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An Unlikely Romance Ch. 01

By: LaRascasse



This is an experimental storyline I have thought of. Please do give some feedback at the end in the form of comments and votes. They are essential to improving the story. 

*

Here they come again. Those urges, those damn urges!!

It had barely been two weeks since the last time and already I felt like doing it again. Like a compulsive smoker who has gone a day without a smoke. I have to resist. I can't give in again.

Let me introduce myself. I am Simon Chase, ace web designer and software developer. I work freelance for many large companies. Just sitting at home, I draw over a hundred grand a year. I am living in a nice little residential complex in Queens. Just 25, I still have some of my boyish charm. I live alone in my apartment and work at a computer all day. Anyone in the complex will vouch for the friendly, endearing chap I am. But yes, I have an addiction.

After trying to resist for an hour or so, I finally decided to do it. Heaving a sigh of resignation, I put on my jacket and stepped outside. The night was chilly as I made my way to my destination. 

Now, you must be wondering where I am going and what my addiction is. Drugs? No. I have never so much as smoked a joint in my life. Alcohol? No. I am not a fanatic teetotaller but I rarely drink and, that too, mostly at social events and when I have company. My addiction is more primal than that.

Driving through the still night reminded me of the last time I had indulged. The adrenalin rush, the sheer exhilaration and the feeling of ecstasy afterwards were just too good not to repeat. For the most part, she seemed to enjoy it as well. Finally, I found what I was looking for.

The street corner was filled with hookers. They were of different sizes and colours, but united in the world's oldest profession. Just what I needed. Carefully, I made my way down the alley and stopped my car. It was an accepted signal. After surveying me and my car for a few minutes, a redhead sauntered down the alley and peered in through the driver's side window. I lowered the glass and gave her my best smile. 

"Looking for a date, pretty boy?"

"You got me. So how about we cut the crap and you get in."

"Straight and to the point, just the way I like it. You should know I charge more than the average whore in these parts. $400 for a round."

"I'll take it. How about we get going now?"

So I drove to the nearest seedy motel. I had done this often enough to know exactly where they are. These places exist for the sole purpose of guys like me exercising guilty pleasures. On reaching, I got out and quickly went up to the counter in front. Discreetly, I gave him a couple of notes. The signal was clear: I didn't want him to see my face. The guy accepted it gratefully. Many of the clientele were married and thus, anonymity was of prime importance. It was a common practice to bribe the guy off. Soon, a key was thrust out of the counter bottom. Room 301.

My 'date' and I made our way to our allotted room. The doors were intentionally thick to conceal the noises emanating from within. Almost every room we passed was occupied. Some were even slightly ajar giving us an unwanted view of the debauchery going on inside.

Finally, we reached 301. We entered and I locked the door behind me. She said she wanted to take a quick shower before we started. I readily agreed as I needed some time to prep as well. I was tingling with excitement at the prospect of what was about to unfold, particularly the little surprise I had for the end. 

Once outside the bathroom, she seemed eager to give me a show. Seductively, she peeled off her dress inch by inch, slowly to arouse. I watched intently as she finally removed her entire top and tossed it aside. Her breasts were nice and firm, her nipples were erect. Giving a small jiggle, she followed the same routine on her skirt. I am not a man of patience, but I let her have her moment. Finally, after what seemed like ages, she was completely naked. Her pussy was shaved and smooth. On the whole, she looked pretty nice. Definitely worth the $400. She gently lay down on the bed and seductively ushered me over with her middle finger.

She lay, with her head on the pillow, as I straddled her chest and gently lowered my cock to her mouth. Instinctively, her tongue knew exactly where to go; she was very good at this. It swirled around the head of my cock and slowly worked its way up the shaft until it met my sac. 

I was in dreamland as she kept repeating this movement over and over again. After a while, I got off on her face and knelt down between her legs. I knew this wasn't obligatory but I wanted to do it anyway. I started with long licks of her folds before concentrating my efforts on her clit. Several licks later, she was aroused to the level of moaning. I took this as a sign of encouragement and brought the tip of my erect member to her pussy.

In one stroke, I sank the entirety inside her. She gasped at the feeling. I recoiled and then let loose with another, hard thrust. This time her body shook with the impact. I kept up a fast tempo and soon I could feel my orgasm building. She locked her legs around my waist as I neared climax and finally shot several loads of cum inside her.

Exhausted and sweating, I got up. She was panting as well, but seemed satisfied.

"Hey, you're good at this. You may be the best client I had in a while. You look decent too. Why do you resort to hookers? I am sure New York has enough horny women who would immediately go home with you." 

"I have my reasons. Now, before I pay you, there is one more thing I want to do."

"Sure, bring it on. I've seen every fetish there is."

Trust me; she probably hadn't seen this one. She was lying, curled up against the pillow as I went to the door. My jacket was hanging from a hook. I reached inside and retrieved the thing I wanted from my inner pocket. Her expression changed a bit once she saw what it was.

---

Monica Devereaux was in a foul mood all morning. She had once again woken up next to a random stranger in her apartment. One of these days she would need to stop going to bars and getting wasted. The guys she brought back weren't any good. Then, her breakfast was burnt and her car ran out of gas midway to the station. She was at the filling station, when she received the call and realized that her day had just taken a turn for the worse.

"Monica, come over to the Flamingo Motel on 52nd and Westbourne. We have a crime scene."

"Christ, not that fucker again."

"Unfortunately, it is the same guy."

Cursing her day even more, she keyed in her new destination in the car's GPS. Driving through the traffic would be a pain.

An hour of trading expletives with other commuters later, she drove up to the hotel. There were onlookers everywhere. The yellow tape was stretched over the entire premises. She walked in to be greeted by her effervescent partner Brian 'Boz' Bozman. He was unusually cheerful, even at crime scenes. He idolized her. After all, Monica was one of the youngest detectives in the history of the NYPD. Just 32, she was surely en route for higher posts.

Monica was an interesting woman. Her parents had desperately wanted a boy and they were not disappointed. From an early age, she was into physical activities and contact sports, often beating the guys. She was a free spirit and her indomitable will and ruthless ambition meant she climbed the police hierarchy at top speed. She commanded huge respect from all her juniors, colleagues and superiors. She was not to be trifled with, as some people found out the hard way.

One particular instance had become stuff of locker room talk in every precinct. A pimp known as Edgar Bain had been hauled in for sadistically torturing his girls. It was well known that he was a criminal, but he was well connected enough to beat the charges. His girls were too scared to testify against him. Officer Devereaux took him in her cruiser and drove him out to the city limits. There she beat him to within an inch of his life and told him that if he ever returned, she would finish the job. He took the hint and left.

There was obviously an inquiry, a hearing and a review, but she couldn't be proved of any kind of misconduct. Privately, the captain at her precinct thanked her for taking that creep off their hands.

There were several other instances of her 'slightly' overstepping her jurisdiction. Her instincts were uncannily dead-on all the time. Once she had a feeling, she would do what it took to dispense her brand of justice, even if it meant bending a few laws to prove her point.

On another note, she was the strongest willed woman on the force. Her sexual appetite was ravenous and there were several rumours of her entertaining cadets, rookies and other colleagues. She dominated over all of her conquests. Deep down within, she kept searching for that long term relationship, but was willing to sleep around in the meantime. 

Boz followed her like an obedient puppy as she entered the building. He motioned her through the corridors towards room 301. He seemed happy just to be in her aura. She strode towards the door. The entire corridor was crawling with forensics and analysts desperately looking for any evidence. At last, she walked into the room.

"Same MO?"

"Exactly the same," said Boz. "He had sex with her just prior to doing this. Multiple stab wounds to the chest and abdomen. She bled out in minutes. I sent the DNA sample from the sperm back to the lab to compare with the others, but my guess is we are looking at the same guy."

"Five victims in five months. He does not like hookers. He is brazen enough to leave his DNA right here. Like a dare- 'get me'. "

"We have already run the DNA through the database in each of the previous four occasions. Absolutely no hits. This guy is squeaky clean, a model citizen apart from this little hobby of his."

Monica glared at his little joke and inspected the room thoroughly. Her cop instinct was silent, which was a bad sign. The press had already taken hold of this story. Channel 9s Judy Lynch had already found a name for him- 'The Butcher of the Bronx', given that the first two murders took place there.

She was desperate to find this guy. Cracking a high profile case like this meant a good chance of her making Lieutenant in the coming year. She turned to the blood spatter guy who was taking measurements.

"Nathan, talk to me."

"She was running towards the door," he began. "He caught her and threw her on the ground. The scuffle marks here show a brief struggle. Eventually, he overpowered her and began stabbing. The first cut severed the carotid, and she started bleeding profusely. The big pool of blood here shows that. She's basically dead then and there but he keeps stabbing for decorative effect. Based on the angle of the first cut, I would say he is about 6 feet tall and of average build."

"So nothing new?"

"Zilch."

Her frustration seemed to be getting the better of her. She tried her best to remain composed but failed. There had to be something she was missing. She scanned and rescanned the room, using all her police instincts, but drew a blank. It didn't help that Judy Lynch and her crew were waiting outside. 

She needed something to feed them. She spotted a young forensic in the corner and she crept up behind him as he was meticulously dusting the shelf for trace evidence.

"I don't recall having seen you before. First crime scene?"

"Yeah. Aaron Lambert," he said, extending a hand. "It's an honour to finally meet you. I've heard so many stories."

"Good stories, I hope."

"Mixed. Mostly good though."

"Well, right now I am going to give you a story to tell others," she said, sliding her right hand down the inside of his pants. She was standing directly behind him, so no one spotted her groping his ass.

