by Maria Siopis
Just as she finished placing everything on the table, the phone rang, signaling the arrival of her guest. The placemats, plates, ringed napkins, candles, wine, and glasses were in place on the table. She was impressed with the results. She hadn’t done dinner in her dwelling for a long while, and she was grateful for the visit she’d forced Jennifer to accept. Besides, the apartment’s view was spectacular. The tiny dining room or nook area offered panoramic views of the city that never slept. The traffic, in collaboration with humanity, generated the sounds of living that she could hear even from her apartment. The river glittered when an occasional boat slithered by, the artificial lights reflected in the waters that warned of imminent danger. The New York skyscrapers constructed close to the edge of the river were a spectacular sight, like Van Gogh’s original painting, Starry Night Over the Rhone. New Jersey shimmered from across the harbor, and the silhouettes of the buildings cast their shadows on the river. The lights provided a colorful reflection as straight lines of light went deep into the river, disturbing the life hidden below.
She unlocked her door and came face to face with an even more attractive sight than the one she had witnessed a few seconds ago. She liked this view far better. She curved her upper body, reached Jennifer’s cheek, and innocently stroked her skin with her lips. All of Fiona’s senses were awakened, and she inhaled Jennifer’s scent as the images of their past interactions poured into her mind. She felt braver and moved lower from Jennifer’s lips. She was willing, Fiona felt it. She closed the door and pulled her near, and while she was cocking her head, Jennifer locked lips with hers. Jennifer was resisting and playing the game she knew too well; her lips accepted the attention, but she wasn’t willing to go all the way ... at least not yet. Fiona drew back, a bit disappointed. She knew when to stop and when it was inappropriate to solicit more. She stared at Jennifer’s face, her eyelashes silky and thick, her eyes velvety and smooth. She loved her features. Jennifer leaned against her, listening to the rhythm of her heart as it crushed against her chest. God, Fiona thought, I want her. Fiona instinctively found her mouth again, knowing how wrong her actions were. Did she care at that moment? Jennifer parted her lips in submission. Fiona had Scarlett O’Hara in her arms and her yearning took over. They both seemed to want to prolong the moment. She fancied Jennifer’s naked body against hers right by the doorway. She had to erase the image and try to harness her desperately burning desires. She let her hands travel along Jennifer’s face, still exploring her mouth and savoring her sweetness and her mint bubblegum breath. Leaving her lips suddenly became impossible. She felt the heaviness in all her extremities as her needs amplified. She guided Jennifer to her bedroom, softly setting her in motion and whispering her innermost thoughts. The bedroom door was almost flush with the wall, her bed in plain view, and the cover was stretched to perfection, eliminating any creases in the material. As soon as they reached their destination, she rotated Jennifer’s body and kissed her deeply. She wanted her to feel her longing and craving for her. She unquestionably missed the way Jennifer made her feel—that out of control sensation that cruised through her whole body—and which no one else had been able to reproduce thus far. How long could she possibly sustain a relationship based on sexual encounters? Fiona wondered, but she erased that thought too.
Her urgency picked up and she needed to reach a decision: did she rip the material that covered Jennifer’s body or gently unzip her pants? She decided on a softer approach. She unzipped her pants, which fell to the floor, then placed her hands on her middle section and pulled her closer, once again delving into her mouth. Not yet, not yet, not yet, crossed Fiona’s mind. She had to make Jennifer implore her for release. Her hand caressed Jennifer’s stomach and moved lower when she quivered. Fiona’s fingers were touching her, sensing the moisture that was building in Jennifer’s center, and she daringly plummeted her finger inside, feeling her warmth and tenderness.
“Oh, please,” Jennifer whispered. Fiona ignored her request, continuing to press against her softness, pushing her finger farther inside while nibbling the curve of her neck.
“Now. Please.” Fiona unhurriedly obeyed.
