Unknown

"Now, Melanie, call Mr. Andeer, let him know that you have just become violently ill and fear that you will be unable to work tomorrow," the man insisted.

Melanie thought very briefly of telling Mr. Andeer what was really going on, but the man produced a nine millimeter pistol and pressed the barrel to Melanie's temple.

"And to make it sound believable," the man said and Melanie gasped in shock and pain as the booted foot lashed out and struck her belly.

"Yes?" Andeer barked harshly into the telephone.

"Mister...." Melanie said, and then vomited heartily.

"Yes?" Andeer nearly screamed into the telephone. "Melanie, is that you? It's your number on the caller ID..."

"Mr. Andeer, this is Melanie, I'm sick, I won't be in tomorrow," Melanie sobbed into the telephone.

"Well that is most unfortunate," Andeer sneered into the telephone. "You do not have any sick days; this comes out of your pocket, not mine."

"Yes sir," Melanie whimpered and sobbed out loud as the call was terminated.

"Very good," the man said and hoisted Melanie to her feet by pulling on her long red hair.

He marched her, hobbled by her one good shoe, and her panties still trapped around her upper thighs, toward her bathroom.

"Now, to make sure you do not go into work tomorrow..." the man said and pulled several pieces of nylon rope from his pocket.

He removed the remains of Melanie's clothing and pinned her hands behind her back.

"Are you going to rape me now?" Melanie sobbed.

"No, although it is quite tempting," the man smiled and lightly pressed his lips to Melanie's lips.

He made her climb into the bathtub, and then forced her to lay on her belly.

"Quite tempting indeed," the man let another giggle escape. "Tell me, have you ever had sexual intercourse, in your rear?"

"Yeah but I hate that shit," Melanie admitted. "Burns."

"Shame; you have a very lovely rear," the man said, squeezing her buttocks a few times, then grabbed Melanie's feet and brought them up to meet Melanie's wrists.

"Ow!" Melanie whined.

"This may be uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as death," the man whispered into Melanie's ear and Melanie gasped out loud.

"Now, to make sure you do not scream for help," the man said and pressed a cloth into Melanie's mouth.

A nylon rope was wrapped around her head, securing the cloth in her mouth.

"Night night," the man giggled and the small room was plunged into darkness.

Victoria looked around Melanie's apartment and smiled tightly. The girl had deplorable taste in furniture. Her collection of cds also left much to be desired.

Victoria giggled as she saw the pornographic dvds; all of the movies were lesbian dvds.

After giving the apartment another check through, she cleaned up Melanie's vomit and felt a slight twinge of guilt; she had not meant to kick the poor girl that hard. She'd only meant to kick her hard enough to make her sound ill on the telephone.

"No sick days, huh, Andeer?" Victoria mumbled. "Bet if she was a man, you'd give her all the sick bays she needed."

Finally, she went to Melanie's refrigerator and drabbed a can of diet soda. She pulled Melanie's bottle of vodka out and fixed herself a large drink.

She allowed herself to relax; a very rare thing, and lay down on the ugly couch to watch one of Melanie's dvds.

----

A black Mercedes-Benz sedan drove to a warehouse. Three men got out and approached the only lighted window in the warehouse complex.

"Where's Silk?" a large African American man asked as he stepped out of an unlighted doorway.

"He is dead, drug overdose," Andeer said.

"No shit?" the man asked. "Who you?"

"I am Andeer Ali-Jabi, Mr. Silk's ah, former employer," Andeer smiled.

"Huh, no shit?" the man said. "Silk ain't said shit about no 'employer,' know what I'm saying?"

"Because he was very good at being discrete," Andeer smiled.

"Uh huh, and how about you? You good at being discrete?" the man asked.

"Of course, but I do understand that you would have questions of me," Andeer said, showing the man that his hands were empty. "What can I do to earn your trust?"

"Let me see a million dollars," the man said.

"Of course, of course," Andeer smiled and Cofor stepped forward, holding a large duffel bag.

He set it down on the ground, and stepped back. Three African American men stepped out of the shadows and one bent down and unzipped the bag.

"Uh huh," he said to the first man.

"Get Mister..." the large man said.

""Andeer Ali-Jabi," Andeer smiled.

"Mr. Andeer Ali-Jabi his merchandise," the man ordered.

"Yes sir," two men said and disappeared into the shadows again.

The third man took the duffel bag and disappeared into the darkness. Only one of the men that had obeyed the large man's order reappeared, carrying the large bag.