He stood there too stunned to react as her hand slipped inside his underwear. It was now in contact with his bare ass. Using her thumb and index finger she parted the cheeks and slid her middle digit all the way in. He gasped, unsure what else to do. She leaned over until her lips were level with his ear and whispered seductively.

"Give me something that breaks this case and I will make it worth your while, with interest."

She slid her hand out in one fluid motion and left the room nonchalantly. It took a few minutes for the entirety of what just happened to sink into Aaron's mind. Flushed with embarrassment, he resumed dusting.

The only thoughts in Monica's mind as she stepped out were for the unfortunate hookers. Driven to this destitute profession in order to survive, this asshole was picking them off one at a time. For a woman as tough as her, sympathy was often seen as a weakness, but here she was overflowing with sympathy for those unfortunate victims. Even an encounter with that bitch from Channel 9 couldn't get her any lower. She had to get him.

---

So cat's out of the bag I guess. You know my dirty little secret. I am a serial killer, with a taste for prostitutes. Judy has christened me- 'The Butcher of the Bronx'. I could like that name. It inspires fear and awe. Four bodies were bad enough but with the fifth today, the Commissioner had to hold a press conference. I cracked up in front of the TV as he kept mouthing the same clichés over and over.

"We will not rest until we get him."

"He is the number one priority for the police now."

"We have assigned our best officers to the case."

"Blah, blah, blah."

No seriously, it was funny.

In case you are wondering, I am not a religious head-case cleansing New York of immoral women. Neither am I a quintessential queer loner who harbours deep vengeful thoughts about women. I am a successful professional with an active social life. I volunteer a lot for the community. All my neighbours love me as the friendly young geek. On the rare occasions I hit bars, I get lucky every time. So, you see, I harbour no frustration or resentment towards women. I don't do it just for the thrill either.

So why do I do it?

In truth, I haven't been able to figure it out either. From an early age, whenever I thought of prostitutes, I rarely envisioned having sex with them. I had several graphic fantasies of killing them in different ways. I tried pushing them aside, but they kept returning. Finally one day, about five months ago, I caved in to these desires. I concealed a knife in my jackets inside pocket and went forth.

I was apprehensive, but as I surveyed the task at hand, I realized it was pretty easy. None of these discreet motels had security cameras, for the privacy of the clients. They were intentionally remote, so no witnesses, and for a few twenties I could slip through reception without the guy lifting the screen; he just slid the keys under the window. It was like a gold standard at one of the seemingly endless 'hooker motels'. Since there were many such anonymous clients, it wasn't odd in any way.

The first time was a bit sloppy but the feeling of completeness that followed was exhilarating. The sex was good too. I intentionally left my sperm, knowing full well that it couldn't be traced back to me. I had no reason to be in the criminal database.

There are times I regret it. Times I wish I could stop, but the memories of the last time ensure that I don't.

Now that it is done, I can be at ease for a few weeks at least. But then, inevitably, those urges will start again. I need something to keep them away. After a lot of brainstorming, I had an idea. I needed a serious relationship. Given how my neighbours are always trying to set me up, I would have no problem finding a date. I would have to be at my most charming to keep her. 

Hey, I can act endearing when I want.

---

"NO."

"But Monica, sweetie, just give it a try."

"Mom, I am super-busy with this case right now. I am sure you can see it all over the news. That sick freak who has been killing hookers. Besides, I don't like dates very much."

"My best friend told me about this guy who lives next door to her. He's young, handsome and has a good job. You won't find many like that."

"I told you, I can't."

"Just give it a chance. The guy has already agreed."

Heaving a sigh of resignation, she finally yielded. 

"Just one date. Do you promise to stop interfering with my love life if I do that?"

Her mother was thrilled. She eagerly called up her friend to confirm. The date was set at Iridium a few days later. 

After much grumbling, she finally put on her 'date dress' and went to the Iridium at the decided time. On hearing her name, the waiter ushered her to table 9. She was surprised to see someone sitting there already. Her date was here early, a good sign. She liked punctuality. She knew how this was going to probably pan out. They would eat, drink, make some small talk and then head back to one of their places for a night of hot, drunken sex. He would be gone by the end of the week, the average lifespan of her relationships. 

She was pleasantly surprised when he got up and drew her chair for her before the waiter had a chance. He wasn't bad to look at. A well framed face with high cheekbones. His eyes were hazel and kept darting in different directions. His blond hair was closely cut. "On the whole, not a bad choice Mom", thought Monica.

"So, you're the woman Mrs. Freemont set me up with. I guess I owe her one."

"Am I really that good looking?"

"And more. I'm Simon Chase by the way, programming whiz."

"Monica Devereaux," she said and held out a hand. 

"The cop? Really? I read about you in the papers some time back. You were involved in a shootout with a street gang. I read you shot five of them."

"Ah well, that was weeks ago. I still have a scar on my shoulder where a stray bullet hit."

She shifted the straps of her dress to show the scar. He watched on with a childlike wonder. 

"Wow, I don't know what to say. That is the most beautiful part of you, it shows the mortal danger you put up with everyday, with a smile. For that, I respect you more than you'll know."

The wheels were turning furiously in her mind. This guy was a total antithesis of what she expected. He actually respected her for who she was. Putting aside her archetype of dates, she genuinely looked forward to the night.

They ordered a light meal. He told her about his work in database management and how he had recently made some breakthroughs. He then took her aback by offering to help out by converting their existing criminal database to a new and improved one built by his design. She mentioned something about cutbacks, but he waved it off and offered it for free.

"Look, you guys risk your lives out there for us. This is the least I could do."

For the first time in several years, she gave her date a real smile.

They continued chatting. The topics ranged from the Yankees to the new mayor. As time passed, she grew to accept that he might not be as bad as her mother's other date choices.

He paid for the meal, despite her protests, and escorted her out of the door. Standing on the sidewalk, this was normally the time when the guy asked her back to his place. She sighed inwardly as she remembered the worst of them: guys fumbling their words, using inane one-liners to get her in bed, or just going straight for the ass-grab. Not that she minded it, really, but she longed for a guy to have some intelligence in the way he went about. She was prepared for the worst.

"So, where do you live? I'll drop you off."

This took her by surprise to the extent she actually replied, "What? No going back to your place for a nightcap?"

He just smiled at her and said, "We barely know each other. It would be wrong to have sex now. Maybe after some more dates, when we know each other's comfort zones and are more at ease. It has to be right for both of us, or it won't be right for either."


An Unlikely Romance Ch. 01



"Do you read Cosmo or something? Where do you get these weird lines from? This isn't 1850 when you need to court me like a princess to get me in the sack. I'm up for it tonight if you are."

Smiling sheepishly, Simon replied, "Okay, I might have gone a bit overboard with the clichés, but seriously, let's give it some more time. You are welcome to come home with me now, but we'll probably spend the night playing cards and watching TV."

"No thanks. I'd better head home in that case. I have a lot of work to catch up on."

"Is it regarding that guy killing hookers? I saw it on the news, how awful."

"Yes. We'll catch him eventually, don't worry."

"I hope you do."

"Listen, I had a great time tonight, but with the butcher on the loose I don't know how many free evenings I'll get. So I can't make a definite plan for the next date."

"Saturday evening, let's grab dinner and a movie."

"What if the butcher strikes again?"

"I have a feeling he'll hold off. After all, who kills on a weekend?"

They laughed at this bit of light humour as she climbed into the passenger seat. The drive was pretty short. She lived over on Washington Heights. He got out of the car and opened her door for her. She giggled at this antiquated show of courtesy. He proceeded to escort her to her apartment door. Then, he planted a soft kiss on her cheek and turned to leave.

"Wait. Did you really enjoy the date?"

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"Because you just kissed me like you kiss your grandmother."

Saying this, she grabbed hold of the back of his head and mashed her lips against his. Her tongue forcefully entered his mouth and explored around. She wrapped her arms around his neck and just hung on like that as he reciprocated back as best he could. After a minute or so, she unlocked her door and tried to pull him inside. Just at the last second, he pulled away from her lips.

"I'm sorry, I can't do it tonight. Maybe next time."

Even before Monica had a chance to reply he was gone.

---

As I climbed into the car, my mind was in a tizzy. A deluge of thoughts flooded me. This date was with the one person keenest to catch me. Yet, she seems like my best chance at salvation. To start with, I had been putting on a superficial show, but towards the end of the night, I had actually grown fond of her. She on the other hand, seemed to genuinely like me, unaware that the most wanted man in New York just kissed her. Small world.

Maybe that was why I pulled away. Subconsciously, I knew what had happened the last time I had sex. Of course, I didn't have a knife this time and even then the chances I could kill a trained detective were slim. Given Monica's strength, the more likely outcome was flying out of her window onto the pavement five stories below. But even then, I didn't want to risk it.

While driving back, I passed a corner teeming with hookers. I felt a twinge of sadness looking at them. It was probably the most unsafe profession right now, but economic hardships and drugs had made them immune to fear. They just waited, hoping the butcher didn't come along.

A few latent desires popped up in my mind. I was tempted to stop the car and pick one of them up. 

"No not so soon. I just indulged a few nights back. I can't let this get more frequent."

I read somewhere on the net that serial killers kill with shorter gaps as they gain more experience. I can already feel the intent, but I have to restrain. After an hour of driving, I reached my house. It was late, but Mrs. Freemont was eagerly waiting for him. She wanted to know how the date went.

"Fine. I really like her. It might go somewhere."

She dropped her tone a bit, "I've known her and her mother for ages. She may be a tough, strong woman on the outside, but she hides a vulnerable core. I am sure right now, she is in her room praying for those dead girls on TV and crying. She cannot see suffering and death anywhere. That is why she went into the force, to wipe out scum like the butcher. Lord, help him the day he is caught, for she will extract a violent vengeance on him. He will probably wish he had killed himself too."

