Sex, Love, Rape, The Internet, Death … all to no avail
Sunday the first of July has the beginning of just another day for Betty Sue. Two of her three grown children have come over for breakfast and as always the discussion was what Mom needs to do about her nightmares now that Dad has moved out of the house and in with a woman half his age.
“Dad has been gone four months now” Mary said as she stared at her mother, “You have to get out of this house, do something; hobbies, part time work, volunteer at the hospital… something.”
Betty Sue did not disagree with her daughter. She had been telling herself the same thing for almost two months but she just didn’t know how to go about it. She didn’t have a clue what her first step should be. She had married right out of High School, three kids before she was 21 and a homemaker for over 20 years. “Your right, of course and I agree with what you are saying, I really do.” Her eyes welled and she made no effort to stop the tears from flowing. They had seen her cry almost daily the year before dear ole dad left and more so these last months. Cheeks had ringlets of water as she finally said, “Now that I have the house all to myself, what do you suggest?”
This may have been the question Billy had been waiting to hear from his mother. Instead of words, he fished into a pocket of his jeans and placed a bright blue box on the table in front of his mother. The box was smallish, less then a couple inches square and about a half-inch thick. Gold flake raised lettering in a slight curved arc near the top of the box had one word, “TROJAN”. Betty Sue had not seen a box of these since before her first child when she practiced birth control.
Mary looked at her brother and through him. He returned the gaze but with shrugged shoulders and a why not grin as he answered her unasked question. “Why not, Mom is free now and over 21”. As Mary dropped her gaze he had the offensive so he looked at his mother and continued, “Mon… you need to get out. You need to meet people. You need….” He was busy telling her what she needed and she knew all along what she needed, just didn’t know How to go about GETTING it.
Maybe it was time to have that family chat about the birds and bees but kinda in reverse. As motherly as she could muster with a new box of Trojans sitting on the table between the butter and the grits she told them that their dad was the only man she had even been with, and the only thing she knew about life outside raising a family was what she had read in dozens of Harlequin sex books and watching Doris Day movies.
Mary interrupted with, “Mom, Doris Day movies are…” Betty Sue cut her short with a huge grin saying she was just rattling her cage and yes, she knew Ms. Day was Little-Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes and that she had seen a few hard core movies and even some staring John Holmes. That shut Mary up.
“Kids… my problem is I don’t have a clue how to meet men. I kinda know what to do with your Trojans Billy but THE problem is getting a man here for me to try on him.” The kitchen was so quiet even the Grits were still as Billy ate his last spoonful.
Billy swallowed hard as he looked toward Mary as she looked at him, her mother and back, then toward her mother again and finally said, “Mom… we need to go... for now. Love you very much.” And with that said, Mary motioned for her brother to follow her outside as she had a plan.
Mary was in command as she said to Billy just before getting into her van and leaving. “Meet me at Best Buy in twenty minutes” and she was gone in a cloud of dust and flying pebbles.
In less then two hours Mary and Billy were back in Betty Sue’s driveway. Mary held open the front door as Billy muscled in one large cardboard box after the other. Betty watched as the kids opened each box, assemble parts, plug in things and hand their mother a brightly colored yellow and black soft cover book titled “The Internet for Dummies”.
Mary took charge saying, “Here you go Mom. Here is the world at your fingertips.”
Betty Sue was quiet as Mary talked then Billy would interrupt with spurts of knowledge as he would be interrupted by Mary doing the same. During the next hour they had the computer up and running with the Internet. They explained Google, Dog Pile, Mr. Jeeves, A9, Chat Rooms, Email, IMs, Passwords, Log-in IDs and even opened an Internet account.
The kids were very proud of themselves.
Betty Sue was as confused as a human could be and if you looked into her eyes you would not see any Xs and Os, let alone 0s and 1s connected, but over the course of the evening with some hands-on keyboard action, Betty Sue Soloed.
Monday was overcast and rained all day. Tuesday was a steady downpour as was Wednesday. The days were warm but dreary but Betty Sue never saw them.
She had pulled all the blinds and shades in her den, turned on the computer, propped up her legs and pulled the key board into her lap. One bottle of Zinfandel disappeared as did another then another as day time turned to night to day to night back to day before Betty Sue signed off her window to the world.
Betty Sue was hooked.
When you are chatting with another person on-line you never know if they are on the other side of the world or next door. Most times if you asked they tell you they are in some exotic world famous location and they are the perfect, or near perfect specimen of human. They mostly lie. As luck would have it she met and chatted with a very nice sounding man that lived only a few miles away. They agreed to meet for lunch.
“Good afternoon Ms. Betty Sue, my name is Albert. It is so nice you agreed to meet for lunch. I have made room reservations for a couple hours at the Motel just down the street so if you don’t mind we can go down there first then come back here for coffee.” He was serious.
Her hand was still stinging from a wicked hard open right hand slap as she drove home.
