Vice Cop Ch. 13

"Mr. Dino, I'm not finished yet," she said to him.

There was no flirtation in her voice or any hint that she enjoyed doing this kind of thing. She was like a sad prostitute who had been forced into the dirty deed.

"You don't have to finish," he said, "I want you now."

"But -"

"Now. Or you won't get paid."

She nodded. He turned her around and began to kiss her. It was a strong, possessive kiss, and his lips were hot and wet, gliding down her neck while his hands moved searchingly. They grasped the buttons on the back of her dress and he tore it open. She gasped. She did not like his forcefulness and probably lamented the fact that he was tearing up her work clothes. Gianni did not care. Moaning in a low guttural tone, he quickly undressed her.

To his frustration, he saw that she was wearing an old-fashioned nightgown, as if she was wearing the undergarments of a woman from an earlier generation.

"Take that thing off," he said to her roughly.

She looked at him in disgust and complied. When it was off, she was completely naked and she lowered her head. He raised it with his hand and kissed her. He then observed her body, taking her figure in like much needed alcohol. It was not that he needed her especially. He was hungry for Woman, and any woman would do. He began to squeeze and suck her nipples, which were plump with dark areolas. She did not make a sound. He didn't like that, since he liked the idea that he was a good lover, no matter what he did. But she was oddly quiet, as if her mind were somewhere else.

Gianni moaned and groaned as he continued to take her breasts fully into his mouth. She arched her back and closed her eyes. At times it seemed she wanted to push him away, and other times she was completely docile and did not move. Gianni's hands moved downward quickly, urgently, finding her pussy. It was dotted with some hair and a little wet.

Obviously she was sexually aroused, but he did not get the feeling that it was something she wanted. It was almost like rape to her. But Gianni didn't care and continued. His fingers slipped into her pussy, which startled her at first. She gasped and let out a moan, more of pain than pleasure. Gianni's fingers were quick and sharp, penetrating her pussy deeply and making her writhe. Since they were standing, the whole thing was uncomfortable for her. Gianni then pushed her roughly to the bed she had just made and she spread her legs open immediately, thinking that he wanted to fuck her immediately. Gianni was laughing.

It was a cruel, powerful, laugh, as if he took pleasure in humiliating her. He then got on top of her and grabbed her hands, putting them over her head. He kept her motionless under him, pinned like a wrestler in action with another wrestler. He then slipped his cock into her, sticking it in hard. She felt pain as he thrust hard and fast. She was still quiet. Only Gianni's grunts and moans echoed in the room. He fucked her hard and deep, making her breasts bounce against his chest.

Finally, she cried out but again it was as if she had been caught in some kind of death trap. Gianni was determined to make her pussy bleed. She began to shed tears and it was evident that she regretted doing this. Gianni did not care.

"Shut up. You knew what you were in for, you dumb broad."

Gianni seized her by the throat as if he wanted to choke her. She believed he was doing just that and was afraid. He continued to fuck her, his balls slapping against her ass, his hipspushing against hers, his hair in disarray, sweat pouring from his forehead. He cried out as his semen flowed into her. She almost fainted but summoned strength and merely stared at him, as if she had just been defeated.

FIFTEEN

After the housekeeper was dismissed, Gianni telephoned the men who had been assigned to kill Mason Holmes and Lexa O'Neil. They were Tony and Fabrizio, two cousins of his. Theywere staying in another room on a different floor. Gianni enjoyed a good smoke after sex so he lit up a cigarette as he dialed the number to their room. The room still smelt of sex and he felt very happy he had just gotten laid. It was always so easy for him. He did not like women as people but he enjoyed treating them as sex objects.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?" said the voice on the other end.

"What are you doing right now?"

"Watching the TV here and finishing a meal."

"Where's Fabrizio?"

"Walking out on deck. He said he wanted to get fresh sea air."

"When he gets back you're going to get ready to find out where Mason Holmes is staying, what room. If possible, pretend you're looking for a friend you believe is staying in his room to get him to think you're just a harmless passenger. Don't dress in those suits. Wear something casual like a Hawaiian shirt and shorts or something. You will hit him in the head with the butt of a rifle and then drag him into the room to finish him. When it's all done, prepare the body bag and throw it out at sea."

"What about the girl?"