I gulped at the last sentence. 

Seriously Lord, help me.



An Unlikely Romance Ch. 02



Read chapter 1 to get a better idea of where we are right now. Do give your comments and votes at the end. 

*

Saturday came by a lot quicker than I was expecting. It was time for my second date with Monica. We were to meet up at CraftSteak for dinner and possibly a movie afterwards. 

Even as I dressed up, I felt those urges well up inside. The knife was there in my cupboard. The temptation was unbearable but I had better things to do. Putting on my best suit, I took a cab to CraftSteak along 5th. Already waiting for me with her radiant smile was Monica. Her dress accentuated her curves just the right amount. Her wavy blonde hair came down on both sides of her face. She looked like a picture of perfection. It was nice to see how her face lit up when she spotted me.

"This place is pretty expensive. How much do they pay you to be a cop again?"

She brushed aside my remark.

"My family is loaded. Money was never really an issue for me."

"Then why become a cop?"

"Two words: power and control. No other job gives this much. Besides, I am doing a service to the city, which is more than I can say for the rest of the urban elite."

We ordered prosciutto and halibut. Even as we dug into the food, we never stopped chatting. She told me about her time at the Academy and her early years when she was constantly at odds with her instructors and superiors. Her philosophy to law enforcement was refreshingly simple; rule one: do what it takes to dispense justice, rule two: if red-tape, bureaucracy or anything else comes in the way, refer to rule one.

The new mayor and commissioner seemed to see eye to eye with her on this issue and had given her a free pass to do what was required to keep the city clean. Ever since making detective, she had a perfect clearance rate. On another note, she also had as many complaints stacked up against her as the rest of the NYPD combined. Be it harassing suspects without lawyers to eke out a confession or searching without a warrant or any other of a litany of code violations. Under the new government, she had a carte blanche to do as she wished and a lifeline to circumvent red-tape. Forensic results for her cases took priority over others and she had her choice of manpower. It was official; I was having dinner with Super cop.

"So tell me a bit about yourself? Where did you grow up?"

"I don't remember my real parents. On my fifth birthday, I was adopted by a family in Queens. They were very nice to me. I hear horror stories of kids in foster homes, but my family was perfect. My dad was a city employee; and my mom was a paralegal. They had no children of their own, so they pampered me endlessly. They passed away a few years ago in a car accident."

Immediately, she put out a consoling hand on my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry."

"That's fine. I have moved on."

"So, any more news on the butcher case?"

She narrowed her eyes and gave me a playful glance.

"You know I can't discuss an active investigation, but yes, he's definitely public enemy number one now. We have forcibly asked all the motel owners in Queens, Bronx and Manhattan to carefully see all their guests and check for ID. The next time he strikes, we nab him."

Note to self, no more misadventures in those parts of town. I'm hitting Brooklyn next.

"I think it's just a matter of time until we catch him."

"I hope so." I said, blatantly lying.

We finished our dinner and walked up to parking lot. Feeling contented with myself, I walked ahead of her.

"Did you really think you would get away with it?"

I froze in my tracks and took a quick glance backwards to see she had taken her gun out and aimed it straight at my head. Petrified, I turned around, silently wondering how she found out.

"Put your hands on your head and stand against the car."

Mechanically, I followed the order, thinking that my redemption was over even before it began.

"Simon Chase, I hereby place you under arrest on charges of leaving a woman alone and horny after your first date."

The relief on my face was palpable. I sighed aloud as I realized her little joke.

"Was there anything funny in what I said? You don't seem to realize that you're in big trouble?"

"Won't you read me my rights?" I said innocently.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in bed. Though it is strongly recommended you give up that right in the bedroom. You have the right to ask for a condom. If you do not have one, one will be provided to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good, now get in the back. We are going to my place to have sex." Monica said, matter-of-factly.

Still a little queasy from my initial fear, I got into the back of her car. She careened through traffic back to Washington Heights. I got an erection even before we reached. Monica quite literally dragged me out of her car and up to her apartment. Once there, she brandished a pair of handcuffs and looked at me questioningly.

"I have many uses for this, even when I'm not on the job."

After securely fastening my hands around her bedpost, she ripped off all my clothes in alarming fashion. I was down to my underwear when she finally stopped to catch her breath. It was only a momentary lapse as she took a hold of my waistband and yanked it off. Her eyes roamed up and down my naked form. 

"I'll be right back." she said and headed off to the bathroom.

I lay there, prone and immobile for a few minutes before I heard footsteps approaching the bedroom. The door swung open and Monica entered, as naked as I was. Confidently, she strode over to my side and straddled me in one quick motion.

"You should probably know, I like it rough."

"What do you....."

I was rudely cut off by her landing a tight slap across my face. I yelped in pain and felt my cheek go warm. There was barely a second to recover, when the back of her palm connected with my other cheek while coming back. My face was stinging and hot.

She just sat on me and looked on my painful visage with a playful look on her face. Raising her hips just a bit, she lowered her cunt onto my erect member. The feeling was indescribable as her vaginal walls closed around my shaft. Keeping her eyes fixed on mine, she started moving up and down. This woman obviously didn't have a gentle bone in her body as she kept up the pace of a jackhammer.

I tried to push upwards to meet her motion, with little success. Soon, I realized that there was no way I could match her strength or speed. I resigned myself to being the passive partner as she continued with the fine delicacy of a car crash.

Soon, I could feel the beginnings of what was surely going to be a massive orgasm. I remembered something she told me in the car. 

"I would like to exercise my constitutional right to a condom now."

"Sorry, that would be in violation with my constitutional right to feel your hot cum shooting against my cervix."

She kept up this animalistic pace until I was getting visibly close to a powerful. She seemed to sense that and asked, "Going to cum soon?"

I fervently nodded my head. What she did next was totally unexpected. She placed her arms around my neck and started to apply pressure. My eyes went wide and I could feel my vision go a blurred. I thrashed desperately telling her to let go. She relaxed her grip and intensely looked into my eyes.

"Do you trust me? Then let me do this. It will be the best climax of your life. Just put all your faith in me and I won't hurt you."

There was something in her tone which told me to do it. I reluctantly nodded as she placed her powerful hands around my neck once more. I took a long look at her face. There was something in her expression that inspired faith. Giving a weak smile, I gave her the go-ahead to start. She gradually increased the speed of her pelvic motion and increased the pressure on my neck. Once more, I felt parts of my body lose feeling, but I resisted the urge to move.

Encouraged by my self-control, she started gyrating her hips at a fast pace and closed those strong palms around my neck. My vision was beginning to fade as I felt myself nearing climax. Finally, on the verge of losing consciousness, I had my orgasm.

It was like an electric charge surging through my body, restoring feeling to every part. She was dead-on, this orgasm felt other-worldly compared to the usual. I could actually feel like I was floating on thin air as the aftermath of the climax settled. She took off her hands and smiled at me.

"I told you you'd like it."

She released me and went to get some food. I sat up against the bed rest and panted with exhaustion. I had tried auto-erotic asphyxiation once but bailed before orgasm. Since then, I had no further experiences with choke-and-stroke. Until I met Monica.

She returned carrying a packet of crisps and tossed it at me. I gratefully opened them as she lit a cigarette. I looked at it and flinched. I can't explain why but I have always been afraid of anything with fire, especially cigarettes. She seemed to sense this and stubbed it out on the ashtray.

"I noticed several burn marks around your shoulders and arms. They look like cigarette burns. Were your foster parents really as good as you told me?" she said, raising her eyebrows.

"They were. Honestly, I can't explain these burns. I probably got them before I was adopted." 

"Do you remember anything about your biological parents?"

"My earliest memories are with my foster family. I have no clue who I was before that."

"Let's not waste any more time on small talk. You left me horny and wanting last time, so you definitely owe me another screw now. I say you do me like a bitch this time."

"All right, let's do this." I said eagerly getting on my knees.

Monica smiled at me wistfully and sat down in front of me on the bed. Her eyes seemed fixed on my spent organ. Lowering her head, she took the entire length of my dick in her mouth and moved her tongue back and forth over the length. She was very skilled at this. After a few moments of this, she withdrew my organ from her mouth and just observed it closely. She stuck out her tongue and just grazed the tip against my super sensitive head and gently ran her tongue down the shaft and back up again.

The feeling was spectacular and I was back to full hardness in no time. She positioned herself in front of my erection and told me to go for it. I eagerly thrust and sank my entire cock inside her. She liked this and kept encouraging me to go faster. I moved through the gears at full speed and was soon pumping her at full speed. She matched my thrusts by pushing back. The continuous rhythmic slamming of bodies got me increasingly fired up as I could feel the climax building. Even in my blissful state, I could hear a buzzing from somewhere nearby. I glanced over at the table to see our phones.

"Don't you dare......" was all she said.

"Ummm.... I think it's your phone."

"So what?"

I hastily pulled out and said, "You should take it, could be important?"

With an incensed glare fixed on me, she got off the bed and walked over to the table.

"Devereaux speaking. What!! Where? Alright, secure the scene and get a hold of some witnesses, I'm coming."

"Sounds serious."

"No kidding, Sherlock. Guess what, you were wrong, the butcher would not leave us alone, even for the weekend."

Utterly bewildered, I mustered up a weak response, "The BUTCHER?"

"The very same. In a motel off Deer Park Avenue."

"That's in Long Island, right? Outside your search grid."

Continuing to glare at him, she hurriedly got dressed.

"This date is incomplete. This mother fucker is really getting on my nerves now. I am going to castrate that guy when I catch him."

I sincerely hoped she meant the guy behind the latest crime. I walked out to my car trying to make sense of what had just unfolded.