"I be dealing with you from now on, huh?" the large man asked when Husbah took the large bag from the man.

"Of course," Andeer smiled as they got back into the Mercedes-Benz.

Cofor started the car and drove carefully out of the warehouse complex. Andeer looked over his shoulder and saw that the office light was now turned off.

Andeer pulled a cell phone out, pressed a button and nearly laughed as a large explosion erupted inside of the warehouse.

----

"Got some tweezers?" Detective LaRocca asked the uniformed cop. "Be about the only fucking way you're going to get any fucking evidence here."

"Looks like they was cooking up some meth here, shit blew up," the other detective mused aloud, looking at the charred warehouse.

"Yeah, that's what it looks like," Detective LaRocca agreed. "Also looks like it shut down Otis. For good."

"Fucking shame," the other detective said dryly.

----

Andeer looked at the map and smiled. With Silk and Otis out of the way, he now had almost total access to the entire Southeast, except for New Orleans. And New Orleans would be easy enough. Several of the city's politicians actually ran the trade but by and large, politicians were cowards. A few threats here and there and he would have that area as well.

"I told you, the next time you saw me would e the last time," the man said and Andeer looked up, surprised.

"How did you...?" he asked.

His door was locked. With Melanie out sick, Husbah was sitting at her desk, covering the reception area. Cofor was in his office, of course, but Cofor monitored the lobby, as well as this floor with his security cameras. And both Cofor and Husbah knew that he was searching for this mysterious man.

"Dipped in pig's blood," the man smiled and raised the pistol.

"No, my friend, I beg of you!" Andeer screamed, raising his arm to shield off the bullet.

The silencer made slight popping sounds as the man fired three hollow point slugs into Andeer's head.

The man put the pistol into his bag, then went back into Cofor's office and hit 'erase' on the security system. He looked again at Cofor's lifeless body and shrugged. He then hit the shut down button and walked out of the office.

Husbah was still gurgling through the holes in his throat but did not look up as the man walked out of the office. He pressed the button for the elevator and waited patiently.

----

Raw pain coursed through Melanie's shoulders, wrists, ankles and knees. She slept fitfully, more from exhaustion than anything else. Every now and then, a muscle spasm would twitch, and she'd wake up in agony.

Her stomach gurgled and growled; she had not eaten anything since lunch yesterday.

She also smelled foul; she had relieved herself, having no choice but to do so

Suddenly the bathroom light was flipped on and Melanie screamed into the gag; the light was blinding.

"Allah is good; you are here and you are safe," her attacker said as he stepped into the room.

"Oh please, God, no," Melanie whined into the gag.

"Oh my! You have made a mess, haven't you?" the man asked, and Melanie sobbed in shame, knowing what the man was looking at.

He untied her ankles and gently let her legs down. Then he untied her wrists ad actually rubbed her raw, aching shoulders for a moment.

"Your rent is on your coffee table," the man said gently. "I do expect you to call the police; you may wish to put your rent money away before they arrive; they will claim it is evidence and you will not see it again. Also, you might want to hide your dirty little movies; wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea, now would we?"

The man was gone when Melanie hobbled out of the bathroom. She sat down on the couch; the walk from the bathroom to the living room taking all of her strength.

She looked at the large stack of money on her coffee table and blinked.

"Allah is good indeed," she muttered after she had counted twenty five thousand dollars.

She took her cell phone out of her purse and punched in '911' but paused, unable to make herself hit 'send.' Finally, she put the cell phone back in her purse and hobbled into the small kitchenette and tossed a microwave dinner into the barely functioning appliance.

Chapter 4

Detective LaRocca interrogated Melanie for nearly four hours. He was suspicious of her 'good fortune' to be out sick the day her boss and two of his employees were gunned down.

"I don't know what to tell you; check his phone; I called him last night; I was throwing up like a dog," Melanie shrilled.

Finally, he let her go, even though he could tell that she was hiding something behind her denials.

Melanie took the bus to her apartment building, but rather than go up to her empty apartment, she decided to stop in the small bar on the opposite corner, have a drink.

Within moments of entering, she regretted her decision.

She'd never been inside the dimly lighted room; had heard the music wafting outside, the occasional laughter, had smelled the distinct smells of a neighborhood lounge.

Inside, the patrons seemed to be older, blue collar workers, predominantly male. Just after seating herself at the bar, the bartender had told her three of the males had offered to buy her a drink.