"She should be in that room with him if she's his girl. Now go."......................

Mason Holmes joined two other novelists in a highly publicized panel discussion in one of the smaller showrooms. Fans of fiction gathered to talk to their favorite authors and receive autograph signatures. They brought their books. There was Sidney Sheldon, who was to talk about his novel "If Tomorrow Comes" and sign copies as well as talk about his upcoming book "Windmills of the Gods". Mason had read "If Tomorrow Comes" as had Lexa. It was a mystery and thriller full of intrigue, concerning the cat-and-mouse chase between a detective and brilliant criminal, Mafia, F.B.I, and all the classic elements that made up this sort of fiction.Also at the panel was Winston Groom, who had written a touching and odd literary novel "Forest Gump". It was a poignant story of a man with mental retardation who lived a rich life full of drama. Mason had also read that and told Lexa: "This will never be a famous title." Mason was beaming with pride. For the first time in his life, he felt like a celebrity. It had never occurred to him that he was. He had written an immensely popular crime novel "Crime After Dark" and his readers were captivated by the fact that the author was himself a real-life detective who had lived quite a dramatic life. Lexa was not present at the book signing. She was busy preparing for the contest, practicing her song and her piano playing. She had wanted to see him but circumstances did not allow that. However, Mason was glad he was going to be able to see her perform on the show. "Mr. Holmes," said one reader, a woman from New York, eager for an answer, "may I ask why you became a detective?" "It was my life's ambition," Mason answered, "it was my way of giving back to my country, the same country that gave me so much. It was of course also a way to get some action adventure and thrills into my life." Everyone laughed at this remark. "What is your next novel going to be about?" asked a young male reader. "The Mafia," Mason replied. Everyone was attentive. "It is by far the worst, most vile business and it is a business, as La Cosa Nostra sees it. It must be crushed. They kill, they corrupt and they make money off drugs and prostitution. It is a combination of all the major crimes in one single business." "Mr. Holmes, is your next novel a work of fiction or non-fiction?" "It will be my autobiography. I will write about all the experiences I've had as a cop in LA and then a detective in New York City." "I shall look forward to reading that," said another fan. Mason smiled. Here he was, next to Sidney Sheldon, who wrote hugely popular novels full of action and intrigue, with fans everywhere, sharing similar success. He knew that his readers enjoyed mostly fiction so he began to consider his third novel to be a fictionalized account of a detective modeled after him as he brings various wicked criminals to justice...........

The Star Search contest had begun.

There was an air of excitement in the Main Showroom and the crowds that attended the show which would run for three days was a large one. It seemed as if almost everyone aboard the cruise ship had bought tickets to the event. Everyone was dressed in their finest, as if they were attending Oscar Night in Hollywood. Men were in tuxedoes and suits, women in sequin gowns and elegant evening gowns that reached to their feet. The stage was vast, like that of a Broadway theater which could hold a large cast. The most attractive feature was the design of the backdrop. It was a large faux clam that opened up and gave the appearance that the contestants were performing from within the clam. The lights were bright and changed colors from metallic silver to pink and gold. The floor lights were in gold. Lexa was backstage in her dressing room, changing into her gown. She was on after Roxella Peters. She did not understand why Roxella took a strange interest in her, and attempted to befriend her. There was still the feeling of a rivalry between them. Lexa did not care for competition or rivalry. She had been the only woman cop in a Manhattan precinct for sometime and that ensured her position sans rival but even when other women joined the force,she was still the top ranking female cop and had always remained so. She was almost a legend, having served with the NYPD for enough time to gain total respect.

Although thiswas a contest which held no consequence to her nor did she really care for, she did notlike that Roxella was attempting to make her feel bad. There was something very unnerving about Roxella. She was not a good woman. She hated that Hudson had paired up with her. A knock came at her dressing room door.

"Who is it?" Lexa cried out.

"It's me, Roxella, it's Hudson."

Lexa was speechless. Hudson let himself in. He nearly gasped at the sight of Lexa sitting by the vanity mirror with light bulbs on the frame. She was dressed in a "midnight blue" gown that reached to her feet and dragged a bit, her shoulders showcased from the top as well as her cleavage. Her hair was in a stylish French twist. She had never looked classier and more beautiful. Her perfume was intoxicating. Hudson stared at her in disbelief.