She undid Jennifer’s shirt one button at a time, starting from the top and kissing her skin as it was revealed, going lower and lower until she reached the last button and finally, her naked body was in full view to marvel. Fiona placed her gently on her bed, savoring the moment and wanting to taste her. She gave in to that desire, circling her nipple with her tongue, teasing her, then moving lower, covering her erotic part with her mouth as her teeth delicately pressured it just enough to build up Jennifer’s own urgency for release. Fiona stopped. She used her finger, working slowly, deliberately pushing and methodically pulling, producing slick moisture that copiously lubricated her fingers. Jennifer grabbed her wrist to stop the sweet torture and Fiona knew what she wanted. She climbed onto Jennifer’s body. She captured both of Jennifer’s hands, placing them above her and securing them to the headboard with her shirt. Fiona freely advanced towards her demanding partner. She tasted delicious. Jennifer’s moans of fulfillment permeated the room. Fiona and Jennifer were both oblivious to the troubles of the world; nothing existed except the two of them. They were two figures on a bed savoring each other in a sweet, torturous way until there was nothing more than silence ... fulfilling and grand. Fiona’s excitement was still intolerable though. She wanted more. She was seeking her own release.
She turned her gaze toward the window for a second and saw the dimmed daylight and the slow-moving darkness that would soon veil the city. She turned to the woman on her bed and her desire was flaring again. She needed to feel Jennifer against her own body. Fiona climbed on top of her, feeling her lover’s wetness. She hurried her movement, pulling, exhaling, and then vibrantly thrusting against Jennifer, who drove her nails into Fiona’s back. Their bodies clenched together one last time, their orgasm coming as the echo of their enjoyment pulsated in their ears, and then, both erupted within a nanosecond. A persistent silence filled the space again and they savored the stillness of time. It felt like eternity.
“How does cold pasta sound to you?” Fiona finally inquired, smiling as she broke the quietness while looking at Jennifer’s velvety eyes.
“Right now, anything sounds good. I worked up an appetite.”
Fiona kissed her forehead and pulled her out of bed. She gave her a clean shirt from her closet and grabbed herself a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. The candles on the table flickered like they were going out for good, and she replaced them with new ones. They would have a romantic dinner as she intended. Was she trying too hard to impress her or trying to reclaim her? She felt possessed by something unearthly or was it simply sexual desire? She warmed up the pasta and the sauce as she put the final touches on the salad. She would not serve her main course cold. She set the dinner on the table. It had been delayed by at least an hour, yet, satisfying their sexual desires was worth it.
“So, how can I assist you?”
“In a nutshell, I believe that a serial killer is in the making. Well, what I mean is, there were two murders in Queens: a mother and her daughter.” No, she was not going to use their names like Sophie did. “I have a gut feeling that the perpetrator will strike again.”
“Yes, I heard about the case ...” Jennifer contemplated for a second. “I’m also aware there is no request by New York City seeking the FBI’s involvement. Anyway, what makes you think that more attacks are imminent?”
“The scene was so carefully orchestrated, like he or she enjoyed it.”
“Well, I doubt you would be able to stop the next assault anyway, since we do not know much. What about the victims? Why do you think they were targeted?”
“I have no clue. I won’t know if there is a commonality until we have more victims.” Fiona bit her lower lip.
“I think you lured me here for entirely different reasons.” Jennifer smiled in a sad way. Did she feel guilty about the sexual interaction that took place between them?
&nbs
p; “Maybe so, maybe so,” Fiona agreed, while her mind was working intently to figure Jennifer out. Was there someone else? Did she let her down sexually? She had certainly appeared involved in their lovemaking. Why the hell did she care? They had both agreed to stop seeing each other.
They finished dinner, cleaned up the table, and returned to the bedroom. She wanted to find out if Jennifer was truly into her by exploring her body again and making her forget all about the external occurrences. Death and the killer would have to wait a bit longer.
Chapter Six
May 23, 2017
The phone rang at least four times before Fiona picked up. She was in a deep sleep, her body totally relaxed. She felt her annoyance surfacing.