"No thanks," she very firmly told the old man. "I can buy my own."

A slightly younger male, in his mid to late thirties, smugly came up and tried to chat to her.

"Listen, I've had a bitch of a day, I just want a drink, fucking relax, all right?" Melanie shrilly told the arrogant man.

"The um, the lady down at the end of the bar would like to buy you a drink," the old man harrumphed.

Melanie was about to scream at him but his words registered. "The Lady ..."

She looked over and the blonde woman smiled and raised her glass in salute.

"Yes, thank you," Melanie smiled in return.

"Here you are," the old man said and set a fresh vodka and tonic down.

"Men are pigs, huh?" Melanie heard, rather felt a soft voice caress her ear.

"Amen, sister," Melanie agreed. "Thanks for the drink; I could use one."

"Oh?" the blonde woman asked, tugging at her red baseball cap's visor.

"My God damned boss got himself killed and the fucking cops act like I'm the one that did it; I just got out of a fucking third degree by some fat ass detective so I come in here to you know, unwind and all these ass holes are all over me like 'ooh, pussy!' and I just need a fucking drink, you know?" Melanie ranted.

"Men are pigs," the blonde woman agreed and pushed her sunglasses up firmly.

"Love the sunglasses; those are fly girls, right?" Melanie asked.

"Copy, ten bucks," the blonde woman laughed.

"Melanie," Melanie said, holding out her hand.

"No shit?" the blonde woman laughed again. "Me too."

"What?" Melanie asked.

"Me too, my name's Melanie," the woman laughed and took Melanie's offered hand and held it warmly.

"Get y'all anything else?" the bartender asked.

"My um, I live right down there," Melanie pointed in the direction of her apartment.

"We're good, thanks," the blonde woman smiled at the bartender, who shrugged and walked back to his stool.

"Let's go," the blonde said to Melanie.

Outside, Melanie was surprised when her new friend very casually, very easily took her hand and walked toward the apartment building.

Suddenly, they heard footsteps approaching rapidly. The blonde's hand tightened slightly in Melanie's hand.

"Ha!" a black man crowed as he grabbed the blonde woman's nylon duffle bag.

"Uh huh," the blonde woman said, lashing out with her left foot and catching the would be purse snatcher on the side of his knee.

He went down, hard, face first, screaming in pain.

"Please tell me you don't live, like six flights up and the elevator doesn't work," the blonde woman said as she dragged a stunned Melanie toward the apartment building.

"How did you, what did you, what?" Melanie sputtered as the man screamed, rolling on the ground.

"Don't worry about him; he'll be fine," the blonde woman said and urged Melanie toward the building.

They rode the elevator in silence; Melanie was nearly petrified.

She'd known she was gay for several years, ever since puberty, but had never once acted on it. Even when her friends played little petting games with each other, Melanie forbid herself from joining in. She even let nearly every boy in her college have sex with her to hide her homosexuality from others. From herself.

Upon graduation, she swore off sex altogether and lived a cloistered life, just her dvds and fantasies for company.

Now, she was finally succumbing to her desires and the woman that she had decided would deflower her seemed to be a lethal psychopath.

"Oh, I love your apartment!" the blonde woman exclaimed and put her duffel bag on the couch.

"Um, thanks; picked it out myself," Melanie stammered.

"How about a little music?" the blonde woman asked, taking her red baseball cap off.

More of her beautiful blonde hair spilled out, cascading nearly to her tight rear end.

"Um, sure, uh, you like Taylor Swift?" Melanie asked, turning the stereo on.

"Mm hmm," the woman said, coming up behind Melanie and putting her arms around Melanie's waist.

They rocked together and Melanie gasped and sighed as the woman's teeth lightly bit down on Melanie's shoulder.

"You are so sexy," the woman husked into Melanie's ear. "I just love all this red hair; this real?"

"Ooh!" Melanie sighed as the woman's hands cupped her breasts and toyed with her sensitive nipples.

"Take this off?" the woman begged, tugging on Melanie's blouse.

"Listen I uh, I listen, and I've never..." Melanie stammered as the woman gently turned her around so that they were swaying face to face.

"Uh huh," the woman said and thrust a thick tongue into Melanie's mouth.

"Take the, why you still have those sunglasses on?" Melanie asked.

"You don't want me to take them off," the woman said, smiling tightly.

"I want to see your eyes," Melanie said, a rare bit of assertiveness showing through.

"Okay, I warned you," the woman said and removed her sunglasses.

