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Pandemic

By: Wulfwinter



All names and characters contained herein are fictitious and do not intentionally relate to any person, either living or dead. This story is a work of fiction, a fantasy -- so read it with a grain of salt and an open mind. All characters are at least 18 years of age. Voting and feedback is greatly appreciated, especially positive constructive feedback and frequent "fives".

Pan∙dem∙ic adj. [Greek pan, all + demos, people] epidemic over a large region.

On day 18 of the protoVirus plague I buried my wife and son in the back yard. Rumors were that the virus first bled out into the population ironically from the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia. An especially virulent strain of the H5N1 avian flu bug, it was genetically spliced with African ebola virus to see if it could be used in germ warfare. Lab techs at the CDC, working in conjunction with the U.S. military in a top secret joint venture, supposedly had "gengineered" it to die after two hours, but something went horribly wrong.

In that first week the government admonished people not to panic, and to go about their daily lives; however, it was advised that international travel should be cut to a minimum.

By the end of the second week citizens were advised to stay home and to not "socialize" with neighbors. Hospitals and walk-in clinics began overflowing with desperate patients.

By the end of the third week nearly half the population of the United States was dead, and mass hysteria had set in. A CNN report from Glaxo-Smith Pharmaceuticals showed a huge mob of thousands of people storming the Washington, D.C. headquarters after an internet hoax reported that the company had discovered a vaccine, but was withholding it for release until it could be dispensed to the Washington elite first.

Some of us remained entirely untouched by the ravages of the plague. I know I am resistant because I did everything possible to become infected. When my eight year old son started vomiting blood and lesions began to appear on his little body my wife did what any mother would have done -- she nursed him. She held him while he cried and she lovingly kissed his hot, sweaty forehead. Knowing that she was soon to be gone also, I joined them. I held their hot, fever-stricken bodies close to mine as the virus spread through their systems and took them from me.

Digging graves is much harder than it looks. Luckily it was early October and the ground was still soft.

****

October 6 2014 --

I spent several days in a grief stricken haze. I tore through my personal liquor cabinet and the second day broke into my neighbor's house and stole his stash. I didn't think he'd mind since from the putrid smell emanating from the bedroom he was probably very dead.

After three days of railing at the heavens, demanding that I join my family and guiltily agonizing over why I was spared, I began to return to reality. Society was still operating, albeit sluggishly. The power was still on and the internet worked fine; but somehow I knew this would change soon. At some point during this dark and miserable despondent period I subconsciously made the decision to go on living. Not only that, but I wanted to excel, to be a survivor in this horrible parody that life had become.

I hopped into my ancient Ford Explorer and headed into town -- my destination: Hunter's Supply. One would think that after a pandemic like the protoVirus, cars would be littering the streets and bodies would be laying everywhere -- but this was not the case. Instead, the world seemed surreally neat. There were no cars on the road, either stopped or being driven. No pedestrians or joggers waved as I drove by. Apparently people tend to head for home when everyone around them is dying.

Inside an abandoned, halfway ransacked Hunter's, I loaded up with survival gear. My shopping list included the following: three Great Plains Black Hawk recurve bows (I felt that solid recurve longbows would last longer than complicated mechanical compound bows); two dozen replacement bowstrings; a case of carbon and aluminum arrows with woodsmen broadhead points; a box of leather armguards and three leather quivers. In addition, I acquired a sleek black 12 gauge Mossberg 500 pump shotgun with a pistol grip and shorty barrel for "home defense", as well as a Winchester Model 70 Extreme Weather 30-06 rifle mounted with a Zeiss Victory 5.5 scope.

All in all, with the cases of ammunition and other sundry supplies I felt I could survive fairly well depending on the circumstances.

I swung by the local Wal Mart Supercenter, which surprisingly had cars in the parking lot. Sparsely populated, the Wal Mart was a virtual ghost town compared with the usual crowd.

A lone employee, surgical mask covering his face, nervously stood at his register eyeing the few customers in the store. The shoppers were eerily silent, most of them rushing through the store, wanting to escape as soon as possible. One woman coughed, and half a dozen heads turned -- people scuttled away like cockroaches.

I purchased two gas powered Honda home generators -- a 3800 watt and a 5000 watt, and as much canned food as I could fit into my car. The store shelves were mostly bare, but I wasn't choosy. For the first time in my life I smiled at the thought of maxing out my credit card.

I drove home, pondering my next move.

****

That weekend the lights went out. I guess it's hard to keep the power grid operational when all the employees are at home taking a dirt nap. Radio news reports before the power failure listed the surviving population at about 2% for North America, with Europe at about 5%. Asia, Africa and South America were almost completely wiped out, with less than 1% of their populations surviving.

Standing on my back deck I looked out over the neighboring golf course. The sky was a beautiful cobalt blue, with a slight northeasterly breeze stirring the remaining leaves. It seemed like an idyllic early autumn afternoon until I spotted a group of turkey vultures circling several of the stately golf course homes. The sight of the carrion birds brought me back to reality.

In the distance I saw movement at the back of one of the large, majestic golf course estates. A few seconds later I heard the muffled report of what sounded like a gunshot. Quickly stepping into my kitchen I reached into a utility cabinet and ran back outside with a pair of binoculars to my eyes.

It was difficult to see too much detail from the distance, but it looked like two men wearing dark sweatshirts, hoods pulled up over their heads, were dragging a person across the patio into the back door of the faraway house.

I turned to my "survival" stash and grabbed up the loaded Mossberg, slung it over my shoulder by its carrying strap and then on impulse picked up one of the recurve bows and a quiver of arrows.

It took me about ten minutes to sprint across the golf course and up the slightly sloped back yard of the house. Lightly vaulting the chest high black metal fence surrounding their pool and garden area, I quickly, but hoped silently, crept up to the open french doors.

Inside was a large family room with high, vaulted ceilings, dark, rich hardwood floors, a beautiful stone fireplace, and a plush leather couch and loveseat. In the middle of the room was a large, round leather ottoman. The two men had a young girl spread eagled over the ottoman on her stomach. One of the thugs held her tightly by her struggling arms while the other knelt behind her with his pants around his ankles, his broad leather belt in one hand, folded in half.

The man holding her arms had his back to me, and next to him on the couch I could see a large black handgun. The men looked as if they hadn't bathed in a week; their clothes were worn and tattered, their long hair dirty and unkempt, hands black with grease and grime.

The girl cried out and the man behind her smacked her pert, creamy white bare bottom with a cross handed slap of his belt and began thrusting in and out, a look of terrifying ecstasy on his grease-stained face.

"Come on, fuck me back, bitch! I like it when you struggle...that's it, push back against me!" Smack! Smack! The leather strap left long, angry red welts across her upturned cheeks, making her gasp and quiver in startled pain.

The man in front of her had his penis out of his pants and grabbed the girl by her hair and rubbed his hard cock over her face.

"Suck it, bitch! Gimme some of what Wayne's getting, or I fuck you up the ass!"

I ducked down behind a large barbecue grill and nocked an arrow. If I used the shotgun now I would probably shoot the girl too. Instead of acting, something dark and nasty took over, and I decided to watch the scene play out.

Wailing and then emitting a muffled cry, the girl took the second thug's penis into her mouth. With one hand he roughly pulled her by her thick, curly reddish brown hair, with his other he guided his hard cock in and out.

"Good girlie! Wayne, she's suckin' it! And she's suckin' it real good, too!"

"Great Billy -- grunt -- we gonna have fun with this bitch -- grunt -- let's keep her as our fuck toy!" SMACK! SMACK! The thick belt unrelentingly came down again and again.

Wayne was speeding up his thrusts and stinging blows, leaving the girl's pert, upturned ass red and splotchy on both cheeks. Every time the belt came down on her enflamed backside she would scream around a mouthful of cock, and try to pull away. Billy reached down with one hand and pulled her shirt up, exposing pale white mounds of soft, firm flesh tipped with pink, quarter sized nipples. He pinched one, hard, and thrust his cock deep into the girl's throat.

She moaned over his manhood, and tears streaked down her face and dripped off her chin. My palms grew sweaty and my heart beat wildly in my chest, yet in spite of the barbarity of what I was witnessing I felt a stirring in my groin.

Both thugs quickened their thrusting, and the girl squealed under them, her body apparently finally responding to their sexual treatment. Wayne grabbed her by both splotchy crimson ass cheeks and roughly pulled her on and off his stabbing erection, harshly pinching first one cheek, then the other. Billy began stroking his shaft, yelling at the girl to keep sucking or he'd break her jaw. With a loud groan and one final deep thrust, Wayne came in her teen pussy, his back arched, his head thrown back, eyes closed. His hands tightly gripped her by her cheeks and he spasmodically jerked her on and off his cock. The girl threw her head back as well, and let out a long low moan, her body tightening up as she came violently, her raw, red ass cheeks quivering and shaking around his pumping manhood. Wayne pulled out and stroked his shaft a few times and fountained thick ropes of cum down the crack between her tender cheeks, then grinned maniacally and thrust himself into her again, all the way to the hilt.

At the sight of Wayne coming and the girl's apparent orgasm, Billy's cock spurted its seed into the air to land on the girl's upturned chin. He pulled her face down by her tightly held hair and thrust his still spewing cock back into her mouth.

"Swallow it bitch! Swallow it all!" he roared as he thrust in and out of her mouth. She gobbled his cock and I could see her adam's apple bobbing as she tried to drink down what looked like a quart of sperm.

I realized this was my chance. Slowly, so as not to draw attention, I pulled the bowstring back to my ear and sighted down the shaft, pointing the broadhead arrow straight towards the middle of Wayne's chest. Remembering what little I learned from a high school archery class I had been in as a youth, I exhaled slowly and simply loosened my grip.

The arrow hissed through the air for a split second and smacked into Wayne. I apparently aimed a bit high, as the arrow went in just above the sternum at the base of the throat. From a distance of about twenty feet the shaft punched right through him and sprouted out the back of his neck in a spattering shower of blood and gore. Wayne's eyes locked onto mine for a split second, and then he pitched over sideways, deader than Kelsey's nuts, arrow shaft clacking on the hardwood floor.

With a loud "What the f—!" Billy jumped up to see what had happened. He paused for a moment in shock as he took in the spreading pool of blood on the floor and Wayne's open, sightless eyes, then spun and dived for his handgun.

Seeing an opening, the girl rolled off the ottoman and ran screaming out of the room and down a hallway. I dropped the bow and brought the Mossberg up and racked a round into the chamber. Billy's eyes grew wide when he saw me and from the hip fired a wild shot in my direction as he dove over the couch.

I went down on one knee and held the shotgun perpendicular to the floor about six inches off the ground. BOOM! Snick-snick, BOOM! I fired two rounds under the couch and heard a satisfying wail of pain as the steel buckshot fired from a distance of fifteen feet tore into Billy's feet and ankles. I ratcheted another round into the chamber.

Moving quickly in a low crouch I moved through the french doors and around the rear of the plush leather, buckshot shredded couch. Billy lay on his back, holding his knees to his chest, moaning in pain as blood seeped out and stained the floor.

He held a grease stained hand out towards me and pleaded, "Don't shoot me, please! Oh God, it hurts! It hurts."

As I lowered the barrel, his other hand came from behind his head, .45 caliber pistol pointed at my face. I heard the deafening roar, and then actually felt the breeze as the slug flew past my right ear and shot a hole in the large picture window behind me.

BOOM! Billy's face dissolved in a red mist as he flew backwards across the floor. His body twitched a few times and he gurgled obscenely, then lay still.

With shaking hands I reached down and picked up the .45 and tucked it into my belt. Nudging his body with my foot I checked one last time to be sure he was dead, and walked down the hall to look for the girl. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear myself think, so I stopped momentarily to catch my breath and calm myself. After a minute or so of leaning one-armed against the wall, I continued my search.

Through the third door on the right I could hear muffled sounds of her crying. Cupping my hands, I called through the door, "Hey? You can come out now -- they're both dead. I won't hurt you, I promise."

The continued sound of muffled sobs was her response. I leaned in again and called through the door, "Come on, let me in -- you need medical attention."

After a few moments the lock clicked, and the door opened slightly. I stepped through and saw her wrapped in a blanket curled up in a ball on a huge, plush king-sized four poster canopy bed.

I set the shotgun and pistol down on the floor and moved over to sit on the edge of the bed. She shrank away from me in fear, and buried her face into a large throw pillow.

Gently gathering her into my arms, I soothingly calmed her. "There, there, you're gonna be okay. They're gone now, you're safe with me."

I stroked her unruly mop of matted, sweaty curly hair and rocked her tiny frame gently. After a while her sobs began to lessen and she sighed into my chest.

I studied the girl in my arms. She was petite, yet solid muscle, with long, slender legs and a taut belly devoid of any fat or flab. If I had to guess, before the virus she was probably a star track athlete or soccer player at the local high school. Sure enough, on one wall I spotted several soccer trophies and behind it, on proud display, her high school diploma.

Crooking a finger under her chin I tilted her face up and gently wiped the tears off her cheeks. Her eyes were a startling blue, her skin creamy white with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. A mouth full of shiny braces glittered in the light from the window, and made her look years younger than she was. Over her forehead was a nasty scrape, and dirt smudged her chin and one cheek. Her fingers had dirt caked under the nails, and her palms were stained brown from digging in the earth. The dirt-stained hands brought back recent painful memories of my wife and son.

"Did you bury your parents by yourself?"

Sniff, "Y-y-yes," she sobbed.

"I'm so sorry, I buried my family about a week ago. I know how you feel."

She tucked her face into my chest and began sobbing and crying uncontrollably, clutching me like a tiny child. I patted and stroked her head again and held her against me, whispering soothing words. Eventually she stopped crying and with a loud sob, looked up at me. Her eyes took me in, and widened slightly.

At six foot five, I'm a pretty tall drink of water, with slender hips and a wide muscular chest. My thick wavy hair is black, with a slight salting of grey at the temples. Most people incorrectly judge me to be in my 50's, about ten years older than my actual age. My eyes are a bold green, unusual for someone with black hair, and my face is lined and craggy with a prominent, aquiline, crooked nose, thanks to an errant elbow thrown during a long ago schoolyard pick up basketball game. I've been told I'm handsome, in a rugged, rough sort of way.

"My name's Jackson -- Carter Jackson. People call me -- err, called me -- Jack," my face clouded over as I thought of all my friends and neighbors, now dead.

"What's your name," I said softly.

"M-m-mandy," she snuffled through her tears.

"Well Mandy, why don't you come with me to my house across the golf course, and I'll cook us up a hot meal and you can take a long, hot bath."

She pondered for a moment, her eyes warily studying my craggy face.

"Oh-oh-Okay," she replied.

As she stood, the blanket slipped down and my hand inadvertently brushed her tight, hard ass cheek. She winced and I pointed to her and said, "I have some cream we can put on that. He beat you real good, didn't he?"

Realizing she was still naked from the waist down, she blushed and fled into an attached bathroom. I heard some rustling and thumping and a few minutes later she returned wearing Levis and a dark blue sweatshirt. The thick cotton material was unable to hide the swell of her full, perky teenage breasts. Seeing her cleaned up and slightly presentable I realized what a beautiful girl she really was. Her hair was a wild mop of russet, shoulder length curls. Her pretty cherubic face was oval, with a cute dimpled chin, and matching dimples on her rosy cheeks. Her eyes were even more startling when paired with the blue in her shirt, and glinted with intelligence. In spite of the horrible ordeal she had just gone through, her chin was up and her shoulders were back. She was long-legged, almost to the point of being coltish, yet moved with a feline grace indicative of a lifetime of athletics.

Side by side we walked across the fairway, my longbow and Mossberg slung over my shoulders. She didn't say much, just sniffled every now and then as we walked along in companionable silence.

At the house, I started the tub, turning up the hot water to its maximum. So far, gas was still running, although it would probably be shut off in a few days, I thought dejectedly.

While the girl soaked in the steaming hot tub, I heated a pot of canned beef vegetable stew over the fire, and toasted some French bread on a makeshift grill. After about a half hour Mandy slipped back downstairs and curled up on the couch and watched me with wide, intent eyes. Following her were the scents of lilacs and strawberries, and for a moment my eyes welled up as I realized she had used my dead wife's bath soap. I breathed in the heady fragrance and studied my young orphan. She looked fresh and clean, even the dirt was gone from her fingernails.


