific. I’ve got to make it home before İstanbul Escort Bayan the sunrise grants my wife another day. A blessing that was stolen from three women in my city.I step through the darkness and place my revolver on the nightstand while I slip off my loafers. My wife’s bare shoulder faces me. I can hear her soft breath, faint and calm. I undress and tiptoe away from my pile of clothes. I glance down at my wife. She’s as pretty as the day I met her. Melancholic thoughts take me back. I drag myself into the bathroom. My finger taps against the sink’s edge. The wedding band rings off the porcelain as I look into the mirror. My wife is still a youthful pixie. I wear my decade of marriage. My hair is streaked with gray; my face lined with wrinkles. I disappear in the dense steam coming from the shower like Alcatraz in San Francisco Bay on an foggy morning. I lower my head and assume the position beneath the shower head. The hot water melts into me. For a brief moment, my muscles relax and my mind follows.“Good morning, Davey. I didn’t hear you come in. Why didn’t you wake me, baby?”She wraps her arms around my waist. I feel her taut nipples press into my back.There’s something in her voice. It’s not sarcasm or condescension. More like a forced interest. It resembles a mother talking to a child that isn’t her own. She’s too self-absorbed to feel me tense up in her presence.“You look beautiful when you’re asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.”It’s true. She did. I didn’t. My tension begins to fade. It doesn’t hurt that she’s nibbling on my shoulder from the tips of her toes. Her hands wander between my legs.“Oh baby, you’re so sweet. Speaking of beautiful, I think I found something quite handsome down here.”She wraps her fingers around my firming shaft, then caresses my scrote. A faint groan crawls out from my throat. She picks up on the cue and strokes me while sinking her teeth into my back. I spin around and pull her under the water with me. I bend down and smash my lips against hers. I run my hands over her slick skin and squeeze her tiny ass. She responds in-kind and tightens her grip. Our moans mingle amidst wrestling tongues. I slide my hand between her thighs and slip my fingers between her folds to pet her. She squeals when I find her clit. I rub circles around the swollen gem and curl my fingers inside her. I take her neck in my mouth. I want to taste her blood. She whispers in my ear.“Fuck me. Now.”I lower myself, wrap my arms under her thighs, and effortlessly lift her up toward my chest. She hugs my neck and positions her petals against my stamen. I slam her compact frame against the tile wall. She feels weightless in my arms. I press my torso against her. My engorged cock disappears inside her luscious pussy with little resistance.“Harder, Baby. Make me cum. Faster, Davey. Faster.”She presses her fingers into me as I drive deeper inside her. I feel her walls wrap tighter around me as I invade her threshold. The heat of the shower, the heat of my wife, makes me lightheaded. I thrust faster and she screams louder.“Make me cum, dammit! Make me cum…Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”I feel her push off the tile into me, then convulse. She quivers as she cries, then trembles before she goes limp in my arms, panting. Once she catches her breath, after I put her down, I hear that voice.“Ahh, that was nice, baby. Thanks. Would you mind if I finished my shower alone?”“Yeah, sure. Listen, I’ve gotta get to the station. There’s been another murder. I hope—““And could you get breakfast started? Some of your delicious pancakes?”I leave a note on the kitchen table before I leave.COFFEE’S ON STOVE.BREAD IN TOASTER.BUTTER’S OUTSO ITS SOFT.I’M WORKING LATE.XO****I merge onto the PCH and punch it south along the coast. The fog rises from the bay in my rearview mirror and I grip the wheel and let myself go. Finally, I can think freely. I forget my tense, albeit gratifying, morning with Cindy. I’m even able to put aside my romantic evening with Mel. I need to focus on the case, but there’s not much to go on.All three vics were young and female. All three worked the streets and were found in different motels scattered around Chinatown. There was evidence of drug use. Suicide would be a crazy coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidences, crazy or not. What drugs were these girls using? Where did they get them? Two of the girls worked for Mel at Black n’ Blues. Maybe she’ll be able to shed some light on the girls’s habits and their acquaintances this afternoon. I need to get to the Medical Examiner and pick his brain.If I’m to have a productive day, I need to start off on the right foot. I stop at the ChitChat. One coffee, black. No donut, thank you. Yes, I know it’s on the house. I take the joe outside. The engine’s heat radiating through the hood warms my ass and the coffee warms my soul. My mind is a blank canvas. I follow the expanse of the Pacific. It disappears into the lightening sky. Directly below me, it beats against my city’s shores relentlessly. I toss the empty cup and walk back inside.“Two more coffees, black. And I’ll take you up on that donut offer. To go.”“Yessir. Coming right up.”The girl at the register looks about Vickie’s age. Hell, loose her hair from the stubby ponytail and lose the uniform, this girl could be Vickie.“Oh, could you throw some creamers and sugars in the bag, please?”“Of course, sir. Right away.”I grab the bag and leave a Hamilton next to the register. I head north on 280 to the ME’s Office. I enter the room as he’s about to sheath his fingers in latex gloves and begin an autopsy.“Not so fast, Doc. I’d like to talk to you for a minute or two. Besides, you should never perform an autopsy on an empty stomach.”I shake the brown bag and extend a cup at him. He takes the bait.“You realize this blatant attempt at caloric coercion doesn’t work with anyone but yourself, Detective.”“The respect is mutual, Doc.”We spend thirty minutes discussing the case. He informs me there’s no evidence of prior drug abuse. Only one puncture wound from the syringe was found on each girl. Whoever shot these girls up was experienced. Career choices aside, all three were young, vital, healthy women. They exhibited no evidence of bullet or blade penetration. Physical violence Escort İstanbul wasn’t the cause of their death.“However, each of the female victims was compromised in a specific and exclusive manner.”“Meaning…?”“Meaning, they were all defenseless before the drugs were introduced to their systems.”“Ok. Go on.”“Well, your first victim has contusions around her throat. That tells me she was strangled to the point of unconsciousness. Your second victim exhibits the same bruising around her wrists, which means she was subdued. Your third, and most recent victim, has a broken jaw and bruising on her left cheek. Probably the result of a violent blow, which resulted in her being knocked out.”I need a minute to absorb all this. The violence is new to me. Who beats a woman? A coward, that’s who. Add anger to the list of emotions running through my veins.“So, once the women were manhandled, they were injected with the drugs. What else can you tell me?”“Not much, Detective. The type of drug is still undetermined, as is the amount. All of our samples are still at the lab. As soon as I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.”“Thanks, Doc.”“I’m sorry I don’t have more for you at this time. Thank you for the breakfast. I’ll be in touch.”“Yeah. You know where to find me. Keep at it, Doc.”I walk out of there in a whirlwind. Fleeting optimism battles against bitter anger and disgust. Those poor girls. Not innocent, but not deserving of their dismal fates. I’m frustrated. I need to make this right. I need a drink.THE GAELIC PROMISE‘YOU’RE ONLY A STRANGER ’TIL YOU ORDER’I read the sign above the heavy oak door before dragging it open and entering the empty, dark pub. I look around at a room full of chairs whose legs extend to the ceiling from knotted table tops. A feeble man pushes a mop across the floor. The bartender crashes through the kitchen doors, snapping my head back across the bar at her scowl. She’s massaging a glass with a towel that drapes from her shoulder.“We don’t open for another twenty minutes.”I look at the clock on the wall. It reads 11:10. I throw her a doubtful glance. She doesn’t hesitate.“It’s fast.”“I’ll wait.”She reluctantly pours me a pint, and I realize the sign above the door isn’t just words. We talk about her, not so much about me. She tells me about her boyfriend. They have plans. Marriage. A house, then kids. I listen intently. Jeez. She’s just a kid herself. The drunk next to me mumbles in agreement and lifts his head. He pushes his glass toward the taps.