"Melanie gasped at the horrible black eye the woman sported.

"Some mother fuckers can't take 'No' when a girl says 'no,'" the woman shrugged.

She put her sunglasses back on then kissed Melanie again.

----

The next morning, Melanie tried to pull her lover's sunglasses off, to show her new lover she wasn't afraid to see the bruise.

"No, no, freckle face," the woman smiled and kissed Melanie. "See you later."

"When?" Melanie begged, letting the hated 'freckle face' moniker slide.

"Soon, as soon as I get back from New Orleans, okay" the woman said.

"Like tomorrow? Next week?" Melanie persisted.

"Melanie, baby, I don't know, okay? Soon as I'm finished, okay?" the woman said, kissed Melanie again and slipped out the apartment.

Victoria sighed and opened the door for the stairwell. She pulled her sunglasses off and made sure there was no trace of the purple and black dye she'd removed in Melanie's shower.

Satisfied all make up was gone, she tucked her hair into the baseball cap and put the sunglasses back on. She trotted down the stairs until she reached the building's basement.

Melanie sat down on the couch and listened to Taylor Swift sing.

(He lover had stripped Melanie nude, then licked every square inch of Melanie's body. She brought Melanie to the brink of orgasm four times with her talented tongue, then backed off. The fifth time she brought Melanie to the brink, she jammed three fingers into Melanie's pussy and Melanie actually blacked out from the force of the orgasm.

When she came to, her lover was laughing.

"Damn, baby!" her lover laughed. "You're a squirter, you know that?"

Then she had removed her clothing and revealed a thin, athletic body. Melanie lavished oral love on the woman's breasts and large nipples, concave belly, and hairless mound.

"God, I love this," Melanie had groaned as she licked all over her lover's hairless slit.

"Don't you ever shave yours, you hear? That beautiful red hair? God, I love your red hair," the woman had moaned as Melanie finally stuck her tongue into the blonde's pussy and tasted another woman's pussy for the first time.

Then, out of her duffel bag, the woman had dug out a leather harness and a rubber phallus.

"Ever had it up the ass?" the woman leered as she cinched on the leather harness.

"Yeah, I love that," Melanie had moaned as she watched the blonde stroke the fake cock, getting it lubricated, ready.

She actually hated it, but if her lover wanted her ass, Melanie would gladly give her lover her ass.)

"No you don't," her blonde lover laughed. "I could see it all over your face!"

Melanie now sat, listening to Taylor warble about unrequited love and began to cry.

"She's not coming back," Melanie sobbed, replaying their last conversation in her mind.

Her lover had been so vague about when she'd be back and had gotten almost angry when Melanie had pushed.

----

"Hey hey hey! It's Fat Albert!" one young man said, quoting a catch phrase from a 70s Saturday Morning cartoon, as the large black man waddled toward the bus stop and his friends laughed.

The man ignored them, waiting on the bus.

The youth made a few more disparaging remarks and averted his gaze when the black man glared at him.

The bus rumbled to a stop and the black man got on. Laughing and chattering, the white youths also boarded.

Twenty minutes into the bus ride, the youths pulled the bell, alerting the driver that they wished to get off at the next stop.

The black man sat quietly until the loud mouth was just abreast of him, and stuck his foot out, tripping the arrogant boy.

"oops," he sneered as the boy glared hatefully at him.

Three stops later, the black man got off.

He looked around, then waddled to the nearest door and punched in a code. The door chimed then clicked. Quickly, he yanked the door open and entered the building. At the end of the dark hallway, he punched the button for the service elevator and waited.

He got on, then pushed the button for the top floor.

The elevator did not move. He glanced around again, then punched in the code for the elevator.

"Hello Vickie, the man greeted her as she got out of the service elevator.

"Hello Derek," Victoria greeted him.

"Please, Vickie, take those damned sunglasses off, and that stupid hat," Derek complained.

In response, Victoria pointed to the three security cameras and shook her head no.

"Fine. Anyway," Derek huffed.

Derek started many of his conversations with the word 'anyway,' as if he were continuing a conversation. Victoria recognized the man's genius, recognized that, unbeknownst to himself, he was simply trying to speed up the conversation so that he could end it. He held most people in very low regard and wanted as little contact with them as possible.

"Objectives reached; thank you," Derek said as he marched over to the large desk that looked out over the large room.

"Uh huh; may I...?" Victoria asked and Derek impatiently nodded his head yes.