by K Elliott
She said, “Wait a minute,” then grabbed the neck of his dick and applied tongue and suction to the head. While she did this, Brian leaned over her and placed both hands on her ass cheeks. He spread them apart and ran his tongue straight down her ass line until his tongue moistened both holes. He noticed that this made her suck harder.
Her neck was tiring because his body was forcing her to keep her head back. She jerked him twice, sucked him a few seconds more, and then released him. She turned over to her back, spread her legs, and reached for his now fully erect dick.
Brian leaned forward again, put both hands behind her lower back, and picked all 156 pounds of her up off the bed. She was heavy for five and a half feet, but he was strong for five straight minutes of his walking sixty-nine.
FOUR
In the bed again, this time their heads toward the headboard, Brian had Teresa on her back, holding her ankles, pushing her knees up to her chest. He slowly pulled eight inches out of her but left another inch of head inside. Then, he watched his work as he rested on his knees.
Teresa moaned with pleasure until he thrust back deep inside her, making her grunt. As he slowly pumped her, she met him halfway, but it was difficult because of how he had her pinned up.
Brian slowly pulled himself all the way out of her then began sucking her labia while keeping her pretzeled. She made erotic noises, almost humming, and quickly told Brian she was coming. Brian stopped and said, “Turn over and get on your knees.” When she obeyed; he entered her wet pussy from behind, gripped her hips, and drove as deep and as fast as he could.
After only a few pumps Teresa began her erotic hum again and said, “Brian, I’m coming, baby. Come with me.” She pushed against his deliveries then constricted herself. Brian held her still and started coming with her. Teresa made sounds as if she were screaming with her mouth closed.
They lay naked in bed with two towels. Brian was on his back, his erection now reduced to a dangling particle, and she lay on her stomach, her head resting on his chest. Brian said, “You wanted to tell me about a case?”
She hesitated then sighed. “Four years ago there was an 81-year-old white lady named Ruby Jenison.” Brian looked at her when she hesitated again. “Is it that bad?”
“Worse. She was raped, sodomized, beaten and stabbed.” She cleared her throat. “The perpetrator also found it necessary to piss al over her face when he was finished.”
Brian shook his head. “So it’s a cold case after only four years?”
“The case is still active and a younger lady—try seventy—received much of the same treatment just over a year ago.”
“You’re telling me that some lunatic is leaving his DNA al over the place and that he’s obviously never been to prison to give a DNA sample?” “That’s what I’m telling you.”
“And why do you assume I can solve an active case when the highly resourceful FBI can’t?”
She kissed his chest and said, “You’ve solved four cases in the past fifteen months, and two of them were solved within the past, what, six or seven weeks? I don’t know exactly what rules you break and I don’t really care. You’re the best I’ve ever seen on the job, and some old lady out there, right now, needs you.”
“My fee is seventy-five thousand. Who’s supposed to be paying that?”
She sucked on his left nipple, released it, and said, “The two victims so far have nobody, at least nobody who can afford you. Do this as a favor for me and I’ll somehow repay you.”
“I’ll have to pay Marissa and Echo. Good help ain’t free, you know, and I don’t solve cases by myself. On top of that, you make it harder by not sending what I need over the computer. I have to fly to West Virginia to pick up documents when you could just email the shit to me.”
“Alright. I’ll relax the rule. Anything else?”
“Let’s say I took the case, which the FBI is still actively investigating. How am I suppose to work around them without going to prison?” “That’s easy. I’ll tell you when you can work and do your thing. You won’t end up on any surveillance, I can promise you that.”
“Where is this case?”
“Both cases are a few miles away from here, Charleston, West Virginia.”
“Tel me more.”
FIVE
Brian wore silk boxer shorts and nothing else as he sat at the table with Teresa’s laptop in front of him. She was standing behind him, her arms draped over his
shoulders, massaging his chest with her fingertips. They were watching surveillance video. Brian saw a tall white man exit the back of a restaurant wearing long yellow gloves, rubber boots that came to his knees, and a dirty white apron. The man had a cigarette in one hand and a can soda in the other.
Teresa said, “That’s Donald Newring. He was once our main suspect. He was charged with molesting a woman in her sixties a few years before the two murders, but the charges were dropped when the woman later suffered a stroke and declined to testify.”
“Why is he not still a main suspect?” “Watch, watch this.”
Brian saw Donald looking left to right, as if he were being watched. Then, he saw Donald thump the cigarette out at the rear parking lot. Donald also placed the soda can on the ground, stomped it flat, and flung the thing like a Frisbee. The can actually left the parking lot.
“Now you’ll see him go back inside—he was a dishwasher there—now our agents will recover the cigarette butt and the flattened can.” Brian saw two FBI agents wasting no time recovering the items.
“We got good samples from the discarded items, but they did not match any of the DNA found at the two crime scenes.” “Okay, how many more suspects are left?”
“There are maybe a hundred monsters in the country that would do something like this, but either their DNA or their circumstances exclude them.” Brian said, “Circumstances?”