Throughout the history of mankind a turn to the right causes one thing to happen whereas if that turn is to the left another set of events happen. Sometimes even the sting in a hand will cause events to happen.
Today Betty Sue took her first major step away from the Doris Day mold into the world of reality as she discovered the Internet was bottomless.
“There are tens of millions of people on the internet. Logic tells me half of those have to be men, so there has to one out there for me.” Betty Sue argued with herself. “If I have to, I’ll type my fingers to the bone and will not rest until I give them all a try or until I find the one that can be the other half of this couple.” Her brain paused before it said, “I really want to be a couple”. She paused again, looked sideway into the hall mirror. “So what I’m a little short. I’m in shape… pear is a shape. My hair is blond, I am witty and I am cute so there has to be someone out there – for me.” The tears that eased from the corners of her eyes and escaped down her cheeks went unnoticed.
A car trip into New York City for a Broadway play produced another stinging hand.
A plane trip with a best friend to Texas and a night out bar hopping produced still two more stinging hands.
More car trips to Philadelphia, Washington DC, Boston, Hartford, Trenton and another United flight to San Francisco produced still more stinging hard right hands.
Then there was Geoff. The box her son had given her many months ago was used as was several others. Geoff was educated, intelligent, good company, fair sex, good conservationist, witty, good looking, handled himself well at parties and in crowds but as soon as the glow of the physical began to wear thin and the reality of being a couple sank in he stopped calling, stopped all E-Mail and dropped off the face of the earth as far as Betty Sue was concerned. Bastard. There was never any closure with Geoff, never any satisfactory stinging hand – nothing but more emptiness and more tears.
Frank knew of Betty Sue and several of his on-line friends talked of her in chat room and at the many rooms Bashes. He always listened but being a man that has had foot-in-mouth disease many times knew when to be quiet especially at the many week-end parties where no door is locked and few wear underwear. The Internet did itself a favor when it created the venue for grown people to get together where there were few rules and call them bashes.
Betty Sue will give the shirt off her back to anyone in need and will drive 300 miles if invited to a friend’s house for pizza. Betty Sue is a good person that believes in God, family, country and all people are basically decent but Geoff was almost that straw that broke the camel’s back… almost.
After Geoff, Betty Sue turned thoughts into more positive action as she screened potential lovers/partners as carefully as she knew how and was lucky in one respect. She never ran across the axe-murders, rapist, sadists, con artists (well a couple), and habitual liars that could cause further hurt, but she did have several more false starts with different men until she accepted the advice of a friend to spend some time with a man she had casually met at a birthday party given for her by an internet friend in another state. His name was Frank and he came with references. Her friend told Betty Sue, “…I have known Frank for several years and we are good friends.”
“How good is good?” Betty Sue asked.
Bess was ginning from ear to ear as she said, “Good. Good like in I took him to bed a few times and he is good.” That was a scary answer to a still coming of age 40 something year old.
“I haven’t been with that many men….” She was interrupted by Bess saying “Not to worry sweetie, he will teach you all you need to know.”
Now that was scary but if you looked real close into Betty Sue eyes there were little devils at play.
The internet is finally becoming fun. A few taps on the keyboard and he was there with you in your house, your studio, your room, your bedroom. Where ever you have the computer. Click, click, tap, tap, tap, tap and you have the world in your keyboard. “Hi Frank. My name is Mischief.” Frank’s screen suddenly had an IM note.
“I don’t get many Instant Messages lady, do I know you?” He IMed back.
“No.”
Franks instinct was to turn off his IMs or just block her but he didn’t. He sat staring at the terse IM as him mind went through many gyration. After several minutes he sipped his watered drink, squirmed a bit in repositioning his bottom then keyed, “No… what?” If she wanted to play games, so could he.
The IM response was slow in coming but finally the screen said, “No. Well not really. We were introduced once at Bess’s house. It was my birthday party.”
Frank is a man with a man’s mentality and hormones. He didn’t have a clue who or what Mischief looked like or who she was. That birthday party was a bit like a hangover haze.
His IM response was a lie but until his brain drew him a better image that this haze he is looking through he keyed, “Well yes. How are you Mischief?”
The IMs went back and forth for a few minutes before Mischief said her doorbell was ringing and she had to go. That was a lie also but that is what people mostly do on the internet.
Frank was quick to the telephone. “Hello Bess…. Who is Mischief?”
She filled him in on female attributes until he had a good idea now that Mischief was Betty Sue and Bess had given him a glowing reference.
“You gave me a reference? What am I suppose to do with that?”
Bess had to be having a fun time toying with Frank. “Well if I were you fella, I’d make reservation somewhere for the weekend and give her a call.”
As a small light appeared over Franks head he said, “Now I remember. That was the girl that was there with her boyfriend, a Geoff something and I think I remember hearing they were planning on spending that night and the whole next day in bed. It was her birthday right?”
