Prey or Predator Interview with a TV
- 3 years ago
- 11
- 0
Prey For Me Ch. 03 free porn video
Pt. III: Mysterious Disappearance
Several weeks after her strange encounters of the sexual kind with Danel, Laurie had some unusual but familiar feelings. She went to the local drug store and purchased an ANSWER PLUS home pregnancy test.
Purple haze. On the way to the store she sang …
‘Purple Haze all in my brain,
Many things just don’t seem the same.
Acting funny but I don’t know why.
‘Scuze me while I kiss the sky.
Purple Haze, all around.
Don’t know if I’m coming up or down.
Am I happy or in misery?
Whatever it is, that angel put a spell on me.
Purple Haze all in my eyes.
Don’t know if it’s day or night.
You got me blowin’, blowin’ my mind.
Is it tomorrow or just the end of time?’
‘Hey, it wasn’t the Purple Haze, it was the Angeldew!’ Laurie whispered to herself and smirked. Laurie recalled fondly the wild and crazy story Danel had told her about Alexander the Great while they were catching their breath in between orgasms.
Danel had told her, ‘Alexander the Great sang Purple Haze when his army arrived at the gates of Jerusalem. Verses 21 and 22 of the eighth chapter of the book of Daniel are all about demonic possession. Alexander wanted to conquer the world and he almost did, and he wanted to be God. A formal deification law was passed in Athens. Alexander demanded that his subjects prostate themselves before him which was considered an act of worship by the Greeks. He insisted that he be called ‘the Great.’ The Egyptians made him their Pharaoh and worshipped him along with their other gods.’
‘The demonic spirit that possessed Alexander the Great was exorcised by God at the gates of Jerusalem. This occurred as Alexander was given a copy of the book of Daniel, and as he read it, the Purple Haze evaporated. Instead of destroying Jerusalem as he planned, Alexander departed for Babylon, and when he got there he soon died. Nobody knows for sure why he died. Perhaps it was because he lost his spirit, his demonic spirit. This same demonic spirit will possess the one known as the Antichrist during the last three and one half years of this generation. Purple Haze is not about LSD as some have sung. Its power far exceeds drugs. Some, however, will think they are under the influence of hallucinogens when they witness the miracles performed by the supernaturally induced Antichrist.’
Laurie had told Danel he was full of it and Jimi Hendrix did Purple Haze but he wouldn’t listen. She knew what the results of the ANSWER PLUS would be but she went through the motions anyway. She placed the required liquid in the urine collection lid and followed all the other instructions. Yes, the results were purple just as she suspected. A hazy purple.
Her suitcase was packed before she even took the pregnancy test. She threw the bag in her 1990 Ford Tempo and drove off toward the desert. She mysteriously disappeared.
Jack Davis had been involved extensively in the criminal justice system for twenty-five years, solving unusual and difficult cases all over the world. He was rather disgusted with the serious flaws in that justice system which included, in his considered opinion, the lack of properly trained criminal investigators.
Jack felt the problem with society in general, and the justice system specifically, was that nobody wanted to be honest. He told his intimate friends that he couldn’t find many people, other than very secretively or privately, who were willing to be candid anymore. Too afraid of not being politically correct and apathetic and reluctant to get involved he thought.
Having been a former military intelligence officer and a Navy Seal, a CIA operative for five years, and now a private investigator with a broad client base ranging from ordinary citizens to Fortune 500 corporations and Lloyd’s of London, Jack had been exposed to just about every type of illegal behavior. Davis had been primarily responsible with solving several high-profile murder cases and many other many crimes. He had been retained by numerous police departments and governmental security agencies to conduct a variety of complex criminal investigations. He also on occasion was technical consultant to several rather famous authors of both crime fiction and nonfiction.
Jack had become at this point in his career and his life financially and intellectually independent to the point where he could pick and choose his cases. He was fanatic about constitutional issues and often accepted a case because it involved a violation of constitutional rights, which he considered detestable. Otherwise he selected cases which he found extraordinarily interesting to him personally and which nobody else seemed to be able to make much progress in solving.
One of the late Professor Masterson’s colleague’s, Brett Sanderson, was a close friend of Jack’s. Brett taught such courses as ‘Forensic Chemistry and Trace Analysis and Toxicology’ and ‘Chemical Microscopy and Ultramicroanalysis.’ He and Jack often compared notes for one reason or another.