---

Monica looked perpetually angry at crime scenes, but this time, she was visibly livid as she strode into the Sea View Motel in Long Island. She jostled through a crowd of reporters desperately trying to get a piece of her. Judy Lynch stepped in the way, but was forcefully pushed aside.

Boz was waiting for her at the reception counter. Even he seemed shaken. 

"Monica, thank God you're here. This guy left a mess over here. I don't know what to make of it."

"What do you mean? He did something else this time."

"Just take a look."

She made her way past a corridor full of forensics and CSIs. They all seemed mortified by what they had seen inside. She passed Aaron, who had just returned from the bathroom after vomiting. She gave him a reassuring look as she passed. Taking a deep breath she entered the room.

Even someone as hardened as Monica gasped at what she saw inside. The hooker's body was laid to rest, everywhere. On the bed, beside the bed, in front of the bed, behind the bed and all over the floor. She had been cut into at least twenty pieces. Her head was propped up on the pillow and it smiled grotesquely at her. Blood was strewn all over the walls and the floor.

"Oh my God!"

She pushed her revulsion aside and started to minutely inspect the room. Her police instinct was telling her something. She thought it over. It made sense.

"Did we get any DNA?"

"There was a struggle here, we have some foreign DNA under the fingernails. But it's no use. The guy is not in our database."

"Just humour me and run it through the database again."

Puzzled, Boz called up the lab. Given the media spotlight this case was getting, this DNA would get immediate priority over other cases. They would have the results in half an hour. 

Monica, in the meantime, kept looking for more clues. She found some fabric which did not appear to belong to the victim and bagged it. Sometime later Boz came back, breathless.

"Just got the results back from the lab. You won't believe what we got."

"I know." said Monica quietly

---

A copycat. Seriously?

Has the city of New York suddenly run out of role-models so people are inspired by me now? The more I thought about it, the less sense it made.

There was no shortage of crazy, eccentric nutcases in the city, but this guy was in a league of his own. Who the hell tries to become the most infamous New Yorker since Son of Sam?

I was still puzzled by these thoughts when I got a call from Monica.

"Hey, listen, we nabbed the guy."

"The butcher?" I said, trying my best to feign ignorance.

"Not exactly. The guy behind this crime is a wannabe butcher. We found some prints and DNA at the scene and ran it through the system. It came back to a guy with a history of religious psychosis. He had a record of assaulting hookers on multiple occasions. Looks like the butcher gave him inspiration to take it up a notch."

I felt flattered.

"We've just hauled his ass in at the station. Looks like an open and shut case."

"That's great. I'll bring over some pizza to the station. You guys must be hungry after such a long day."

"That would be great. I'll tell the guys at the entrance to let you in."

So I got four boxes of New York's best pizza from Nick's for New York's finest. The guys on the ground floor relieved me of one box and handed me a visitor's badge. I made my way up to the Homicide Division. The entire place was buzzing with activity. I spotted Monica in the far corner talking to some officers. She saw me and ushered me over.

"Simon, meet the men and women of NYPD homicide. This is my partner Det. Brian Bozman. This is Det. Anne Sherwood............." she went on with the introductions as I gave my best fake smile and handed over pizza from time to time.

Boz was grinning from ear to ear as he pointed in the direction of the interrogation room. Inside was a large irritated looking man in his late forties.

"Malcolm Burns. Used to be a pastor downtown. He got too involved with religion and started pontificating his radical views a decade or so back. He would frequently assault hookers on street corners and leave them bleeding. He kept chanting from the Bible about God and how he was told by God to kill all immoral women. He was locked up on assault charges for a few years."

"Religious psycho? Expected I guess."

"We still need to break him. I'm going inside. You can watch it on the big screen with the rest of them."

"Be careful."

She winked at me before preparing for the task at hand. I walked over to the crowd of cops glued to the big screen waiting to see what Monica did. Boz stood beside me. 

"So you're Monica's latest plaything. I hear she likes to play rough."

"You have no idea." I said, still a bit sore from tonight's performance.

"Actually I do." he said, pursing his lips.

"Wait, did the two of you......."

"It was a long time ago, when I was assigned to be her partner. It was almost surreal. I was jacking off to her endlessly. Then one day, she yanks me to her car after work and takes me back to her place. No questions asked."

"I know how that feels. She's not exactly delicate when it comes to making a move."

"It wasn't that part that bugged me. After we got back to her place and she undressed me the same way she would unwrap a large Christmas present, she really got rough."

"Did she do the choke thing?"

"No, she umm....." he lowered his voice, "left teeth marks on my ass cheeks."

"No way."

"I still have them. She looks at it like she has branded me, like cattle."

"SHH, the show is about to begin."

All eyes turned to the screen as Monica walked into the interrogation room.

"Sherwood, you had better keep the EMTs nearby." said Boz

"Good idea, in case this guy gets violent."

Boz looked at me derisively, "It's not Monica we're worried about."

---

Monica sat opposite the guy. He just looked at her, intense hatred piling up in his mind.

"Mr. Burns, do you know what you're here for?"

"God sent me here. He called out to me and like His faithful lamb, I answered the call."

"I'm sure He did. Did you go to the Sea View Motel today?"

"I went where God told me to go."

Monica stood up and banged her fists against the table. He went on.

"To keep thee from the evil woman - Solomon had suffered sorely from this quarter; and hence his repeated cautions and warnings to others. The strange woman always means one that is not a man's own; and sometimes it may also imply a foreign harlot, one who is also a stranger to the God of Israel."

Monica could feel the bile rising in her stomach.

"And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication. And upon her forehead was a name written a mystery: BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH. The whore of Babylon."

"Listen to me, did you or did you not kill this woman." said Monica forcefully thrusting a photograph towards him."

Oblivious to her, he went on.

"And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus: and when I saw her, I wondered with great admiration. And here is the mind which hath wisdom. The seven heads are seven mountains, on which the woman sat. And there are seven kings: five are fallen, and one is, and the other is not yet come; and when He comes, He must continue a short space."

She went over to the other side of the table and forced him to look at the picture. He turned away and went on.

"And the beast that was, and is not, even He is the eighth, and is of the seven, and goes into perdition. And the ten horns which thou saw are ten kings, which have received no kingdom as yet; but receive power as kings one hour with the beast. And He said unto me, the waters which thou sawest, where the whore sat, are peoples, and multitudes, and nations, and tongues."




An Unlikely Romance Ch. 02



Desperately trying to compose herself, Monica asked him in an even tone. 

"How do you know that God wanted you to do this?"

"He who hath seeks out the Lord shall find Him. The Lord speaks to His disciples not by words, but by actions. He set the example with those five harlots."

Something snapped inside Monica. Whatever vestige of self-control was inside her went up in smoke as this guy justified his act as a work of God and deified the actual butcher. She looked up at the video camera in the interrogation room and then at him. After a few minutes she made a decision. She picked up her chair and used it to barricade the door. After that, she turned off the camera.

---

It took about a minute for everyone watching the screen to unfreeze. Soon there was a sense of panic around the station. A few officers tried breaking down the door but to no avail. She had wedged the chair in precisely. The video feed was gone, but there was nothing to prevent us from hearing the demented shrieks coming from the room. There were muffled sounds of banging coming from inside. There was a loud crash followed by even more hysterical cries of anguish from Malcolm.

There was a repetitive sickening splat of skin hitting skin as she continued her merciless assault. Once in a while we heard a loud snap, which told us that she had broken some bone. After about forty minutes of this gruesome audio, the screams finally decreased. He was losing consciousness. That did not deter her apparently, as she raining down sickening blows which resonated around the station. Finally, there was dead silence.

Everybody in the station looked at each other uneasily. There was a sound indicating the chair being moved and then the door swung open. Monica slowly walked out. She looked unlike I had seen her. Her eyes were red, her hair was dishevelled and her suit was hanging open. There was a considerable amount of blood on her hands. 

As she stepped out, everybody made way for her. She strode out and looked around at everyone.

"Unfortunately, he's still alive. Get him patched up and put him in his holding cell. When he recovers tell him to sign a confession, or else I will pay him a visit in his cell. As for the disciplinary file, put it with the heap. There was no video evidence, so I should escape on a technicality."

Everybody just gawked on.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go."

The entire station rushed off to do their respective duties. I tentatively stood next to Monica, unsure of my next move.

"Can I sleep in your place for the night, or what's left of it? I don't feel like making the long drive back to Washington Heights."

"Umm.. sure." I said, out of fear more than anything else.

"Great. I'll just go wash up. No point in getting psycho blood all over the seat."

I grinned weakly at her last stab at humour as she went off. Boz crept up to me from behind.

"She's one of a kind. A real asset to the force. I just spoke to the head EMT. A preliminary glance shows multiple fractures in his ribs, spine and skull. His shoulders and kneecaps have been dislocated and his limbs have been bent at impossible angles. He seems to have massive internal and external bleeding. If she hadn't stopped when she did... we might have been dealing with another murder case tonight."

"She really laid into him, didn't she?" I said, stating the obvious.

Boz looked at me with a lopsided smirk.

"Just you wait till she catches the real butcher. This is going to look like a Disney movie in comparison."

That was precisely what I didn't want to hear.

Just then, Monica passed by calling me over. I said a silent prayer as I followed her downstairs.



An Unlikely Romance Ch. 03



It was fucking ridiculous!!

I, the most infamous living New Yorker, had a fan page of my own on the net. Thousands of 'devout followers' logged in every day to share their thoughts on me. Some called me a Messiah; others said I was 'the coolest guy in New York'. There were even those who wanted to meet me, those who wished to come with me on those nights.

There was also the small matter of over 3000 wedding proposals on the site. I even checked out some of their profiles. Many of them looked nice, but were undeniably disturbed. After all who else would want to hook up with a serial killer?

