Inferno Pt. 03

"There, but I'm serious; you need see about going in that C.D.U. place, hear?" Betty snapped.

Butch left the following morning and Betty sighed gratefully.

As she peeled the sheets off the bed in the other bedroom, she again looked at the sketch Dean had left for her. There was a fascinating aura to the drawing, even as it showed her, semen dripping from her used pussy and raw anus.

"Dean Beg Nawd," she read aloud.

Then she noticed the phone number on the rear.

She put the drawing down again and continued with her household chores.

At the depot, Pops called in the pick up for Butch's urine sample and the lab sent out a driver.

Butch completed the first run to Jackson, Mississippi, and then continued northwest to Clarkston, Tennessee.

A few days later, period winding down, Betty put the fresh sheets on the bed and again looked at the drawing. She pulled out her brand new cell phone; she'd used some of the money her mother had given her when she fled Arkansas; Butch didn't even know she had it.

"Hey Sugar, what you doing?" she cheerfully asked when Dean answered.

"Sugar, Sugar, stop," she finally demanded; Dean's stuttering was so horrible she couldn't understand a word he was trying to say. "Sugar, you know how do that texting stuff?"

"Yes," he sent her a text.

She laughed when she read his response.

"All right Sugar, we'll do that, okay?" she said and ended the call.

They sent texts back and forth and Betty laughed happily. Dean was a thoughtful, studious, sweet young man.

And he seemed to be infatuated with her.

They made plans to meet later, after he got out of his classes.

At the depot, Pops answered the constantly ringing telephone.

"Hey Pops, this is Jack, at the lab? Jack Anthony said.

"Jack, you still ugly?" Pops asked.

"Yeah, you still bald?" Jack answered.

"Head's so smooth feels just like your momma's ass," Pops laughed.

"Ooh, that is smooth," Jack laughed. "Hey Pops, I ran this sample; you checked this was a male; you sure you meant to do that?"

"Sam... Yeah, yeah, a guy we popped about four months back," Pops confirmed. "Why? What's up?"

"Then y'all need to pull him in and test him again," Jack said. "This sample had traces of Midol and there was also some menstrual blood in it."

"Aw, that little son of a bitch," Pops spat angrily. "I'll bet he had his wife give him a sample. That little son of a bitch."

While Pops was using the GPS to locate Butch; the man wasn't answering his cell phone, or responding to text messages, Betty was happily getting ready for a date.

While his wife was putting on the short velvet skirt and fuzzy sweater he'd bought for her at the Bargain Bin discount clothing store, Butch was parked at a truck stop, snoring heavily in the rear of the truck.

"Hi, oh my God, you're even more handsome than I remember, hi Sugar, where we going?" Betty asked as she opened the door to a smiling Dean.

"Barbeque?" she asked as he stuttered his answer. "Ooh, good, I just love barbeque."

He drove her to Cowboy's BBQ and pointed out that there were thirty different malt flavors to try.

"Caramel apple, ooh I bet that's so good," Betty gushed, reading the list of flavors.

"Yeah it is; my favorite's the Mocha," their waitress informed them. "Y'all know what y'all want or need a little more time?"

They ordered, Betty making sure to order the lower price brisket platter and Caramel Apple malt. Dean had to point to what he wanted; Betty making him so nervous he couldn't form any words.

From the depot, Pops called in to their Pennsylvania office. The dispatcher there sent a crew member to the truck stop where Butch was just rousing from his drug-induced slumber.

He staggered into the truck stop, found a vacant booth and flopped down, his limbs feeling very heavy.

While he pushed the scrambled eggs around on his plate, Betty and Dean were getting back into Dean's car.

"You going think I'm so bad," Betty playfully said to Dean.

"W-w-w-w-why?" Dean smiled at her.

"'Cause I forgot my undies," Betty said, flipping the hem of her skirt up, revealing her bare pussy.

"B-b-b-b-bad g-g-g-g-girl!" Dean said and Betty laughed.

She leaned over the console and kissed him.

"I love you," she said sincerely and kissed him again.

They drove back to her house and she pulled him inside.

"Don't," she said as he attempted to put his mouth on her pussy. "I'm just getting off the rag; it's kind of nasty down there."

They lay in the bed and kissed and hugged and she groaned happily as he slid into her.

"Oh Sugar, you sure do fill me up good," she praised dand shivered in pleasure.

At the truck stop, Butch looked up as a large man yelled out, "Romero? Anyone here named Romero?"

