0 comments/ 28934 views/ 0 favorites Seven Deadly Sins Ch. 01 By: Svenskaflicka Chapter 01: Lust "I don't believe it! They're just gonna let him walk?" Julia Moreno's voice was low but piercing; her words made a couple officers at the far end of the station look up to hear more. "Insufficient evidence," said her partner, inspector Dennis Myler, through his teeth. "The DA is dropping the charges." "We have 5 girls who could testify against the sonofabitch!" said Julia. "They aren't credible witnesses," said Dennis. "They were all too heavily drugged to remember anything. Even though we know they were raped the same night that he had them in his apartment, we can't PROVE that he did it." "It's probable cause, for heaven's sake!" said Julia. "No blasphemy, Miss Moreno!" said a thin police secretary, and handed them the day's mail. "Being a good Catholic, you should know better!" "Thank you, Lydia," said Dennis, and flipped through the letters. Lydia closed her lips tight, and walked away. "That woman needs to get laid!" Julia muttered, and crossed her arms over her big, round breasts. "So, they're just gonna let him walk? And molest God-knows how many more girls?" "He knows that we're on to him," said Dennis. "He won't even dare to buy cookies from a girl scout for the next month and a half!" * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Their boss, Henry Flannigan, didn't share Dennis' hopeful attitude. Right after lunch, he called both Dennis and Julia into his office to discuss the case, or, more exactly, to yell at them. "We had him!" he started. "We fucking had him! And then that bitch of a lawyer of his waltzes in here, shaking her ass, and tears our evidence up like it was some fucking toilet paper! We need new evidence! Witnesses! Something!" "We're trying to scrape up something on him, sir," said Julia. "If we can just get enough to get to a trial, I'm sure the DA will..." "We won't get to trial on circumstantial evidence, woman!" Flannigan shouted. Didn't you just hear what I said? We need solid evidence! Do I make myself clear?" "Yes, sir," said Julia, pink with rage. "If we could have him followed, sir..." Dennis started. "Do you really think we have the man power for that?" Flannigan interrupted him. "If you want to waste your evenings staking out that pervert, by all means, but don't expect to get paid for it!" * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Dennis found her sitting alone out in the stairs, taking deep breaths and struggling furiously not to cry. "Don't let him get to you," he said. "He's an asshole!" she hissed. He sat down next to her, and put an arm around her shoulders. "He makes it sound like we're idiots, who need to be told what to do!" Julia growled. "How can someone be so fucking IGNORANT after all this time on the force?" Dennis turned her face towards him, and kissed her. Her excitement, although it was caused by anger and not lust, made her response fiery, and he could feel how his body reacted by getting harder. "My place, tonight?" he said. She shook her head. "Not tonight, Den," she said. "My brother's coming over, to show off his son's motor development. I'm required to be there and play the part of a proud auntie." "How about the garage in 10 minutes?" said Dennis. "You're on!" said Julia, and got to her feet. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "Awww, come on, man!" "I told you, girl, you need to show some ID to get into the club!" "Fucking asshole!" Fred Thompson looked carefully at the girl, who was being escorted away from the nightclub she had tried to sneak in to. She was short and skinny, with big eyes and small tits. The miniskirt and the deep-cut tank top were black, and she had a tiny rucksack on her back. She could be, how old? 16? 17? A bit TOO old for him. Then again, one couldn't really tell a girl's age when she had all that make-up on. A 14-year-old might pass for 22, and vice versa. She saw him looking at her, but she merely put her nose in the air and walked away. "Oh, so I'm too old for ya, you little bitch?" he mumbled. He followed her casually. She went into a McDonalds restaurant, got herself a cheeseburger, and sat down at the far end. Smiling, he walked up to the teenage Rastafarian boy behind the counter, ordered a burger and a Diet Coke, and carried his tray over to her table. "Mind if I sit down?" he said. She looked up at him, then shrugged her shoulders. He sat down across from her, unwrapped his burger, and took a bite. "I saw you over by the club," he said. "How come they wouldn't let you in?" "The fucking idiot didn't believe that I was 18!" she muttered. "And I didn't have my ID with me. That pig! Who does he think he is?" "There, now," said Fred. "It's hard to tell a woman's age. I would have guessed 15, or 16..." She grinned. "I know," she said. "I look like a friggin' baby! But I really AM 18, I promise!" "Sure, baby," he said, smiling. "If you say so..." He didn't believe her. She looked much younger. She looked younger, the more he looked at her! She HAD to be younger! All that make-up... the amount of jewelry... no grown-up woman would wear all that. No, she had to be younger than 18! 