“Yes she was and yes they did.” Bess said. She wanted to say more but held her tongue.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” Franks voice was smiling at the prospect after a few hormones got his attention and as he held the phone slightly away from his ear, suddenly prospects of a weekend of sex, fun and games didn’t sound that bad. Bess was quiet on her end of the phone waiting for Frank to continue his thoughts. There was nothing now but dead air then he said, “…but she has a man-friend. What does she need with another?” Stupid question from a no-nothing man about women and all Bess did was silently shake her head. She wanted to tell him that a woman can not have too many men friends and seldom can a woman have enough sex, but again held her tongue after saying, “Just do it dummy… trust me on this one. Have I ever lied to you or pointed you in the wrong direction?” But quickly added, “Don’t answer that, just go and have a good time.”
It was nice chatting over the internet and telephone but real life is better. Betty Sue described her first week-end with him in a brief note to Bess simply as “WOW”.
In the following months they found many facets of their lives that gave them pleasure. Sex? Sure lots of sex, and it was always good as they learned to share, but there was one hard headed Betty Sue idealism that caused Frank concern. He was ex-military and knew weapons were good to know and understand, but he couldn’t get that point across to Betty Sue. The argument was the same he had heard time and time again, “...I don’t like guns..... They are dangerous.... and I don’t need nor want one... They scare me....” There had been no way to get the point across that guns don’t have to be bad, but sometimes you really need one.
Frank tried the old truisms, “They are what their owner make them. Guns don’t kill people... People kill people”, etc...etc.. even the argument, “Would you druther be dead or use a gun in your defense?” Good arguments for someone interested or listened but not so to Betty Sue. This is an opinionated woman that knew her mind and right or wrong, she had dug her heels in. Frank knew he was losing the battle, but in the back of his mind, he didn’t mind losing a battle or two, if he could just win the war. And that was all important to him. She had become a part of his life he wanted her around for a while so was trying to do what he knew could very possible, someday save an innocent life.
It’s hard to understand how someone else feels toward any particular subject or thing, that’s why we have to rely on speech to communicate feelings. The hard part comes when you know in your heart that knowing about things, in this case, guns, would benefit you. Some people don’t like dogs, and they are man’s best friend. The same can be said about cat lovers or anyone that has an animal for a pet. I know, I know... don’t push your beliefs onto someone else; let them learn the hard way. A lesson leaned the hard way, though experience and hard knocks is a lesson that will stay with you a lot longer then just being told something. If you live though it that is.
Betty Sue lives in New Jersey. The rolling hills of Northern NJ are lust green during the summer months and brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows of fall. Winters are cold and for the most part with a white covering of snow or ice. For Betty Sue, it isn’t a fun place for the cold parts of the year. Betty Sue’s spacious and comfortable home sits geographically in the center and highest point of five acres. There was a barn that held live stock at one time in years past, a wooden fence that could use a handyman’s touch and a bottom flat couple acres that you could always see deer, bear and other smaller creatures roaming at will. The property was perfectly safe from predators. Unfortunately it was during the drab morning hours of one of these nasty cold monotonous dreary days a weak knock on her front door Betty Sue welcomed a two-legged killer into her home. He didn’t look like a predator, he had no scales, his tongue was not forked, his feet were no cloven and his eyes were round and not cat-like. His clothing and manners suggested he was Innocent. He said his name was Louis. He said he had lost control of his car on the dangerous curve at the bottom of her knoll near her driveway and destroyed her mailboxes. He was sorry for that, and he would be more then willing to pay for their replacement, but his main problem was the front end of his cheap air-bag less Japanese car. He was pretty sure he had damaged the left front of the car and couldn’t move it. Could he use her phone to call a garage or toll service to come get him? Please.
Sure. With a smile on her honey lips and the graciousness of a sophisticated lady, she said if her mailboxes caused him harm, the least she could do is invite him in and the warmth of her home for the use of phone and facilities. “Sure. Please come in.”
Betty Sue is a pretty woman. Blond hi-lighted close trimmed hair is shiny, healthy, doesn’t quite brush the top of her shoulders when she laughs and uses her arms to gesture or to welcome Louis with a friendly hand-shake. Her Brown eyes sparkled as she sympathized at his story of her mail boxes. In the 22 years in her home, more then just Louis had run down her mail boxes. She smiled to herself as she remembered one time one of her lovers from Maryland had been visiting and she scrapped the side of her own car on one of the three mail boxes. Louis’s hand was cold as she welcomed him inside. Out of concern for his well being Betty Sue used both her hands over his for warmth and a gesture of friendliness. She was a bit careless. Her silk morning robe had been properly belted and pulled closed under her chin, but with the extension of both her arms and influenced by her amble breasts the robe parted slightly and reveled the deep valley between two creamy perfumed mounds of white flesh. Louis recognized the scent of Opium and smiled to himself. The last women he raped and murdered just last week was also wearing Opium. He liked it. Louis was thinking today was going to be interesting. Betty Sue didn’t have a clue. Lately she has been meeting more and more people, especially men so she took Louis at face value. She didn’t know at the time, but unless she stopped him, stopped events he would put into motion, an innocent person was going to die today.