"I think you've gotten the wrong room, Hudson," Lexa said to him.

"Lexie?" he said, "wh-what are you doing here?"

"What does it look like? I'm competing on Star Search. I'm on after Roxella. Has she entered the stage yet?"

"No I don't think so. I was confused. I thought this was her dressing room. I wanted to wish her good luck before she got on stage."

"Her dressing room is next door.. I'm afraid the confusion owes to the fact they did not put up our names on the door. Just our numbers. We go by numbers. I'm Number 10."

"So you've met Roxella?"

"Yes. She's a lovely woman. Wherever did you find her?"

"She told you about us?"

"Of course. I want to congratulate you."

Hudson was silent. The whole thing was awkward. He stared at Lexa quietly and sheepishly.

"Well- what is it?" she said to him, with a little laugh.

"You look beautiful, Lexie," he said.

"This old thing," she said, "this is something my mother wore for her tour of Europe when she was singing opera. She's here on the cruise too. She's sitting in the front row."

"She is? Is it true she's going to be singing opera again?"

"Yes. She's going to sing at the Met and at the Amsterdam Opera. She's very excited."

"I didn't know you could sing, Lexie. But that would make sense since your mother is a singer. What are you going to sing tonight?"

"Not tonight. I will play the piano on stage tonight."

"Oh that's for you?"

"It's a Steinway. I'll be playing a transcription of Wagner's Liebestod from "Tristan and Isolde" . I decided to play opera music as a tribute to my mother."

"I'm sure you will do great."

"I can sing too. Tomorrow night I will be singing a song. Not opera though."

"I better let you get ready. Good luck to you Lexie."

"Goodbye Hudson."

He left and Lexa looked sad for a moment as she stared at her reflection in the mirror..........

For the talent portion of the contest, Roxella Peters danced a solo. It was something she had picked up from both stripping and belly dancing. It was meant to be an "artistic dance" and in her loose, sail-like white shroud of a dress, she looked like a Geisha in an exotic performance.She did not dare to remove one bit of clothes. These were decent people and moreover very wealthy people.

She knew that it would mean disqualification from the show. She did incorporate some exotic and sensual moves into her dance which was a pleasant delight to the male audiences. She could feel their lustful stares, subtle as they were. Their eyesfollowed her and she danced erotically and beautifully, as if their hands were manipulating hermovements, dancing in a frenzy of sexual ardor. She laughed on the inside, carrying her head high, smiling triumphantly. It was as if she had been waiting for such a moment her entire life. The exotic music was a medley of native African drums and various exotic instrumental melodies featuring flutes and saxophone.

She was dancing for herself for the first time in her life, not for anyone. It was a dance of self-expression. She did not follow the music, the music followed her, lifting her to a crescendo of ecstasy. The strong sexual current filled the room and when Ravel's Bolero began to play, everyone applauded. Expertly she danced to thefamous music, stirring up passion as only she could and at the climax, she fell to her kneesas if overcome by the thunderous finale. Everyone applauded. From her stance in the wings, Lexa took a deep breath. That was a tough act to follow. Everyone was fired up and Roxella had apparently energized everyone. She knew that not everyone enjoyed classical music and many found it very boring. If she played with energy, perhaps the music would not be a sleeping pill to the audience. Lexa said a brief prayer and walked on to the stage.

"And now ladies and gentlemen," said the host Jeff Jensen, "I present you our next contestant, Miss Lexa O'Neil."

Everyone applauded. Lexa looked out over the audience. She spotted her mother sitting next to Mason, both of them smiling brightly and cheering for her. In the same row but on a different chair was Hudson Banach who did not applaud but looked on intently.

"Now you're from Queens, New York, a cop with the NYPD is that correct?"

"Yes."

Everyone applauded.

"That's very impressive. And you can play piano?"

"I was taught to play piano by my mother as a child, mostly classical but I can play a variety of music."

"What will you be playing for us tonight?"

"Opera music, as a tribute to my mother, the great opera singer Katrina O'Neil who is sitting right there."

"Stand up for us, Miss O'Neil," said Jeff.