Pandemic Ch. 01



Ch 1: Outbreak

This is chapter one of a much longer story, and it contains no sex whatsoever, the build up is much slower than that. If you're looking for a quick fix, this isn't the novel for you.

As always, I appreciate the feedback and comments you send me. Please let me know what I did right, or wrong. ~A





Pandemic Ch. 01



I read the words etched into the bottom of the screen as the news flash lit up my small apartment, "Possible Deadly Outbreak Moving Along Eastern Seaboard". If it was anything serious the internet would have the best information; I never trusted these news networks. I got up to put my half-eaten bowl of rice in the fridge and smiled at Daisy, my bright blue Flowerhorn cichlid, bought and named by my girlfriend, as he begged for food in his corner aquarium. I took a passing glance at the photograph of my girlfriend taped to the door of my fridge; she looked especially beautiful in that picture. It was taken from the hills of San Francisco, and her auburn hair caught the wind just right. It looked like a modeling shot with the Golden Gate in the background.

Briiiing, Briiiing. iPhone. Speak of the Devil.

"Hey babe, what's up?"

"Not much hon, I just got off work so I might be a little late for dinner."

"That's too bad; I'll have to reheat the Easy Mac." I said with a self-amused smirk.

"You made mac and cheese?"

"Only the best for yoooooou!" God, I sounded like Frank Sinatra. I could hear her rolling her eyes through the giggle.

"You're terrible."

"And you're supposed to keep that in check, slacker." She both loved and hated how I always seemed to combine assholery with charm. "I'm gonna call in Le Thai; can you grab it while you're on your way?"

"Yesss, I'll see you soon!"

I blew a big kiss into the mic and dialed the only Thai place I knew of that didn't guarantee diarrhea. 

----

Thirty minutes later I heard a scratching at the door. I got myself up from the couch, "Coming babe." 

As soon as I turned the knob a flash of black and white dove past my ankles that nearly knocked me on my ass. I identified it as Ms. Marrione's cat before it disappeared into the kitchen; I'd never seen it look so terrified. Then I understood why.

"AAAARGGGHHHH!" a sickly yellow arm slashed at my face through the crack in the doorway. It missed only by a few inches.

"The fuck!?!" I slammed the door shut before it could get through again. The noise outside sounded like a rabid animal. Securing the locks, I put my face to the peephole.

It was Ms. Marrione - at least something resembling Ms. Marrione, if she had been set to rot in a vat of piss. Her skin, jaundiced and wrinkly, was the consistency of a moldy peach. Her flesh was made only comparatively less horrible by her glazed-over seemingly pupilless eyes. 

She breathed heavily into the viewport and slammed a bloody fist on the door.

"I don't want what you're selling."

I had to call Alexa.

----

"Hey baby?"

"Yea, I'm almost there."

"Hold on, don't come in yet. In fact, stay in your car."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes and no, one of the neighbors is acting up. Stay in the parking lot. I'll come to you."

I could tell she was worried, "Okay..."

"Everything's fine; give me ten minutes." Click.

I quickly packed my gym bag full of everything I'd need to spend the night at her place; I found the cat crouching down behind the laundry crate - poor little guy. I poured out a plate of milk and left it on the kitchen floor.

By the time I got ready to leave it seemed that I had made a friend. A ball of black and white fur came purring at my feet.

"Hey little guy." I crouched down to scratch his head. "You might have to lay low here for a while. I think your owner's pretty sick."

He meowed almost as if he understood. I returned to the kitchen, lined a Pyrex dish with newspaper, and laid it next to a bowl of water in the kitchen.

"That's where you go if you have to pee." He looked at me the way cats do.

I opened up a can of tuna and put that next to the water. I pointed to Daisy, "Don't eat him. We can discuss rent when we get back."

I checked the peephole once more for any sign of undead Ms. Marrione. The coast was clear; with my bag over my shoulder, I made a silent but swift move for the exit. I tiptoed through that hallway like it was carpeted with eggshells. I stopped on a breath when I heard raspy gulps around the stairway corner.

Very very carefully, I peered around the edge. It was Ms. Marrione. She was leaning face first into the wall, rambling quietly. Her fingers twitched. I ducked for the door like an urban ninja, and did a double take to make sure I hadn't alerted the neighbor. She was still there. I jogged to the parking lot.

"In such a rush?" my girlfriend spoke through her Chevy's open window. "Was everything alright in there?" I hopped in and pulled her close for a deep kiss; she warmed up.

"Do you remember the illness they were talking about on the radio?"

"Sure, they had it on at work today."

"Well, I think it hit New York. My landlady nearly attacked me through the door, and I didn't even miss rent." A look of confusion and horror crossed my girlfriend's face. Her lips looked so rosy and kissable in the street light. I had to take her in for a second. "She looked like she'd been dead for days. Her skin was yellow. Her eyes were, zombie-like. I had to get out of there."

"Of course. You can stay with me."

"Actually there's this girl Janice down the street-" Whap.

"Ow." She punched my arm. I smiled, "What'd I do?"

----

As we drove over, something occurred to me that I hadn't noticed in the heat of the moment; when I passed Ms. Marrione on the stairs, she was naked. I didn't think much of it; after all, she was very sick. But still, you couldn't unsee that sixty-year-old ass, even if it hadn't been infected.

When we pulled into my girlfriend's apartment complex, something came over me - perhaps inspired by years of B-rated horror movies and a love for mass-terror themed thrillers like I Am Legend - but I felt, compelled, to leave the city before things got worse.

"Alexa, you know my grandmother's summer house up in Cooperstown. How would you like to stay there for the weekend?"

"Sure," she smiled, "I don't work until Tuesday, sounds like a fun vacation."

If whatever got Ms. Marrione was about to get the rest of this town, a daytrip to her parent's house would seem like a fun vacation - and her parents were WASPy as shit.

"Let's pack our bags and head out tonight."

"Tonight? Honey, that's like a six hour drive. How 'bout early tomorrow morning?"

I thought about it. "Alright, but we leave bright and early."

She looked at me with her big hazel eyes and drew me in by the collar of my sweatshirt. "Baby, if this is about your landlady, don't worry about a thing. I'm going to suck you so good you'll forget about her."

Her tongue found the inside of my lips and I felt that familiar warmth in my loins again. 

I grabbed my bag and our to-go box from the backseat; this was going to be a very enjoyable evening.

----

The sweet and sour smell of Thai food filled the spacious two bedroom apartment. Alexa hadn't found a new roommate since the last one a week ago, and that meant we had the place all to ourselves.

"I'm starving," She said as she plopped down at the kitchen table, "I'm so glad you bought my favorite."

"Anything for you." She smiled and kissed me on the cheek with a mouthful of som tam. 

I dug into a container of som tam else. I watched her cherry lips wrap around a piece of papaya. "Tell me about your day."

"Well..." she thought as she twirled her fork; I tuned her out. I was thinking of everything we'd need for the trip. Nana always left food stocked for a catastrophe, you'd think she was a doomsday prepper, but I didn't know how long we'd be staying there. I didn't know how bad it was going to be, or how fast it would get there. I thanked God for being Italian on that side of the family; I knew somewhere in that house, Nana was packing.

"How about you?" Intoxicating eyes looked me over, awaiting an answer.

"It was good, except for that last part."

She grinned, "I asked if you were feeling alright about the incident."

I smirked sheepishly.

She got up and walked over to me, her work heels clicking on the floor. "I think you're thinking too much. You're going to stress yourself out." She leaned within an inch of my face and I felt a knee push softly into my balls. "Why don't I take care of that for you?"

I nodded. 

She undid my belt and dropped it the ground with a 'clank'. I could feel myself harden as her soft, manicured hands worked my zipper. With a naughty look, and a red mouth inches away from my exposed manhood, she blew a warm breath that enveloped my cock and made me shiver.

"Mmm..." she hummed, satisfied with the piece before her. With a long draw of her tongue, she lapped up my shaft, once, twice, especially slowly the third time, licking and kissing, in agonizing intervals, at the tender frenulum. "You taste so good baby."

"Oh..." I moaned.

"I can't wait to make you cum with my mouth." I felt a drip of precum escape out the tip; it was quickly licked up by my attentive seductress. When her lips finally wrapped around the head of my yearning cock, it made me shudder. She worked magically up and down, slurping, pulling, and lapping in a fluid motion. I felt my balls being squeezed as an inevitable orgasm was being worked out of them. My girlfriend looked me dead in the eye, knowing I was coming ever closer to pouring all my life force into her demanding little mouth. I felt the tension rising. Her lips worked over and over, from the base to the head. I bucked once, then twice. She was tender but relentless. Finally I realized I could hold back no more. "Oh baby I'm going to- oh, ohhhhh!" 

I shot a creamy, hot white load all over the inside of her throat, waves of pleasure crippling me from speech or voluntary movement. She slurped up every last drop of cum like a campus slut and smiled seductively as I melted into my chair. 

"That was so good baby."

She swallowed, sat on my lap, and whispered in my ear, "Anything for you."

I kissed her deeply and carried her over to the couch, where I planned on returning the favor.

----

To be continued...



Pandemic Ch. 01



She pulled aside the curtain, silently hovering in the gap, not wanting to disturb David or the middle-aged woman who had entered with the troublesome blonde that David had called Chloe. But the woman must have seen the motion in the corner of her eye, because she looked up. "Oh! I'm sorry, I hope I didn't wake you."

"I needed to be woken," Anna replied, seeing the wall clock had advanced eight hours in her absence. "David, you shouldn't have let me sleep so long."

"You needed sleep," he offered simply. "Forty-eight hours awake is far more than I would ask of anyone, especially someone who needs their immune system in fighting shape."

She sighed rather than argue with his sound logic. "You need all the help you can get." Turning her attention to the woman who looked to be about forty, she tried on a shaky smile. "I'm sorry about before, I was overtired and we got off to a rather rocky start. I'm Anna. I had the privilege of being on duty when one of the sick burst in."

The woman glanced at David for some kind of sign, but he didn't move. "Samantha, though please call me Sam, everyone does. I've been one of his assistants ever since he cured me." She held up both hands, revealing black bruises on the inside of both wrists.

Anna winced in sympathy. "Ow. How did you get those?"

Samantha's eyes widened, and she turned to David with a look akin to shock. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "I haven't had time to explain," he told the woman, then turned the chair to face Anna. "But it's about time I do." He beckoned to his newest helper, who dragged over the only available folding chair. "Anna, patients who reach the stage of insanity do so because the virus actually disrupts their nervous system long enough that they stop breathing for nearly twenty minutes. Depriving their brain of oxygen and then the body's automatic pumping of adrenaline into the re-awoken system causes a kind of psychotic episode, which, if left unchecked, would be permanent."

Anna blinked, finding this to be surprisingly easy to understand for all that it had become a multi-continent crisis according to the news yesterday. It was likely he was dumbing it down to her level, but that was fine with her. "So you can cure all these people," she concluded. "What's the catch?"

"It has to be administered within hours of contracting the virus, and is somewhat unique to each outbreak, depending on mutation and the given host's DNA."

She sighed. "No wonder. Have you figured out what to give our patients, then?"

"The hospital sent over the medicines I need, yes, but it's already too late for most of our patients, especially those that get shipped to us from other locations. By the time they get here it's usually been at least eight hours." David gestured to Sam's hand, which she extended to display the bruise again. "The veins work too hard, polluting the immediate tissue with blood, just like a bruise. Unfortunately, a side effect of the cure usually means the marks remain, instead of healing naturally."

"Chloe has them on her ankles as well," Samantha contributed. "Anywhere the veins are close to the surface you might see them, and more easily the paler the skin tone."

Anna nodded, that making sense. "How many have we treated?"

"Only twenty or so," Sam replied with a sigh. "One committed suicide, one killed another. We've started handcuffing them to the cots, but they're stronger now than they were, and that doesn't hold the strongest of them."

David sighed also. "I've asked about getting the terminal cases out of here, less risk for those with a chance of responding to a cure, but it's not a pleasant topic... and all I've gotten for certain is a promise to think about it further. The state, the country even, doesn't want to have to house and provide for even a fraction of the numbers we're talking..." He trailed off, rubbing his forehead. "Sorry, personal sore spot, that."

"I can see how it's an issue," Anna agreed. "My sister is disabled, and she keeps me updated about the government's worries that it spends too much on Social Security and welfare. Twenty percent of all American income in the past year was Social Security, unemployment, and the like, if I recall correctly."

Samantha's eyebrows rose at the figure. "Really? That much?"

David cut in. "There isn't a choice. What do they want us to do, kill anyone who doesn't respond to a cure?"

Samantha hushed him promptly. "Don't say such things. Politics is politics, and I'd prefer to stay out of the lot of it. We have enough work to do without damning ourselves in the process."

"Amen, sister," Anna replied whole-heartedly.





Pandemic Ch. 02



Chapter two, like chapter one, is slowly building up the relationship between the main characters, and while there is some erotic play, they still haven't had sex yet. Sorry, this story just asks a bit more of my characters than instant copulation.

Your comments and feedback are much appreciated, otherwise I never know what I could have done better. Chapter three will take me a few more days to edit, so there may be a bit longer break before that gets posted. Cheers, ~A





Pandemic Ch. 02



Anna looked over her head to where the handcuffs were threaded through his headboard, tugging gently to make sure they were firm. Then her eyes returned to her friend and she nodded, her feet moving just enough to test those cuffs as well. "Seem to be. Why, are you going to do something you shouldn't?"

Perhaps her thoughts were not too far from where his resided, he thought, trying to smile without looking guilty. "Maybe, but that'd be your call." And with that he grabbed the bottom edge of the oversized shirt she was wearing and slid it up to her chin, exposing her belly and breasts.

A squeak from her made her large breasts jiggle, and he had trouble not staring. "David, what the hell!" Her breasts were even more spectacular than he had imagined, which he knew he had done far more often than he ought.

Instead of replying, he turned his attention to her panties, hesitating only briefly before tugging them down to her ankles. He had not wanted to tempt himself, but at the same time he did not have the self-control to stop. He rationalized it as being the best way to test her strength, but he knew it had a lot more to do with him than with his patient.

Another squeak. "What the--?" she breathed, jerking slightly and making her breasts tremble like jello.

Damn. Unable to think of a better way, he finally sighed and explained himself. "I wanted to make you mad," he told her, glaring at the cuffs instead of meeting the accusation in her eyes. "I think you could break those if you tried, but telling you so would've ruined the test. So much for that."

She was bright red, and the flush spread down her chest, making her breasts rosier. "I like you too much to get mad at being manhandled," she muttered.

Her word choice made him shudder. "Since I can't think of anything else, we..." David was about to cover her up again when it hit him. "Why don't you tell me? How can I make you angry?"

Her eyes shifted down to where he had started to reach out, suddenly looking as distracted as he felt. "Are you sure you don't think I'm too young for you?" she asked, and he stared dumbly at her. "David?"

"Damnit, Anna," he growled. "I've been fighting this virus since before your mother was born, but I can't take my eyes off you." Making his point, he dragged his eyes and then his fingertips down her torso. "I'm old enough to be your grandfather, though I know I don't look it. I wanted to kiss you the moment I met you. Now that I know you, I don't think I could tear myself away if I tried." Perhaps such honesty had been unexpected, because now she was staring at him. When he held her eyes, she was the first to look away, making a small 'hmm' sound as she bit her lip. Her silence made him wonder if telling her his age had been a mistake, but he could not help but notice her nipples get harder, pale peach raisins on her perfect breasts. So perhaps not.

"I don't know," she whispered, not meeting his eyes.

"Obviously you thought of something," he pointed out. "Or you wouldn't have asked."

If she had been able to get redder, she would have. "You could... you could tease me..." Her eyes flicked up to his and then down, staring past the bunched up t-shirt to where her breasts shook with each breath.

She could not see further from her position, but he could. His eyes moved with hers, roaming down her body as his brain tried to comprehend what she had just said.