Brett persuaded Jack to become involved in the Masterson murder case. The Las Vegas metropolitan police and the security people from the casino in question had no substantial leads, other than the description of the stunningly beautiful women who spent time with Dr. Masterson in his last hours. The brutal nature of the crime and the methods employed, penectomy and vampirism, fascinated Davis. He hated to fly but he loved to drive so off to Vegas he headed in his new car.
Jack had owned a 1966 XJ13 Jaguar, several Corvettes and a red 1986 Porshe Carrera Cabriolet but this Mercedes-Benz SLK was the ultimate sports car as far as he was concerned. His was black and one of the first stick shifts sold in the U.S. and was equipped with the optional Sport Package. This car drew attention wherever he went, much like an extraordinarily attractive woman.
Frankie Mancuso, Chief of Security of the casino where Dr. Masterson was murdered, was more than pleased to have the assistance of Jack Davis. Frankie knew of his reputation, admired him immensely and was drawn to him immediately because of his obvious competence and considerable charm. He virtually turned the case over to Jack and gave him copies of every bit of information in his files.
Frankie had a friend with him when he met with Jack. Somebody Jack knew from way back when. Sam Hanson, now a civilian, but once upon a time Deputy Chief of Investigative Services, Las Vegas Metropolitan Police. Sam was still very much involved in police affairs in an unofficial capacity but with the blessing and encouragement of the powers that be. He served as liaison between Las Vegas Metro, the people like Frankie who handled security for the casinos and P.I.’s, reporters and others who got involved in controversial incidents. There was an unwritten code of conduct, for the most part, that undesirable publicity for Vegas be minimized if possible.
Jack could remember way back when, more than twenty-five years ago, when Sam Hanson was instrumental in the merging of the Clark County Sheriff’s Department and the Las Vegas Police Department, the consolidation now headed by a duly elected Sheriff. Although Jack had many misgivings about police departments, he felt Las Vegas ran the most efficient and professional law enforcement operation in the country, by far.
Frankie, Sam and Jack decided to have lunch and spent hours talking about various cases, old and new. The Ted Binion murder case of course was a prominent topic of discussion. All three felt the case was rather clear-cut in terms of evidence and motive but very interesting because of all the media attention and public interest. As Sam said, ‘What about O.J., ‘eh?’ Who knew what the ultimate outcome of the Binion case would be, despite the evidence.
The three decided that Jack’s contact would be Sam. Frankie wasn’t actually interested all that much in who did what. He was more interested in preventing any bad publicity from
coming down on the casino which employed him, and of which he was also a minority owner. Jack wasn’t surprised at all about Frankie’s attitude. That’s what it was all about in Vegas. Image and entertainment and making the customer come back again to spend even more money. Murder was not good for public relations.
A few items in the files that Frankie and Sam had given him immediately caught Jack’s attention. He sent samples via Federal Express to Brett back at the university, requesting isoenzyme and serum protein analysis, electrophoresis, esoelectric focusing and DNA typing.
Three days later Brett called, in shock. ‘Jack, Jack, this is phenomenal! Whoever murdered Masterson is not human! I know this sounds strange, but I just don’t think … ‘
‘Shut up Brett. That’s exactly what I thought. This is between you and I for now. There doesn’t seem to be much of anything that can help me backtrack to find out where she came from. I think I’ll have more success finding out where she went. But only if she leaves a trail of other victims. Stay in touch and let me know me immediately if you get any brainstorms. I’ll do likewise.’
‘Right, Jack. This is totally fucking crazy.’
In early November Jack received two very unusual phone calls just hours apart. Quite coincidental was his first thought.
The first call was from Marvin Johnston. He was distraught about the mysterious disappearance of his wife Laurie and the fact that nobody apparently cared much. He told Jack he thought the police were rather apathetic and he got the impression it was just another case of a woman getting fed up and just taking off. Jack said he would look into the matter soon but had some other pressing major cases that took precedent.
The second phone call was from Detective Ricardo Lopez of the Phoenix Police Department regarding a very recent murder. It happened on Halloween. Lopez told Jack he knew of the Las Vegas case and this one was similar. The victim’s body was drained of blood and his penis was missing.
‘I’ll leave first thing in the morning and be there about noon Jack told Detective Lopez. ‘Please make arrangements so I can interview witnesses as soon as possible.’