Louis was shown a wall telephone in the kitchen area and was left along for his call. Betty Sue returned to her computer in her warm and cozy den area just opposite her spacious kitchen. She was comfortable. The fire in her wood burning stove in the far corner had recently been fed; its door closed and was happily radiating heat. The sun is probable shining somewhere but here on Sid Taylor place in Lafayette Township the sky is low and drab and shuddery and trees boarding Betty Sue’s property were still glistening from frozen dew. Funny, for no reason as Betty Sue was standing behind her computer chair facing glass doors leading to a patio area looking outside toward her friend Mary’s house, thoughts not of her visitor but of her lover and how he liked the idea she sometimes didn’t wear underwear. I will have to slip out of these before Frank gets here she thought to herself as a tingle of pleasure ran from the tips of her hard nipples to her breastbone then straight down to a damping clit. Her OB-GYN doctors told her she was perfectly normal and that she was actually jealous of a woman her age could still have those very human reactions through thought and action. Betty Sue grinned and subconsciously looked at her watch. 10:26 AM. Frank should be here before 2 PM. He called yesterday and said he should be on the road before 9 AM and with the way he drives, he never makes it less than 5 hours coming up from the South. One of these days, I’m going to have to take him out on the open highway and teach him how to keep up with traffic. Here it is already 2 years into the 21st century and he still drives like the roads were gravel and there were police out there trying to control speed. They stopped that practice at the end of 2001 and changed their priorities to helping those that asked for it. Few asked for speeding tickets now days.
Louis passed some pleasantries by saying “Thank you very much Miss for the use of your phone. The garage said they are a bit backed up right now, but should be here in an hour or so. Is it all right if I warm myself by your fire and wait inside?” Sure. Coffee was offered and accepted. Louis‘s was black, Betty Sue’s with just a trace of low calorie half and half. Louis is a big man. Maybe 6’-3” probable in the 240 weight range, but was hard for Betty Sue to judge until he took his heavy leather coat off and draped it over her washing machine next to the phone he had used.
There is light conversation as coffee is sipped, then without any warning Louis gets up from the couch and started opening cabinets in the kitchen area. “Say, Mr. uh, Louis I’m not real sure what you are doing, but whatever it is, please stop. This is my home and I don’t remember asking you do go through my cabinets.” He didn’t bother answering. Just as she was about to say her piece again he apparently found what he was looking for. A well stocked liquor cabinet. He was not careful looking thought the bottles, rattling them and knocking two over reaching for a full liter bottle of I.W.Harper. He took a deep swallow.
Well damn him to hell, he has no right to go against my wishes. There was rancor in her mind and body but the thought of danger never crossed her pretty head. Betty Sue’s second mistake was trying to reach the wall phone. The bottle was switched to his left hand as he brought his right hand back as if getting ready to throw a baseball and slapped her hard against her left cheek. The open hand was huge and rough against her delicate skin, as the blow knocked her glasses off and hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. She had never been slapped in anger before, and certainly never this hard. From her view point the blow sounded like a clap of thunder inside her head, didn’t knock her down but did stagger her back into the den area and turned her all the way around. It crossed her eyes and by the time she could focus again she was still bend slightly at the waist looking for her glasses and trying to think. We’re in trouble!! Her brain yelled at her. Why in the hell did he do that? Shit... I didn’t do anything to him. Where is Frank? What time is it? Damn.
The clock on her microwave read - 11:03 AM
The atmosphere in the den was becoming highly charged with more then just emotions. Over the years this room has seen its share of human drama; kids growing, parties, school events, dogs barking, laughter, typical family problems, crying over a failed marriage, loving, procreation and your every day sex; sex by the kids, the husband, his lady friends Betty Sue’s friends, the lovers, but never bodily injury. These walls didn’t have a clue what hard, permanent, premeditated type violence was. The theater sized Television opposite the couch didn’t help matters. It was never turned off and Queen for a Day was just starting with the typical topic for today’s audiences, “Sex - To Orgasm or Not”. Between the roaring in her head form the slap and the confusion of what was happening to her, she could barely heard words and parts of sentences over the real live shouting and rambling demands from Louis being made in the den. “... Clit... rubbers ... erection... the last time was... sensitivity.... The theme of the show was for this group of six ladies on the show to come up with the sadist sexual episode they had ever had to endure, and the audience would decide who would win the likes of, washing machines, microwaves, portable hair dryer, or six months vacation to a place of their choosing. A real grab bag prize list so sometimes the topics were really juicy. From the couch she thought she heard the words -- When was the last time you was f*cked little lady? Pardon me? Betty Sue heard herself saying. “Are you deaf c*nt? I said when the last time you got a good f*cking.” His voice was calm and even, maybe a bit horse from being in the cold but very understandable. Betty Sue straightened and looked him straight in his gray eyes and said, “…none of your f*cking business - now I want you out of my home. Now!!... Understand? GET OUT!” She was angry, her face hurt and she was scared. He slowly turned his head from side to side. He was serious. It must have been at that moment the reality of the moment hit home and she became more frightened. He repeated his question through clenched teeth and glaring stare. His size made him menacing and him drawing his arm back again in the same manner when he first slapped her, made her re-think her original thinking of physically matching up him. Betty Sue thought about her answer for a full second before straightening to her full 5’- 1” and now calmly saying... “It’s been a few days.”