"David," she breathed, and if he were not mistaken, that had almost been a moan. "If you want to drive me mad, you're going to have to touch me." He gasped for breath as his body surged with new energy. She wanted him to touch her. "Tease me with every dirty thought that's going through your head right now, but don't... don't give me release." Her voice broke, but gained confidence at the same time. "If you really want to torment me, that is."

Ye gods, did this child know what she was unleashing? "I don't know if I can," he hedged, every muscle in his body straining towards her. "One brief touch doesn't prove I won't hurt you."

"Then you'd better find yourself some proof," she pointed out. "Test your hands..." A wicked smile spread across her face. "Test your mouth..."

That was all he could take. One hand reached across her to grasp her breast as he leaned down and kissed her, hard. Her chains clinked when her arms tried to rise to hold him, but being restrained only made her respond more fiercely, her tongue sliding indelicately into his mouth like no one's business. His first kiss in thirty years, and he wasn't the one controlling it. That might be bad, he told himself, but the majority of him did not want to hear reason.

Turning to kneel on the bed at her side, David broke her kiss to claim one of the nipples he had been abusing, sucking it into his mouth as she cried out in delight. The tiny part of him that was rational realized he was in trouble when his hand started massaging her other breast, teasing and pulling at her nipple to mirror what his lips were doing. He quickly moved his knee between her legs so she was unable to back out of the invitation she had made him.

Her hips jumped when his questing fingers found their target, and her moan made him slide his fingers further through the slickness he had found, a low groan of his own joining her vocalizations as he slid two fingers into her. Head thrashing from side to side, her panting breaths were quietly voiced, each noise she made driving him to new heights of arousal.

Thirty years, his brain pointed out again, louder, and this time he backed off, concerned that he was taking advantage, whether she had invited him or not.

Her groan was almost enough to convince him otherwise. "Don't stop," she pleaded, trying to drive her hips against his hand.

"You said to tease," he murmured, moving to hands and knees above her so he could better lean down and kiss her.

She broke the kiss with a growl. "I didn't realize you'd rise quite so far to the occasion," she whined. "You've proven you can touch me, and kiss me." Her brief pause received no reaction from him. "Damnit, David, you're killing me here. I'm so close..." 

She closed her eyes and the pained frown on her forehead made him weaken. "I shouldn't."

"You really should. You owe it to me, now," she told him. "It's bad enough your clothes are still on."

His brain shouted four-letter words, but he dove back down to her mouth, settling his body down on top of hers and shuddering at the pleasant sensations emanating from where they touched. She tried to break the kiss, but he would not let her, grinding his hips gently against hers. She moaned into his mouth.

The heat pressed against his groin made him realize just how much he wanted her. Her, now one of the Depraved, and he wanted to take her repeatedly. He had trouble believing that he could, though, if the women of his own race had so much trouble surviving the act. But every moment he remained where he was, the more likely it became that he was going to find out.

So he moved, planting kisses on her neck, then her breasts, and then trailing further downward. She must have realized his destination, because after a brief moment her body twitched, a high-pitched cry rising from her throat. "Oh, David..." she breathed, moaning. "Yes..."

He made himself comfortable between her legs, but stopped touching her.

"David?" She sounded almost hysterical.

"Say please..." he teased, looking up her body to where her head had risen from the pillows.

"Fuck!" she yelled, landing flat with a bounce, breasts jiggling madly. "Please, David, please! If you don't give me an orgasm soon I will never forgive you!"

Since it was tormenting him just as much if not more than her, he spread her legs with his hands, drawing tiny circles with his fingertips. "I'd best beg for forgiveness, then," he chuckled, not giving her a chance to respond before his head lowered to kiss her.

Any reply she may have had turned into a squeal of delight. David eagerly inhaled her womanly scent and dove into her, tongue sliding within her and making her tremble. He shifted position so he could push her hips up to meet his kisses with one hand and tease her with the other, but he quickly passed any teasing by and thrust two fingers firmly into her.

Anna moaned loudly, voice growing more heated and out of control by the moment, tiny noises of pleasure escaping her with each thrust of his fingers.

Her thrusting hips told him she was close, so he leaned back down and sucked her clit into his mouth. As he had guessed, Anna's body convulsed in the throes of orgasm. It took every ounce of his self-control to not rip his pants off and fuck her right then; instead he played her body like an instrument, teasing out every last ounce of pleasure he could with stroking fingers and gentle tracings of his tongue.

He stopped only when she shook at new stimuli, and crawled up her body to kiss one nipple, the other, and then lightly press his lips to hers. Her arms slid around his neck and she purred into his kiss, but she quickly released him to catch her breath and he traced his kisses back to the breasts he was so taken with. He was loathe to stop touching her, but he could tell he would ruin the afterglow if he continued, so he just lay down beside her.

Lounging with his head pillowed on her breast, he looked up at the sleepy-happy face with which she presented him and opened his mouth to ask her if she really would have gone to erotic extremes to get him to sleep, as she had suggested before. But her eyes gleamed silver. "Shit!" he cried, flinching to one side instead. "You idiot..."

"What?" Anna gave him a confused glare. "What now?" It was hardly the ideal ending to their play.

He glanced up, away, then back again, giving her an odd look. "I'm a fucking idiot," he growled at last. "I just saw him looking out through your eyes. He knows you're not on campus anymore, and probably realizes now that you're something special, if he didn't already know."

Anna stared at him, but could not deny the radical idea he had just put before her--it felt right, in spite of being pure craziness. "What do we do?" she asked, still breathing heavily.

"We leave. I guarantee he's on his way here now." Rolling off the bed, he picked up the key to remove the cuffs from her wrists and ankles and found the chain broken, her limbs free.

She gave him a briefly guilty grin as he freed her of the now useless cuffs. "Why does he care? I'm obviously your something special at this point." Color flooded her cheeks. "Why bother with me at all?"

With a sigh he sat down on the edge of the bed, turning the tiny key over and over again in his hands. "You don't know enough of our history, Anna, or you wouldn't have to ask. I'm not supposed to..." he trailed off, staring into space. "They can hardly say you're not involved," he said, more to himself than to her. Decided, he turned sad eyes on the woman still lying naked in his bed. "My people don't breed easily. Not only are there three times as many males as females, our infant death rate is horrendous. We've looked at all sorts of possibilities, but with no luck."

Here he paused, eyes staring through her at something unknown. "He won't risk an eligible woman anywhere near our species, plain and simple. He has been winning numbers and area against us for all of my lifetime, at least, and attacking our women has been part of his campaign."

"So I'm just a brood mare?" she snapped, grabbing the discarded t-shirt to cover her nakedness.

He stopped her with a hand on her cheek. "Never. You're something we haven't seen before, and that's dangerous to him."

She broke eye contact first. "Let's go, then. Don't tell me where... what I don't know, he can't find out." His hand at her cheek trembled, and she looked up to see him staring at her. It was then that she realized what she had just said. "Is that part of the transition?" she asked slowly. "Knowing his mind as he does mine?"

"This would be the first I've heard of it, but I've never dealt with a first-generation patient before," David replied just as slowly. "But I didn't tell you anything about being psychic, did I?"

She shook her head. The more her brain reeled at the idea, the more certain she became. "I don't think I could've done it before he initiated the connection, but now..."

"Where is he?" When she blinked, David repeated the question. "Where is he, do you know?"

Anna frowned. "No. No, I don't. Maybe I can only glimpse his feelings when he connects to me. I know he was a third of the way here by his estimate when he located me just a moment ago." The last few words rose in pitch as she belatedly processed the information. "We have to get out of here!"

"We have a little while, don't worry."

"But he's almost here!" She clutched the t-shirt to her chest, bunching and unbunching the cotton in her fists.

"Hardly. A third of the way gives us plenty of a head start."

"Plenty?" she accused, trying to find the right opening of the shirt to pull it on. "Define plenty."

"Six hours or more?"

She stared at him. "How the hell did we travel nine hours without my knowing?"

"You'd lost a lot of blood. You were out cold before we made it to the car."

She had to blink at that. "I... I guess I did. We'd best get moving before he realizes I'm on to him." A slow smile spread across her face. "He'll be looking for the wrong car, unless I miss my guess, but if I were him I'd check back frequently... and he'll know his mistake as soon as he does."

"Hopefully by then we'll be away from here. Let me grab a few things and find you some clothes. You stay put and relax, you're going to need your energy."





Pandemic Ch. 03



Sorry for the delay in this, I hit not one but two breaks in logic that I had no idea how to fix at first. I hope my solution works for all of you. Please let me know if you like it, don't like it, or if there are still places that get confusing. I think I've fixed it now, but I ran the risk of it seeming cut together. I answered some of the questions you all had, anyway. ~A





Pandemic Ch. 03



"Sorry. It's a language issue. The name for the species in our Old Tongue translates more or less to 'the depraved', or 'the depraved ones'. That's what they are in our view... they target life, whether they mean to or not. The species in general is depraved through no choice of their own. The Depraved One, though, he chooses to act this way. He wants to make a commotion, get attention. That's why he bites the necks of his victims... it's showy. He could just as easily kiss them and get the same result. But that wouldn't make enough of a fuss for his liking."

Anna considered this carefully before replying. "I assumed these were all disease patients, but you call it a species. If that's the case, what's your species? Or mine?"

He raised his head to smile at her. "You were mortal. The other races are somewhat immortal, at least in comparison to your kind. Supra-mortal, if you like. The Depraved are next, the lowest of the species, and the closest to mortals. I don't know if that's why some of them act the way they do... I've no idea."

She thought on all this, but the more she tried, the more her mind kept coming back to her own aching head. "I'm not sure I'll survive more battles in my head," she murmured quietly. "How long was I out this time?"

"Twelve hours ago you were awake enough to speak, but only barely." His sigh made his shoulders heave. "I can claim you," he said slowly, "But I'm not sure you'd be able to take it."

"I don't follow."

"Sex should put enough of my species in your system to force the other virus out, and fast," he translated frankly. "But as must be more and more obvious, I'm not mortal. You haven't seen my... other form. I'm worried that I don't think anyone has tried combining our species in someone already Depraved." His eyes were stuck to her chin, refusing to meet her gaze. "It's protected our women from the Depraved virus, but not retroactively."

"Then... claim me, David," she told him, both disgusted and thrilled at the word choice. She ignored the part of her that wanted to be rabidly feminist just now. "I think I've been yours since that first time you yelled at me to go to bed," she admitted.

His eyes finally met hers. "As foolish as this may sound, I had hoped there might be a bit more romance involved, the first time."

Anna had to smile. "It's a nice idea, love," she told him, consciously testing out the word. "But I find that I'd rather have your enemy out of my head than wait for a better time. We can plan a weekend getaway once he's not watching my every move."

He rested his chin on her stomach. "And what about the part where I might hurt you? Especially since the species are not compatible?"

"Nothing about me is incompatible, every test we've tried has shown that. But what is this other form of yours?" This was the first he had mentioned such a thing, and she was unsure what to make of it.

"There is a reason we're known as the Guardians," he told her, sitting up and facing away from her with a sigh. "A thousand years ago they just called us giants." The bed creaked suddenly, the first sign that anything was different. Then his body started to swell, each of his muscles becoming more defined and then continuing to grow until they at least doubled in size. He rose, the bed groaning its relief at the removal of weight.

Removing his t-shirt before it ripped, David was still growing; he passed seven feet and kept on going. Now the high ceilings and doors made sense. Anna would have blushed when he removed his pants as well, but she was too stunned at the nine-foot-tall human refusing to look at her.

The huge shoulders heaved as he sighed again, finally turning around. She recognized him at once, even with faulty vision, though he had changed a great deal. He was still proportioned much the same as he had been a moment before, but the similarities ended there. His eyes now were a bright copper, wide pupils and irises blocking out nearly all the white. As he watched her examine him, his pupils changed shape, more like a cat's eye. She recalled being scared of the change in his eyes back at college, but in context, they were not frightening, they were gorgeous.

Anna sat up in bed, ignoring the woozy feeling that still plagued her. She was too busy admiring the man in front of her. Now she did blush, seeing him completely bare, but she also liked what she saw. "You're beautiful," she breathed, standing slowly and resting a hand on his muscular chest. His muscles felt hard, like a layer of almost-solid rubber over chiseled granite. She felt dizzy and placed her other hand on his chest, too, bracing herself against him to steady her uncertain body.

Even his skin felt different, more like leather, and she could understand why he might seem like a giant to earlier civilizations. She would have to spend time in thought later to satisfy the part of her mind that was trying to put dots together. Right now she wanted to explore the creature in front of her, though she needed to reassure the sad expression on his face first. "David, I'm amazed, but if you honestly think this is going to scare me away, you're a fool." She stroked his chest, the highest place she could comfortably reach.

He knelt, bringing his face even with hers. She had a brief feeling like vertigo, reeling until she steadied herself against his shoulders. He noticed and put one hand on her hip to hold her in place. "I don't want to hurt you, Anna." His voice was deeper, matching his size, but she still heard him in it.

"You won't," she stressed, putting her arms around his neck. "Just because you're nearly twice my height," she teased, "Doesn't mean I'll let you throw me around."

His smile was still the smile she recognized. "You've got some serious balls, woman," he replied, wrapping his arms around her easily. "I saw it that first night. I hope that isn't going to put a damper on our relationship."

Since his arousal was visible, Anna was beginning to wonder if she would be able to handle him like this, but that was not going to stop her from trying. "I'm guessing you don't get laid much," she taunted. If anything she thought his cock looked small for his frame, and she had to be grateful for the small favor.

He picked her up then immediately dropped her on the bed, making her squeak in surprise. "Maybe you think that's funny," he replied with a straight face, "But walking around with an endless case of blue balls is nothing to laugh about!"

If he had kept the straight face, maybe she would not have laughed, but since he was smiling, she could not help herself. "Maybe you should do something about that, then," she said between laughs.

He knelt at her side, a moment's hesitation keeping him from diving atop her and likely smothering her, but when he kissed her, her passion was just as strong as his, removing any doubt in her mind that he might be overpowering her. Her borrowed clothing didn't last long when he slid his hands underneath, he ripped the sweatshirt without meaning to. So she removed sweatshirt and t-shirt, getting eager help in removing the sweatpants he had loaned her.

His hands stroked her skin, drawing both their eyes to the stark difference between her body and his huge tanned hand, one of which could measure across her pale stomach without stretching. He had appreciated her breasts earlier, but now they were dwarfed by his palms, and his head blocked her entire view when he started kissing her neck.

She arched under his touch, his kisses hiding her body beneath his huge frame, and he still knelt next to the bed, he had not even joined her yet. "Yes," she urged when he hesitated again. "Don't make me hurt you."

His chuckle rumbled through her body. "I'm almost tempted to let you try," he replied, nuzzling her neck.

Anna thrashed beneath his leaning upper body until he straightened. "Get over here and lie down," she prompted, knee-walking until she could straddle him. There was a moment when she was unsure the bed would hold them both, but eventually she managed to find her desired perch, sitting up on his stomach and pinning his arms down with her legs.

He was unable to move his arms from his sides without hurting her, so all he did was stare at her in all her naked glory. "What do you think you're doing?"

Anna laughed. "I was thinking of masturbating right here, where you can watch," she told him, running her hands from her knees inward. She spread her outer lips and displayed slick inner flesh, making him start struggling in order to be free to touch her. 

Rocking back and forth he released one of his arms, and that hand was all he needed to dislodge her from the other arm; he tickled her side before pressing her clit with his thumb. She moaned and when she relaxed slightly he pulled his arm from her hold. With both hands free, he grabbed her about the waist, laughing when she gasped to see his fingers overlap. "I do like seeing you, though," he decided with a smirk. He moved her further down his body until she was straddling his oversized shaft.

"Mmm," she hummed, tilting her hips forth and back and stroking herself on him. He raised his hands so he could thumb her nipples, but she was focused on the thick meat she was sitting on, sliding forward and back trailing wetness in an attempt to get some idea of just how big he was. Anna had a feeling that it was going to be harder than she expected to actually take him inside her. She might be able to take the width, with a good deal of foreplay, but she doubted that she could take more than half his length, she was just too petite in comparison.