The first person Jack questioned was Sammy Cipriani, owner of the Fox Club. Sammy was in his late seventies and tended to ramble but Jack listened patiently.
‘It was jam packed here for my annual Halloween party, the biggest and best Boo Bash from here to Las Vegas. The prizes for best costume were awesome including a Get Out of Jail Free Pass. I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Sort of. I used to be a cop. You know how that goes. In fact, Ricardo’s father and I were partners way back when.’
‘Yeah, Sammy I know how that goes. Once a cop always a cop. And I really appreciate your cooperation. What about the lady?’
‘Well, as you can see we have beautiful ladies who work here, dancing, waiting tables and what all. That’s why I called it the Fox Club, get it? This one was different. When she strolled up to the bar just about every eye in the place was fixated on her. Like we were all in a trance.’
‘Now, she was wearing a costume, is that right?’
‘Well, yeah. She was a witch. Had the hat and broom and everything. She was wearing a cape and underneath it some sort of black nylon and floral lace teddy. When she opened that cape, well, use your imagination, but let me tell you, those nipples were just sticking out through that teddy saying hello. She definitely would have won best costume had she hung around for the judging.’
‘Sammy, what about the victim? Let’s see. James Moroski was his name. How did he meet up with her exactly?’
‘Yeah, well I couldn’t figure that one out. He was a rather normal looking forty-something guy. He wasn’t even wearing a costume. Before he arrived, several studs walked up to her sitting on the barstool and said a few words. They all quickly went away with their tails between their legs. And then this Moroski guy walks in and she approaches him, like she had been looking for him, but he didn’t seem to know her when they first spoke. In about two minutes he’s hanging on her like a puppy dog.’
‘She took that cape off and was dancing, mostly by herself. The guy joined her on the floor but he was hardly moving. ‘The girls,’ and Sammy pointed to the all girl band who just happened to be taking a break from afternoon rehearsal, ‘gave her the strolling mike and she could really sing and was just going crazy with the strutting and the dancing. Hey girls, get your sweet cheeks up and play that number that wild witch did with you.’
These girls in the band were gorgeous but they looked like, well, dykes or biker babes Jack thought. All leather and tattoos.
‘OK, guys,’ said Candy the drummer, ‘Here it is, the Monster Mash by the one and only Bobby ‘Boris’ Picket. And that girl who sang with us was one bitching bitch and she can hang out with us any time.’
‘I was working in the lab, late one night,
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight.
For my monster from his slab began to rise,
And suddenly, to my surprise,
He did the mash.
He did the monster mash,
The monster mash.
It was a graveyard smash.
He did the mash.
It caught on in a flash.
He did the mash.
He did the monster mash.
From my laboratory in the castle east,
To the master bedroom where the vampires feast,
The ghouls all came from their humble abode,
To get a jolt from my electrode.
They did the mash.
They did the monster mash.
It was a graveyard smash.
They did the mash.
It caught on in a flash.
They did the mash.
They did the monster mash.
The zombies were having fun,
The party had just begun.
The guests included wolfman, Dracula and his son.
The scene was rocking, all were digging the sounds,
Igor on chains backed by his baying hounds,
The coffin bangers were about to arrive,
With their vocal group, the crypt kicker five.’
‘That’s enough Sammy. Please.’ The racket was driving Jack crazy and Sammy motioned for the girls to stop. ‘Then what happened?’
‘And then they left after about an hour. Well, you know the rest. His body was discovered in his car a few miles away the next morning.’
‘Is there anything else you can think of, Sammy?’
‘The lady had a Harley. I went out to my car to get my checkbook out of my glove compartment when she pulled in. Quite the impressive Harley it was.
‘I rode a WLA military Harley in the big war. Later when I returned home I bought one via the government surplus program. I still have it but haven’t ridden it in years. Still runs great. I fire it up every couple days. The lady rode a ’51 Panhead.’
‘I didn’t see anything about the Harley in the report, Sammy, but I guess you didn’t think it was important at the time. Well, thanks, you have been very helpful and I’ll be in touch again.’
It all began to fit together somewhat. The Harley, the lady, the victims. Jack talked to the medical examiners who performed the autopsies on both murdered men. There was no question the same person committed both. The blood was drained and the penis was removed in an identical manner. Bitten off. Surprisingly the news media had not caught on yet and started a serial killer craze, but it was just a matter of time.
