Seven Deadly Sins Ch 01

Chapter 01: Lust

"I don't believe it! They're just gonna let him walk?"

Julia Moreno's voice was low but piercing; her words made a couple officers at the far end of the station look up to hear more.

"Insufficient evidence," said her partner, inspector Dennis Myler, through his teeth. "The DA is dropping the charges."

"We have 5 girls who could testify against the sonofabitch!" said Julia.

"They aren't credible witnesses," said Dennis. "They were all too heavily drugged to remember anything. Even though we know they were raped the same night that he had them in his apartment, we can't PROVE that he did it."

"It's probable cause, for heaven's sake!" said Julia.

"No blasphemy, Miss Moreno!" said a thin police secretary, and handed them the day's mail. "Being a good Catholic, you should know better!"

"Thank you, Lydia," said Dennis, and flipped through the letters.

Lydia closed her lips tight, and walked away.

"That woman needs to get laid!" Julia muttered, and crossed her arms over her big, round breasts. "So, they're just gonna let him walk? And molest God-knows how many more girls?"

"He knows that we're on to him," said Dennis. "He won't even dare to buy cookies from a girl scout for the next month and a half!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Their boss, Henry Flannigan, didn't share Dennis' hopeful attitude. Right after lunch, he called both Dennis and Julia into his office to discuss the case, or, more exactly, to yell at them.

"We had him!" he started. "We fucking had him! And then that bitch of a lawyer of his waltzes in here, shaking her ass, and tears our evidence up like it was some fucking toilet paper! We need new evidence! Witnesses! Something!"

"We're trying to scrape up something on him, sir," said Julia. "If we can just get enough to get to a trial, I'm sure the DA will..."

"We won't get to trial on circumstantial evidence, woman!" Flannigan shouted. Didn't you just hear what I said? We need solid evidence! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," said Julia, pink with rage.

"If we could have him followed, sir..." Dennis started.

"Do you really think we have the man power for that?" Flannigan interrupted him. "If you want to waste your evenings staking out that pervert, by all means, but don't expect to get paid for it!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dennis found her sitting alone out in the stairs, taking deep breaths and struggling furiously not to cry.

"Don't let him get to you," he said.

"He's an asshole!" she hissed.

He sat down next to her, and put an arm around her shoulders.

"He makes it sound like we're idiots, who need to be told what to do!" Julia growled. "How can someone be so fucking IGNORANT after all this time on the force?"

Dennis turned her face towards him, and kissed her. Her excitement, although it was caused by anger and not lust, made her response fiery, and he could feel how his body reacted by getting harder.

"My place, tonight?" he said.

She shook her head.

"Not tonight, Den," she said. "My brother's coming over, to show off his son's motor development. I'm required to be there and play the part of a proud auntie."

"How about the garage in 10 minutes?" said Dennis.

"You're on!" said Julia, and got to her feet.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Awww, come on, man!"

"I told you, girl, you need to show some ID to get into the club!"

"Fucking asshole!"

Fred Thompson looked carefully at the girl, who was being escorted away from the nightclub she had tried to sneak in to. She was short and skinny, with big eyes and small tits. The miniskirt and the deep-cut tank top were black, and she had a tiny rucksack on her back. She could be, how old? 16? 17? A bit TOO old for him. Then again, one couldn't really tell a girl's age when she had all that make-up on. A 14-year-old might pass for 22, and vice versa. She saw him looking at her, but she merely put her nose in the air and walked away.

"Oh, so I'm too old for ya, you little bitch?" he mumbled.

He followed her casually. She went into a McDonalds restaurant, got herself a cheeseburger, and sat down at the far end. Smiling, he walked up to the teenage Rastafarian boy behind the counter, ordered a burger and a Diet Coke, and carried his tray over to her table.

"Mind if I sit down?" he said.

She looked up at him, then shrugged her shoulders. He sat down across from her, unwrapped his burger, and took a bite.

"I saw you over by the club," he said. "How come they wouldn't let you in?"

"The fucking idiot didn't believe that I was 18!" she muttered. "And I didn't have my ID with me. That pig! Who does he think he is?"

"There, now," said Fred. "It's hard to tell a woman's age. I would have guessed 15, or 16..."

She grinned.

"I know," she said. "I look like a friggin' baby! But I really AM 18, I promise!"

"Sure, baby," he said, smiling. "If you say so..."

He didn't believe her. She looked much younger. She looked younger, the more he looked at her! She HAD to be younger! All that make-up... the amount of jewelry... no grown-up woman would wear all that. No, she had to be younger than 18! 16... or maybe even 15? Much older than he normally wanted them, but, hey, she was still Forbidden Fruit.

"If you want, I could make it up to you that you didn't get into that club," he said.

She looked at him with a questioning expression.

"You could come over to my place, have a beer, or a drink, and just chill for a while," he said.

"I don't know..." she said.

"You think I'm one of those perverts who get young girls drunk and take advantage of them?" he said, smiling teasingly at her. "I'm not, I promise. I just don't want a young woman like yourself to wander around town at night and risk running into one of them."

She smiled.

"Your place..." she said. "Is it far from here?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She was getting dizzy. Her speech sounded sloppy, and her eyes seemed to have some trouble focusing on anything. He moved closer, and put his arm around her.

"You're very pretty," he said. "You're so sweet I could eat you alive!"

She giggled. He pushed her hair, stiff from hairspray, aside, and placed a very wet kiss on her neck. His other hand slid up her leg, in under her skirt.

"No," she mumbled. "You mustn't..."

Yes! That's it! Protest all you want, little girl!

He squeezed her thigh, bent down to kiss her small breasts through the fabric of her top.

"Ow!" she said. "You're hurting me!"

Oh, yes! Little girls shouldn't dress like sluts! Little girls shouldn't talk to strangers...

His hand moved from under her skirt up to her top, slid under it, and cupped a naked breast.

"Stop!" she said, and made a weak effort to push him away.

Oh, yes, yes, yesss..! Resistance! Struggle! Force!

He pushed her down on the sofa, got on top of her, pulled her skirt up, and ripped her cotton panties off. He penetrated her, pounded her hard, hard, hard. She moaned.

What the..?

She moaned. She didn't scream. She didn't break. She wasn't as tight as he had expected. SHE WASN'T A VIRGIN! He looked up, met her eyes, and he had time to think that she suddenly looked all sober and clear-headed, her eyes weren't dizzy but SHARP, sharp and piercing and cold and EVIL – and then he felt the pain. He tried to scream, but could only produce a gargling sound. She pushed him off her, and he fell to the floor, blood flooding out of the gash at his throat, soaking the carpet.

She got up and straightened her clothes. She picked up the glass she had been drinking from, walked out into the kitchen, and washed it carefully. She wiped the blood-stained knife clean, and put it back in her purse. She wiped the blood off her face and chest, and tidied her clothes. When she was all done, she walked back out into the living room, and leaned close to the dying man. He stared at her, gargling faintly.

"Oh, and another thing..." she said. "I lied. I'm not really 18. I'm actually 24."

She stood up, and took a handkerchief out of her purse, to avoid leaving any finger prints on the door handle as she left...

To Be Continued...