Saint Ch 02
- 3 years ago
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This story is told from the point of view of two people, Michel and Sally. Each section is prefixed by name. It is written for my enjoyment and hopefully yours as well.
—–
Michael:
They call me Saint Michael behind my back, some with reverence, some with disdain and others with suspicion. All have a theory about my past but no-one knows the full story of the betrayal of my oath.
—–
Sally:
It all began when my husband and I decided to build a family. I stopped taking the pill and we planned a holiday on the adriatic coast, a sort of second honeymoon, we even synchronised it with my period so that I had the best chance of becoming pregnant. Alas it was not to be as Charley suddenly found himself working in New Zealand for three months. He suggested that I go with my best friend Samantha or Sam as she likes to be called. Charley didn’t know what Sam could get up to when she was in the mood or I’m sure that he wouldn’t have suggested that we holiday together. Sam and I had had some memorable holidays in the past but I had been faithful to Charley since our wedding, most of the time at least. This time I was definitely going to behave though as I most certainly didn’t want to come back pregnant.
—–
Michael:
I started at the free clinic shortly after I was released from the sanatorium where I recovered after my breakdown. My therapist suggested that I try to atone for the wrongs I could not bring myself to disclose to her. How could I confess my shame to such a pleasant and obviously pregnant woman. The clinic was glad to have me, most doctors didn’t stay long and my name still had a little prestige attached to it. I think that they expected me to stay for a few months and then move on so that the clinic could bask in my reflected glory. Five years later and I am still here, doing a good job, no-one disputes that but neither what they had expected nor desired.
—–
Sally:
I managed to stay faithful to my wedding vows for nearly five days in Sirolo. Sam and I swam and tanned during the day, taking just a simple salad for lunch. In the evenings we would go out to eat some of the excellent seafood and drink a little wine then on to a club for a little dancing until Sam found someone to disappear with and then I’d go home alone. On the fifth evening I met Giovani at the club where he worked as one of the barmen. His dark hair and olive skin was quite a contrast to Charley’s nordic physique. Giovana’s shorter frame was also much more heavily muscled that Charley’s.
If Charley had been there then I wouldn’t have looked twice at Giovani but he wasn’t and I did. Keep in mind that my body was focussed on getting pregnant. The short story is that I spent that night and every night for the next week in Giovani’s bed with his long fat prick inserted into my very willing cunt. For that week we couldn’t get enough of each other but then Giovani found a new rich bored housewife to entertain and I was history.
I was actually quite glad, he hadn’t appealed to me as a long term lover, even a week was a little too long. His major source of income was bored housewives and I wasn’t bored enough to pay for him. When he told me he would be busy until I left we both cried, I hope that his tears were as false as mine because I didn’t want to see him hurt but I didn’t want to see him again either.
Sam hadn’t noticed that my bed hadn’t been slept in and I kept quiet about it. Not that I was ashamed but this was between me and Charley, if I told him I’d also tell Sam but not before. The rest of the holiday was relaxing and soon we were winging our way home.
—–
Michael:
I came to the sanatorium when I had a breakdown shortly after I had my liver transplanted. It was touch and go for a while, despite having good contacts in the evaluation committee there just weren’t any suitable liver’s available. For a while it looked like I might die waiting. Most of my colleagues attributed my breakdown to the stress of waiting. I think that my therapist at the sanatorium had other ideas but after six month she hadn’t broken through my defences and was about to start maternity leave so she pretty much threw me out. Sometimes I wonder how I would have handled having someone else aware of my guilt, I think it would have helped me but I don’t think that I’ll ever let anyone get that close again. Saint Michael doesn’t have friends, family or lovers, just penance.
—–
Sally:
Charley’s trip was extended by three months. It was welcome news as it gave me more time to handle the baby that was starting to grow in me. Giovani and I had been careful but obviously not careful enough. The clinic had quite a queue for an abortion and as I was early in my pregnancy I had a pretty low priority. There was plenty of time before Charley came home though, or at least there was until he let me know that he’d be coming home two weeks earlier than expected. I still had a few of days between my abortion and his return and I hoped it would be enough.
I set out in good time but a flat tire made me late for my appointment. After parking the car I ran towards the clinic. Charley always says that when something is important you have to take it slowly. I understand that but I can’t do it.If I had only taken the time to properly check for traffic then I wouldn’t be lying here paralysed and still pregnant.
—–
Michael:
Please try to understand my situation, I was dying and I could be saved with a new liver. I had a high opinion of myself in those days and I reasoned that my death would result in a huge number of lives being lost as well, lives that I could have saved had I been saved. The vegetive patients I reasoned, would be a good source of organs and if I could find one that was a decent match for me then I could help nature take its course. I began a clandestine survey of the patients, looking for one that could give me a new lease of life.
I had no luck in my own hospital but I was reasonably well known at the surrounding ones so I widened my search. In the end I found a young woman who lay paralysed after a traffic accident, she even had a donor card. I checked her health carefully and was delighted to find that she was in excellent health apart from being pregnant, a fact that was surprisingly missing from her chart.
—–
Sally:
When I awoke I could see and hear but I couldn’t move and I couldn’t speak. Charley came often and so did a lot of doctors and nurses. I heard them discussing my case and it didn’t look good for me but no-one said anything to Charley about the baby. I was pretty sure that it was still there and pretty soon everyone could see that I was pregnant. There was nothing that could be done about my fate but I didn’t want Charley to remember me as a cheating bitch who got knocked up by a Sicilian gigolo.