"What're you looking at?" said a sultry voice from the adjacent room.

Alright, I take that back. Not everyone who hooks up with a serial killer is disturbed. Some can convert that angst into motivation to fight crime, and put people like Malcolm Burns in a coma.

"Nothing much, just surfing the net. You should see this."

The sleepy and bedraggled figure of Monica slinked into the room. Her hair was tousled and her eyes, bloodshot. The bags under her eyes were visible. This case had taken a lot out of her. All those sleepless nights she spent pouring over evidence were really taking their toll.

"Your guy has a considerable fan following. Take a look."

She sleepily browsed through the page, smirking at some of the comments.

"He's a real ladies man."

"Spot on! Some of these girls are pretty hot as well. Take a look at this profile for example. Lana Porter, 29, successful lawyer at the city's top firm, and she's publicly gushing over the butcher."

"Ahh well... New York is a big city. There are loonies of all types. I wouldn't take her seriously."

"Never judge a book by its cover, Monica. Read her first comment."

Still tired, she glanced up to the comment right on top. Reading through it minutely, she gave a weak smile.

"So her dad abandoned his family and ran away with a hooker two decades back. I guess it's understandable why she hates them so much. It says here, she would consider it an honour to defend the butcher in court if he ever got caught. So what's your point?"

"My point is, not everyone out there wants you to catch this guy."

She shook off her sleepiness and sat down in front of me, fixing her piercing gaze on me.

"This case has gone global. The media from six continents are following the story. There are guys in Tokyo who are commenting on various news blogs. No other case in recent history has captured such an audience. I had better catch him."

"Unfortunately for you, he has been silent this past month. So no new leads to work with."

Truth be told, I felt the urge over and over again, gnawing at my insides, telling me to go get a hooker. But with the extra long hours my girlfriend had been pulling at the station, she had converted my place into her base camp since it was just a few blocks away.

Mrs. Freemont was elated. She thought Monica had moved in me. 

"So you coming to bed, or are you going to spend the night surfing the net for porn?"

"No, I have some work to catch up on. You go get some sleep."

She leaned over and kissed me. I parted my lips to accommodate her tongue as she sank into it. Her tongue sloshed all over the inside of my mouth for the next few minutes. 

She detached her lips and walked back towards the bedroom. The last thing I heard her say was, "At least he's getting laid a lot, judging by his female fan following."

Once again, Monica was right. Every night she came back, frustrated and angry at finding nothing, she took out all that frustration on me leading to rough, animalistic sex including acts I'm pretty sure are illegal in the state of New York. Not that I was complaining, though I was sure that I would be unable to move for a week afterwards.

I needed to point them in a different direction. What better way to do that than write a letter? Zodiac did it, Jack the Ripper did it and now it's time for the butcher to give it a go as well. This letter would put me in exalted company.

So, while Monica went about her day chasing ghosts, I sat down to compose my letter.

The cops and the media probably got hundreds of crank letters every day. Some written by teenage pranksters, delusional nuts and bored guys without a hobby. My letter had to stand out. The best way to do that was to include a detail about a murder which was not known to the public. Something that only the police would know.

I spent the best part of an hour combing through the net and the papers looking for what was not there. I concentrated on the first murder. The police report outlined multiple sloppy stab wounds to the stomach and abdomen. 'Sloppy' was a pretty accurate description. It was one thing fantasizing about a kill, but quite another when it came to actually doing it. The slashes were hesitant and awkward. I accidentally slashed her neck and did the rest while she choked on her own blood. The police had graciously left out the part about her throat being slashed. 

So, now that I could get them take to take me seriously, who do I make my scapegoat?

After the incident with Malcolm Burns, I had settled on pinning it on some religious fanatic. This letter would squarely put them in the spotlight. I had to find as many Christian metaphors against immoral women as I could. 

"Monica Devereaux, you want to chase ghosts, I'll give you a ghost."

---

"Alright listen up, we have a development in the case."

The entire section turned towards Monica in unison.

"The butcher wrote a letter to us. He made three copies. One was sent to Judy Lynch, one to Stanley Quinn at the Times and one was personally sent to me."

"I am putting the letter on the big screen. Hopefully I will hear something apart from the obvious. By the way, this is the real deal, he knows about the throat slitting in case of hooker number one."

All eyes went to the screen.

Dear Reader,

Take a look around you. How many women do you see on the streets selling their bodies like cheap goods? The sanctity and purity of their bodies have been violated. In turn, they have led good men astray from the path of Jesus, our one true Lord. These seductresses are blights upon our society, ones that I plan to erase. Let me tell you about the first time.

I still get the chills when I remember that black hooker. I was not used to it and she was a feisty one. In the end, I slit her throat and watched as she bled out before inflicting the half a dozen other stab wounds. It was such a rush.

The Lord appears to me in visions, telling me where to go and what to do. He shows me a city drowning under the weight of it's filth and debauchery. Whores of every creed and kind swarm the streets and fill them with the waste of their fornication until the good and righteous people have nowhere left to turn. Our Saviour instructs me, to seek out these immoral women and punish them. He came to Earth to suffer for all our sins, but we have since sinned so much more that He may soon consider us beyond redemption.

You may think I am a monster, but all those harlots on the street are the actual monsters. They tempt the weak with the deadly sin of lust. The Lord is on my side, I am cleansed and pure.

I will pray for all of you tonight and hope that you see it my way. For our Lord is merciful and he will accept you into his fold for your actions. And when you kill these sinners, you shall see the light, like I have.

Castigo corpus meum.

Sincerely,

The Butcher of New York (I have moved beyond the Bronx now.)

Everybody looked on at the big screen blankly. It seemed like an age before someone spoke up.

"So, it's like we expected, a religious nutcase."

Monica wasn't even listening. Every fibre in her body was telling her it was a fake, but it had a detail no one outside the force knew. Reluctantly she turned to the officers.

"Canvass neighbourhoods for radical priests. Look up records of anyone with a history of religious delusions that live near the crime scenes. Look through traffic cams and surveillance videos for anybody matching this description. Go. Go. Go."

Everybody went off in different directions, leaving Monica to her own thoughts. She needed a break from this. It had been a week since she had her last good sleep. Maybe a fresh insight after some rest would do the trick.

Visibly tired, she made her way down to her car and almost ran over Judy and her crew who were in her way. She could see that the number of hookers had visibly decreased. Sighing aloud, she made her way back to Simon's house.

---

I had been peacefully going about my work, designing a search grid for IBM. Suddenly, I felt a finger at the back of my neck. It snaked it's way down the back of my shirt. I shuddered involuntarily. The finger proceeded to lightly trace out various shapes on my back. Soon, there was a pair of wet lips on the nape of my neck. I shuddered involuntarily.

Unable to resist any more, I turned my chair to see Monica standing over me, with a smile on her face.

"How did you get in?"

"Since I virtually live here now, I took your duplicate key."

Mrs. Freemont was right. We were living together.

"What if I were to tell you that I want you to keep that key, even after this case ends?"

She turned her face to look at me obliquely. It took a second or so for the full meaning of what I had said to register.

"Are you asking me to move in with you?"

I offered an innocent smile.

Instantly, all that tiredness disappeared as she embraced me. It wasn't a sexual gesture, just a very deep and loving one. The case seemed less important. I held back gently. She withdrew from the hug and mumbled something incoherent. I took the cue to get up and kiss her deeply on the lips. She gently cradled my head in her hands as she kissed back, at first softly, but the passion soon took over.

Grasping both my hands, she led me to my bed. Pushing me on it first, she lovingly looked at my face. For the first time, I saw no lust, no angst, no deviant desires, just pure unadulterated affection. This would be the best time yet.

After fumbling out of my clothes, I reached out and pulled her down on me. She clambered on top and gently lowered herself on my penis. It felt so good when her vaginal muscles forcefully contracted around the head. She loosened a bit and let another couple of inches slide inside and clenched it. For the first time, the pace wasn't like Mercer Avenue at rush hour, but instead soft, slow and calm, like an opera.

Our thrusts were in sync as we moved up and down harmoniously. She didn't slap me, bite me or any of the other things she usually did. I was in a serious relationship now. 

"What do you make of the letter that's all over the news?"

Still keeping up her momentum, she calmly replied.

"We are looking into it. Don't you have anything better to talk about than work?"

That ended our coital conversation. I couldn't properly ascertain what she made of my communiqué. The speed of her thrusts gradually increased as I could feel an impending climax approach. She seemed close too as her face was clenched with intensity. My orgasm left me on cloud nine for a while as she continued pumping in the hope of squeezing out any leftover spunk from my member. She rolled over on her side and looked at me with a wry smile on her lips.

"You want to know what I think of the letter? It's probably a red herring. A real religious psycho would have written to us sooner and would have a lot more to say. My guess is he picked up on the Malcolm Burns case and did this to turn the heat off his tail."

She was uncomfortably correct.

"But he's smart. Sending it to the press and the media means I can't just trash it. I have to waste some man-hours on it, just for show."

Inwardly, I was beaming with pride.

"While the officers go on this wild goose chase, I intend to keep looking elsewhere."

The verdict: partial success.

I would somehow need to convince her. Unfortunately for some poor whore in Brooklyn, I knew exactly how.

I cautiously waited until Monica was gone the next day before I ventured out to Brooklyn. Since, no murder had taken place here, there were still enough hookers here for a party. I patiently drove around looking for a corner. Finally, I found one. No surveillance cameras and hardly any witnesses. There were two girls wasted out of their minds, dressed skimpily to attract customers.

"Two at once. That would make a point."

I casually drove up to them. They gave me interested looks and a few lame one-liners later they were in my back seat. I found my kind of motel soon enough. The fear had not spread to this part of town yet, so there was no hassle at the reception.