She scooted forward until she could tease her clit with the ridge at the head of his cock. He grunted at the sensation and sped his teasing of her nipples, eyes fixed on her, unblinking. Anna found herself panting, amazing herself at how fast straddling this huge cock made her horny. And the look in his eyes said that he could tell. She found herself relying on his hands on her just to stay upright while she sped her movements further still. "Oh God, David," she breathed. "I'm so close and you've barely touched me..."

"Good," he growled, the pupils of his eyes changing shape as a grin spread across his face. One large hand dropped from her breast to her waist, pushing her just far enough sideways that he could see her inner pink flesh, at which point his other hand thrust two large fingers deep inside her, sawing them in and out vigorously.

A strangled cry burst from her throat as the invasion pushed her past the edge into her climax. "Oh God, don't stop," she begged, humping her hips to what extent she could and letting him drag out her pleasure. Her entire body shook, and she could feel the flood of her cum soaking his probing fingers. Just as she was relaxing and leaning back into his supporting grasp, his thumb flicked her clit and she convulsed again. This time she was mute, body clamping down too hard everywhere to breathe, let alone cry out. He played her clit until she was begging him to stop, to let her breathe, voice barely audible. He reluctantly ceased, and she groaned as she collapsed on his chest, muscles limp. "Oh fuck," she panted.

"Gladly," he teased her.

She was laughing as she pushed against his chest, slowly sitting back up, this time right at the head of his cock, bringing her into position above him, unable to wait any longer. "Can you take it slow?" she asked, concerned that if he wanted her as much as she wanted him, he might be incapable of it.

"We're about to find out." He lifted her about the waist, letting his cock rise until it pointed straight up at her. Her legs were nearly straight as he lowered her enough to bring them into contact; both groaned at the sensation of his cock head, as big as her fist, pressing against her tiny opening. Without waiting, he began lowering her further, but she couldn't blame him. Even slick and relaxed from her orgasm her body was not ready, however.

The more pressure he added, the more she worried that they were getting nowhere, until finally she closed her eyes, grabbed his wrists, and yanked herself down. Her cry matched his groan as the head of his cock slid into her. "Ow ow ow ow ow..." she chanted, taking a death grip on his arms to hold her body steady.

He started to move her off him. "Anna, I'm so--"

"Shh," she cut him off, shaking her head and holding his wrists tighter. "Just give me a minute." She held herself immobile until the sting between her legs lessened.

When she slowly relaxed her grip on his hands, he held her steady, waiting on some sign from her. "Anna, are you sure you--"

"Yes," she insisted, cutting him off. "I want you, David, whether that's wise or not." She moved her feet to either side of his hips, bracing herself against the bed. She wriggled in his grasp, settling herself onto him slightly further, jaw dropping at the sensations he was giving her. Glancing at his worried look she smiled at him and pulled one large hand up to her breast, relying on her feet to hold her up. With a wink she took his other hand and put his thumb on her clit.

His finger was very gentle, rubbing a circle around her nubbin first, his eyes on her reaction, before he tested touching it directly. She shuddered and groaned, encouraging him to start moving his thumb back and forth, lightly flicking her clit slowly at first, then faster.

Eyes rolling shut and slowly letting her legs bring her down on him, Anna panted for breath as her senses were flooded. There was some pain, but almost every nerve ending in her body was humming with the delicious feeling of his huge cock splitting her open and the thumb flicking her clit. It wasn't long before the pain was drowned out.

David pinched her nipple gently and the electric pulses it sent between her legs made her cry out and relax further, until her full weight pushed her down his cock inch by inch.

They both groaned.

When she stopped moving she opened her eyes and glanced down, amazed at how much of him she had fit inside her. It was barely more than half, but it was more than she had ever had before. "I'm not going to be able to do this on my own," she breathed, regretting the words when he stopped teasing her pleasure button and held her hips in his hands once more.

His expression still held some worry for her, but his hands lifted without delay, moving her up slowly while they both moaned at the friction. "Are you okay?" he asked when only his cock head remained.

"I've never been so okay," she whispered, shivering in delight and closing her eyes to better focus on the blissful shuddering of muscles deep within her.

A deep chuckle was her only warning before he started pulling her back down again. "Anna," he groaned, the pace speeding up fractionally until three-quarters of his cock was buried so deep in her she felt a full breath would be difficult. Then he waited, looking unsure when she opened her eyes.

"David," she growled. "Don't you dare ask again." She rocked her hips forth and back and was pleased to see his eyelids flutter.

He groaned. "Damnit woman... but good! Because you're driving me nuts, you know that?"

Anna laughed at him. "I don't think I can take more of you, but this much I want." With what little muscle she could muster, she clenched down tightly and was rewarded with a load groan.

"Stop that," he panted. "Or what control I have is going to go fast. It's bad enough being inside of you."

She had to blink at that, and it took her a moment to realize that if he felt huge to her, she could only imagine how tight she must feel to him. Feeling a bit guilty, she bit her lip. "Sorry."

He chuckled darkly, twisting his hands until he could put one thumb on her clit and still hold her steady. Anna moaned. "Don't be. I wouldn't give this up for the world." He paused only long enough to grin at her surprise, and then lifted her up and started a slow rhythm, raising one eyebrow at her in question.

She waited to feel how deeply he pressed in and nodded, relieved. She felt a bit guilty that she was restricting him so much, but for a first try it was the best she could do, his cock took up every fraction of space inside her.

He chuckled again and she found herself suddenly rolled over until he was pressing her down into the pillows, moving faster now that he had figured out how her body accepted him.

Then she felt the phantom touch at her temples. "No," she breathed. "David, quickly!"

He did not need to be told twice. Lifting up his hips, he thrust into her and diddled her clit, impacting deep within her once, twice, groaning her name. "Gods... Anna..."

She may not have been a virgin, but this was beyond her. Agony mixed with heavenly bliss as her lover did exactly as he had said; he claimed her, body and soul. And just as suddenly, all traces of mental intrusion evaporated. "Yes, oh yes!" she cried, orgasm exploding so fiercely her body melted beneath him.





Pandemic



With the stew on the fire, I got some cream down out of the bathroom medicine cabinet and approached Mandy cautiously. Holding out the jar, I pointed to her pert, young ass.

"Um, if it still stings, I can rub some of this in for you."

She looked up at me with wary, narrowed eyes. "It does hurt -- he whipped me with his belt while he... you know."

She stood and turned around and unbuttoned her jeans. Wincing noticeably, she slid them down over her slender hips about halfway down her muscular bubble butt. Her backside was an angry red in color, with darker red streaks crisscrossing both cheeks. My heart skipped a beat when I realized she was not wearing panties.

Looking over her shoulder, she huskily intoned, "Be gentle please, it still stings real bad."

Hands shaking, I slathered her raw, red streaked cheeks with cream and softly rubbed it in. She sucked her breath in at my first touch, then slowly started to relax. I gently tugged her jeans down farther until they were at mid thigh height.

Sitting on the couch, with her standing before me, I had a clear view from the rear between her legs. I could just see her little pink pussy peeking out at me, begging to be stroked. Leaning in, I saw that she was completely shaven -- not a trace of hair to be seen.

Running my hands up and down her ass cheeks, I slipped my fingers down her crack and passed close by her tight little wrinkled asshole. Her cheeks broke out in goose pimples and she sucked in a breath and flinched slightly. I went on as if I hadn't done anything and made a "W" with my thumbs and hands and started at the bottom of her cheeks and stroked upwards, parting her cheeks as I went.

Her breathing quickened as I stroked her soft, muscular ass, and I was about to move my hands around to the front when the stew pot boiled over.

She quickly stepped away and pulled her jeans up and jumped to the fire to remove the hanging pot.

Avoiding eye contact, she set the pot down on the hearth and ladled thick, meaty stew into the bowls I had set there.

Handing a bowl to me, we both sat down and dug into our meals. Apparently this was the first hot meal she had eaten in a long time, because she ate ravenously. Stew dripped down her chin and she made loud slurping sounds as she devoured her meal. She used the toasted bread as a mop and wiped the bowl clean, leaving not even a crumb behind.

After she was finished, she wiped her jaw with the back of her hand and lay back in the couch to study me, her eyes growing heavy in the fading sunset light streaking through the windows.

"Let's talk business," I started. She nodded and I went on. "You need protection. A young, beautiful girl like yourself, you wouldn't last a month alone."

She sucked in her breath as if to make a retort, then stopped herself.

"In a few weeks this area is going to degenerate into complete lawlessness, as evidenced by this afternoon. Imagine what will happen when every throat-cutting inner city thug that survived the Plague realizes that there are no more police, no more military. A few days ago I heard a report on the radio that ninety-eight percent of the U.S. population is dead. A girl like you, without protection, is going to be fuck meat for any asshole that comes by, and you know it." Her amazing blue eyes grew wide and she gulped noticeably.

"A buddy of mine owns a beautiful cabin in the north Georgia mountains, adjacent to the Chattahoochee National Forest. It sits on about ten thousand acres of prime hunting land. I plan to go there and restart my life. It's secluded enough that probably no one knows about it; it has a huge fireplace, a good old-fashioned wood stove, and about a year's supply of firewood -- and believe me, when the temperature drops and the gas heat cuts off it's gonna get mighty cold around here."

Mandy's bright blue eyes impossibly grew even wider and she wrapped her arms around her knees and shivered.

"Depending on what obstacles are in my way, it should probably take me about two to four days to get there. You can stay here, or you can come with me. If you come with me, it'll be under my terms."

She nodded and waited for me to go on, her huge eyes welling up with tears.

"Before the Plague, I was a normal, average, every day working guy with a wife and a kid. I always did the right thing and paid my bills on time. I didn't drink to excess, didn't smoke, rarely cussed. This is a new day, and I'm starting with a new me."

I took a deep breath and barreled on, before I could lose my nerve. "If you come with me, it'll be as my sex slave -- as simple as that. If I say suck my dick, you are gonna drop to your knees. Your survival depends on me, and in return you will do whatever I demand -- no matter how depraved or sick you think it is."

Her eyes grew even wider and her hand flew to her mouth to cover up a gasp.

I stood and paced a few steps and gestured towards the back door. "If you want to walk out of here and try living on your own, go ahead, but you probably won't last longer than a month."

I paused for dramatic effect. "Well, what's it gonna be?"

My mouth was dry and my hands shook as I waited for her answer. She gulped again, and an errant tear leaked out of the corner of her eye, but she slowly slid to her knees in front of me and clutched my thighs.

"Please take me with you! I'll do anything you ask, anything! I'll do the cooking and cleaning and whenever you want I'll s-s-satisfy your needs. J-j-just please don't leave me here!" She sobbed and went on, "I'm not very experienced, before today I had only had sex with my boyfriend -- but I'll try to please you! I promise! I just don't want to be alone!" She wailed pitifully, "Please take me with you..."

For the first time in my life I felt a sense of sexual power. I knew that this girl was mine for the taking -- that she had no choice but to submit to me. My loins grew tight with an urgent need. Looking down on her, I nodded and unbuttoned my jeans and slowly lowered my zipper. "I hope you left room for dessert..."

That night I used her like I had never used my wife, I came in Mandy's mouth, I came in her ass, I came on her pert healthy titties and then dipped my swollen cockhead into the juices and made her lick it all up.

I did all the things I had always wanted to do, but was afraid to try. Mandy was hesitant at first, tentatively licking my shaft with little butterfly licks until I grabbed her hair like Billy had done and shoved myself down her throat. She never objected once, and seemed to even relish the taste of my sperm. When I came in her mouth, she guzzled my seed like it was water and she was lost in a desert.

When I fucked her ass, she whimpered and cried, but after a liberal amount of vaseline and a few minutes of easing myself into her she began to fuck back against me, her fingers rubbing circles around her clit the whole time. When I slapped and pinched her raw, red ass, she came violently and sent me over the top. After I spurted into her hot, tight anal canal, I pulled out and spun her around. Without even a second's thought, she took my wet, cum-streaked tool down her throat and sucked the last of my juices into her full belly.

Her boyfriend apparently had never gone down on her, so I gave her a crash course in cunnilingus. I slowly licked her beautiful, tiny wet pussy, kissing and sucking and pinching the insides of her thighs, slurping up and down her hairless gash, rolling her over and licking and nibbling on her raw, red streaked cheeks. I rimmed her asshole, licking her backside like a kitten at a dish of milk, and finished by nibbling and sucking on her hard little clit until she clutched me by the hair and shuddered her climax, flooding my mouth with her cum.

We finished the night of lovemaking with me on the couch, her sitting astride me, her arms wrapped around my shoulders, her mouth nuzzling the crook of my neck, bouncing slowly up and down. The glow from the roaring fire turned her skin molten, sweat ran in rivulets down her back, her curly red hair was plastered to her scalp. She rode me for what seemed like an hour, whimpering and crooning in my ear until she finally tensed up and came in great shaking heaving gasps. When she was spent I carried her upstairs and laid her down in my bed and tucked her in. She mumbled incoherently as I cupped her tender ass and ran my finger lightly up her still wet slit. Smiling down lasciviously at my little orphan girl I climbed in next to her and slept the whole night through for the first time in weeks.

****

The following morning I awoke early, well rested and more sexually sated than I had ever been before in my life. Mandy murmured sleepily as I quickly showered and dressed and gathered my things. Leaving her a note under the loaded .45 I told her to use my wife's car to go to her home and pack her things, and that I'd return in a few hours.

I grabbed up the Mossberg and left in my shitty Explorer. Three hours later I returned driving a brand new black on black 4-door Jeep Wrangler Rubicon soft-top, fully loaded with all the bells and whistles, big fucking 4 x 4 drive package complete with a giant winch, and with the biggest, knobbiest tires I could find on the lot. The hardest part was finding the keys to the vehicle in the sales office. Apparently everyone at the dealership had called in sick for the day. Judging from the broken glass and the ransacked state of the offices, someone else had the same idea as me.

In addition to the car I had stopped by one of those truck rental places and liberated a small U-haul 5 x 10 cargo trailer and filled it with two dozen ten gallon containers of gasoline, and a months worth of food from the now abandoned Wal Mart.   

When I got back to my house I found Mandy waiting for me. I walked through the garage door into the kitchen and she was standing in the family room in front of the fireplace.

She apparently had taken my "sex slave" moniker seriously. Starting at her feet she wore little white nike running shoes with pink ankle socks. Her long, slim, creamy legs were bare all the way up to about mid-thigh, where a tiny pink, pleated mini skirt ended. Her blouse was a tight-fitting white sleeveless button down with the shirt tails knotted just above her taut tummy, and unbuttoned scandalously low. Her perky titties pushed out enticingly, red nipples erect and poking through the thin material. Her mass of curly auburn hair was up in cute pigtails, with playful blue ribbons curling down to either shoulder. The crowning accoutrement was a thick, leather, spiked dog collar around her neck clipped to a long, thin silver chain that hung down to her knees.

"You like?" she whispered huskily. Then she reached down and flipped the front of her skirt up, flashing me her sweet little bare pussy -- no panties. She smiled impishly, eyes twinkling, blushed and looked at the floor, scuffing the toes of her shoes together like a little girl.

"Gah...gah...wow!" I babbled almost incoherently.

She dropped to her knees and slowly crawled across the floor and stopped in front of me and stared with wide-eyed innocence at the bulge in the front of my jeans.

"I never had breakfast...would you mind if I...? She whispered softly, her hand reaching up to my belt buckle. I grasped the chain, wrapped it around my fist and tugged her face towards my groin.

****

After a nice, long delay we finished packing the things we would take on our trip. Along with the gasoline, the generators and all the food, I packed sleeping bags, candles, a small propane barbecue grill and a dozen small propane canisters. While at Wal Mart I had raided the sporting goods department and made off with the camping supplies left on the shelves, including carbide lanterns, a large tent, several flint and steel fire starting kits, and even bug spray. The few other looters I saw avoided me, especially when they saw the nasty looking shotgun draped over my shoulder.

Finally we were ready to leave. With misty eyes I gazed one last time on the home I had shared with my wife and son, and pulled out of the neighborhood.

Chapter One -- The End



Pandemonia City



Part 1

I awoke with a jerk from a bad dream, the details of which fled with the opening of my eyes.