“Gregory, what do you want? Do you know what time it is?” she murmured with displeasure while looking at the gorgeous woman next to her. She didn’t want to disturb her.
“I do know. I’m coming to pick you up in about twenty minutes. Have some coffee ready.” He didn’t offer any other explanation, so Fiona knew something was terribly wrong.
She shifted her body toward the person that occupied her bed and softly brushed her lips on her hair. She got up, knowing perfectly well that she had to take a quick shower. The smell of sex, although delicious, had penetrated the pores of her body.
The phone rang again at four twenty-five as she was exiting the bathroom with her sleek hair still dripping and appearing darker than usual while the towel around her body made her look like an earthly goddess. She picked the phone up on the first ring to avoid waking Jennifer. She stretched her neck, gazing at the bedroom door to make sure no movement was detected. The night doorman announced her visitor and his voice dissolved as soon as the receiver was put back into the base. Fiona looked toward the kitchen from the living room and through the half wall that separated the space to see if the coffee was done, and then walked to the bedroom as silently as possible. She chose a pair of khakis and a shirt in the dark before she closed the bedroom door behind her. No more noises were made that could disturb Jennifer, who was still sound asleep. Perhaps she was exhausted, Fiona thought, and she unintentionally smiled while she unlocked the door to receive her partner.
“Is coffee ready?” Gregory interrupted her thoughts.
“Yes, almost.”
Sophie stood behind him in casual clothes like the first time Fiona had met her. Today though, she was wearing a black, long-sleeved top stretched across her breasts, which emphasized them more and made Fiona stare for a few seconds. The ripped jeans and baseball hat made Sophie appear more attractive than ever. Fiona lost herself in Sophie’s deep gaze and felt an unexplained calmness engulf her body. She looked down, ashamed of the emotions that threatened to materialize. She had to speak with her night doorman, who had failed to tell her that Mrs. Andrews was also visiting.
“Sophie,” she exclaimed, “I was not expecting you.” She panicked thinking that everything could get complicated if ....
“Hey, what’s going on?” Jennifer’s groggy voice joined in. “Gregory, how are you?” She approached, hugged him, and kissed his cheek.
Jennifer was wearing the shirt that Fiona had given her the night before, which covered very little. Her long legs were exposed, and her hair was messy, yet she looked sexier than at any other time. Fiona introduced her to Sophie as a polite host would do and directed them to the kitchen. As they settled around the island on the high stools, Gregory pointed out that a quick cup of coffee was the only time they could spare as another victim had surfaced in Queens.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Jennifer offered.
“No, you go back to sleep. It should not take more than a couple hours. I’ll come back for breakfast.”
“Okay, but look for commonalities,” her voice was sweet and alluring, and she looked at Fiona like she belonged to her. Jennifer kissed her in front of their visitors. Was she jealous? Fiona deemed that impossible. Sophie wasn’t her competitor. Jennifer left the unfinished cup of coffee in the sink and walked away while more than one set of eyes followed her movements. Sophie remained silent after the pleasantries of their introduction. Was she put off by the unexpected female, who was now progressing towards Fiona’s bedroom? No. Impossible. Sophie hated her from the first time she met her. She wouldn’t be jealous of Jennifer. Although, she hoped that envy entered Sophie’s inner self, pushing away the preconceived feelings she had for Fiona. Why did she care that much? What was it? Fiona had to stay clear of both women.
“Is it the same MO?” Fiona asked, forgetting for now what had crossed her mind. All the torturous thoughts had to be stopped before they became something more.
“That’s what was conveyed to me. I think a close investigation is necessary. We should go.” Sophie was serious. She was always serious. Yet, it appeared as if she were bothered by something. Her voice was uneven, and she avoided eye contact.
When they arrived at the scene, Phil was there talking to the victim’s son, who had discovered the body. Phil had his interrogation façade on. He made the introductions to the new arrivals and continued talking to the victim’s son, ignoring the anguish that was evident. Sophie took his hand and pulled him away. Fiona and Gregory followed.