16... or maybe even 15? Much older than he normally wanted them, but, hey, she was still Forbidden Fruit. "If you want, I could make it up to you that you didn't get into that club," he said. She looked at him with a questioning expression. "You could come over to my place, have a beer, or a drink, and just chill for a while," he said. "I don't know..." she said. "You think I'm one of those perverts who get young girls drunk and take advantage of them?" he said, smiling teasingly at her. "I'm not, I promise. I just don't want a young woman like yourself to wander around town at night and risk running into one of them." She smiled. "Your place..." she said. "Is it far from here?" * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * She was getting dizzy. Her speech sounded sloppy, and her eyes seemed to have some trouble focusing on anything. He moved closer, and put his arm around her. "You're very pretty," he said. "You're so sweet I could eat you alive!" She giggled. He pushed her hair, stiff from hairspray, aside, and placed a very wet kiss on her neck. His other hand slid up her leg, in under her skirt. "No," she mumbled. "You mustn't..." Yes! That's it! Protest all you want, little girl! He squeezed her thigh, bent down to kiss her small breasts through the fabric of her top. "Ow!" she said. "You're hurting me!" Oh, yes! Little girls shouldn't dress like sluts! Little girls shouldn't talk to strangers... His hand moved from under her skirt up to her top, slid under it, and cupped a naked breast. "Stop!" she said, and made a weak effort to push him away. Oh, yes, yes, yesss..! Resistance! Struggle! Force! He pushed her down on the sofa, got on top of her, pulled her skirt up, and ripped her cotton panties off. He penetrated her, pounded her hard, hard, hard. She moaned. What the..? She moaned. She didn't scream. She didn't break. She wasn't as tight as he had expected. SHE WASN'T A VIRGIN! He looked up, met her eyes, and he had time to think that she suddenly looked all sober and clear-headed, her eyes weren't dizzy but SHARP, sharp and piercing and cold and EVIL – and then he felt the pain. He tried to scream, but could only produce a gargling sound. She pushed him off her, and he fell to the floor, blood flooding out of the gash at his throat, soaking the carpet. She got up and straightened her clothes. She picked up the glass she had been drinking from, walked out into the kitchen, and washed it carefully. She wiped the blood-stained knife clean, and put it back in her purse. She wiped the blood off her face and chest, and tidied her clothes. When she was all done, she walked back out into the living room, and leaned close to the dying man. He stared at her, gargling faintly. "Oh, and another thing..." she said. "I lied. I'm not really 18. I'm actually 24." She stood up, and took a handkerchief out of her purse, to avoid leaving any finger prints on the door handle as she left... To Be Continued... Seven Deadly Sins Ch. 02 Chapter 02: Greed "A coincidence?" said Julia, and looked at the dead man on the floor. "He gets away with child molestation due to lack of evidence, and 4 days later he's dead?" "Murdered," Dennis corrected her. "By some Moral Avenger. But how come he had his dick out?" "How come they didn't cut it off?" muttered Julia. "That pig! Who ever did this should get a medal!" "Don't be silly!" said Dennis. "No matter what he did, we can't have someone running around taking the law into his own hands!" "Or HER hands," said Julia. "Two glasses... Thompson with his dick out... seduction gone bad?" "From what we know about Thompson, his victims were more into lemonade than wine," said Dennis. "Besides, where did the girl get her murder weapon from?" "This glass has been washed," said Julia. "Could have been anything in it. Lemonade, date-rape drugs..." "We'll have the guys at the lab take a look at it," said Dennis. "Julia – how many people knew that Thompson had gotten away?" "It hadn't leaked to the news yet," said Julia. "So that leaves... the DA, the families of the victims... and whoever they have told it to... you think one of the family members of Thompson's victims did it? As a revenge?" "It would make sense," said Dennis. "We should check their alibis." "I forgot – there's one more who knew about Thompson walking away from all charges," said Julia. "The entire police department." "You think a cop did this?" said Dennis. "If I hadn't had 8 witnesses swearing that I spent all last night oooh-ing and awww-ing over my nephew's wobbly steps, I would have suspected myself for doing this," said Julia. "This isn't a joke!" said Dennis sharply. "You go around this place, knocking doors, to see if the neighbors saw or heard anything. I'll check the families' alibis." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The news about the murder leaked out, and pretty soon there were two events competing for the status of being headline in the local news; the murder of Fred Thompson, and the accident with the apartment building complex right outside towm, which had collapsed and buried 58 people alive, of which only 13 had survived. There were some evidence suggesting that the building had collapsed because it was built of cheap, second-rate material... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Gene Anderson ordered another drink, and looked away when the waitress gave him that haven't-you-had-enough? - look. No, he hadn't had enough! He had just killed 45 people, for fuck's sake! He'd decide for himself when he had had enough to drink, thank you very much! She came back with his drink, and put it on his table with a sneer. He swept half of it at once, just to spite her. He heard her utter a "hmph!" as she left. "Why can't they mind their own business?" He looked up. A young woman sat at a table on his right. A woman with style. Long black hair, a neat black dress with a classic cut, and no jewellery except for a thin gold chain around her left wrist. "It ought to be up to each and everyone how much they want to drink," she said, and took a sip from her glass. "I hate it when some little teenager working part time to get herself through college tries to act as if she was my mother!" "Society treats us like we were children," he nodded. "As if one measly drink would make you an alcoholic!" she said, with a short little laugh. "Or 5, for that matter..." He chuckled, and she gave him a faint smile. He looked carefully at her. She was much younger than him, couldn't be more than 30, perhaps even younger. The looks signalled upper-class and old money. A family girl revolting against the rules, perhaps? She was a welcome distraction, someone to chat to, to help forget, if only for a little while, that he was a murderer. He moved over to her table, and they talked for a while, talked about things that he forgot 10 minutes later. "How about we call for the dragon and order another round?" he suggested. "How about we go back to my place?" she said. "I've got a 14 year old brandy that has never been opened." He looked into her eyes. She was calm and confident, sensual in a way that had more to do with inner security than pure sex appeal. He could read it in her eyes. "I want to fuck you." "I'll get us a cab," he said. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * A penthouse. Spacious and bright, furnished with old oak furniture and water colour landscapes. Tall glasses in thick glass, old brandy, and soft jazz. Gene Anderson was beginning to relax and enjoy himself. He was drunk enough not to feel bad about that little mistake earlier. Because it HAD been a mistake, after all. He had listened to his financial advisors go on and on about financial flows and the necessity for cut-backs, and then he had ignored the forman's advice and gone with the cheaper distributor. A mistake. A simple mistake. OK, it had cost 45 people their lives, but it had been a mistake! He had had a choice; to play it safe, or save 1,5 million dollars. 1,5 MILLION dollars, officers! Do you understand how many jobs I have saved? "We understand that you have caused the death of 45 people, mr Anderson. Did you know that 18 of them were children under the age of 5?" So unfair! It wasn't his fault! It was just a mistake! How could it be his fault when it was justa mistake? "You're so far away..?" She had dimmed the lights, and sat down next to him. "No, baby," he said. "I'm right here." He kissed her. She was cool, but willing, and didn't protest when he put his hand on her knee, She had strong, slim legs. "Thoroughbred," he thought. "Let's go out on the terrace," she said. "The view is beautiful from there." "I've got a beautiful view right here," he protested, but she smiled and got up. He followed her out on the terrace. The night was dark and chilly, and he didn't feel well at all. She sat down on the low, broad stone wall that made the railing. She smiled at him, and pulled up her skirt. She didn't wear any panties. She raised her eyebrows, looking at him with a wicked smile. He grinned. "You want to do it out here?" he said. "Kind of cold, don't you think?" "I like it... kinky..." she whispered. He didn't need any more persuasion. The word "kinky" had always pressed his button, and out of the mouth of a beautiful, classy woman, with a pretty pink pussy, it was irresistable. He moved her thighs further apart, opened his pants, took out his stiff cock, and entered her with one mighty thrust. Classy pussy. Tight, moist, willing pussy. She held on to him to keep her balance, while he pounded her, licked her slim neck, squeezed her small but firm breasts, caressed her slim legs, lifted them up to get better access to her wet hole, held her little round ass, and pushed, pushed, pushed, until she leaned her head back and moaned out her orgasm to the cold, black sky. Fuck, she was sexy! If only he hadn't been so damned drunk! Alcohol made you horny, but it also made it harder for you to come. He could feel that he was going soft, even though he was horny as hell. He pulled out, and swore at his flaccid dick. "Do you want me to... stimulate it?" she said, and licked her lips in a way he couldn't misunderstand. That pink little tongue... those red lips... this classy woman on her knees, sucking him..! They switched place, and she kneeled in front of him... ...and in one swift motion, she grabbed his legs, lifted them up, and tipped him over the wall. He screamed as he fell, screamed all the way down. All 10 stories down. She pulled her skirt down, and went inside to take a shower. To be continued...