I knew that something strange was going on when I saw the new doctor take my blood, doctors don’t do that, nurses do. He was a stranger to me as well and I was sure that I had seen every doctor in this hospital. His furtive nature gave me something to puzzle over at least, being bedridden is extremely boring.
—–
Michael:
The baby troubled me at first but I didn’t have time to wait for it to be born, time was of the essence. I selected a drug that would stop her heart without causing any other damage and would take a few minutes to work. Everyone would be glad to see her die, to see the nightmare ended. No-one would press for an investigation. I was shaking inside as I entered her room but years of practise in the operating theatre have given me control and I was certain no-one could see my fear, doubt and uncertainty.
—–
Sally:
He came back with another syringe, I can’t really see what he’s doing but I am sure that he is going to take my life, such as it is. An end to the boredom and an end to the fear of losing Charley’
s respect and love. Not even Sam knows that I’m pregnant, soon I’ll be just a pile of ashes and no-one will ever find out.
—–
Michael:
Everything went as planned, she died quickly and her organs were harvested. If anyone noticed that she was pregnant they never mentioned it. At the funeral nobody noticed the quiet man at the back. Her husband grieved, that much clear but he had begun to heal as well.
The transplant went well, at least physically. Once my imminent death was gone I was forced to examine my morals and I found them lacking. Killing the woman wasn’t the problem, her chances of recovery were so slight as to be non-existent. At the same time she was unlikely to die anytime soon, she didn’t even need a respirator. She would just sap the will of her husband and deny treatment to someone who benefit from it. No, her death caused me no problems at all, it was the unborn child that haunted my dreams and still does. The child that could have bought solace to her husband.
After a couple of near misses in the operating theatre, it was suggested that I seek help. As I said, most of my colleagues thought it to be the result of the stress I had suffered waiting to die, no-one knew the real reason or ever will.
I have thought on occasion of ending it all but I cannot, I have lost the right to die. If I try hard then I may be able to make up for the life I took.
They call me Saint Michael behind my back not knowing that I am a dark saint, not a saint of conviction but a convicted saint.
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FantasyStella Saint had an erotic dream, which disturbed her every night. She discussed the odd situation with Denise Moore, who persuaded her to enact the dream. Stella agreed to do so at a hotel. Little did she know that someone else had planned to make out with her. Cast of Characters: Major Characters: Stella Saint: Protagonist. Denise Moore: Stella’s friend and an intelligent psychology major. Leona: A lesbian felina. Minor Characters: Jonathan Wood: A businessman and Stella’s...
LesbianDetective Nicholas Saint stood in the bathroom of the Lapeer County Sheriff's station, hands gripping one of the three sinks lining one wall, staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot and bleary, evidence of too much Jack Daniels and too many sleepless nights. His hair was mussed from running his hands through the thick black strands in frustration. He grimaced at the sour taste of cigarettes and over cooked coffee in his mouth. This was too much. He had come home to the...
Those words came to haunt Nick. No identification on either of the victims. They had managed to get fingerprints on victim one. She wasn't in any system that Nick had available to him, including AFIS, the Automated Fingerprint Identification System. So, whoever she was, she didn't have a record and had never been fingerprinted. It had been impossible to fingerprint victim two. The decomposition had been too devastating, animals had destroyed what the killer hadn't. Dental records weren't...
Michelle pulled her seatbelt a little tighter, not caring if Nick saw it or not. The man drove like a maniac. She had felt safer being in a car with Sam, even though the man was a pervert and lazy as hell. She felt her stomach tighten as the light in front of them turned yellow and he sped up, going through it just as it turned red. "Is this your way of trying to back out?" she asked him through gritted teeth. Nick looked over at her, sitting stiffly in the low slung passenger bucket seat...
The team from the crime lab was still hard at work when Michelle got back to the victim's apartment. They, for the most part, ignored her as she stood in the doorway watching them work. Pictures were being taken, evidence cataloged, fingerprint powder spread over every conceivable surface. The victim's bedroom was dark except for a bright blue spotlight that was slowly going over the surface of the bed. It was amazing to watch. Each member of the team seemed to know exactly what their job...
Hmmm, heaven was built on spicy Szechwan chicken. Michelle popped the last bite into her mouth and sat back on the couch, her hand on her flat stomach. She had changed clothing before sitting down with Nick and the food, putting on a pair of short black leggings and an oversized FBI tee shirt her brother had gotten for her when he went to Quantico for some training classes a few months ago. With her hair pulled up in a long blonde ponytail and no makeup, she looked all of ten years...
The shrill scream of the phone woke her and she reached for it without opening her eyes. She managed to pick it up, fumbled it for a second and then held it to her ear. "Yeah?" she croaked, managing to put in one word her anger that all her longing for sleep, peace and quiet was going down the tubes. "Deputy Parsons?" Oh, shit. She knew that voice. She sat straight up and then gathered the sheet back up over her breasts. "Yes, Sheriff, what can I do for you?" She heard a groan of...
They're putting together a task force, he thought as he rubbed his hands together, almost giggling in delight. A task force in his honor. It was almost like getting an academy award. He did giggle then, thinking about standing at a podium, Nick Saint handing him the head of a dead girl as a trophy. Too delicious. He was down in his laboratory, what he called the underground room where he kept his research. His latest case file was open in front of him letting him relive every glorious...
He sat at his desk, happily writing on lined paper. He was documenting his experiences of the day, the way it had felt to be in that conference room, to know that they were all gathered there for him. He wished he had recorded it somehow, had taken in a mini recorder. Instead he had to rely upon his memories. But that was okay. He remembered how it felt to have Detective Nick Saint shake his hand, talk to him as if he were an equal. The seriousness in the man's voice when he had spoken of...