Chapter 5

Eric wheeled out of the Police Department building and smiled tightly. His wife had sent him a text message asking if he'd like to meet her somewhere for lunch.

"Sounds good," he sent her a text message. "Where?"

She named Tommy's Po-Boys and he replied he was on his way.

She was dressed in snug jeans and sweater and many of the patrons looked on as the beautiful blonde woman bent and kissed the blonde man in a wheelchair.

"Hope you wanted their catfish; got you a large, add ketchup," she happily said as he wheeled over to the table where her coat and purse were.

Their order was called and Ann brought the tray to the table and they sat and ate.

"Okay, love you, see you when you get home," she cheerfully said.

"Hey, wait a minute; where's Little Eric?" Eric asked.

"Oh, Jacy's got him; him and Kevin were still napping when I was getting ready to leave so..." Ann said.

"Oh, okay," Eric said. "Whew! Scared me for a moment there."

"You sat all through lunch and didn't say anything?" Ann laughed.

"Hey, I was hungry," Eric smiled. "First things first, you know?"

"God, typical man, I swear," Ann laughed, kissed him again and bounced out the door, leaving the mess for Eric to clean up.

"Did she watch while Daddy fucked you?" Eric thought, and then fought down his bile as he cleaned up their sandwich wrappers and drink cups.

He drove to the office and filed a stay of foreclosure for a client, then sat and went over a divorce application with a client.

It was painfully obvious that his handicap made the client extremely uncomfortable. Eric was tempted to play up his handicap but finally fixed the client with a hard look.

"Mr. Madison, I was a cop and I was shot in the line of duty," he snapped. "My condition is not contagious."

"There any other attorney I can talk with?" the man barked.

"Not here," Eric barked back.

"Have a nice day," the man snapped, grabbed hat and coat and stormed out.

"What a dick," Jim, Eric's paralegal said.

"Make sure we bill that horse's ass for a full hour," Eric said, gathering all the paperwork they'd already prepared.

He came home to a delicious meal and three and a half children that demanded his attention. Little Eric didn't care which parent held him, just as long as he was held.

Neither Eric nor Ann seemed to be in a particularly frisky mood at bedtime, so they kissed and went to sleep.

On Monday, Eric again drove out to the Bender Police Department and again met with Betty Romero. The bandage had been removed from her hand and he could see the staples that held her cut together.

"That hurt?" he asked, nodding toward her hand.

"Yeah but had to take that stupid bandage off," she said. "Was too hard going potty with it."

She blushed and looked away.

"I mean, you know, you get used to wiping..." she lowered her voice. "...down there with your hand, too hard use the other one."

"Makes sense," he agreed. "Now, we were talking about, uh, Cowboy's Barbeque, right?"

"You got to try their Caramel Apple malt; it's so good," she smiled softly.

Chapter 6

"Mother fucker, I don't even know why they didn't just pop your ass right there," the burly man declared as he drove the rig back toward Bender, Louisiana.

He didn't have a name; when Butch had asked him what his name was, the burly man looked at him and said Butch didn't need to know his name.

"Fucking piece of shit like you, whole fucking reason OSHA's got so many fucking regulations on our asses and we got Department of Commerce on top of that," the man snarled angrily. "Bad enough we got the fucking unions all up in our asses but then..."

"Uh, hey, could we not talk, huh?" Butch snapped, tired of the man's anger and threatening nature.

He was also coming down, hard. He was supposed to buy some more speed at the truck stop, but whoever this man was had grabbed him before his guy could come along.

"Mother fucker, you better pray to God I don't pull this fucker over and just beat the shit out of you," the man snarled. "Hear? Leave your God damned worthless fucking ass right here, hear?"

They pulled into a truck stop outside of Monroe, Louisiana. Butch followed the man inside and slid into the bench across from the man.

"You. Go sit anywhere else but with me," the man ordered. "I don't want anyone thinking we even know each other."

"We don't," Butch grumbled.

Butch ordered, suddenly ravenous, and ate with great relish.

"Uh, sorry, Sugar, got anything else?" the waitress asked, holding out Butch's credit card. "This got rejected."

Butch tried two more cards and they were denied as well. By now, the manager of the truck stop had come out.

"Here, shit, here," Butch said, handing the woman a hundred dollar bill.

"Ain't got nothing smaller?" the manager asked.

"Keep the change," the burly man snapped. "We're already behind enough, Romero, come on."

"God damn, you can't just give my money away," Butch protested.

"Why not? You throwing it away on poppers," the man sneered.

They left, Butch complaining bitterly until the man actually reached over and slapped him. Hard. Butch was sure he could taste blood in his mouth.