I took my key and headed upstairs with my two lovely dates. We did not waste any time on the seduction and foreplay, but got straight down to it. First on the menu was a delicious double header as the two girls assaulted my cock jointly. Their twin tongues entwined around my delicate head as they slurped noisily. Then one of them concentrated her activity on my balls while the other went back to engulfing my shaft. It was heavenly as they frequently changed up.

After about half an hour of this treatment, it was time to defile them. The first one invitingly got on all fours and wiggled her ass. I eagerly assumed my position and began thrusting. My movements were hard and fast as she was delirious with extacy. The other one just watched on curiously as her friend was on the throes of orgasm. Finally after twenty minutes of rhythmic strokes, she came violently. Weak from orgasm, she just lay in bed and lightly fingered herself while her partner got her turn.

The second girl was not as loud and her pussy seemed frequently used. Her vaginal walls were so wide, that I could barely feel them. I was tempted to ask her what she inserted there in her free time, but thought better of it. Fucking without feeling the friction was no joy, but I gave her a similarly satisfying orgasm as her friend.

Now for the fun part.

While they were lying on the bed, still recuperating from the hard sex, I went to retrieve my knife. Even as I thought about it, I felt a deep sense of remorse. I wished that I didn't have to do this; I wished I was stronger than my urges, but I wasn't. Spontaneously, I started sobbing. 

Bewildered at the turn of events, the less stoned of the girls came over to where I was sitting on the bed and tried to comfort me.

"What's wrong?"

"I am sorry. I am sorry. So sorry. So so so sorry."

She tentatively put an arm on my shoulder to comfort me, unsure of exactly why I was sorry. I looked at her. She was barely legal. Driven to this profession in need of cash, drugs, whatever, she would never get to grow up. She would never get a chance at redeeming her life. Her innocent, almost childlike expression stuck in my mind. Such endearing innocence and I would end it in a few minutes. I put on my jacket and walked up to the bed. I hugged her tightly and whispered in her ear.

"I dearly wish I didn't have to do this. You have to believe me. I wish there was another way."

"Do wha....."

Her question remained incomplete as I swung my knife in an upward arc from her abdomen to her chest. She died instantly, feeling no pain. Her friend was asleep, facing the other way. She never saw it coming.

Six weeks after my last outing, I finally felt at peace again. Peace intermingled with a deep and profound sense of sadness. I had ended two lives for no apparent fault of their own. I do not know if there is a God, but if He exists, He probably created me out of spite for humanity.

Speaking of God, I needed to give this murder a religious touch. My semen would confirm it was me, so this message would have to be taken more seriously than my letter. 

Reluctantly, I dipped my finger in one of the wounds. With a sufficient amount of blood on my finger I went to the wall to write my religious message. I looked on blankly, unsure of what to write.

It was probably the worst time to get writer's block.

The blood was clotting fast; I had to make up my mind soon. Something short, yet catchy enough. Nothing came to mind. Finally, after a few minutes of scratching my head I wrote the first thing that came to my mind.

Thoroughly embarrassed at my literary effort, I washed up and got out.

---

Bleecker Street was backed up several miles with traffic as the police, the media and a horde of onlookers converged to see the crime scene. Crime scene tape encircled the entire motel as the forensic went about their respective duties with extreme urgency. 

Monica was irritated, like always, as she stepped out from her car and met Boz at the entrance.

"Are we sure it's not another copycat?"

"No overkill this time, just neat and clean strokes like our guy. He got two hookers at once this time, and left an interesting message for us. I don't know what to make of it."

She strode inside flashing her badge at all the correct people. The mood here was distinctly different from the other butcher murders. Some of the lab techs and officers were laughing.

"Probably the interesting message" though Monica as she stepped into the room.

The two bodies were neatly lain out, with their arms crossed across their chest. There was minimal stabbing on each of them. What caught her attention the most was the hurried message on the wall. The butcher was obviously short on ideas. The side wall proudly proclaimed: PAT ROBERTSON RULES.

"This guy has a thing or two to learn about God."

The hotel manager was talking to Boz, who seemed animated as the discussion went on. Finally, he went to her with a big smile on his face.

"Christmas has come early for us. We have a massive lead."

This piqued her interest as she went to see what it was. Boz was right, it was massive. 

For the first time in months, Monica could see the finish line. This last lead was massive. It was just the thing the beleaguered NYPD needed.

---

I could swear I heard a spring in Monica's step as she came up the stairs. She entered the room, looking better than I had seen in days. She stopped over to kiss me and sat down on the bed beaming.

"It's just a matter of time now. We got him."

"The butcher?"

"The one and only."

Curiously, I turned around. This was something I had to hear.

"The motel manager there is a real douche bag. Usually a bad thing, but not in this case. He has miniature cameras hidden in the motel rooms. The daily recordings fund his low-budget adult film business. None of the Johns are aware of this. If any particularly rich fellow walks in, then the tape can be used for extortion as well. So we have a fucking video of the butcher going about his business. Did you hear that? We have his fucking face on candid camera."

Still with the spring in her step she walked off to change.

Robotically, I turned back to my computer and opened the last site I was viewing. The manager of the motel, Tim Katz, distributed some of his porn online and I was just browsing his site.

So yeah, I knew all along.

That's why I had put on a fake beard and moustache as well as a putty nose before venturing out. They would see a face alright, just not mine. This 'great lead' would lead to a sketch which would appear in every newspaper shortly (it was already on the net). This coupled with the letter would keep everybody on the lookout for a psychotic, bearded clergyman.

Nobody would be looking for a friendly, endearing, clean shaven programmer.

"I am in a mood to try something new tonight" came from the adjacent room where Monica was changing.

Almost nobody.

I strode into the room, interrupting her changing and took her in my arms. She gave me her most charming smile as we kissed. I was trying my best to undo the straps of her bra, when we heard a cry from the street. 




An Unlikely Romance Ch. 03



She rushed over to the window and saw a crowd of hookers converging over something. 

"Oh my God."

She quickly put on her dress and ran out on the street as fast as she could. I followed on her heels. The crowd of hookers seemed to be attacking something. Monica quickly pushed aside some of them and made her way to the center of the group. After forcefully removing the last few, she saw a bleeding pastor. The blood softly dripped from his beard onto the pavement.

He had been repeatedly beaten and was unconscious. The paranoia was real.

"Quick, call 911." she said in my direction.

My plan had worked too well and there was collateral damage. Innocent bystanders were getting hurt. 

There was really nothing that went right for me.



An Unlikely Romance Ch. 04



As always, comment and vote at the end. The feedback will help me decide what to put in the forthcoming chapters.

"Here's the smell of the blood still. All the 
perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand."

-Lady Macbeth, Macbeth Act V Scene I





An Unlikely Romance Ch. 04



She did not turn her head in his direction.

"Nina was from an immigrant family. Her parents barely had enough to sustain themselves. She grew up in soup kitchens and homeless shelters all around the city. It was her sheer determination and willpower that got her into the Academy. She was very good at her job. In fact, she was offered promotions and transfers on multiple occasions, but she turned them down. Do you know why? She grew up on the streets where sadistic pimps and customers have their way with helpless hookers. She empathised with them like no one I have seen."

"I am so sorry for your loss."

"It's not my loss I'm worried about."

His heart dropped to his stomach.

"If there was one thing she did wrong, it was marriage. She married a total asshole. That guy frequently got drunk and beat her. They had two kids. About a year or so back, she finally had enough and kicked him out. She was taking care of the kids on her own. They were all she had and she was all they had. They are just 3 and 4 years old. Now she's dead and they're orphans. They'll go into the infamous foster care system."

He looked away unable to hear any more, feeling lower than the Dead Sea.

"What about their futures? Do they get some money from the state?"

Monica looked away wistfully.

"The usual that a cop's family gets. It would have been much more had she taken those promotions and transfers."

No more, no more, make it stop. Please.

She turned to him. Her cheeks were tear stained and sallow. Tiny rivulets had formed from her eyes to her cheek. She had been crying for some time now.

"Why are people like the butcher even born? Why can't everybody be like you?"

Taken aback slightly Simon replied, "Like me?"

She nodded gently.

Unsure of what to say, he looked towards the rising sun.

He would become the man she knew him to be. He didn't care what it took.

Monica went downstairs to prepare breakfast. Now that she had her head straight, she could think clearly on the case once again. He came down to breakfast, holding two envelopes. 

"Mon, I have something I need to give you."

She turned towards him as he handed her the first envelope.

"Look, I have more money than I can spend. My bank account is just south of seven figures. Those poor kids on the other hand could use some. Here is a cheque for their college funds. Could you please anonymously add it to their compensation?"

Her hands trembled as she opened the envelope and looked at the figure Simon had put. Her eyes went wide with shock.

"Wow. That's more than triple of what......." The words remained lost in her mouth.

Unassumingly, he went on.

"This other envelope contains the name and details of a friend of mine from college, Norah Hoffman. She and her husband Sebastian are the nicest couple you can hope to meet. Unfortunately Norah is too busy in her professional life to be pregnant, but they love kids. You will never see them at a park without seeing them showering affection on some toddler. They have tried to adopt multiple times in the past but the Social Services was too 'busy' to get back to them. It would mean a lot to me if you could see to it that both kids end up with Norah. I can guarantee you; they will not find better parents anywhere."

Monica still seemed to be in a state of shock from what had just happened. Still clutching the envelopes, she walked over to him and put her arms around his back. She didn't say anything, just held on lovingly. His back still hurt but he didn't care. He was on the road to redemption.

Finally she detached herself from him. Taking a few steps back, she looked upon him with a look of reverential awe. He sat down to have breakfast.