There was a warm body in the bed beside me. It belonged to a doll named Isabella Wyona, as did the bed, the room, and the apartment. She was Caribbean, from a place called Cat Island. A fan dancer down at the Diamond Club and a pretty good one. Her deep brown skin, a tone or two darker than my own, stood in high contrast against the white linen of the sheets. The same effect held against the pure white ostrich feathers she used in her act.

She opened her big brown eyes as I was studying her face. "Morning."

"Morning, beautiful."

"Mmm." She gave a sleepy smile and snuggled closer. "I'm glad you stayed until I woke up. I didn't know if you would."

"Leaving you in bed is not an easy thing to do, gorgeous."

She purred, rubbing a breast against my arm. "Such a honey-tongue and so early in the morning. How'd you sleep?"

"Just fine, doll. You?"

"Me to. Must've been all that exercise," she said. And I felt her fingers slide across my thigh under the covers to caress my sac and cock. She began to stroke me, bringing the slumbering pole to hardness. "Except, my bottom is tender from all the spanking you gave it. The girls at the club were right, you are a sadist."

"No, they were wrong. A sadist is someone who derives pleasure from inflicting pain. I'm a hedonist, which means I derive pleasure from dispensing pleasure. Anyway, you like having that big black ass of yours spanked. A lot."

She put on a pout but her dark eyes were scintillating. "Maybe," she allowed, licking at my ear.

Then she slid her shapely form on top of me. I could feel the wetness of her cunt against my thigh as she positioned herself. She mopped the flared head of my cock between those juiced pussylips before grunting in a most unladylike way as she impaled herself. I echoed her grunt as my pole speared into her tight cavern, feeling the play of her wall muscles ripple around me. She began to roll those skillful hips of hers. 

"Spank me again," Isabella moaned, as she grinded. 

Being her guest, I obliged the request.

:.

An hour or so later, Isabella was sitting up in bed with her back against the headboard, the sheet pooled down around her waist with her shapely tits displayed, as she smoked and watched me get dressed. She looked sexily dishelved, hair mussed, and redolent of fresh sex.

After pulling on my shoulder-holster I lifted the pillow and took my gun from beneath it.

She gave a slight scowl. "Was that there all night?" 

"Yes."

Her tongue wet her full lips and I saw her big chocolate nipples harden. "Can I hold it?"

"It's a gun, baby, not a dick. It could go off in your pretty face."

"And a dick can't?"

"Good point." I made sure the safety was on and handed the rod over.

"Ooo. It's so heavy."

Some dolls, and quite a few guys for that matter, seem to get an erotic thrill from handling firearms. You don't have to be a head-shrinker from Austria to figure out why. Isabella ran her hands lovingly over the handle and barrel of the gun.

"It looks different from the kind in the movies," she said, holding out her arm and with one eye closed taking aim at her reflection in her dresser mirror.

"This is a Speers .45 automatic," I explained. "In the movies they always use revolvers, I don't know why. I guess because it looks more like the guns cowboys used. Who knows. Anyway, in real-life its important to get the first shot in first and keep em coming, nothing beats an automatic pistol for rapid firing. Plus, with an automatic you can screw on a silencer, when need be."

"Mmm," she said, all eyes for the rod, her fingers moving lovingly over the gun metal. 

I laughed and pried it from her caressing fingers. "Much more of that and you two'll have to get engaged."

She pouted, being a big one for pouting, as I holstered the weapon.

"You put it in upside down," she observed.

"I had it custom-made that way," I explained, as I shrugged into my suit jacket. "An inverted holster allows for a slightly quicker draw than the standard kind. I got the idea from a Resistance worker during the Great War." 

:.

The bruised clouds, which had been threatening all through the flight from Isabella's place to my building, released their rain in a sudden torrent just as I was bringing the machine in for a landing.

The abrupt change in air density caused the gyro-copter to stutter in a gust of wind on its final approach but I'd had years of experience landing on the skyscraper's roof, and it was no cause for concern. The wheels touched down in the center of the blue-lit landing circle, and as the rotor blades spun to a halt and folded against one another, I taxied the machine into its hanger. Switching off the ignition, I withdrew the key before opening the cockpit door and getting out. 

I left the small hanger and locked the door. Stepping out onto the roof the hard rain began to patter down on my slouch hat, wetting the shoulders of my overcoat. It'd been raining everyday for a month, I was dog sick tired of it. Walking under the sheltering overhang of the elevator kiosk, I pressed the button. The doors slid open, I stepped in and pressed the button for the office level. The car descended.

:.

Down in my office, high and dry from the weather minus hat and coat, I poured a couple of fingers from the desk-bottle into a glass and swiveled the chair around so I could look out the window at the cityscape, misted gray under its curtain of rain.

The persistent rain had gotten me down, that and I hadn't had a paying customer walk into my office for over a month. Not too surprising as there was a depression on. Pandemonia was feeling the pinch along with the rest of the world. People had to save their money for bread and butter. They couldn't afford a detective, not even one that worked for forty dollars a day. 

With the lost of its economic base the Grand Apple had faded some from her past glory. Entire neighborhoods had been abandoned, deserted. Block after block of broken window buildings standing empty, hollow-eyed idols who's worshippers had lost the faith and gone away. Only the gated communities of the wealthy remained unscathed, encircled around the Financial District. The Syndicate strongholds, depression-proof, continued on their merry way. The poor and defenseless survived as best they could.

The City had become a lousy place to live, an even lousier place to have to make a living. The brandy didn't help my mood, which was lousy as well. I was living off squirreled away money and that was lousy too.

Then, the phone rang. I picked it up. "Titan Agency."

"Hey, Theo. This is Rich. Rich Thurman." Thurman was the house dick over at the Radioland Music Palace Building.

"Well, will wonders never cease. It's been so long I thought someone'd plugged you."

He laughed in my ear. "Not currently. Listen, I might've a bit of business for ya. Free right now?"

"Sure. What's the job?"

"Get on over here to the Palace soon as you can. I'll meet ya in the lobby and give ya the low down on the lay. Can do, sweetheart?"

"No sweat. See you in about half an hour."

"That will do nicely. See ya."

I smiled as I replaced the receiver. Things were suddenly looking up.

:.

I stood in the radio star's dressing room.

"Miss Wright," Thurman said, by way of introduction,, "this is Mr. Titan, the investigator I mentioned. Prometheus Titan, this is Tessa Wright."

She nodded at the introduction but didn't bother to offer her hand. I let it pass as I hadn't bothered to take off my hat for her. There are some people you take an instant dislike to, for me, Miss Wright was one of those. This despite the fact that she was a looker. 

She was a muffin all right, the ice blonde expensive hair-do, expertly applied make-up and a curvaceous figure poured into a Parisian designer gown. But, she was also the sort of woman who starts lying before she ever opens her mouth. Her projected image was completely divorced from her actual personality. Everything about her was contrived, an affectation. A construct. On top of everything else, she had, I felt, questionable taste in perfume.

"Mr. Thurman mentioned you had a watch stolen."

"Yes. A Longine, a gold Longine, fourteen carats. Jewel movements with diamonds at the cardinal points." 

The voice was vaguely familiar. I'd heard Wright sing once or twice on the radio. But she was featured on the network I hardly listened to. She had the kind of style producers aimed at mythical middle-America, Ella Fitzgerald with all the saucy sexiness drained out, so that nobody got any ideas.

"Do you have a photograph of it by any chance?"

Her brow pinched. "Pfft, no. What sort of people go around taking pictures of watches?"

"The careful sort, for insurance reasons, in case they're stolen."

She frowned at that and her pretty eyes narrowed, unable to make up her mind if I was being a wiseass. She pulled out a ready-made from her purse and began fitting it to a long-stemmed holder. 

"Light." It was not a request. I leaned across, flicking open my Zippo, and lit the square for her. "Thanks," she said, blowing the smoke in my face.

"When did you last see it?"

"The watch? Before the broadcast, here, in the dressing room. I went out, did my number and when I came back it was gone."

"Did you lock the door?"

"Yes."

"Did you notice any strangers about?"

"No, not particularly, but you might want to talk to the little dye-job chippie down the hall."

I thought that was rich, the pot calling the kettle bleached. "The chippie?"

"Miss Wright is referring to Claudia Storm," Thurman interjected.

"Alright, I'll go do that." 

I left, more than a little relieved to do so. It felt more like stumbling away from the lioness' den. Thurman followed me out and closed the dressing room door after us. I lifted at eyebrow at him. "She always that sweet and cuddly?"

He gave a sympathic smile but lead me well away from the dressing room door before replying. "Sometimes being worse, ol' buddy. This is radio and she's queen bee around these parts. That's the reason I called ya, to run interference. I gotta work around here."

"And better for her to hate my guts than yours."

"Ya always was an Abercrombie. Welcome to show business. C'mon, Claudia's dressing room is just down the hall."

Thurman unwrapped a stick of chewing gum as we walked, which meant he was back on the wagon again. His habit was to chew on gum when tee-totaling. This was all fine and dandy except he tended to pop when he chewed, bad as a girl in secondary school. But, if history was any indicator, all would return to quiet once he took up the bottle again. Rich Thurman was not one to resist the siren call of John Barleycorn for very long.

Before we got to the second door the corridor was blocked by a small female mob. There were a dozen attractive eager young women in the hallway. I figured them for Palace Concubines, the famous synchronized chorus dancers. They must've been in rehearsal because they were in skimpy spangled costumes, showing no little leg and thigh, and all of them were looking adoringly at the surrounded skinny young man in their midst. I recognized his face. It was Johnnie Romano. Just gazing at him seemed to count as foreplay for the dolls. I began to sweat in reaction to their combined cloud of pheromones. 

"Hey, there's Johnnie. C'mon," Thurman said, somewhat self-importantly. "I'll introduce ya."

Romano was busy smiling and signing all the scraps of papers shoved at him from the mob of pretty judies. I noticed he had eyes the rare shade of blue that distracts the female mind while questing hands slip under their clothes. I've never been one to desire fame nor riches but to say I wasn't jealous of his attractiveness to the nubile dolls would be to tell a lie.

Thurman put on his voice of authority and dispersed the gaggle of young ladies about the singer. "Come on girls, give the guy a chance to come up for breath." Reluctantly, they went their way with many giggles, squeals, and glances cast back over their shoulders.

"Johnnie, I'd like to introduce you to my pal, Theo Titan. We go way back,. Theo, well, you know who this is, the famous Johnnie Romano."

Romano smiled and it lit up his face like neon. The kid had charisma alright. "Just plain Johnnie," he said, holding out his hand. I shook it. His hand was soft, not the hand of a laborer. 

"You in the business, Mr. Titan?"

"Me? Show Business? No. I exhausted my artistic talents learning to tie my shoes."

He laughed. "Hey, that's a good one."

"Theo's a private dick. We started on the force together, way back when."

"A shamus, huh? Well, whatever it is I didn't do it." He dramatically lifted his hands in the air.

"Don't worry. You're not currently under suspicion."

"Whew, that's a relief. Hey, listen fellas, we'll have to get together for a drink or something some time. But, right now, I'm late for a meeting with my lawyer. Gotta go over some contracts. Sorry, but gotta hoof it."

"Good meeting you, Mr. Romano," I said.

"Johnnie. Plain ol' Johnnie."

"Alright, take it easy, Johnnie."

"Only way to take it, pallie."

"See ya, Johnnie," Thurman said.

"Yeah. Don't take any wooden nickels, Rich." And the singer sauntered away down the hall, hands in his pockets.

"Nice kid," Thurman observed.

"Yeah. Popular with the ladies, if nothing else."

:.

Thurman rapped on the door and there was a muffled come in from the other side.

"Evening, Miss Storm, this is Prometheus Titan, He's a private detective."

Thurman moved aside and I saw Claudia Storm for the first time. It was worth the lifetime of waiting. She was more than somewhat of a stunner.

Pretty can be bought. Hair can be bleached, dyed, curled, or straightened. Noses fixed, eye color contact-lensed, mouths lushed with lipstick and cheeks rouged. Shortness cured with high-heels, fat girdled, and flatness padded. But, beauty is innate, as in-born as blood-type. It is an absolute, either a woman has it or she has not. Claudia Storm had it and she had it in spades. I could see why Tessa Wright hated her guts. 

Her demure figure sat easily in a white chair before her large lighted make-up mirror. Her hair was a dark brooding red, shot through with variegated highlighted strands from strawberry blonde to spun gold. The luxurious drape framed her oval face and cascaded down around her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes were topaz-gold. She had a perk nose. Cosmetics had been lightly applied, her vestige wasn't one that really needed make-up, her lips glistened under green lipstick, the same shade as her nail varnish. Although diminutive, she had shapely legs and full breasts so firm and high they played gravity for a complete chump. That body and that face had been made for show business. Hell, women who looked like her were the reason they invented the business in the first place.

She looked me over lazily with her long-lashed eyes and smiled, holding out a hand. "Prometheus? That's a hellva name to have to live up to." Her voice matched her looks, husky, smoky, bedroom tones.

I took off my hat and shook the proffered hand, feeling the delicate bones beneath the smooth flesh of her tapered fingers.

"Both my parents were professors of the Humanities. They thought it appropriate, given the family name. Parents can often be short-sighted about such things. My friends call me Theo."

Claudia nodded. "The dragon lady sic you on me, did she?" 

"She seemed to think you might know something about her watch, yes."

"She's full of shit. She just doesn't like me."

It took some effort not to smile. "And you don't care for her."

"No."

"Excuse me," Thurman said, "But I gotta see a man about a horse. Back in a few." He gave us both a nod and left.

"Look," she said, leaning forward in her chair, "I'll tell you something strictly on the QT. Only, you gotta promise me you won't tell who told you."

"Cross my heart."

"Hmm. Anyway, the bitch's been going out with Johnnie Romano. And, some of Johnnie's friends are less than alter-boys, if you know what I mean." She put her finger to her pretty nose, pushing it aside. "He was born on the east side of the river, in Guernsey. So was I. I know whereof I speak."

"I get you. So you think Romano might know something?"

"Johnnie? No. Johnnie's a straight-shooter, as nice a guy as you ever want to meet. At least when he's sober."

"And when he's not?"

"When he's not he insults waiters and slaps cocktail waitresses. But, he's not drunk very often, leastways not in public. No, Johnnie's got too much class to go around lifting watches, but a few of his hanger-ons wouldn't have such ethical restraints. You say I said so and I'll deny it."

"I already crossed my heart."

"Yeah, I saw," she grinned. "Look, the hour growth late and I'm meeting some friends down at Jack Johnson's restaurant. Is that all?"

"Sure." I took a card from my jacket and handed it to her. "If you think of anything else my number's on there. Or, just drop by sometime, I'll buy you a drink."

She took the card in her manicured fingers and looked at it, before giving me the look all professional girls give to prospective dates. I saw her calculating the worth of my shoes and suit, judging just how much I might be able to do for her. Then she shrugged.

"Sure."

I smiled, not taking offense. It wasn't like I didn't know I was poor and uninfluencial.

:.

I met up with Thurman afterwards. "Who besides her ladyship has a key to her dressing room?"

"Floor manager. But, if I had to say, I'd say he's clean. That lock's for shit. It wouldn't be hard to pick, if it was picked."

"She said she locked it."

"Yeah, she says. She also claims she's thirty-three when the day of her birth was forty-two years ago. Dame like that can't be bothered with trivial details like locking doors behind her."

"Anybody in need of money? On the dope?"

"Shit, Theo, this is America, everybody needs money. As for drugs, damn near every member of the band is a muggle, try and find a musician who's not. Far as heroin, I haven't noticed anybody nodding off lately. Plenty of the execs are into the nose-candy but none of the suits were around tonight. I don't figure this for an inside job."

"Alright, I'll just ask around among the regulars."

"Okay, just don't ruffle any feathers, the big boys want to keep this out of the blatters."

"I'm Mr. Discreet, you know that, Rich."

After a hour or so of casually questioning the hired help the only thing I found out was that nobody saw anything and nobody knew anything. I decided to pack it in and start canvassing pawn shops within walking distance of the studio. No joy. It was getting late by then and I went back to the office to call up a few fences I knew who specialized in expensive watches. None of them were any help. 

Then, I decided to call it a day.

:.

The next morning the phone rang. It was Lectric Larry, one of the fences I'd called the day before and left a message with his assistant to have him call me back.