Five hours later, they pulled up to the Bender depot and Butch was given several papers to sign.

"Suppose I don't sign these?" he snapped.

"Be happy let you not sign them," Pops smiled.

Butch moved to get up.

"Then all I got to do is call the cops and have them pick your stupid ass up," Pops finished. "Them papers is Union shit. Personally think it's a bunch of bullshit. You lied to us, you endangered our property, our customers' property, no telling how many lives out there. Go ahead, Romero, don't sign nothing, hear?"

While Butch was signing the paperwork for his uncontested dismissal, Betty was giving Dean a wonderful, slow blow job. He was writhing in blissful agony as she brought him so close to exploding, then would stop and kiss him again.

"P-p-p-p-please," he begged.

"Aw, Sugar, what's the matter?" Betty laughed happily, pleased with finally having some power over a man, instead of being used by a man.

She then squatted over his throbbing erection and slid down, taking him deep into her pussy.

"Love you, Sugar," she said then squealed as he began to pump stream after stream of pent up sperm into her.

While Betty was sucking Dean to erection so he could fuck her doggy-style, Butch had to get Pops to give him a jump. The Z28 finally started up and Butch didn't even bother to thank the old man, just roared away.

In Betty's bedroom, Dean was gripping Betty's well rounded backside as he drove himself into her.

"What the fucking shit?" Butch screamed from the door.

"Butch!" Betty screamed, horrified.

"F-f-f-f-fuck!" Dean screamed as his cock popped out of Betty's slimy pussy.

He jetted his semen onto Betty's back and into her hair.

"God damned fucking shit ass," Butch screamed and punched Dean in the face with all his anger.

"No!" Betty cried and picked up the lamp from the small bedside table.

"Fucking kill you, cock sucker!" Butch screamed, punching Dean again.

Betty hurled the lamp at Butch's head. He ducked and it smashed into the mirror.

"Fucking cunt, kill you next," Butch screamed and began to strangle the stunned Dean.

Betty scrambled over the bed, picked up a shard of the mirror and stabbed Butch in the neck.

The glass cut her hand horribly. Butch screamed as he cut his own hand, trying to pull the shard from his throat.

Chapter 7

Eric had Ann go with him to meet with his client. Ann then took Eric's credit card and drove to the Bargain Bin.

"And you already have enough maternity clothes; don't need find anything else at that store," he called after her and smiled as she giggled.

"Y'all fixing have you a baby?" Betty asked, beautiful eyes wide.

"Yeah, this will be number five for us," Eric smiled.

"Mr. Eric, I get out, I want have me five or six babies," Betty said. Dean been here six times; he even brung me a Caramel Apple malt, oh, and an Orange Creamsicle one."

"Fine young man," Eric agreed. "Met him at the deposition."

The trial began in late May. Jury selection was grueling; nearly ever juror Eric approved, Sarah declined.

Finally, they amassed twelve jurors with four in reserve.

Eric had to agree with Ann's choices in clothing. There was no way to conceal Betty's impressive chest, so Ann didn't try. But she did go for muted colors that did not draw too much attention to the young woman. She also did not pick anything too stylish; the last thing this jury needed to see was a flashy, showy young woman.

If Betty knew that the clothing was too frumpy for her, she didn't show it. Instead, she thrilled in the long skirts and jackets and simple blouses.

Eric also had Ann and several people from Johnson, Johnson & Lambert show up at the end of the third day of trial and surprise Betty with a nineteenth birthday party in the rear of the courtroom.

"Make a wish," Ann said as the nineteen candles burned merrily.

"I wish this was over," Betty admitted and they laughed as she attempted to blow the candles out.

"Oh my God, what flavor is this?" she asked as she chewed the cake.

"Caramel apple," Ann said.

"Oh, Miss Ann, I love you," Betty actually cried as she ate the cake.

Eric casually checked out the courtroom. Most of the people in the room were smiling as the young woman celebrated her birthday.

But the foreman of the jury was actually glaring hatefully at the gathering. When he noticed Eric looking at him, he quickly tried to mask his displeasure, but Eric had already seen him.

"Jim, Juror number four," Eric hissed to his paralegal.

"Michael Norman," Jim said a moment later.

"Do a tree on him," Eric said.

The following morning, before Sarah could begin her questioning of Sergeant Darren Richards, the arresting officer, Eric called for a sidebar.

He showed Judge Jesse Johnson and Sarah Guillory that Michael Norman's mother, and Butch Romero's mother were sisters; Michael Norman was Butch Romero's cousin.