"The one decent man left in New York, and he's in front of me."

He grinned, but he knew there was something important to be done. If he was to truly ever stop killing, he would have to get to the root cause of his urges. He had a pretty good idea where to start.





An Unlikely Romance Ch. 05



Read all the previous chapters to understand what is unfolding here in this one. As always, I appreciate your comments and votes. If you have any private feedback for me, don't hesitate to shoot it my way.

"Let no evil impair my rest.

Or powers of darkness me molest"

-Anonymous





An Unlikely Romance Ch. 06



Moving towards the ending. Your comments and votes are very important to my thought process so please do leave them. Private feedback is also welcome. There isn't much sex in this chapter, but the plot develops a lot.

"Veritas vos liberabit"

(The truth shall set you free)

---

"Won't you be going out tonight?"

"No. Please go away. I can't take it anymore."

It was my mother. Not just her voice any more, but a hallucination that urged me on.

"Why won't you listen to me for once? You know you want to do this."

"I ..I.." I could already feel my resolve faltering.

No. I have to be stronger than that. I cannot give in again.

"See that knife over there? It's calling out to you. There are hookers out there. They need to die."

I stood up defiantly and faced her.

"No they don't. There was only one that deserved that. You did that for me. The others are innocent."

"No one is innocent. They are all watching you. They know your deepest, darkest, innermost secrets."

Imagine that, having a hallucination of a schizophrenic. How ironic!

"I won't do it."

Mom looked at me smiling.

"You'll eventually come around."

"Simon, are you there?" Monica called from the next room.

Mom just stared at me wistfully.

"You are living in denial, my son. If you don't let your natural urges out on some evil hooker.... Your girlfriend might have to pay a steep price."

Something snapped in that instant as I lunged at her. Unsurprisingly, my arms went straight through the apparition and hit the wall.

"Don't you dare. Don't bring her into this. I would never hurt her, not if it costs me my life."

She just smiled and disappeared slowly.

Monica came into the room wearing a tee loosely over some faded jeans. She put her arms around my neck and looked lovingly into my eyes.

"I added the money to their accounts. It was a very nice thing that you did."

I smiled, knowing that I was the reason they even needed it in the first place.

"I had to. The story about your friend was really moving. Any progress in the case?"

Heaving a sigh of disappointment, she looked down. She did not have to say anything. I knew that look.

"Cheer up, you'll get him."

"I really don't know. We have been chasing him for months now and still nothing. We have double-checked everything. After Nina's death the entire force has looked as hard as they could. Maybe this guy is too smart for us."

Under normal circumstances, I would have taken that as a complement.

She brought her face close to mine. I could feel her breath on my skin as her beautiful aquiline features seemed larger than ever. She just stayed like that for a minute or so, those iridescent eyes searching my face. Finally, she parted her lips and gently placed them around mine. I let her tongue make it's way past mine. I held her as we settled into the rhythm. There was no urgency or rush as the kiss lingered. It wasn't fiery and passionate like the scorching, all-conquering lust that Monica had felt at first, but silent, intense and primal, like the love she felt for me right now.

We kissed deeply, until I saw a familiar face standing behind Monica. Mom was back, clutching a knife. She made a gesture asking me to take it from her.

"No. Go away." I said and stumbled back from the kiss. I hit the side of the bed and fell awkwardly. Monica looked at me quizzically.

"Are you feeling all right? You look pale." There was genuine concern in her tone.

I sat for a few minutes trying to regain my breath.

"It's okay. I'm just not feeling all that well. Nothing serious."

She crossed her arms across her chest and studied my expression for some time. I tried to put up my best poker face, but my insecurities betrayed me.

"Your hands are shaking. You're sweating. Something is wrong. What is it?"

"It's nothing. Honestly."

Standing a few feet away from me was my most unfavourite apparition holding a six inch kitchen knife with blood dripping from the blade. I visibly flinched. Monica walked up where I was sitting and placed her hands on my shoulders.

"You can tell me."

"Go ahead, tell her. See how she reacts to the news."

"I told you it's nothing."

"It's definitely not 'nothing'. Don't keep any secrets from me."

I mumbled something incoherently before making my way out of the room. She stood there, still waiting for an answer.

I had no answers, for her or myself. I just hopped into my car and decided to take a long drive to nowhere. Hopefully, it would clear my head.





An Unlikely Romance Ch. 06



"It's too late."

I stormed out of the apartment slamming the door shut. I felt sick to my stomach at what I had just seen.

"And here you were thinking you could change, son. You get an A for effort though."

"JUST SHUT UP!!!"



An Unlikely Romance Ch. 07



Just one chapter to go after this..........

"The worst reconciliation is better than the best divorce"

---

"Dr. Hart, you have a visitor."

"I am done for the day. Tell him to set an appointment for tomorrow."

"Actually she's here to talk to you."

Shannon shifted her glasses, "All right send her in."

Monica walked into the office, resolute in her objective of finding out the truth.

"Whatever it is make it quick, I am closing up for the day."

"Did you receive a call from a Simon Chase last week?"

Shannon narrowed her eyes.

"I did. Are you with the police?"

"Yes, now you have to tell me what that call was about."

"Mr. Chase was setting up an appointment with me."

Monica groaned inwardly, she knew it. There was a secret so big that Simon had to visit a psychoanalyst.

"I need to know exactly what happened during that meeting."

"That's doctor-patient confidentiality, I'm sorry but I can't tell you that."

"I'm not asking as a detective. I am his girlfriend, I need to know."

Shannon surveyed her intently over her glasses.

"Nice try but no way, I could lose my license for this."

"Let's try this again, this time I'm not asking. Tell me or else...."

"Or else what exactly?"

"Or else, your dirty little secret comes out. The one you kidnapped twenty years ago, imprisoned in a dungeon under your house and regularly force into sexual favours."

Dr. Hart did not move, her expression was one of shell-shock. Finally, she mustered up the words to respond.

"How do you know?"

"You don't have to know."

Heaving a sigh of futility, she conceded to the inevitable.

"So you want to know about Simon Chase?"

"Start at the beginning."





An Unlikely Romance Ch. 07



She lifted the meat to find a small black object on her plate. Curiously she picked it up. Surveying it from all sides, she tried to figure out what it was. I pressed a button in a remote carefully hidden in my pocket. The object broke open and inside was a flawless, 24-carat diamond studded engagement ring.

It took a while for the moment to sink in. She looked over to see me on one knee in front of her. Time stopped for us.

"Monica Mary Devereaux, I love you with all my heart. You are the light that guides me through life and makes every day worth living. Will you make me the happiest person in the world? Will you marry me?"

A sob caught in her throat as the entire scenario just sank in. She looked at me with an expression of awe mixed with an intense love.

"Yes, I will marry you."

Before she could say anything else, I grabbed her head and forced her into a kiss. The ardency and tenderness of this kiss was unmatched by any other. Everybody stopped their meals to applaud.

That night while we lay in bed together, I ruminated on the events of my life, particularly in the past few months.

For the first time, my night was silent. No nightmares, no urges, no hallucinations and no latent desires. Just an overwhelming feeling of peace and serenity as I lay beside the woman I loved more than anything else.

This is not the ending, there is an epilogue. If you have made it till here, I would appreciate your comments and votes.



An Unlikely Romance Ch. 08



"Lasciate ogne speranza voi ch'intrate" (abandon all hope, ye who enter here)

---

Here they come again, those urges those damn urges!

Just like last time, I could not resist them. Succumbing to these desires, I leant over and kissed my beautiful fiancé. She looked sublime just lying there between her sheets. Starting at her neck, I kissed my way up her cheek until my lips rested on her forehead. It lingered just long enough for her to stir. Smiling, she opened her eyes just a bit.

Wrapping her arms around my neck, she kissed me hard on the lips. Her tongue forced its way into my mouth and entwined itself around mine. There was no urgency, no rush as the emotions took over. After a while, we were barely aware of our actions as it went on and on. Soon, her arousal built to the point where she needed more. I could already feel a hand making its way down to my pants. I pulled away from her playfully.

"Let's save that for tonight. You know- our big wedding night."

"Let's not........."

She tried kissing me again, but I avoided her and tried getting off the bed.

"You had your chance, now we do this my way."

Saying this, she forcefully pinned me down and started to kiss me roughly.

"This is rape."

"Yeah? Arrest me!"

"You should know, my wife is New York's toughest cop. If she finds out you raped me......"

"Go on."

"She will kick your ass."

Monica stifled a giggle.

"A little birdy told me she has something special planned for the wedding night."

"And what would that be?"

She leaned over seductively and whispered it into my ear. It took me sometime to process what she just said.

"That is... sick and wrong on so many levels."

"Awww....... don't be a prude. That's just the beginning. You will never forget your wedding night."

I smiled, excited at what was in store for me.

"On second thoughts, I could do with a preview."

Still smiling, Monica disappeared beneath the covers. Soon enough, I felt the entirety of my erect member swallowed in her warm wet mouth. Her ministrations were artistic and sensual as she gently caressed the underside of my engorged organ with her tongue. Then she took most of it out of her mouth and concentrated her efforts on the head. The feeling was insane as the pleasure swept over me. I lay there on the throes of ecstasy as the feeling pushed me higher and higher until I finally erupted in a violent crescendo of pleasure.

I just lay there, silly with post orgasmic bliss for some time before she got off the bed.

"The day has finally come. The big day of our wedding."

"I know!"

It had been one year since my proposal. One year of no more urges or hallucinations. The butcher seemed to have retired given that there were no new bodies.

Another success story was that of a lovely young girl called Emily Daniels. She had come a long way in the past year. I had encouraged her to take up acting and even paid for the best acting classes. Her company had performed a gala rendition of Othello on Broadway recently. The tickets were obscenely expensive, but Monica and I went to see her perform. Her performance as Desdemona was mesmerizing. It ended to a rousing round of applause.