"Hey, Theo, what's up?"

"Same ol' thing, Lectric, my dick and the rent. How you doing?"

"Can't complain, nobody listens even if I do. Abe told me you called, what's up?"

I clued him in on the situation.

"Huh. Sorry, I'm not currently holding such an item in my inventory. Funny thing, 'though," he said. "The cops've were around last month looking for a dingus like that. Same description and everything. Mugged off some rich old broad outside the opera. Still, Longine sells allot of watches."

"Yeah," I agreed. "They do. Thanks anyway Larry. Stay out of trouble."

He gave a chuckle and hung up. I pressed the button to clear the line then called up Thurman to give him a progress report.




Pandemonia City



"Glad to hear from ya, ol' buddy. Case solved. The lady says she found the dingus. Just misplaced it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Sorry to put ya out of work but I'll have Accounting cut ya a check for the day's pay. Easy money anyway."

"Thanks, Rich. One thing before I let you go. Did Wright mention to you whether she bought the watch or was it a gift?"

"She never said, why?"

"Nothing important, just rank curiosity. I owe you for the referral."

"Don't mention it, just come around and buy me a drink sometime."

"Will do, partner. Be seeing you."

:.

Lady Day was singing on the radio about some good-timing man doing her wrong when I heard a knock at the outer-door and I buzzed whoever it was in. My afternoon visitors turned out to be a couple of mugs from Vinnie Sicily's crew. As is typical of men of their profession, they weren't very tall but they were broad around the shoulders and from the bulges under their jackets I could see they were all rodded up. One guy I didn't know from Adam, but the other one was Big Mouth Feroccio.

"Hello, Titan."

"Well, well, Big Mouth, as I live and breath. Early release, eh?"

"That's right, gumshoe. No thanks to ya."

"Oh, you got that right. If I'd had my druthers you'd've fried."

"Uh huh. One day ya and me'll settle up. C'mon, Let's go for a ride. Vinnie wants to see ya."

"Really? About what?"

"Ya'll find that out when ya see em."

"I'm busy. Have him give me a call."

"Get up, Titan, or we do this the hard way."

"I'd love that, Big Mouth, I really would. I always did enjoy the way you bounce when you hit the floor, but, unless your boss told you to bring me in dead I'm not going anywhere with your fat ass. Tell me where Vinnie is and I'll fly myself there."

Feroccio gave a dry laugh. "So you can tip off the cops? In your dreams, shamus. Get up."

"Stuff it. Since I'm the curious kind of guy, I'm interested in what Vinnie might want to see me about, but I'm not stupid enough to get into a boiler with you headed for parts unknown. Tell you what, I'll take your quiet girlfriend here in my machine and he can give me directions."

Feroccio scowled. I watched him sort out the pros and cons of the matter. "Alright, tough guy, have it ya way." He turned to his partner. "Go with him, Eddie."

"Right."

:.

Once in the gyro-copter the low fuel light came on and I had to fly to a station to fill up. The fifteen minutes or so of delay gave Big Mouth that much of a head start on us. I'd have preferred to've arrived at Vinnie's place before him, one less thug to factor into the equation but Life oftimes throws such curves.

I figured Quiet Eddie must weigh his words by the half-ounce because he didn't spare one but to give directions to Vinnie's place. After a twenty minute flight we arrived over the warehouse district and he directed me to land by one in particular. Once on the ground, I checked my automatic to be sure the safety was off before I slipped it back into my shoulder-holster. Then, I got out.

We walked to the warehouse door and Eddie opened it for me, I stepped in and he followed. There were half a dozen mugs loitering about, Big Mouth among them.

Now, the average mobster is concerned with one thing, money. How to get it, how to spend it, how to get more of it. Their ethic is exactly that of a so-called legitimate businessman. Violence is merely one of many tools of obtaining the lettuce. Even for a professional button man, an assassin, murder is a business, a profession. A hired killer kills for money not merely pleasure. 

With Vinnie Sicily's outfit, the Moustache Pete mob, it was different. Vinnie, being a sociopath himself, tended to attract other psychopaths. For his crew violence and mayhem were ends to themselves and money a side benefit. Of all the gangs infecting Pandemonia they were the worse, man for man, and the most dangerous. Even other outfits avoided them because their wild boys' antics tended to attract too much heat.

"He's got a gat," Eddie reported.

"Nobody likes a tattle-tale," I admonished.

Big Mouth held out his pudgy hand as he approached. "Hand it over."

"Kiss my ass."

"Ya don't hand it over and ya'll be wearing ya ass for a hat."

"I already have a hat, as you can plainly see. And if you think I'm gonna give you my gun in the middle of this hood's convention you're dumber than you were before they sent you up."

"Let it go, Big." Vinnie Sicily had stepped out of a dispatcher's office out onto the warehouse floor. "Hey, Theo. Been awhile."

"Awhile, Vinnie. How's tricks?"

"Coming up sixes and sevens. You?"

"Can't complain. What's the idea of sending your girls 'round to my place in the daytime when my neighbors can see them?"

"No idea. Just wanted to talk."

"Alright, I'm here. Talk."

"Still an ornery bastard I see."

"I was never much good at self-improvement. What'd you want, Vinnie?"

"Watch how ya speak to da boss, melanzana," said Big Mouth.

I don't speak much Italian, but I do know the word for eggplant, melanzana. because of its dark purple skin it's an ethnic slur among Italians toward Black folk. "That's pretty funny coming from a sawed off grease ball like you, fatso."

"Lay off," Vinnie said. "He didn't mean nothing by it."

"The hell he didn't. Want'd you want, Vinnie?"

"Stop trying to be such a tough guy, Titan. I just wanna talk. Siddown. Have a drink."

"No thanks. Get on with it, I've got some delicates soaking back home."

He frowned. "I heard you got kicked out of the D.A.'s office."

"You heard wrong. I left the staff. I don't work for thugs, whether they call themselves District Attorneys or olive importers."

"Still cracking wise. One day somebody's gonna fix that smart mouth of yours."

"As I recall, your Uncle Paulie tried. He had a beautiful funeral."

"Yeah, I remember. I still owe you for that."

"If you owe me anything it's a thank you. My killing him made you boss of this little outfit. Paulie was begging to be put down, there was a line of guys a mile long waiting to plug him. I just put the pill in him first. But, that's ancient history. What'd you want?"

"A certain broad has you looking for a watch. It'd be better for your health if you stop looking." 

"Save your threats, Vinnie. I'm off the case. The doll says she found the dingus. I've been paid off."

"Yeah? That on the square?"

"Sure, That all?"

"That's all. You know, Titan, you ain't half as tough as you think you are."

I scoffed. "Neither are you Vinnie. Neither was Paulie. You should remember that. Be seeing you." I turned to the door, my hand on the knob, then I played a hunch.

"Funny thing is, a watch matching that description was pulled off the wrist of an old Judy a couple of blocks from the opera last month. She gave the cops a pretty good description of the thief. I don't suppose you know anything about that. The opera house is in the Scaliari territory, isn't it?"

Vinnie's lips drew into a very thin line. "You was leaving, gumshoe. Why don't you walk out the door while you still can."

"Later for ya, Midnight," Big Mouth said.

I smiled. "Midnight. You know that's funny, too. You're a real comedian, Big Mouth. Reminds me of a joke I heard once about Italian cars. They go up-hill, they go down-hill and when they hit a hole they go wop, wop, wop."

I was ready for the punch when Big Mouth threw it. I stepped away from it then went under his open guard and punched him hard in his expansive gut. I've always found it advantageous to hit a guy in the breadbasket if possible, it saves a world of wear and tear on the knuckles. As he woofed and bent over he ralphed up what looked like a lunch of pasta and chicken. It was hard to tell. As the vomit splattered down on the concrete floor, I grabbed him by the collar and pulled his gun from his waistband, clicking off the safety.

"Whoa, ho-ho," I said, seeing the rest of Vinnie's gang leveling their artillery in my general direction. I put the muzzle of Big Mouth's gun to his temple. "Looks like everybody's got a heater. But, no matter how this ends, Mr. Personality here gets it first. Your call, Vinnie."

"Put 'em away, boys." His troopers reluctantly obeyed.

"Excellent choice," I said, shoving Big Mouth away from me across the warehouse floor and throwing his gun after him. "Be seeing you boys. Ciao." And, I walked out the door laughing.

:.

Part 2

It was around sundown, subdued light of brass and orange and gold was shafting through the grimy office windows and slat blinds, when I heard the hall door open and close before there was a knock at my inner-office door.

"Come," I said, sliding open the desk's top drawer where I kept my extra automatic. Dealing with gangsters had brought out the cautious side of my nature. And, for all I knew, it might've been Big Mouth wanting reimbursement for his lost lunch.

The door opened, revealing Claudia Storm. She looked even better the second time around. Her skirt suit was a tailored number of mourning-dove gray suede, detailed with black velvet at the lapels and cuffs. A hat of the same color scheme was set aslant on her head, dark red hair tumbled from under it to her padded shoulders. Her shapely legs were encased in silk stockings rather than nylon. Her handbag and high heels matched her suit. 

I smiled, I couldn't help it, and stood up behind the desk. 

"Damn you know how to light up a room."

She lingered there in the doorway, one hand on her hip, and slowly grinned. "Why sir, you'll turn a girl's head."

I gestured to the chair in front of the desk. "Come on in, gorgeous. Have a seat."

"Thanks." She moved with easy grace into the room and sat prettily on the chair. All woman.

"Have a drink?"

"What've you got?"

"Some half decent brandy."

"Sure."

I got out the desk bottle and luckily had a clean glass in addition to my usual one, which I never bothered to rinse, given the fuzzy logic that booze is a sterilizer. I poured and pushed her glass across the desktop.

"Cheers," I said in a toast.

"Happy days," she rejoined. We drank. Or, rather, I swallowed all of mine and she took a delicate sip of hers.

"So, what brings an angel like you all the way cross town into this poor sinner's life?"

She smiled again and I felt my balls roll gently in their sac. 

"The other night I told some tales out of school about Johnnie. I'd just as soon you forget I mentioned it. Johnnie's a sweetheart and he's the real thing. He's being scouted by Hollywood. He can make the big time and I'd hate to be the one who nixes it for him."

"Don't worry about it. Thurman tells me the dragon lady found the watch. Says she misplaced it. So, like the Bard said, all's well that ends well."

Storm narrowed her golden eyes. "She found it?"

"That's the story, morning glory."

"Hmm. Well, okay. Good, then. You're right. All's well that ends well." She looked around the office. "So this is it, huh? A little low-rent, don't you think?"

"I'm a low-rent kind of guy."

"Hey, don't get grouchy. Sometimes my mouth runs off before my brain catches up with it. I don't mean anything by it."

I smiled to show no hard feelings. "Yeah, I share the same affliction."

"You're sweet to say so. How about if I treat you to dinner."

I gave it some thought, for about a half-second. "Sure." I wasn't the kind of guy who got invited to meals with drop dead gorgeous women everyday of the week. "C'mon," I said, grabbing my hat. "I know a place."

:.

We ate Chinese take-out from Hong Kong Junk's. We were seated at a table on the bottom of the drained swimming pool in my penthouse, while Ella cooed young love for sale on the phonograph. The pool's lights were the only illumination in the large room. Beyond the floor to ceiling windows the gap-tooth skyscape of the city glittered against the dark of night.

I waited until Claudia swallowed a bite of pot-sticker before I spoke.

"Tell me something. Did Tessa Wright ever mention to you whether she bought the watch or if it was a gift?"

She blew air through pursed lips. "It was a gift all right. When she first started wearing it she wouldn't shut up about how it came from a wealthy admirer. Why? You said she'd found it. Aren't you off the case?"

"Yeah. Well, I'm off the payroll but my brain's still on it, if you know what I mean. Just wondering."

"I suppose I can understand that. What I don't understand is how a man can have a penthouse apartment with a pool that has no water in it and half the rooms are barely furnished."

I shrugged. "The office and apartment were a package deal. This isn't the safest neighborhood in town anymore, so rent's pretty cheap. Also, I'm hardly ever home and I can't swim."

"Can't swim? Why don't you know how to swim?"

"Because I never learned how."

"Well, its such a sad sight to see an empty pool. If I were you I'd fill it."

"If you were me you wouldn't know how to swim so what would be the point?"

"For when company comes over. You never know someone might want to go skinny-dipping."

"Is that a request?"

"Yeah, I guess it is. What'd you think?"

"I think you can beg better than that."

She gave a smirk of a smile. "Ah. And I suppose you want me on my knees."

"That would be a mark in your favor," I said with a straight face.

She gave a derisive laugh, tossing her fiery red mane. "You think a lot of yourself."

"That's besides the point. I'm not the one who wants the pool filled."

"Let me guess, you're a Dominant."

"Right on the first try."

"Too bad for you I'm not a submissive."

"Far as you know. Could be you've just never had a man who knows how to break you."

"I don't need breaking."

"No, you need water in the pool so you can go swimming naked and show off that gorgeous body. Now you know how I expect you to ask for permission. The only question is how badly you want that swim."

"You are the most arrogant man I've met and I've met some doozies."

"Thank you."

"Oh my god, and he takes that as a compliment."

I smiled and chewed on a couple of forkfuls of stir-fried rice before I spoke again. "So, what'd you do with the dingus? I'm betting you threw it into the first sewer grate you came across last night after you left the Palace. I can't see you keeping it, you just wanted to deprive her of it. Am I right?"

Her eyes widened and she nearly choked on the rest of her pot-sticker. Once she cleared her throat her normally husky voice squeaked. "What?"

"You heard me. I should've suspected you then and there but, frankly, you dazzled me. But, you gave yourself away up in the office. The way you reacted to hearing that Wright claimed she found the watch because you knew damn well she hadn't."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do. You didn't come over here to polish up Romano's image. You wanted to see if you were a suspect. It's a classic criminal blunder. Knowing you're guilty, you never stop committing the crime in your mind. So, you begin giving yourself away."

Her eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. "Suddenly, you bore me, Mr. Titan. I think its time I left."

"That's just fine. Your secret's safe with me. Nice having you over. Remember what I said about filling the pool."

"Don't hold your breath, buster." She stood, then angrily climbed the ladder out of the pool and quickly thereby vacated the premises.

:.

In the morning, a man in a very good suit was waiting outside my office.

I'm a connoisseur of clothes, of sorts. It's the only thing I really invest money on. I figured the guy was wearing about a thousand dollars worth of Italian designed silk/wool blend. And his calf's skin shoes were easily five-hundred bucks. A high roller with taste.

"Mr. Titan, I presume."

"Most of the time. And who might you be?"

"My name is Joseph Getti. I work for Mr. Frank Scaliari."

That explained the good suit and shoes. 

Francis Salvador Scaliari was the boss of bosses of Organized Crime, the national chairman of the Syndicate. Not a cargo net was offloaded on the docks of Pandemonia that he didn't get a percentage of its goods, not a garbage truck rolled down the City's streets that he didn't get some profit of its business, not a stitch was sewn in the Garment District nor a brick mortared on brick in the construction trade that his coffers weren't enriched by it. In his young Turk days he was called Bullet-proof Scaliari because he survived three hits by rival bosses without a scratch. These days, everybody called him sir.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Getti?" I asked with honest interest.

"My employer would like to see you."

"Alright." You accept the invitation when royalty invites you. 

Once up on the roof, I saw that Getti's gyro was just as high-end as his suit. He opened the door and gestured me into the machine first. He was a suave sonofabitch, I had to grant him that. I climbed into the limo and my ass sank into the supple leather cushion of the seat.

"Would you like a drink?"

"No, thanks."

As we flew over the City the pilot kept well clear of the other airships, heli, gyro, dirigibles and the like. Getti maintained a pleasant professional smile, not attempting to force conversation. I looked out the window at the buildings and streets passing below, speculating what the boss of bosses could possibly want with me.

Less than a quarter-hour later, the machine began to descend toward a large walled estate and landed in the midst of a manicured emerald lawn. Getti and I stepped out. He lead me across the grass and to the front door of the house. A couple of mugs stood sentry in the front hall and I surrendered my gun to one of them, but still had to suffer a body frisk. Deemed safe enough, I again followed Getti and was finally conducted into the presence of Don Scaliari.