Good, that was a good answer. This woman has some spunk. He liked that and laughed while taking another long pull from his bottle. “Well little lady, consider this your lucky day, because I am going to f*ck you - and you need not have to worry about winning any trips either. When I f*ck a woman she is never satisfied with anyone else, and the thoughts of a trip are soon forgotten. Well actually, when you come to think about it, for many I am the last screwing they get.” Then he laughed at his private joke. “Little lady, do you have any idea who I am?” He paused then said “…no, you probable don’t, but IF you did, you would know I am no man to mess with. In my time, I have killed 16 women and you want to know what I did to them just before I killed them? Well pretty little lady, I don’t think I’ll need to tell you, cause I’m going to show you.”
Betty Sue’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, idea and fears. Her brain yelled this is a god-damn psycho. You are in for a bit of trouble if you can’t get him out of the house. Get your gun? Where did I put that damn gun Frank gave me last year? Not sure why she was so calm and didn’t seem to bother Betty Sue, her guts may have been on fire but outwardly, she was as calm as if the pool man had just told her pool maintenance wouldn’t cost any more then last year. Frank always told her that the only way to survive in combat was to keep your head and operate within your emotions.
She didn’t notice, but this maniac was talking and moving forward one small slide step at a time until he was within arms length of her. She was standing as tall as she could in her bare feet and defiant as her Yankee heritage would allow.
RAPE! There’s hard sex, there’s demeaning sex then there’s brutal mean sex where the sex act is nothing more then a mask for brutality. He smiled again as he grabbed the front of her robe and torn its top open. The pink teddy lost its top three buttons as he ripped downward leaving her right breast exposed. Betty Sue is petite in most areas, but not her breast. She was almost fully developed in the 8th grade, and by the time she was dating in high-school she was know as Larry’s girl friend with the big tits. Now 30 years later she was still very well endowed. The breast sagged just a bit and was rose tipped by bullet hard nipples and oracles that looked as hard as pink skating rinks. She was embarrassed at being exhibited and angry enough to bite a ten-penny nail as she struck out. She threw her right hand at his head... and connected. That was a mistake, but at the time it made her feel good. He laughed once again as he dropped his Harper and grabbed the bodice of her shirt pulling her close to him as he hit her first with an open right hand then a backhand. The pain in his hand was nothing compared to the stinging in Betty Sue’s cheeks and pounding in her head as he grinned through clenched dirty yellow teeth. His eyes were wide and there was drool on his chin. His breath smelled like a sewer in Paris. He was standing with legs spread so he could get a better swing. Holding her with his left hand as he raised his right hand again. It seemed the perfect time to knee him hard in the crouch. She would show him. She has seen this exact scenario many times in the movies and they always got away from their attacker. All she had to do was knee him real good and send his balls high into his chest and walk away. She tried. Damn. Her hips wouldn’t let her. If only she had seen her doctor two years ago. Damn. She tried anyway, but couldn’t kick that high. For her efforts she got slapped again, really hard this time. Betty Sue’s eyes crossed again and her mind became a jumble with what was happening. Why her, why was this happening, where did this animal come from? Deep within the collage of her mind she saw scenes from her block in New York, the Brownstone, the yard, she saw herself sitting on the front steps, then in the front seat of a car. Betty Sue blinked then blinked again. It was her all right and her boyfriend at the time, her bodice open, both breasts free of her bra, her panties hanging over the steering wheel, her legs in the air and a huge man moving in rhythm to her giggles. She saw herself playing poker with a Mafia gunman friend - wish he was here now. Another stinging right hand snapped her back to the present and a very real danger from this animal now clawing at her panties. Louis was not being careful as he was tearing at the skin of her stomach searching for the elastic top. He finally gave up the search and grabbed a hand full of silk and flesh and torn.