Everything seemed to be going just perfectly for me.

---

The day progressed too slowly for the happy couple. An endless line of relatives showed up. The ceremony could not come soon enough as they started getting dressed.

"How do I look?"

Simon had to pick his jaw of the floor as he saw Monica in her wedding dress for the first time. She was wearing a sleek and flawless white dress which was intricately inlaid with beautiful designs which could only be seen up close. From a distance, her shimmering white dress lit up the room. She, herself, was a sight to behold in her resplendent beauty. He tried to say something, but his jaw still hung out.

"You look......."

She looked at him curiously.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"More like an angel."

She smiled, then made her way closer.

"Let's crumple this dress."

"I don't know. It looks so pretty."

She was very close now, her piercing gaze transfixed on Simon's. She had just started to lift the hem of her dress, when her phone rang.

"Saved by the phone." he said as he quickly moved away.

Monica picked up the phone and had an animated conversation with the person on the other end. Her tone became more and more excited.

She dropped the phone and gushed, "This day could not get any better. I am getting married to the man of my dreams and in a few short hours we will know the name of that sick fuck."

Simon asked, "Which sick fuck?"

"The Butcher. After two years of nothing, finally we got the guy. We have a match for his DNA. A cold case. A two decade old double homicide in Brooklyn. Deranged wife came home to find her husband in bed with a hooker and stabbed them multiple times with the kitchen knife. The DNA from the Butcher came back as a familial match, meaning it's her son. Records show that she had a 4 year old son at the time of the murder, who watched this entire episode. He has since disappeared into the foster care system and his records are sealed. The subpoena to unseal them is en route. We got him."

He just listened silently.

"Imagine that. No leads for such a long time and an accidental comparison with two decade old cold case nails him. What are the odds?"

"What are the odds!" he exclaimed, mentally preparing for the inevitable.

"I'll leave you to get dressed."

Monica left the room with a distinctive prance in her step.

---

My mind was blank as I sat in silent retrospection. I had changed everything about myself, but there was one thing I could not change- my past.

The Fates had dealt me such a cruel card. I could only imagine what Monica would feel when she got the news. Would it be anger, betrayal or just an overpowering rage?

Looking up, I saw a familiar figure at the door. I gave a wry smile.

"Hi, Mom."

For once, she did not spew any murderous platitudes in my direction. She came over and sat beside me, draping an imaginary arm over my shoulder.

"I am sorry. I really am. I know how much you tried to change and you did. But your past has caught up with you."

"Poetic justice, I suppose."

"You have to understand. You are what you are. Deep down within, in some hidden corner of your heart, the Butcher still lives."

I looked up at her ruefully.

"You kept your other knife deep inside your cupboard. Take it out."

As if pulled by an invisible force, I walked up to the cupboard and opened my chest. It contained all my personal items. It was my personal space, somewhere only I looked. Every item was some part of my soul. I reached deep inside and found what I was looking for. It was buried right at the bottom, symbolic of my urges, but it was there.

As I wrapped my hand around the handle, a trapdoor opened in my mind. A multitude of suppressed desires rushed out and wrapped their tentacles around my being. I shuddered as this deluge overwhelmed my being. I felt different, more complete than I had felt all year long.

"Yes. Embrace who you are. Now go and get Monica before she finds out."

I wasn't listening to her. Looking at the reflection of my eyes on my blade, I had an epiphany. I was a monster, I always would be.

"You went to such extreme lengths in your search for answers when they were always right in front of you."

Looking down at my knife, I knew she was right. I gripped the handle tightly; it would take a lot of courage to do the next act.

---

Monica was still in a daze of happiness. She could feel the overwhelming joy filling up her soul. All her questions were going to be answered one by one. But it wasn't all rosy.

She was not in the least bit afraid to walk into a shootout, but the idea of a lifelong commitment scared the shit out of her. It was completely alien to her mould, completely uncharted territory. She was glad that she would have Simon by her side to navigate this arduous journey.

But could she do it? She knew that she had to be the perfect wife.

Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by a phone call. It was Boz.

"You found out so soon?"

"Umm... Not exactly."

"What's going on?" said Monica, a little edgy.

"The judge who presided over the case requested the social worker to do it off the books. There was no official record of the adoption, just in case the child tried to trace his roots back to this event. There was only one copy of the adoption file, stored in a government storage locker in Rochester. The entire section was burnt in a big fire last year. I am so sorry, Monica, but that was the only record."

Monica was crestfallen.

"So there is no way we can find out?"

"Unfortunately not. I guess his true identity will always remain a mystery."

"I guess so. So when are you coming?"

"I'll be in time for the ceremony."

"You had better."

She put the phone down, fighting back a profound sense of disappointment. In the past, it would have weighed her down for days, but she had bigger things on her mind. It would just have to go into her list of questions. There were more pressing questions on that list.

Would she make a good wife?

Would she make a good mother?

She smiled as she thought about their future and the possibilities it held.

Unfortunately, she would not get the answers to those questions either, for in the adjacent room, Simon lay spread eagled on the bed. His glassy eyes faced the ceiling. There were three deep stab wounds in his abdomen, the knife handle stuck out of the deepest one. Death had been slow and agonizing as he bled out gradually.

His mother was right. He had gone far and wide into the innermost depths of his mind in search of answers, when they were always right in from of him.

All he had to do was turn the knife towards someone who deserved it.

---

So this is Purgatory? Hmm..... could do with better lighting.

I was at a crossroads. The signpost was unambiguous and simple. It showed the directions to Heaven on one side and Hell on the other. I stood in front of a council who would arbitrate on my fate. I could only see their silhouettes as they spoke to each other in hushed tones.

"If I may interject here.."

The silhouettes looked up. I went on.

"I know I may not exactly be Heaven material, but I have done some good in my life, particularly in the last year. So is there any chance?"

There was silence as the council studied him.

"No chance ehh? Didn't expect it. Ahh well, it was worth a shot."

Saying this, I whistled to myself as I made my way towards Hell.

It was a long walk through featureless scenery as I met fellow travellers. We discussed our reasons for being in this situation as we made our way to the gates.

At the banks of the river Styx, I could see souls desperately flailing in the murky depths of the river trying to escape. They were of course dragged down by other souls. Soon, Charon the ferryman came along to escort us across the river. I saw a familiar face waiting for me on the other side.

"Mom," I said as I rushed out and embraced her. She held on just as tightly.

"Simon, look how you have grown. The last time I saw you, you were just a baby."

"I missed you too." I lied.

Hand in hand we walked.

I honestly have no idea why Hell has such a bad rep as a hot, ghastly place. The landscape was a bit barren and desolate, but other than that, it was okay. The black sky was lit by the moon which lit everything up. There was a nip in the air as chilly breezes flew past.

We walked past several scenes of eternal torture I should not describe for the sensitive viewer. One of them featured a man tied to a rack while four young girls took turns raping him with objects of opportunity. They waved at us as we passed. Mom waved back.

"See them over there? That man was a brutal rapist who mercilessly sodomized his daughters. One day, one of the girls set their house on fire accidentally killing them all. The girls were offered a chance to go to heaven, but revenge was just too good to pass up. We are good friends now."

We walked up a rocky knoll until we reached a big tree. My dear departed father and his favourite whore hung from adjacent branches. They seemed to be struggling against their restrains, in vain obviously.

"Just see this."

Saying this, Mom brandished a large knife from her dress and cut a deep gash across Daddy's face. He screamed in agony as blood sprayed everywhere. After a minute or so, the wound healed up, even though he still seemed to be in considerable pain.  

"It looks tempting enough. I wish I could join."

"Take a look in your inner pocket."

I put my hand inside my jacket and sure enough, my knife was where I always keep it. I took it out and went to face the hooker.

"I am glad you are here though. Doing both of them was getting tiring for me."

I smiled at Mom and then turned my gaze to the hooker. She seemed petrified by fear as I twirled the blade around in my hand.

"Not that fun, when I am not four. Is it?"

Before she could reply, I plunged my knife into her chest. She screamed in excruciating pain as I turned the blade inside her. Pulling out, I watched in awe as her wounds healed up, but her screaming went on.

"How long can we keep doing this?"

"Well Simon, no one knows exactly, but the common theory is that we can keep this up till eternity."

I returned my gaze to the hooker, who was helplessly flailing against her restraints.

"Eternity eh? Sounds like an awfully long time, especially for you." I said as I plunged the knife into her neck.

Phew! Finally finished a series. There are three people I need to thank here.

Firstly, I would like to thank lovecraft68 for interacting with me on a regular basis and showing me that there exists an audience for a story which doesn't have only sex in it.

Secondly, I would like to thank my editor FWBlover. I know I am a bit of a pain in the ass and quite demanding, but she rolled out my pieces on time every time. Her comments and suggestions were top-notch.

Last, but not the least, I would like to thank KatieTay. She was a great sounding board for ideas and opinions. Her literary insight was definitely helpful on many occasions. She was not afraid to give me her brutally honest opinion on any chapter. Thank you Katie.

For everybody else who has made it this far, I would appreciate your comments and feedback on this series. This is my first completed series on this site and I would like to know what I did right and what I could have done better. Just 21 (this was written on my 21st birthday), there is still a lot of time for me to improve, but for that I need your inputs and constructive criticism. Feel free to send me any private feedback as well.

And before I forget, if you like Monica in this storyline, wait till you see the next guy she gets into bed with. Watch out for my next short novel "Gangster's Moll". If you thought this was dark, you are in for a rude shock. There is hardly any gore there, but it shows Monica in a much darker avatar.