Katrina stood up and acknowledged the audience who broke into applause. Katrina smiled. She looked lovely in a black gown and she smiled at Lexa proudly. Lexa sat down on the seat before the piano and began to play the beautiful, noble and lustrous "Liebestod". She played with an inner spirituality and closed her eyes at times, which surprised the audience. She knew the music by heart and she played with passion, as if she were summoning a Muse from somewhere. She was in truth remembering her mother as an opera singer, looking at her with the eyes of a child. Images of her mother in costume asthe beautiful Princess Isolde from Wagner's opera, her starring role at Bayreuth, Germany, where only a few months before another black diva, Grace Bumbry, had made headlines by being the first black singer to perform there. She remembered her mother in that long flowing green robe and that golden diadem on her hair, singing, singing for her, singing for the world to hear and know her.

In her mind, as she played, the years passed again and she remembered how her mother rose to fame and then faded away. She recalled old black and white photographs of her mother in Europe, still frames in her mind, feeling the music swell inside her. She was no longer Lexa O'Neil. She was merely serving music. At the end of the piece, which ended in soft pianissimi that faded away like a sleeping death, everyone was so moved by the piece that they were silent for a brief moment. Then Hudson Banach applauded loudly and that was all it took for everyone to applaud in a giant wave......

Mason Holmes reached Lexa back stage, along with Katrina. They both hugged and kissed Lexa who was still in her evening gown although she had now let down her hair. From a distance, Hudson was congratulating Roxella who had slipped into a robe. From the corner of her eye, Lexa caught sight of them. Hudson embraced Roxella and they shared a kiss.

"Oh honey child, you were magnificent," Katrina said, "you made me so proud."

"Thanks, mamma."

"Lexa, I had no idea you could play piano so beautifully," Mason said to her, "you're amazing. I'm so glad you consented to being on the show. It was so unlike you to do it."

"I'm just full of surprises," Lexa said, jokingly, laughing.

She did not want to look at Hudson and Roxella kissing but her eyes would momentarily fall into their direction. At one point, Hudson stared back. Then Roxella approached Lexa, though Hudson stayed behind by the door to her dressing room.

"You were wonderful," Roxella said, "good luck with tomorrow's portion of the show. You have to go up there and sing. That's different."

"I'm sure she'll do fine, " Katrina said, defensively, knowing that this red-head meant to be negative, "after all, God gave me a great Voice. She is my daughter and she must have inherited a great singing voice as well."

"Oh well of course, " Roxella said, suddenly feeling awkward next to the tall older woman.

SIXTEEN

While the contestants prepared for the next show, the singing competition, Mason Holmes was hounded by a fan of his novel, one young man who said he was from California. His name was Burt Hanson and worked as a registered male nurse in a hospital. He was so persistent to talk to Mason alone, that Mason invited him to his room aboard the ship. Lexa was not there. She had gone to rehearse her singing. They walked down a narrow hallway that lead to his cabin. Leafy tropical plantswere on the spaces between doors. Small paintings of Caribbean landscapes and island hung on the wall.

They were now somewhere close to the first port of call in the Caribbean islands.

They finally came to the cabin.

"So you're from California, eh, Burt?" said Mason as he put the key into the door.

"From Sa Diego," he replied, "I can't tell you how much I loved your novel. I can't wait for your second one."

"Make yourself at home," Mason said, "take a seat on the couch."

Burt took a seat at once and smiled sheepishly. He seemed nervous. Mason walked intothe small kitchen, which came with the room, and retrieved a soda from the refrigerator. A window overlooked nothing but the ocean. Mason cleared his throat.

"Lexa? Are you here, honey?" he shouted.

No answer.

"Is she here?" Burt asked him.

"No, she must be practicing for the competition. Are you following that?"

"The Star Seach show? No. I didn't get tickets for that. I hear it's a terrific show."

"It is. Lexa is a fine pianist and she can sing. She's unable to develop any real talent because she's a cop. You know how that is. But I think she's got talent."

"Was there a time when you didn't want to be a cop?" Burt inquired with deep interest.

Mason handed him a glass of Coca Cola and got one for himself. He sat down on a chair facing Burt on the couch.

"Never," Mason replied, " I always wanted to be one. They were my heroes. I had a very tough father who didn't go to college and who said I didn't have to go either. I went anyways but I always gravitated towards law enforcement. I feel like I have a lot more to accomplish as a detective. I think New York City always feels like a work in progress as far as fighting crime."