The pain in her stomach was nothing compared to the back of her head when he slapped her once more and punched her hard into a book case. Betty Sue had lost her glasses with the first slap an eternity ago, but she could make out what was happening. The back of her head felt damp and her back hurt from the force of being pushed across the room into a sudden and violent stop against the wall and book case. Louis had opened the fly to his jeans and was holding what looked to be not that large, but a very hard and crooked cucumber. It had warts and scabs around the shaft and two on the little head. His shirt was open and she could also see sores, nasty looking reddish and purple sores. She had seen this same picture in her doctor’s office during a class last month on advanced AIDS. She felt sick to her stomach. She had to stop him... somehow. “Now my cute little c*nt you are going to get the f*cking of your life.” She heard the words but didn’t see his lips moving. He seemed to turn loose of the cucumber as he grabbed both her ankles and pulled her to the center of the brown deep piled carpeted room. Surprisingly the rug burn didn’t hurt and the new pain of her ankles was somewhat muted as it finally registered that if she didn’t get her gun and stop this son-of-a-bitch if he didn’t kill her on the spot, the disease would in a few years. What was it that Frank use to tell me, a gun can be your friend, it never sleeps, is always ready, willing and very able. Her mind calmed momentarily with thoughts of family then her brain reminded her, “I hate guns, am afraid of them, have always been afraid if I had one, I might hurt someone. Hurt someone? Yea right. That is exactly what I need my gun for right now... to hurt this SOB.” The human mind is a strange and wondrous organ. It can cause pain as well as mask it. It can compute at the speed of light or decipher a shopping list at the grocery store, and it can recall pleasant and unpleasant events almost simultaneously. When her eyes finally uncrossed she realized she was looking at the ceiling fan and a now drunken Louis was between her legs clawing at her panties and mauling her exposed breasts at the same time. He was intent on rape and unlike one other time she had been in this kind of situation in NY following a pleasant dinner and a couple bottles of wine, her potential lover (sex partner) for the evening had her in the same position. Rape wasn’t the intent then, but sex sure was. Legs in the air, crouch open and dick in hand. At that time, she yelled “STOP” and Angel did. She tried it for Louis. “STOP”!!! Don’t think it was working this time. This wasn’t a date-rape, this wasn’t just rough sex, as this was shaping up to be a violent violation of her body. This was the true meaning of rape. Her brain took over and shut out the pain of his entrance into her body. He wasn’t being careful, loving, and considerate. He had not bothered to open her lips, but had forcible pushed his smallish hard diseased crooked cucumber into her pulling hair and barren skin inside as he ripped and torn her dry vagina. Her mind helped by feeling no pain, discomfort, or anything between her legs, but he had not stopped. The smell of him was sickening from his exposed genitals to the fowl methane gas he was letting. She knew, but her mind was not accepting what was happening to her as she felt nothing in her body. Her hips were hurting and both legs were numb and heavy but her arms still worked as she hit him over and over on the head and shoulders. He liked her struggling. The more she struggled the harder that damned cucumber seemed to get.
“Hi sweetheart, anyone home?” It was Frank. He was early and coming in the front door.
“Who’s that… you expecting company?” Louis demanded. Betty Sue didn’t answer but struggled with flailing arms and legs to get out from under this pile of useless humanity. Her cheeks were still stinging and her stomach and insides of both thighs were already heavily bruised and becoming painful. “FRANK!!! RUN!!! Don’t come in! Run!! FRANK... RUN!!!!” She screamed.
“What the hell is going on here?” The screen door slammed behind him as he dropped a garment bag and squinted toward the floor of the den area trying to make out the two figures. “Betty Sue?” It was a question he didn’t need to ask. He knew her voice and he was familiar with violence, he knew the answer and worst of all, he saw exactly what was happening. The yelling and screaming with female legs in the air, a male bare ass facing him was picture enough. He knew... and reacted. An ear ear-piercing rebel yell exploded from his lips as his happy-go-lucky steps of only a moment ago took him the twenty feet into the pile in the den. Betty Sue’s home is large and very comfortable. Ranch style with recreation room in the basement, in ground heated pool, hot tub, sun porch. The last time he had this kind of adrenaline level, he had to kill.
Ex-military aren’t the brightest candles on any tree, but they do have a tendency to get the job done. Betty Sue was still on her back on the floor; Louis was between her open legs still holding onto his crooked cucumber like member while turning to see just what was going on just as Frank hit him with a flying tackle and an elbow upside his head. The force of the blow sent both men hard against the wooden wall breaking a VCR storage cabinet in the process. A lot of things were happening at the same time and there were arms, legs and torso’s all in a pyramid with Louis pinned against the wall with Frank pounding on him with bare knuckles and a plastic VCR movie housing that somehow had found itself into his hands. As Frank pounded the container shattered and the jagged plastic was taking chunks of skin from Louis and also leaving long slices of deep red wounds on his face shoulders and upper torso. Anything that Frank could hit was being cut and gouged. Betty Sue somehow managed to scoot out from under the fray and crawled toward the now open bedroom door only a few feet away. My gun... I have to get my gun!! Air coming from the bedroom was cool. The window shades were pulled and the room was a deep gray, but you could easily make out the huge master king sized bed, a dresser and night stand. The sound of the fan running in the air-conditioner filled the room, but was unnoticed in the commotion of the men fighting. Betty Sue crawled to the side of the bed and put her back against it, feet almost touching the dresser. The .38 revolver was in the night stand. Get the gun Betty Sue. Get the gun. Get the gun. Now!!!!