“He’s distressed. Let him calm down a bit. Perhaps we should go in?” she suggested, looking at the house.
“No. We can’t go in. CSI is still working the scene.” Phil finally extended his hand to Fiona and Gregory for a friendly handshake. He hugged Sophie in an even friendlier way, and Fiona noted the scene as if it were important.
Fiona let her gaze wander and then moved toward the female officer at the gate of the two-story building. The neighborhood looked like the one she had visited the day before, and she spent a few minutes observing the minute details. It was a two-family home adjacent to another two-family home, which possessed the same architectural characteristics: bricks, awning, and seven steps leading to the front door. The buildings had been constructed on farmland in the beginning of the century. The modernization set in fast and furious as the human factor took control of the environment. The major changes appeared within a few years of habitation. Fiona wasn’t sure why she recalled this unimportant detail about the neighborhood. Perhaps, she appreciated modern life more than anyone she knew, but with modern life, she thought, humanity seemed to become more vicious, uncontrolled, and deadly. She looked at the female officer at the gate again, the same one that guarded the gate during yesterday’s murders, and as she prepared to talk to her a pull on her arm derailed her. She gazed at the officer, smiled, and shrugged, promising there would be a next time. Sophie, who was holding her arm, saw the interaction. Was she bothered by it?
“Come on. Phil informed me that the MO is the same based on the son’s account. He noticed the incision from her belly button to her throat. And on a side note, she is a redhead. How is that for a commonality? Now, you can inform your agent girlfriend.” Sophie’s voice was laced with something Fiona hadn’t detected before. She could not dismiss the tone in her voice that made her think she was ... jealous? That was impossible.
“She is not my girlfriend,” she uttered as if she had to explain the special circumstances. Fiona’s emotions were confusing as forces were pulling her in different directions like ocean currents. She dropped the subject for now. Deep inside though, a warm feeling was beginning to form, and she did not know what to make of it.
“Do we know the time of death?” She had to change the topic. The crime committed was more important that the emotions Fiona was experiencing.
“Approximately two days ago. Same day as the other two murders. Exact time of death will be difficult to establish, and we may not know which murder was first unless we find the killer. The victim’s name is Helen. She is of medium height, age forty-three, and her only son returned from a U.S. base in Germany to find his mother slaughtered. No forced entry was evident, and the house appeared to be in order like the other scene. A serial killer is definitely on the loose,” she agreed with
Fiona.
CSI took an extra hour after their arrival to finish. Sophie, after a quick inspection, went outside to brainstorm with Phil and Gregory while Fiona remained inside. The written reports were taken, and the photos and video were completed. The team of capable, forensic scientists were swabbing the place in search of anything that didn’t belong. Fiona admired CSI’s work, and although she was extremely observant, little details always escaped her view, like the fingerprints that were impossible to detect with the naked eye.
“Fiona, please don’t touch anything,” a familiar voice greeted her.
“I promise. How is it going, Sam?”
“All is well. We probably have another hour or so to go. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I’ll wait.”
Sam was an experienced crime scene investigator, and Fiona enjoyed observing his activities. There were two other forensic investigators on the scene and each one was absorbed in their duties. The CSI photographer/videographer was packing up his equipment as all possible angles of the crime had been recorded in a fraction of the time it used to take years ago. The digital video cameras possessed capabilities beyond comprehension: the memory expansion was immense, the clarity was sharp, and the development was done instantly by swapping the memory card to a computer, which could even be accomplished wirelessly. Fiona was standing outside the victim’s bedroom, hesitant to move forward. The photographer was kneeling by the door tending to his equipment with a tenderness reserved for precious stones as he covered the lenses and placed the camera in a fitted hard case slowly and carefully.
“I’m personally responsible for the electronic devices used at a crime scene,” he explained as if he had read her thoughts. “If something breaks because of my negligence, I have to pay for a replacement.”
“Is that right?”
“Yep, governmental cuts changed our structure, placing personal responsibility on those handling the equipment,” he commented as he secured the strap on his shoulder and left the room.