|The Rapist - Crime (standard:horror, 4449 words)|
|Author: hvysmker||Added: Jul 07 2004||Views/Reads: 2876/2594||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A serial rapist is caught, a rather unusual one with unusual complications.|
Rosetown Police Department, 322 Jefferson St, Rosetown Ohio 43444 Interview Room 120 April 26, 2012 09:15 a.m. Present: Officer(s): Detectives Robert Evens, Harry Jefferson. Suspect(s): Peter Persinski Witness(s): None Remarks: In regard to unknown numbers and types of criminal activity to wit Murder in the first degree ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ---------- RE: We might as well get started Peter. I have the recorder on, you can start whenever you want. PP: Where do you want me to start? HJ: The first time would be alright, we'll probably be here all day. PP: The first time? The first time was a hooker. A hooker on the south side of Chicago, in...... well I think it was about 1965. I was only nineteen at the time, the second time in my life I had sex. Both times were alright but the real satisfaction came when I caught her leaving with my wallet. You see, even then I was a large man, six foot four, and a little over two, two twenty, something like that. Anyways, she wanted to go to the bathroom, it was down the hall in that little hotel. “You just wait a few minutes, Baby. I'll be back in a few minutes. We can finish that bottle and have some more fun, Sugar.” She told me. I wasn't as drunk as she thought, and noticed her putting on all her clothes, even her shoes. As soon as she left, I checked my pants. No wallet. Well, anyways, I caught up to her before she made the elevator. I caught her and dragged her back to the room we'd rented for the night. Forty for the room and the same to her, for the entire night. “Which bathroom you heading for, Sugar?” I asked her as I threw her down on the rumpled bed. I remember the streetlight reflecting off her white face, whiter that normal anyway, as she landed on her back and stared up at me. Even though I had already gotten my rocks off earlier, the look made me hard again. “You bastard. Let me up or my Man's gonna kick your honky ass. He's right outside waiting for me.” She told me. “He'll have one hell of a long wait.” I slapped the shit out of her, looking into her eyes as I did. She kept cussing and trying to get back up, and I kept slapping. As I slapped I kept noticing the look on her face. At first it was a look of anger and rage. When she saw she couldn't win, it changed to fear. Then I saw resignation as her blows and trying for escape got weaker. She stopped fighting altogether then and tried to cover her face. I just switched to body blows, and used my fists, causing her to uncover those interesting eyes again. I kept watching them, as I hit her now limp body. I saw panic, that changed to pleading. A world and gamut of meaning I had never seen in anyone's eyes before. Then there was a knock on the door, and the look changed to hope. I just smiled and hit her as hard as I could right in those telling orbs. Then I turned to the door. A medium sized black man was standing there, a revolver in his hand. Before he could say anything my fist hit him in the face, probably harder than with his girlfriend since it was a straight shot and I was more balanced. He slammed back out of the doorway, his head hitting the wall across the hallway. No doors opened to see what the noise was. In those places nobody was ever curious enough to get involved. The next thing I did was to carry him in and throw him on the girl. While I was getting dressed I noticed the stain in the front of my shorts. It was the best climax I had ever had in my young life. The newspaper the next morning had an article about two dead bodies found Click here to read the rest of this story (449 more lines)
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