Her head hurt, her dressing gown was torn, her stomach and inner thighs hurt and her breast were tender from the mauling Louis had given them. Damn. Get the gun Betty Sue!!!
Seconds passed that seemed like long minutes.... Get the gun Betty Sue. NOW!!! God, please make this go away... Someone or something was slammed into the wall again and again as the two men fought and violent angry words were being said and shouted by both. Another minute passed with noise and fighting when suddenly, the den area was silent. The hum of the AC’s fan became the only sound in the house other then Betty Sue’s heavy breathing. She noticed the noise of the silence and began crawling toward the closed door to the den. She slipped her hand between the door and the jamb and pulled it open only to see Frank lying on his back only a few inches away. His face was bloody and there was a knife handle sticking out of his chest. Somewhere during the two men struggling, they had fought their way through the kitchen area and Louis had apparently grabbed a large bladed, black handled 11 inch butcher’s knife and buried it in Frank’s chest.
Frank was dying and no one could do anything about it now. It was too late. Louis was sitting on the floor with his back braced against the glass outside door next to her computer. His face was more blooded then Frank’s but he was smiling and even worse, he was still alive. Betty Sue crawled over to Frank and took his head in her hands and kissed him. His lips were motionless and sticky with blood. She put her hand on the handle and thought about pulling it out, but Frank winced in heavy pain, so she stopped. He looked first toward Betty Sue then to the tip of the handle and back before weakly saying, I may need a band ad. :-) He coughed a couple time as fluid and blood built in his lungs and he looked tired. “I am so sorry” Betty Sue said. “I love you so; I tried to warn you, to run, to not come in... God Frank... I am so sorry... Please forgive me.... I love you so very much, please don’t leave me... Please.” It was too late. At best he had only a few more seconds left on earth and he used them to express him love to this very special woman in his life. “Betty Sue sweetheart... not your fault... I love you too, so very much....” Then with his last breath he said, “…the gun.... night stand... protect yourself...” then he winked and grinned as blood ran from the corner of his mouth across her hands and pooled on the dark brown rug.
An eternity passed in the next three seconds. As Frank’s body was shutting down it twitched a couple last times as Betty Sue held his dead body close to her breast and her whole being was racked with soul searching sobs for the lose of her love and the complete emptiness she now faces. Louis took it away from her. Louis has caused her great and unrelenting pain. God Damn him to Hell. How dare he come into my home and do this to me... How dare he! Her mind was saying all the evil things she could think of as he said aloud through that same sick smile. “OK now my sweet little c*nt, as soon as I get up it’s your turn. I’m going to finishing f*cking you then I’m going to cut your heart out and eat it after I slice it up using that knife in your boyfriend’s chest.” He said the words and made a few jesters with bloody hands but didn’t move any of his body parts. Frank had put up a pretty good fight and during the scuffle had opened several gashes that were leaking lots of Louis’s blood. He looked to be in a bit of pain. Frank and Betty Sue use to sit and talk for hours. They would talk about any subject that came to mind and never held anything back. If a topic was thought to be disturbing or not appropriate at the time, they would try it and see where it took them. Once he was telling her about his combat tour and how the enemy would get high on opium and heroin type drugs before a battle. He said it gave them courage and kept them going if they should get wounded. Louis was definitely high on something other then whiskey was the only explanation to why he could still be taunting her with sex and violence? Frank had made him pay, but not enough.
It wasn’t a conscience thought or effort as Betty Sue gently lay Frank’s head down on the carpet and crawled back into her bedroom. She wasn’t thinking but only reacting. It was only a few seconds till she was back, standing erect, both red stained breast fully exposed and still damp from Frank’s blood. Heat from the wood stove could be felt on her backside. Sunlight was coming in through the open curtains. It was high noon. Outside in her yard there were birds singing and playing in the gentle air currents. The world was good. Why has God forsaken me at this time? Nipples were bullet hard and breasts swayed slightly as she took five steps toward where Louis was propped against the glass door. He didn’t see the Colt .38 in her right hand.