“Prison. Let me give you a tour of the first crime scene.” She tapped at several keys and accessed another video. “Don’t get me wrong—there are other suspects that you may want to question, but this type of crime doesn’t squarely fit their M.O.”
“Give me a list and a report concerning your innocent suspects. I want you to email me everything you have about the two cases, including the videos, and I don’t want to hear that shit about FBI sensitive materials or information.”
“I’ll do it before we leave.” She hugged him and said, “One more favor.”
Brian was watching a horrific crime scene, a bloody senior citizen sprawled in the hallway of her home. Teresa turned his head to face her.
“What is it?” Brian asked
“There’s a federal agent named Wade Bruins, nice white guy who works hard on any case he’s assigned to. “I want you to let him get al the credit if you solve the case.”
“I don’t give a damn who gets the credit; you’ll be the one owing me for my services.” He leaned back in his chair and she rose from over him. When she sat her bare ass on his lap he said, “Since we didn’t use a condom, it’s probably too late to ask how many men you’re fucking.”
“Well, I’m not fucking Wade if that’s what you’re alluding.” “I didn’t ask for names; I asked for a number.”
She was honest when she said, “You and a guy name Desmond, and I would quickly drop him if I was sure I could see you more.”
Brian traded stares with her. He considered something but decided to change the subject. “You’re an FBI criminal profiler right? Help me get to know what type of defect would do an old lady like that. It should be a pleasure to meet him.”
SIX
Sunday, shortly before noon, Brian and Echo were in Brian’s BMW. Echo said, “Elaine is nasty as hell. I need to see her every time we come to West Virginia.” Brian laughed. “She got a job? She married?”
“She ain’t married but she got a man. Pretty muthafucka said she worked at EcherLife Insurance. She’s a manager.”
Brian said, “Hm. She is pretty as hell, even prettier than Teresa.”
“Yeah, but g
oddamn! Teresa is built like a young tulip.”
“Elaine ain’t slipping body-wise, either”
Echo said, “Let me ask you a question. You say you’ve never fucked Marissa. Why not? Man, that’s a bad-ass white girl.”
“I don’t know—I just like her as a friend. We’re cool as hell. I can’t explain it, but I don’t wanna pull up on her.”
“You think she wants you to smash her?’
Brian smiled. “How the fuck should I know. She never pulled up to me either.”
Echo was silent for a few seconds then said, “Does that mean she’s off-limits for me?”
Brian laughed hard at that one. “That girl ain’t about to mix fluids with you.” He laughed, again.
“You’re my cousin, man. Where you get al that hate from?”
Brian stopped at a red light. “Listen, I’mma be straight up with you. Before we worked the Rochelle case; I talked to Marissa and told her why I needed to bring you in the picture, which would slightly cut into her money. She asked what kind of person you were and I told her. I said you were married; love your wife and daughter. You’ve been to prison twice, which means you know how to deal with criminals and suspects. And you used to have a flock of bitches. Well, I didn’t use the word ‘bitches’ when I told her.”
“Why you had to tell her that part?”
“Because she wanted to know who she would be working with; she wasn’t inquiring about a future husband.”
Echo reclined his seat. “That’s cool, I’mma chill and wait for her to pull up on me, then I’mma stand up in that pussy.” Brian shook his head.
“When you first introduced me to her, at her place, she asked me why they called me Echo.”
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth. I told her my momma called me that because she used to say I always talked just to hear myself. Marissa said that was cute.” Brian began driving again. “And you thought that meant she wanted to fuck you?’
“Nah, man. I was just throwing shit at you. I wouldn’t try to get at her as long as we work together. I was just wondering why you hadn’t.”
“We need to solve this Hughes case and get it out the way. We’re about to work on an active case involving a serial killer. This nut rapes and beats old women then pisses all over them after he kills them.”
This time Echo shook his head. “Damn. I wish we could drop the Hughes case and get right on the serial killer’s ass. Just thinking about that got me al the way pissed off.”
“Once we find Jeremy Bunto, and press his ass, we’ll know whether we can solve Sam Hughes’ murder. It’s a fucked up case, and the other suspects turned out to be a waste of time. Broke-ass Jeremy is probably a waste of time, too, since whoever killed Sam also got off with an estimated $750,000 worth of coins that he intended to leave with his great granddaughter.”
SEVEN
Two days later, Kyla Addison arrived home from work at almost six in the afternoon. As soon as she entered her house she saw Jeremy smiling at her. “What is it?” she said.
“I was interviewed today and I got the job. A good job, seventeen dollars an hour.”
“That’s great. Perfect.” She rushed up to him and hugged him. When she released him she said, “Your mom called me on my job today. She wanted me to stop by after work.”
“What did she want?”
“One of the private investigators came by again this morning. She said she let him have it. She cursed him out and called him a hundred niggers. She said he won’t be coming back anymore.”
“Good.” But he was still worried.
Echo was in a bad mood now and had been since earlier this morning. He had allowed some skinny white lady to curse him out and spit racial slurs at him while Brian had flown back home to set some important things up with Marissa. Brian had told him, “Frustrate Jeremy’s mom then sit back and wait for her to contact her son. She will either drive to him or have someone come to her in order to get the message to him. She won’t use the phone, though, not to directly contact him.”