What Jack decided to pursue next was the specific connection between Masterson and Moroski, both professors. Moroski taught anthropology and religion courses at a local Phoenix college. This semester he was teaching Magic, Witchcraft and Healing, American Indian Religions and Women & Religion as Jack discovered when he visited the campus.
Jack couldn’t put his finger on a motive but somehow he thought these two professors had some information that either the lady wanted or didn’t want them to divulge. No one yet had
yet given this beautiful and erotic woman a name.
Where to start with the investigation of the late Professor Moroski was Jack’s
next order of business. He decided to visit the campus. The other professors didn’t offer much of further enlightenment. A few of the students did.
Jacqueline and Christa were two of the most entertaining young ladies Jack had ever met. They invited him back to their sorority house and talked his ear off. The girls were very interested in witchcraft and wicca, an interest which Professor Moroski shared and taught about.
‘You know of course that real witches engage in ritualistic sex with the Devil and his fallen angels,’ Jacqueline lectured. ‘The first written documentation of this is the Toulouse trial of Anne-Marie de Georgel in 1335.’
‘Yeah, and real witches practice penis-thievery,’ added Christa, which immediately got Jack’s undivided attention. She continued, ‘That is well chronicled in the Malleus Maleficarum which was an international bestseller and the bible all about witches several hundred years ago.’
‘Hey girls, let me ask this,’ interjected Jack. ‘How can you tell for certain if a woman is a witch?’
Christa explained, ‘Go back a few centuries ago. Alleged witches were hunted down, strip-searched, tortured, mutilated and executed. The witch craze caused women to fear their own sexuality. The genital search was a necessary requirement during any witch trial. Back then an enlarged clitoris
was today’s fingerprint and DNA evidence to prove one undoubtedly a witch.’
‘Abnormally large genitalia usually meant a death sentence, but not always. Sometimes the woman was shown mercy and the clitoris was amputated. Most of the torture and persecution of witches was prompted by the woeful ignorance of female anatomy on the part of men. Some things never change, do they Mr. Davis?’ Christa smirked at that and paused. Jack was rather speechless at the sensuous candor of these young ladies.
Jacqueline continued the train of thought. ‘Dr. Francois Rabelais, in his Gargantua and Pantagruel, maintained that an itching clitoris dominates a witch’s every thought and action. Quit scratching Christa, you frigging witch!’
‘In 1595 Nicholas Remy published Daemonolatria which proclaimed no mercy for witches. Like mad dogs, they should not be spared. Again, the work which most fueled the persecution, torture and execution of witches was Malleus Maleficarum. All about a witch’s insatiable carnal lust and consort with devils.’
‘One of the more interesting trials in England several hundred years ago involved my great, great, great grandmother who was being tried as a witch. One of the jurors named Arthur something or other, who also happened to be a writer of erotica, had never actually ‘seen’ a clitoris. When he had sex with his wife, it was always in the dark and they were fully clothed except for an opening here and there. When confronted with an up close and personal look at the alleged witch’s clitoris during the trial, Arthur developed some sort of epileptic seizure, choked on his own tongue and vomit, and in minutes died right in the court room. If it were not for that incident which put the fear of witches into the other jurors, Granny would have been hanged and I wouldn’t be here.’
Jacqueline kept a totally straight face after she had recited the last part, but Christa burst out laughing and Jack knew his leg was being pulled. ‘Anything else I should know about witches?’ he asked.
‘Look for a witch’s tit, a supernumery nipple. I’ll show you, Mr. Davis,’ Jacqueline cooed as she removed her blouse. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
Christa unzipped Jack’s pants and pulled him out, playfully began to stroke him as she talked about love magic. ‘Mr. Davis, have you ever read the Munich Handbook? All about demonic spells to acquire the love of a woman. You must take the blood of a dove and with it draw a nude woman on the skin of a female dog. And then, well, this gets pretty complicated. Oh, forget it.’ With that she bent over Jack and began sucking him. Jacqueline took over the talking.
Makenna
- 09.01.2021
- 7
- 0
The Count of Monte CristoChapter 58 M Noirtier de Villefort
- 2 years ago
- 59
- 0
Prey to Predator
- 4 years ago
- 8
- 0