Betty Sue had never fired a gun in anger. She had never fired a weapon of any sorts, in any condition but she held the .38 firm in her hand and walked with purpose. With each step she was remembering the instructions Frank had given her. “This is a double action .38 - 5 shot revolver. Always make sure of your first round and chances are you will never need the other 4. Never jerk the trigger. Use your thumb to cock the hammer for your first shot, take a deep breath, sight along the top of the barrel at your target and squeeze the trigger. The gun is nothing more then an extension of your hand. Point it and squeeze.” She was hearing the words as if Frank was walking with her whispering in her ear. She stopped two yards from Louis. He was still smiling but Betty Sue’s face was expressionless. Her right arm was hanging by her side. Thumb on the hammer, index finger gently touching the trigger housing, third and fourth fingers holding the cool plastic ladies handle. Her thumb seemingly acting as if on its own doubled cocked the hammer. She said nothing; her emotions were in check as she slowly raised the little gun to eye level sighted over the short one-inch barrel to where she was looking right between his eyes. He was either to stupid or didn’t believe she would pull the trigger and did nothing but lay there and grin. She took a deep breath and lowered the barrel to just below his belt and squeezed. The little gun jumped just a bit. It felt good. The round hit exactly where she wanted. His screams of pain told her she had hit him right in the middle of that damnable cucumber. She was beginning to see what Frank had told her about guns. They can make you feel good as well as hurt. She squeezed the trigger once again while looking down the barrel at the middle of his forehead. Yes. Three more times she felt the .38 jump, she squeezed again, then again, then again. The little gun stopped jumping and only clicked, clicked, clicked. Her arm felt heavy. She was very tired.
To kill isn’t that difficult when it is either them or you.
There was suddenly a slight taste of acid in the room, Louis had his cucumber splattered, now had a third eye, three more button holes and there was blood and brains surrounding the shattered glass door where he had been leaning. He wasn’t smiling.
The evening had been long and very dark but the sun was due on the Eastern horizon any moment.
Betty Sue was on her back with the bed comfort pulled up sweetly under her chin. There was a pixie little girl smile on a relaxed face and her right hand was sticking out of the covers as if waiting for Frank to hold her hand once more like so many times in the past. It had been his habit to hold her hand while gently kissing her morning lips and gently very gently running his finger tips over her naked body. He had done that one day long ago trying to find ways to wake her and still let her think it was her idea to open her eyes. He knew she liked her sleep. He knew that waking her before it was time was... well... it wasn’t good. One morning long ago he had raised to an elbow and gently pulled the covers down enough to expose both breast and a warm stomach that disappeared between two beautiful thighs. He had always liked touching her. There was never anything mechanical about the touching... Never five time around this breast then five times around the other. Touch one nipple, then the other. They became lovers by listening to the others body. They remained lovers by listening to the other and always putting the other before themselves. The fan of the AC humming in the background had always been only for the noise but it gave a refreshing atmosphere to this room. This was Betty Sue’s bedroom. This was the room she had been with Frank so many times, making love with him till her body tingled and in her inimitable words, left her boneless. This is the room where she could be herself, explore, and experiment, be the woman she had always known was hiding in her body. This is the room where she and Frank laughed, joked, played cards and games of ever sort. God how she loved this room... It held so many memories…so many beautiful memories. Geoff never made it to her bedroom. The guestroom was used for Geoff and others… this bedroom is reserved for only the special and the loved.
There was a slight tingling around her stomach and a sensation of pleasure running from her right breast down through her stomach and trying to escape her clit...a very wet clit. It was Frank’s fingers.
Frank was leaning on his left elbow as he said, Good morning sweetheart. Hope you didn’t have any more of those horrible nightmares of you being raped and me getting killed. I slept like a log... Are you ready for your coffee??
***
Betty Sue’s account of this day has been reenacted thousands of times in real life not only here in the land of milk and honey, but world-wide to humans of all walks of life, and to every color and age group. Crime and violence has no color and state boundaries and never sleeps. They are sisters in savagery where there is no age limit for violence and death. You must be 18 years old to drink and legally drive an automobile, but rules do not govern when you needlessly suffer, die nor who can kill. Knowledge of how to properly use weapons, will and very frequently extend life. This story began, unfolds, is lived out in a matter of only a few short hours, but affected many lives the duration of their lives.
During the initial years of the 21st century Betty Sue’s life changed dramatically from a comfortable community oriented home life, loving wife and mother to a woman looking for her own identity. She was alone and she didn’t need a man in her life, but she wanted one. Family life is good and everyone should have a family, but a human’s basis instinct is to share love, physical love with a partner. She wanted to be part of a couple. Betty Sue’s sexual partners in the past have been something less then satisfying and according to the many books she read, the movies she saw, and from other female conversations, there was something missing. There was a fire burning inside her and she somehow had to find a way to satisfy what to do about it… in Frank she found that satisfaction.
***
AUTHORS NOTE: Betty Sue is dead now…Her death was not from a rapist, an evil person, natural disaster, a war or a nice clean bullet or even those seven seconds of life you have left when your car impacts a concrete bridge abutment. Her death came from a cancer where there is little to no defense. She was 46 years old.
Killer With Three Heads is the second book in the Killer series. Bulletproof Morris ‘Mojo’ Johnson returns to New York as John Morrison after a 10 years’ absence to find the people responsible for kidnapping his daughter, Maria.
The FBI Inspector (380 pages) is a collection of 25 short fiction crime novellas involving the law enforcement services of FBI Inspector Joe Giralo along with his three government agents, Sal Velardi, Arthur Orsi and Dan Blachford.