The old man sat in a chair. It was the face familiar to me from a dozen magazine articles and newsreels about the first generation mob. The aged kingpin looked like someone's kindly grandfather, dressed dapper in a suit which had been in fashion around the turn of the century. 

Scaliari gestured toward an overstuffed armchair. I sat.

"What will you have to drink, Mr. Titan?" His manners were Old World and his voice measured.

"I'll have a brandy, if its not too much trouble, sir."

"No trouble at all."

The servant was quick, quiet, and efficient. After bringing me the brandy in a snifter he retreated from the study.

"It's my understanding that you're looking for a ladies' gold watch."

"No sir, not anymore. She said she found it."

The old man nodded. "How's the brandy?"

I took a sip. Nodded. It was much better than the stuff I could afford. "Excellent."

"She's gone missing," the old man said.

"Sir?"

"The tramp. She left the radio station last night and no one's seen or heard from her since."

I didn't waste my breath asking how he knew that.

"Do you have children, Mr. Titan?"

I blinked at the non sequitur. "No sir. I've been a bachelor all my life."

"Not being married doesn't prevent you from having sired, but I congratulate you on your caution and morality. However, I'd urge you to start a family. Children fill out a man in ways you can't imagine. God has seen fit to gift me with three daughters, unfortunately, no sons. But, I gladly count my blessings. My little girls are the joy of my life. They are my life.

"Still, a man naturally yearns for a masculine child to carry on his name. Lacking a son, I've fulfilled the yearning by, well, adopting one, Johnnie Romano. Oh, I don't mean legally, but I've taken him into my heart and treated him as if he sprang from my loins. In my mind, he is my son. You understand, yes?"

"Yes sir, I believe I do."

"Excellent. A man will do much to protect his son, Mr. Titan. This whore, this Wright woman, she's no good for Johnnie. He tells me there is nothing serious between them and I believe that, but associating with her even platonically is no good for his reputation. She's a cheap gold-digger, trouble in a skirt. A woman like that is doomed to meet a bad end and I don't wish her troubles to become Johnnie's. He's about to become a big star, which is his dream. And his dreams are my dreams. They want him in the moving pictures and I intend to see that happens. A father naturally wants to see his son attain his dream, yes?"




Pandemonia City



"Yes sir."

"This Wright woman's disappearance won't look too good for Johnnie if it becomes public. The papers will imply some sort of hanky-panky. The Hollywood people like a clean-cut wholesome image for their stars. You must find the hussy before the rumors start."

"Sir, you have a large organization. Don't you think one of your own--"

"Its important for Johnnie's career that I appear nowhere around this affair. You're already involved. Find the whore. A clever fellow like you shouldn't need more than a couple of days."

"Sir, I--"

"Two days, Mr. Titan. I'd advise not wasting time."

I'd been dismissed. I set the snifter down on a table and stood up, buttoning my jacket. I knew it wouldn't do any good to give Scaliari my standard I-don't-work-for-mobsters speech. Not only could he have my ticket jerked with one phone call, he could have me killed easier than stepping on a bug. 

"I'll see what I can do, sir."

The old man nodded. "What more can be asked of a man?"

The servant appeared and showed me the way out. A goon returned my gun and the chauffer gave me a lift back to the office.

:.

Two days can be a long time if you're lost in the woods, or buried in a coal mine, or even waiting for owed money. Forty-eight hours can seem an eternity. But, its damn thin time to hang your life on.

There was one thing I was sure of, Tessa Wright was dead. And Scaliari knew it. He hadn't lit a fire under me to find the broad. What he really wanted was for me to ferret out her killer.

The question was why? Was he afraid Johnnie Romano had offed her? Did it have anything to do with Vinnie Falcone? Suddenly, there were hoods in my life everywhere I looked and no answers.

I did have one ace in the hole, but it wasn't one I was anxious to play, because I didn't like who I'd owe for the favor. But, I liked the idea of me wearing cement overshoes at the bottom of the Stygia River even less.

So, I made the call.

:.

The Iridescent Building was constructed in the previous decade during the boom times. It was an Art Deco masterpiece of steel, granite, and glass, its airship mooring spire thrusting toward the clouds. Not wishing to draw undue attention to my visiting the location, I left my machine at home. Instead, I took a cab to the building and made my way inside to the management office. 

I told the male receptionist my name, informing him I had an appointment with the building manager. He took my card into an inner office then returned a few moments later and conducted me into the presence of a decidedly handsome young woman of mixed race features. She graced me with a glance of scorn and I returned the favor. In all the years I'd known the woman I can't remember a moment when I got along with Cissy Harlowe. The two of us seemed to take an instant dislike to each other from the first. The receptionist withdrew as Harlowe and I sneered at each other.

"So, what is it you want, Titan?"

"Gracious as always," I responded and sat, uninvited, in a chair before her desk. "I need information."

"Uh huh. And how do you propose paying for it?"

I saw a pen set on her desk's blotter and fought a momentary temptation to shove the expensive stylus up Harlowe's nose. "The information itself will be repayment to you, to the Noirati."

"You're speaking riddles, Titan. Just talk plain or get out."

I took a slip of paper from my jacket pocket and handed it across the desk to her. "I need the phone records of those names for the last six months. Particularly, I need to know which of them were talking to the others and how often." The list contained the names of Teresa Wright, Johnnie Romano, and Vinnie Sicily.

Harlowe looked at the list with suspicious eyes. "You could get that information from the phone company."

"I could, if I wanted to wait a month and pay out more bribes than I can afford. I'm kinda up against a deadline here, Cissy. I just told you the research will be mutually beneficial. Now, are you gonna help me or not?"

She sniffed, plainly not wanting to give me the time of day. But, she couldn't ignore the possibility of adding to the Noirati's database. 

"Wait here. And don't touch anything." She left the office.

I knew where she was going, to the advanced Turing Device. It was a computing machine which occupied three stories of the skyscraper. The Noirati had stolen the technical plans of the mechanical thinker from Britain's Hyde Park research center and their scientists had refined the computer.

I occupied myself by perusing Harlowe's bookshelves, which were comprised of building commission reports and codes. Pure window dressing. After awhile, Harlowe returned with an accordion stack of printout an inch thick. She hesitated, just to be an asshole about it, before giving the stack to me with ill-grace.

I looked over the read-out. On the top page all the names of the caller/called in the printout were listed by alphabetical order. It contained a lot of wise guys. I flipped over the stack and read the last page, the summary. And then, just like that, it all made sense.

It all came down to Pius Domenici, Don Scaliari's chief under boss.

According to the summary, within the past few months there had been dozens of calls between Vinnie Sicily and Pius Domenici. Domenici being Scaliari's right hand man. There were also records of Domenici calling Tessa Wright and vice versa. And that explained the watch, maybe her disappearance as well. Domenici had been a very talkative fellow during the last few months, he'd been in touch with all the mob families of the City, in one fashion or another.

"So, that any help to you?"

I looked up, so absorbed in thought that I'd forgotten about Cissy Harlowe.

"Yes. And, I can return the favor for the info right now. Pius Domenici is the only common denominator. I'd guess Domenici intends taking over the old don's turf. He's talked to members of the other four families in the last few months. And he's apparently allied himself with the Vinnie Sicily crew."

I explained to her that I'd been hired to find Wright's watch, how the singer claimed to've found it by the next day and my meeting with Sicily. 

"I suspect Vinnie's crew lifted the watch off some dowager outside the opera house, which is in Scaliari territory, a violation of the rules. At first I thought Wright was having an affair with Vinnie but it makes better sense that she was warming the sheets with Domenici. Vinnie most likely gave him the watch and he lays it on her. When she squawks about it being stolen he makes her say it was found so no one comes snooping around. Now, he's got her someplace cooling off. That or she kept squawking and he's shut her up permanently.

"And old man Scaliari must smell something on the wind. That would explain why he's hired me, an outsider to keep sniffing. He doesn't know who he can trust inside his organization so he gets me to bloodhound, scare the pheasants out of the brush."

"A potential mob war," Harlowe said, her brow furrowed in thought.

"Yeah."

"The question is, what should be done about it."

"What question? Scaliari's my client. I'm gonna tell him his number one boy is trying to muscle in on his action."

"No," Cissy said, "you're not. You wouldn't have this information if not for us. You're to wait until I contact Dad and see what he wants to do."

"Fuck that."

"Fuck you, Titan. You know what can happen if you try to cross us. And no matter what, one day, you and I'll settle things between us."

I pressed my lips together and glared at her. "Fine, come 'round whenever you're feeling particularly hormonal and we'll see what we can do. In the meanwhile, talk to your father. Tell him I said hello."

"I never have understood what Dad sees in you." 

"I think he sympathizes with my vulnerable inner-child," I said, opening the office door. "I'll be expecting your call."

"You'll hear from me within two hours."

:.

As always, after dealing with the Noirati I felt the need for a strong drink.

I took a cab to Geary Street and walked down a few storefronts to the Golden Slipper Hotel Casino. In the hotel's Crystal Room, Chicago Redd, the comedian with the bluest act in show business, was up on the stage and in rare form.

"So, I'm on the subway train coming here to the club and this woman screams out after being groped. She turns to the guy and says, you can't touch me like that, you're not a priest."

Redd got a medium laugh from that, then he went in for the kill.

"Just to show you how out of hand things are with the Church these days," he said, "The other day I saw a sign on a priest's car reading, Jesus is my co-pilot and we've cruising for boy pussy."

The joint roared. While everyone was cracking up, cops rushed the stage from the wings. They'd obviously been waiting for just such a one-liner from Redd. They cuffed him and took him away. It wasn't the first time the comedian would be brought up on moral charges and most likely it wouldn't be the last. The audience booed the cops, but Redd was smiling as he was hustled off. The arrest would only enhance his reputation as the most edgey comedian around.

Ginning, I turned back to my drink and my thoughts. Then Miss Storm materialized at my shoulder.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "What're you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

"How'd you find me?"

"Your pal Thurman. I slipped him a fiver to tell me the places you hung out at."

"Hmm. Alright, you've spent time and money to track me down. What'd you want?"

"What're you, angry?"

"I've had a trying day at the office, dear."

"Okay. Well, I'm here to confess," she smiled and blushed. "I took the witch's watch. But, I didn't throw it down the sewer. I wrapped it up in wax paper with half a pickle in a bag from the deli and threw it in the trash."

I nodded. "I'll keep that close to the vest. Nobody really gives a damn about the watch anymore anyway." 

"I'd appreciate that. There's another reason I wanted to find you," she said, coloring even deeper.

"Yeah?" 

She leaned in close to my ear. "I need to talk to a man about a pool."

And the day suddenly got a little bit brighter. 

:.

Claudia was the kind of doll who knew how to fall out of her clothes just right. I sat in a comfortable chair close to the edge of the pool, Moonlight Sonata playing on the phonograph and watched as she slowly peeled. It was a work of art, Gypsy Rose Lee could've taken lessons.

When the last of her clothes were pooled at her feet, she struck a pose with one hand on a hip and gave me a direct, brazen stare as she ran her thumb along her lower lip. A slender golden chain glittered around her neck, a small triskelion depended from the links resting between her moderate breasts. Her rose pink nipples visibly hardened. She approached my chair, one bare foot in front of the other, hips swaying. When she reached my feet, Claudia knelt and slowly spread her enticing thighs. The thick bush of her pubic hair shone like burnished copper. The scent of excited woman drifted potent up my nose.

I reached out, my fingers entangling her rich ginger hair before I closed my fist and pulled her to me. When I bent down and kissed her I felt the soft plushess of her lips beneath mine. On her tongue I could taste the trace of chocolate mint. I could smell her perfume and musk as my fingers held the voluminous wealth of her fiery hair. She pressed her demure body eagerly against me, surrendering.

The white mounds of Claudia's breasts squashed and bulged against my shirt as I forced a hard kiss on her, feeling her responding with equal passion. Without breaking the kiss, I slipped my hand from her hair, caught her under her arms and lifted her as I stood, her smooth legs wrapped around my waist as I carried her to the bedroom.

:.

An hour or so later, Claudia stirred from my embrace. She threw back the bed sheets. I watched her buttocks bunch and relax as she went padding across the bedroom the radio on a table in the corner. There was the hum of it warming up and a few seconds later I heard Lady Day's voice coming out all sexy and world-weary. Claudia returned to the bed, her fiery hair mussed around her face and shoulders, her breasts bouncing and sporting the red marks of my lips around her aureole. She slipped back under the covers and snuggled up against me, her lips playfully kissing my neck.

"You smell like sex," she laughed.

"Look who's talking," I smiled. Many attractive women, I have found, are mediocre in bed. They rest on their looks and never bother to develop physical skills. Claudia was exceptional, she was enthusiastic, playful, and loud. I rubbed a hand up and down her back as she kissed me along my jaw.

"So, were the Queen Bitch and Johnnie Romano ever an item?"

"No, not really," she replied, her fingers caressing my relaxed cock and sac. "Oh, they might've fucked once or twice, but in show business that's like shaking hands. They're just friends far as I know. It doesn't hurt a girl's career to be seen out in public with Johnnie Blue-eyes."

I didn't bother to ask her if she'd ever shaken hands with the crooner. A doll's past is exclusively her beeswax. Far as I'm concerned, curiosity of what had been stashed into Pandora's Box is what got us all into trouble in the first place.

The bedside phone rang. I picked up the handset. "Titan."

Cissy Harlowe spoke. "Go ahead and tell him." Then she hung up.

I called Scaliari's number and briefly explained the situation to Getti. He invited me over for a drink. 

:.

Part 3

So, a couple of hours later and I was out of it. 

After delivering the phone records to the Don I was square with Scaliari and square with the Noirati. Square all around. Getti had given me a couple of gees, so for once, I was ahead of the game. And, the cherry on top was that Claudia was waiting at home keeping the mattress warm.

When I entered the apartment, I saw the place was in shambles and the telephone was ringing. 

I called out for Claudia, going fast from room to room, fearing the worse. The quick search proved the joint was empty. The phone continued to ring. I walked through the wreckage in the bedroom and picked up the phone receiver.

"Titan?" It was Vinnie Sicily.

"Yeah."

"The boys have all had a turn on the broad so far. Unless you want them to start in on sloppy seconds you better get your ass on over here with a quickness. Alone."

"I wanna speak to her."

"Sure."

"Theo?" Her voice was papery, weak.

"Its me doll."

"They hurt me."

"Its alright, baby. Hang on, I'm coming."

"'Kay."

Then Vinnie was back on the line. "You got one hour, hero. And, remember, come alone or the cunt's history"

"Yeah." I hung up.

:.

An hour can be a long time, if you're suffering in pain, or waiting on a bus, or romping about in bed with an energetic partner. But, its not much time on which to hang a life on.

After I hung up the receiver, I did what I always do in a tense situation. I made myself relax. Panic and anxiety melt away imagination and creativity from the mind like ice on a hot radiator. So, I sat on the bed, steeping my fingers and closing my eyes and calmly thought the problem through. Obviously, it was a trap. I had no doubt that it was for me that the thugs had come looking for. So, Vinnie had snatched Claudia instead, as the irresistible bait, and he knew I had to come save her. And, once I got there he'd kill us both.

Yet, despite the high stakes, it was nothing more than a puzzle to be solved. The goal was to remove Claudia from harm's way. It probably meant switching my life for hers, but it was a fair trade. If she hadn't been at my place she wouldn't've been grabbed in the first place. So I mulled over the problem for a good five minutes, figuring the angles. Then, I dialed a number. 

"Bennie. Yeah, its me. Listen, I'm coming over to your garage in about ten minutes. I need to borrow one of your machines. No, one of the two-wheelers. Yeah. Thanks. Bye."

I left the apartment and went down the elevator to my office. Once there, I checked the Browning .45 automatic's ammo clip then slipped it into my shoulder holster along and slid a backup in my leg holster, putting a dozen 7-round clips into an ammo bag. But, man does not live by bullets alone. 