“One more for him, Linda. It’s on me. Give me a shot of James while you’re at it.”“These are on me. Here’s to the ones we love and the ones we don’t.”She pushes the beer at our friend and the shot toward me before lifting her own. We tap, then throw them back.…the ones we love and the ones we don’t. I need to go.*****… the ones we don’t. Something’s been eating away at me. It’s not the case. It’s not Mel. I know how it feels to be in love. I’ve felt those butterflies flutter. This is something different. Like ants nibbling at grains of sugar. I need to get home. I need to talk to Cindy.She’s not home. The percolator is empty and the bread limply rises from the toaster. The butter is a congealed mess. My note isn’t on the table. It’s a crumbled ball in the trash. At least I think it’s the note. I flatten it out on the counter for confirmation. I wonder if she even took the time to read it. I push it away and watch it fall back into the can. The peace offering settles atop a discarded box. What’s with the box?I push the note aside with a carving knife, then flip the lid off the box. It’s the perfect size for a necklace, or maybe a watch. I would’ve accepted that, but it’s no token of a lover’s affection. My Rolodex of emotions spins wildly. It slows at CONFUSION, then stops at FEAR. If these are Cindy’s, what is she doing with them? If they’re not, how did they get here?I drop the box’s contents into a ziplock bag and hold it up for inspection. The syringe has been used, and the two vials are empty. The tiny vessels are void of description and instruction labels. I need answers. Is she hiding an illness or an addiction for a friend? Is she the one using drugs? My mind lurches toward the unimaginable. Is Cindy murdering prostitutes? I need to get these to the lab. I have to talk to Cindy.Her work as a receptionist at the gym keeps her busy a few hours a day. The rest is spent working out and stroking the egos of the gym’s muscle. I can’t complain. Since the day I met her, Cindy has been passionate about staying fit. It keeps her happy and she still looks amazing. Who am I to complain? I pull around to the back lot. That’s when I notice her… and him.He slips the box into her purse. She cups her hand against his cheek and soundlessly laughs. His left hand gropes her shoulder, sneaks down her back, and settles on her ass. He opens the door. She slides into the seat. He eases between the car and the open door. Whether they’re talking, laughing, or kissing, I can’t tell. I start the Roadmaster with a clenched fist. I’ve always remembered things in color, at least the happy memories. Sad ones always appear to me in black-and-white. I’ll never forget this one. It’s stained red.I pull around the corner to the nearest payphone. By the time someone picks up at the station, I’ve smoked half my cigarette. The booth is filled with smoke. I’m fuming.“Yeah. Jimmy. Anyone working over there?”“Crazy morning. Boss-lady is looking for you.”“Yeah, yeah. Tell her I got some evidence I need to get to the lab, then I’ll be in.”“Watcha got, partner? Solve the case?”“Don’t worry about it, kid. Just tell her I’ll be in when I get there. Got it?”“Sure thing. See you soon.”By the time I get across town and drop off the bag at the lab, it’s early afternoon. Doc doesn’t have anything to offer, so I don’t waste any time. I need to get downstairs before Mel shows up. Fortunately, she hasn’t. I navigate through the officers, avoiding the other detectives. I know better than to assume I can slide behind my desk unnoticed. That doesn’t mean I’m not gonna try.“Good afternoon, Meenor.”“Hello, Sar—““Af-ter-noon. It means after 12:00 PM, Detective. In other words, the morning is history. Understand?”“Yes, Ma’am. I was—““We like to get things started in the morning around here. Preferably early. Understand?”“Yes, Boss. I was—““Excuse me, Sarge?”Sergeant Liz Holmes looks down at Jimmy, perturbed. I look up at him, relieved.“Melanie St. Moritz is here to speak with Detective Meen—““Please show Ms. Moritz to my office, Detective Chadham. Tell her I’ll be with her in a minute.”
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