After watching Cindy Bunto’s house all day, Echo had finally seen a white Honda Accord pull up at 5:33p.m. When the young white woman left ten minutes later, Echo headed for a Wendy’s restaurant. While he waited in a long drive-thru line, he used his cell phone to call Teresa Groove. When she answered he said, “Teresa, this is Echo, Brian’s cousin.”
“Hi Echo. What’s going on?” Before giving him a chance to answer she said, “My girl Elaine likes you.”
“Yeah, and I expect to see her again soon. Listen, I need you to run a West Virginia license plate for me. I need a name and a residence. How fast can you get that to me?”
She said, “I’ll call you back in less than fifteen minutes .” “That’s perfect.”
Over the next seven minutes Echo placed an order, paid for his food and waited at the drive-thru window. The woman working the window said, “Your fries will be ready in a few minutes. If you want to pull over, I can have someone bring them out to you.” She was not a bad-looking black woman and it seemed that she might have a body hidden below the window.
Echo said, “Nah, I can wait here for a minute or two. You make a nice scenery, Janet.” He had glanced at her nametag. “My name is Janice.” She rolled her eyes, believing Echo to be an illiterate drug dealer in a BMW.
“Hey, I didn’t see your nametag clearly, but what the fuck you gotta roll your damn beady-ass eyes for? You don’t look that good.” She rested one hand on her waist and said, “First I make a nice scenery, then I don’t look that good. Whatever, muthafucka.”
Echo heard the driver behind him blow his horn, so he told Janice, “Your fat, round-about ass better not spit in my fuckin French fries.” He heard her trying to respond but he was scooting over to the passenger’s side and letting himself out. He walked up to the passenger’s door of the Chrysler 300 behind him and tapped on the window.
The driver, a middle-aged black man, would not lower the window.
Echo said, “What the hell you blowing that horn for? You don’t like the fact that a fine woman is trying to holla at me?” The man just looked at him like he was crazy.
“Did you see her pass my food? Hell no. So why you think I’mma leave without it?”
No answer.
He returned to his car. He was still pissed from being called too many niggers today and everybody else had to pay.
EIGHT
It was almost dark and Echo was on foot now, walking down the street, headed for Kyla Addison’s house. The neighborhood was far from middle class; it was like
a new and improved ghetto for Whites. Dogs were barking in all directions but they were apparently al tied up in many backyards. A few people were out and about but they didn’t pay Echo any mind.
He reached Kyla’s residence and walked up to the porch, clean as hell, dressed in a black suit. He looked back before knocking. Her car was gone but this is the way he wanted it. He knocked and waited.
A few seconds later Kyla said, “Who’s there?”
“Phillip Anthony. Someone just wrecked a white Honda Accord down the street.” Before he could continue the lie, the door was opened. He shoved Kyla’s skinny ass out of the doorway, stepped inside, and closed the door. Echo didn’t even pull out a gun. He said, “You home alone?”
“Yes, but my boyfriend is on his way back right now and his dad’s a policeman. They’re together.” She was scared as she stood near a fake tree in her front room. Echo pointed. “Sit down right there.”
She sat in her armchair.
“You ever been raped?”
Her bottom lip quivered. “No. Please don’t.”
Echo stood by her door. “My dick is a fraction over ten inches long. Ever had one of them in you?”
“No-no. Please, I have money...I have almost four hundred—”
“Can I talk?” He stared at her. “I need to ask you some questions.” He pulled out a handgun and showed it to her. “If you lie to me, I’mma put so
much dick up in you, you might marry the first black man you see when you get out the hospital. And when your goofy-looking boyfriend gets back, I’mma put this pistol on his ass if you done told me one lie. We on the same page?”
“Yes.” She knew he had given her the opportunity to avoid a painful raping.
“Good. The guy that left driving your car a few minutes ago—what’s his name?”
“Jeremy Bunto.”
“Correct. You talked to his racist-ass mammy today, didn’t you?”
“She asked me to stop by after work today.”
“Why? What did she have to tell you?”
“Just wanted me to tell Jeremy that she ran the private investigators off.”
Echo shook his head. “Where is Jeremy going and when is he coming back? Tell a lie and you get this dick.” “He’s going to buy a bag of weed. He said he’d be back in twenty minutes.”
“You smoke with him?”
“Sometimes. Yes. A little. Yes.”
“This next question is very important.” He walked up to her and stood over her. “When Jeremy heard that some black PIs were on his ass about the Sam Hughes’ murder, what did he tell you about that case? You want me to show you my dick in case you’re thinking about lying?”
“No.” Her eyes were averted. She did not even want to look at his crotch area. “He said the police tried to get him to confess to a story that they made up. He told me the old man was hit in the head four times with a blunt object and the police don’t know what the object was.”
“Keep talking. Don’t leave out a single detail.”
NINE
Brian was at Marissa’s home and they were in her living room, side by side on a new sofa, studying FBI surveillance videos on her laptop. Brian said, “Right there. Freeze it and focus on the cigarette butt in his hand.”
She did it then nodded her head. “I think you’re right.”