"In fact, you look at his momma's Facebook page, you'll see all kind of pictures of him and Butch playing together as kids," Eric said.

"Bailiff, please remove Juror number four, Michael Norman," Judge Johnson ordered.

"You little fucking bitch!" Michael suddenly screamed at Betty. "I hope they find your ass guilty! I hope they fry your God damned ass for this."

"Your Honor," Eric said.

"On it, Counselor," the judge said. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you are excused with the thanks of the court. I am declaring a mistrial, counselors I want to see papers on a new trial no later than Tuesday of next week.

"You Honor, in the meantime, my client has been incarcerated, has been a model prisoner, I am requesting she be released on her on recognance."

"Counselor?" Judge Johnson looked at Sarah.

"Puts her house up as bail," Sarah shrugged.

"Got anything at the jail you need?" Eric smiled as he wheeled back to where Betty sat, looking around in wonder as the courtroom buzzed with excitement.

"All them clothes you got me," she said.

"We'll get the clothes," Eric smiled. "Why don't you go on home, give that boy Dean a call?"

"I'm free?" she asked, lips beginning to quiver.

"We still have to go to trial, Ms. Romero; you can't leave the state of Louisiana," Eric cautioned.

"I think you an angel, Mr. Eric," Betty said as she hugged him.

"I think he is too," Ann said as she walked up behind her husband.

Dean was in his Art History 401 class when his cell phone chimed merrily from his backpack.

"Well, Mr. Begnaud, go ahead and answer it," the instructor said drily.

"S-s-s-s-s-or-r-r-ry," he mumbled and retrieved the phone.

"Holy shit!" he cried out as he read the text message.

He didn't bother to say anything else, just jammed his notebook into his backpack and ran out of the room.

"As I was saying," the instructor said and showed another slide of Michelangelo's sculpture of David.

Then he paused and looked at the door that Dean had just run through.

"Did he stutter when he said..." the man asked, then smiled and continued with his lecture.

Epilogue

"And because of all them pills he was taking," Betty said and again, Judge Johnson had to remind her to speak up.

"And because of all them pills he was taking, he had trouble getting him an erection," Betty repeated.

"And whose idea was it for you to become a prostitute?" Eric asked.

"Butch's," Betty whispered and again Judge Johnson reminded her to speak up. "It was his idea; me? I didn't care I never seen another dinky."

"Another what?" Eric fought to contain his smile.

"A dinky, a dick," Betty said.

A couple of the women on the jury smiled. A man actually chuckled.

Eric introduced the receipt from Paul Robichaux for the installation of the two way mirror. Then he introduced the photographs of the shattered mirror.

Then he introduced the web page, cautioning the jury that the photograph was an obscene one; the wording was quite crude in nature.

Judge Johnson did not have to remind Betty to speak up as she talked about Dean Begnaud.

"And I found out, it's not 'Beg Nawd,'" she enthused. "You say it 'Bayg no.' The D? It's silent."

Sarah tried to trip the woman up, but, even though Sarah did make Betty cry a few times, the story was still the same. Some of the jury were even glaring angrily at Sarah by the time Sarah declared she had no further questions.

Sarah's closing argument was a lengthy one and the jury was bored as she droned on and on about a ruthless and calculating woman. A woman that ensnared a man with a hefty life insurance policy, and when it looked like she wouldn't be able to cash in on it, killed the hapless victim.

"Life Insurance?" Betty asked Eric.

Judge Johnson banged his gavel and warned against any further outbursts during closing arguments.

Eric kept his closing argument short. He spoke of the basic need to feel loved, to feel needed.

"My wife and I? We're having another baby," Eric said. "Why? Is it because we keep forgetting to use protection?"

He let the titters die down.

"No, it's because we love each other so much, so completely that we share that love. We've got three wonderful boys, oh my God, I can't believe how old they're already getting. My son Robbie? He's going into the fifth grade and Sammy's going to be a big fourth grader. Our little girl's going to be in Kindergarten."

He looked at the floor for a long moment, then looked back up at the jurors.

"Eric junior? He's fighting this whole potty training thing. But, when we hug and kiss our children, it's like being able to hold our love in our arms.

He wheeled back to the defendant table and pointed at Betty.

"And that's what this poor woman was looking for. A love that could be shared. Not a love that she could charge by the hour for. But what did she find when she met Butch Romero?" Eric asked and again faced the jury.

Ann, Eric, and Betty had just placed their order at Sweet Pea's when Jim texted Eric that the jury was already coming back in.