I went to the portrait of President Douglass and swung it aside, revealing the office wall safe. Among the sundry and myriad items stashed away in there was some Nobel Gelignite, a putty explosive. There were six sticks wrapped in a rubber bag. I took out the bag and a handful of detonators, for good measure I grabbed the half dozen grenades I had on hand, just for the hell of it. A pound of prevention. I stuffed all of that into the old ammo bag I'd lugged across Europe during the Great War along with all the ammo clips I had laying around. Finally, I packed a flashlight.

Out of the closet I pulled a scuffed and scarred leather trench coat, also a relic from the war to end all wars, a riding helmet and gloves, along with a pair of goggles. Then it was time to go see a man about a motorcycle.

:.

There are two persistent urban legends about the sewers of Pandemonia. One is that there are huge albino alligators lurking down there in the bowels of the city. The other is that there are tribes of cannibals who've claimed the tunnels as their own and feast on anyone foolish enough to descend into their domain.

The story about the cannibals is bullshit. The story about the alligators is not.

I knew first-hand about the gators because years ago I'd chased the psychopathic killer, Marius the Slasher, down through the sewers. I'd had a close encounter with one of the reptiles during the chase and still sported the foot long scar from where it'd laid open my thigh with the whip of its tail. Fortunately, the shotgun I'd brought along to use on Marius worked just as well on hungry alligator.

After that little sojourn I'd promised myself I'd never go back down into the underground. But, using the sewers was the only hope I had of getting to Vinnie's warehouse undetected. So much for never saying never.

After blasting away the doors of the access ramp with some of the putty, I rode the motorcycle I'd borrowed from Bennie down into wide bore of the maintenance tunnel. The absolute darkness retreated reluctantly beyond the beam of the machine's headlight as I turned onto the left side walkway. The two-wheeler raced over the dank and molding concrete of the walkway, tunnel wall to the left, the sewer canal to the right. And the stink. How I could've forgotten the gagging rankness of the tunnels I don't know. Repression, no doubt. The melodious atmosphere made me wish for a gasmask but there was no turning back now.

There was a disturbing sick green bio-luminescent glow on the walls, which the chemical-hazard people said was non-toxic, which was probably a lie. But the truth didn't matter much. Years before the City had ceased to use the sewers as a conduit for drinking water, because of the El Supremo Incident.

The self-styled arch villain, El Supremo had treated to poison all the city's water if he wasn't given ten million dollars. The city-council called his bluff, and refused. But Supremo wasn't bluffing. Soon thereafter, he did indeed poison the water supply by air-dropping drums of radioactive sludge into the reservoir. 

The valves were eventually turned off at the reservoir source and the City's entire water supply had to be brought in on tanker ships from the Guernsey River. The City had contracted for desalination plants, to render seawater potable, so the same thing couldn't happen again. Still, the sewers had been rendered hazardous for thousands of years. I didn't figure to be down in them long enough to catch a fatal dose. Or, so was my hope.

Up ahead the figure of a granddaddy of an albino gator resolved in the beam of the headlight. He lie on the scummed walkway, his pale eyes glowing in reflection of the bike's lamp. I was speeding along too fast to stop, the only option was jumping the reptile's pale form. I gritted my teeth and pulled up on the handle bar and flexed my legs, ass leaving the seat. The bike when airborne as the big monster turned his head and open his massive saw-tooth jaws to snap at me.




Pandemonia City



I cleared the bastard but the bike's tires skidded in the algae scum on contact with the concrete and I lost control. I tumbled from the bike, smacking the scummed walk with my shoulder and hip. The machine went off the concrete and was submerged in a good three feet of water. The engine coughed then gave up the ghost, the cycle's headlight illuminating the oil and gasoline bubbling to the surface of the glowing algae water. 

I struggled up to my feet. I seemed to be all right aside from being a little bruised, the leather coat, helmet, and riding gloves saving me from serious abrasions. I walked the rest of the way to a rusty access ladder and ascended up into the night, shoving open a manhole cover.

:.

The full Moon's pearly light burnished the drifting clouds which alternately revealed and obscured her face. The breakup of the persistent overcast was a sure sign of the end of the storm season.

The gun from my shoulder holster, fitted with a silencer, coughed in the night and the sentry went down with a dull thump to the gravel. I moved as fast and as quietly as I could to the machine shop's cement-block wall. I didn't waste time trying to peek through the grimy windows but caught hold of an iron downspout and climbed up on the shop's roof. There, I looked down through the open panels of the skylight.

I could see Claudia sprawled on the floor of the shed's office. She didn't look so hot. There were three men in there with her. Vinnie, Big Mouth and a guy I hadn't seen before. The rest of Vinnie's gang were hanging around on the machine shop's warehouse floor.

The reconnaissance done, I jumped down form the roof and directly in front of another lookout. I fired twice into his chest, the silenced gun coughing, and he went down quietly enough. I wasted no time in smacking explosive to the front door and setting the detonator. Then I ran around to the huge sliding doors of the shop and planted more of the putty and set the timer. That done, I once more climbed to the roof and the skylight.

A couple of minutes later there was an almighty explosion. The boom and smoke distracted everyone as it was supposed to. While they were all looking toward the front door, I climbed through the skylight. My shoes hit the concrete floor and I grabbed a grenade from my pocket, then pulled its pin with me teeth and hauled one of my guns from its holster.

"Hello, Vinnie. You wanted to see me?"

The mobster turned from the ruins of the warehouse front door and his eyes widened when he saw me in his midst with a gun in one hand and the unpinned grenade in the other. After a few moments he regained his composure.

"Yeah, I did, gumshoe." He sniffed the air. "You stink."

"Nice of you to notice."

"Smart, you used the sewers. No wonder my lookouts didn't see you."

"Does that matter right now?"

"No, I guess it don't. I need to know a couple of things from you, tho' that do."

"Sure, only first the doll goes free. That's non-negotiable."

Vinnie looked me in the eye as he thought about. I suppose he must've saw my serious intent. "Big, go get the skirt."

"Vinnie, this dinge asshole--"

"I said get her," Vinnie rasped, not taking his gaze from me.

Big Mouth fetched Claudia from the office, he held had her by the upper arms, supporting her. She was as limp as a rag doll in his grip. Her dress was torn in several places, her gorgeous red hair dishelved. Her left eye blackened and swollen over. There were streaks of blood down her legs. Her flesh was vampire pale. I made myself not react. The man I hadn't recognized, who looked vaguely familiar, came out of the office behind her.

Her right eye widened when she saw me. "I knew you'd come," she said in a watery voice. I did not like the lack of strength behind it.

"You run along now, angel. I'll catch up with you."

"Theo, come with me."

"I'll be right behind you, doll. Go." I made my voice rough. It was better that way.

Vinnie jerked his head and Big Mouth half dragged her to the back door and opened it for her. When he let go Claudia leaned on the doorway for a moment then she staggered into the night, out of direct firing range. At least that much had gone to plan.

I looked around. "All of you mugs've got a bill due for what you did to her."

"Yeah. You got us shaking, Titan," said the stranger to me. "Now, what the fuck did you tell Scaliari about me?"

"I don't know what're talking about."

"Stop trying to stall. The broad couldn't've gotten too far. Why don't I send one of the boys to bring her back in here and we can start all over."

"Alright. He wanted to know about the Wright dame. He wanted to make sure she wasn't mixing Johnnie Romano up in any crooked shit. I did some snooping and told him he wasn't involved with her."

He looked skeptical. "Uh huh. If that's true why'd he put out a hit contract on me right after you was with him this afternoon?"

That made him Dominenci. "He did?"

"Don't go all innocent on me now, Titan. We was just starting to get along."

"I'm as in the dark as you are, Dominenci. I didn't know shit about a contract until you told me."

"Maybe not, but I'll lay twelve to one you know why the old man wants me killed." 

Before I could make up my mind whether to lie or tell the truth, the second explosive went off, blasting the big steel sliding doors off their tracks. While everyone reacted in surprise and most of the overhead lamps went out, I threw the grenade into the midst of Vinnie's thugs, then jumped behind a steel tool rack. The grenade exploded and suddenly the odds had vastly improved in my favor. 

I circled around the rack and saw the dust-covered and blinking Vinnie wiping at his eyes with one hand and waving his gun in the other. I grabbed his hand, a finger covering his trigger-finger and forced him to shoot, again and again until the revolver was empty. I pistol-whipped him about the face as hard as I could, giving into the anger which had been simmering since his phone call. His face was a pulpy mess when he fell to the floor.

"Nine punks against one frail. Not good, Vinnie, not even close to being good." And I shot him in the crotch. He screamed loud, a strangulated falsetto which under other circumstances might've been pitiful. I found it gratifying.

"My dick!" He screamed, both hands to his bloody pants. "You shot my dick off. My balls," he wailed.

"Don't worry," I said, looking down at him. "You won't be needing them." And I put him out of his misery with two shots to the head.

"Hands up, fuckface." Came Big Mouth's voice from behind me. "Try anything funny and I'll blow your burr-head clean off."

I raised my hands, letting the gun dangle by the trigger guard then I turned and saw the gun in Big Mouth's hand. The machine pistol looked small wrapped in the meaty paw of the obese wise guy, but I knew that the gun was plenty big enough. And so, I paid for my moment of anger, for allowing it to distract me in the midst of the danger.

"Now, drop the heater, wise-guy, and kick it over to me. Raise your hands."

I did as I was told. All I had left was to play for time.

Big Mouth scowled. "Ya just had to queer the deal, didn't you, dinge? I won't miss you being around," he sneered.

"Wait," bellowed Domenici, emerging into the light of a swinging ceiling fixture. "I wanna know what this bastard told the old man."

Then I recognized the face. Domenici. 

"Alright, gumshoe, talk."

"Sure, I said, but tell me something first. Where's Wright? Dead?"

Dominenci blinked. He glanced away for a moment, as if embarrassed.

"Yeah. Dead," he said, then turned to face me again. His lips compressed together and his brow furrowed. "She was getting too mouthy. The stupid broad. What a waste. I really liked her, too." He said the last with true regret in his voice. Enough regret that said he had more than liked her.

"She's not shutting up," he said, suddenly. "About the watch. She's on a binder over the goddamn dingus, still, after I tell her to cheese it with blabbing about it being stolen. She says she's not some bimbo guinea bitch from Guernsey to hang some hot jewelry on. She says it just shows what a first-class wop asshole I am. A first class asshole, a third-class lover, and tighter than a Jew. How I damn well better buy her a new watch, from Tiffany's, and that she is by my side when its bought and paid for. And I'm shouting at her to shut the fuck up, to just shut the fuck up before I get mad.

"But she's into one of her work-ups, pushing her fingers into her hair, making it spike, her eyes big and angry. Its making her look ugly. I hate ugly broads. When she is like this it goes on for hours. A crazy broad. Ranting. And I am not in the mood for this. Too much pressure, way too much right now to put up with a crazy doll on the rampaging rag and I am telling her so. Shut up before I make you, I says.

"She laughs at me. That crazy fucking laugh of hers when she's boiling over. And she's saying, she says I couldn't make her shut her trap on my best day and besides, if I tried she'd get me but good. And I says to shut up and get out and that its over. But she just keeps laughing and says nothing's over until she says so. Then she tells me she cops the ledgers from my safe the night I tell her precious watch was stolen so its hot. Tit for tat, she screams and tells me if I want the ledgers back I'd better do a quick-step down to the jewelry store right smart and get her a new dingus.

"I snaps at that. I walk across the room and I am catching her around the throat, angry." And he fell silent, his confession done. For a moment he stared at me, an expression of anguish on his face. "If she had shut the fuck up she'd be alive today."

"Love stinks."

My words were like ice water throw in his face. The hard mobster returned. "Maybe so. Now, what did you give the Don on me?"

"Your phone records," I told him, honestly. There was nothing to lose.

Dominenci nodded. "Shit. That easy, huh?"

I shrugged. "Nobody can think of everything. We all fuck up."

"I guess, you would know," he said, leveling his gun.

I dropped and rolled, feeling my face peppered by chips of the concrete from his impacted slug. I reached for my ankle gun and without pulling it from the holster I shot, Dominenci. Getting him in the chest. Then, a heavy foot kicked my gun hand and my fingers went numb. Big Mouth reached down and pulled the gun from its holster. I rolled to my feet, not wanting to die on my back.

I looked at him. He smiled at me. "Okay, shine. Ya ticket gets punched tonight. Right now."

There was a bang, the loudest I'd ever heard. I flinched, grimacing and felt hot blood splatter against my coat. For a moment, for the longest moment in my life, I thought I'd been gut shot. Then I saw the big man before me drop to the floor. From beneath the unmoving mobster spread a dark puddle of blood. From behind him, lie Claudia, her right arm extended out, upward, and holding a smoking revolver.

I went to her, going down on one knee, taking her hand in mine and relieving her of the heater. "You're a mess."

"Sorry," she sighed. "Are they dead?"

"Yeah. All of em, you got the last bastard, baby."

"Good." Then she died, just like that, relaxing on the dirty concrete floor. 

Life is indifferent to fairness, fairness being only a concept after all. Still, Claudia Storm deserved better than what she got. The big sleep was a pretty stiff sentence for stealing a lousy watch she didn't even keep. 

The front of my coat was a dripping pizza splat of offal where Bigmouth's former innards had exploded against me. I wiped most of it off before catching the doll up in my arms, then I walked slowly from the warehouse with her lifeless in my arms, leaving the Moustache Pete outfit all dead in my wake. 

:.

Three days after she died Claudia Storm was buried in the rain.

Being a popular doll, Claudia had dozens of friends, she got a great send-off. During the service it was standing room only. During the review of the body I didn't go up to the casket. I didn't trust myself not to break down like some weepy chorus boy. 

At the cemetary security was needed to keep curious fans away from the grave during the burial. I stood apart, listening to the minister ritual words, finding no comfort in them whatsoever. 

The casket was finally lowered into the ground and the mourners began to disperse. And a sweet-natured judy who hadn't seen twenty-nine summers was buried proper. I turned and began to walk out of the graveyard for a cabstand a couple of blocks over. However, outside the cemetary gates was a long limo at the curb, inconspicuous among the other big black cars. A back window rolled down and I saw the lined face of Don Scarliari. He was not someone I wanted to see. I'd had enough of mobsters to last a lifetime.

"Allow me to give you a lift, Mr. Titan," the old man said and opened the door. He scooted over on the bench seat.

What the hell, a ride was a ride and it was raining. I got in.

"Where to?"

"My place. Twelve-hundred block Halston Street."

"Take us there, Jack," Scaliari told the driver.

"Yes sir."

"My condolences."

I only nodded.

"I don't mean to intrude on your grief but I feel haven't compensated you for your effort on my behalf. Given the events at the warehouse."

"Forget it."

"I always pay my debts, Mr. Titan." He pulled a thick envelope from his jacket inside pocket and placed it in my lap.

I picked it up, hardly aware of doing so, and pocketed it. "Thanks," I said in reflex.

"Actually, its me thanking you. Your efforts saved me a great deal of trouble, possibly my life."

"If that's true then your thanks should go to the girl they just buried. She snatched the watch that lead to the lid coming off the whole nasty business."

The old man nodded. "God indeed works in mysterious ways. If not for her there might be blood running in the streets right now."

"Gangster blood. I'll trade the whole bad lot to get her back."

The don didn't respond to that. The limo drove on through the rain as we sat in silence while I contemplated the fact that I was alive due to the last act of a dying frail. A woman I had set out to save. Scaliari was wrong,God, the Universe, or whatever wasn't mysterious, it was just perverse as all get out. Suddenly, the car was too stuffy, too confining.

"Pull over anywhere along here," I said. "I need to walk."

The don nodded and instructed his driver to stop. I opened the door, but before I could get out, Scaliari's liver-spotted hand closed around my wrist. "Your being in pain proves you a decent man, Mr. Titan. You must grieve, but there will come a time when it ends. Take care. Contact me if ever you have need of my help."

It was a stand-up thing to say. I nodded and left the limo. The tires of the long black machine hissed over the wet asphalt as it pulled away. I cinched the belt of my trenchcoat tighter, hunched my shoulder against the wind and pulled my hat lower over my face.

The thing about a hard rain is that a man can cry in it with no one the wiser.

Heading home, I passed a newsstand on a corner. The cover of one of the magazines fluttering in a rack read, Johnnie Goes To Hollywood.

Good for Johnnie.

-end-