Black Death (A Sam Rader Thriller Book 4)

by Simon King

  Once he pulled up out the front, he was relieved to see the entire front of the house hidden by a huge hedge. The driveway was empty and with no garage, knew Briarson’s Ford was gone. There was a small sliver of grass running between the hedge and the path running along the front of the blindingly-white cottage and as Neville walked along it, quite literally found his key to getting inside.

  The dumb broad had placed one of those fake rocks almost directly beside the steps to the front door. It was one of the cheap ones one might buy from a junk mail catalog someone stuffed into one’s mailbox. It couldn’t have cost any more than five bucks. The whole stupidity of the rock was funny. For one, there were no other rocks lying anywhere else, and the fake rock was sitting on the concrete path. Neville almost began to laugh as he picked it up and unsnapped the base.

  The single key fell into his cupped hand and he looked around to confirm his privacy. Once he was sure he was alone, Neville climbed the single step and knocked. It didn’t take long for him to slip the key into the lock and open the door, aware that time was of the essence. He wanted to be in and out as quickly as possible, to ensure his plan had been completed.

  Once inside, he slowly crept along the hallway, making his way towards what he hoped would be the bitch’s bedroom. It was a room draped in the shadows, with the small curtained window unable to allow enough light through to fully light it up. There was a single bed, a side chest and a small dressing table, complete with mirror.

  As if driven by his insatiable lust for anything sexual, he made a beeline for the bedside chest, opened the top drawer and instantly felt the disappointment when he didn’t find the underwear. What he discovered instead, were three books, neatly propped against one side. The first was the Bible, the second a small handbook about knitting, whilst the third was a book about Oprah.

  “Could have guessed,” he muttered under his breath, feeling the repulsiveness of the woman who lived in this very room. Not dismayed, he moved on to the second drawer, this time finding a handful of undies, the kind he’d always referred to as “granny wear”. They were the kind that Pam only wore when she had her period, a style he hated seeing on her. He wanted to see her butt and undies the size of car covers didn’t do it for him.

  He slammed the drawer shut a little too hard and instantly felt the shock of the bang as it echoed around the room. He paused briefly, listening for any follow-up sounds. There were none and he was about to turn away when curiosity got the better of him. He slowly leaned down a little and tugged on the third drawer’s handle.

  There was a t-shirt lying on top and as soon as Neville pushed it aside, felt the familiar throb in his pants start up. Hiding beneath the t-shirt lay a purple vibrator, it’s smooth surface almost shiny in appearance.

  “Holy shit, the bitch fucks herself,” he cawed as he reached for it.

  At first he simply held it, staring at it and imagining where it had recently been. Then, as if to confirm something in his own mind, he lifted the toy up to his face and smelled the plastic. Neville was almost disappointed when he detected the faint aroma of soap. He had hoped to at least get a small whiff of the bitch’s box, but no such luck, She had washed it after its last use.

  He dropped it back into its hiding spot, returned the t-shirt to its previous position and closed the drawer. What he needed was a hiding spot of his own, somewhere to plant the credit cards. It couldn’t be too difficult to find, but also not somewhere where Briarson was likely to find it.

  In the end, Neville hid them where he figured they’d never be found, especially by a woman as “feminine” as Emily Briarson. He dropped the small pouch containing the cards into the toilet cistern. He’d watched a lot of cop shows and the toilet cistern was a common-enough place to stash things you didn’t want anyone to find. And if the cops really did come looking, there was every chance that’s where they’d check.

  Three days was all it took for the fireworks to start. While the theft of the credit cards were already reported by midday Saturday, it took authorities very little time to trace the purchases back to the thief. They had all been sent to the same address, which also happened to be the mother’s home of one of the employees in the building where the credit cards were all stolen.

  She wailed like a small child as the police led her out. To top it off, her hands were cuffed and as they passed by Neville’s office, Briarson was crying uncontrollably, which was enough to return the familiar feeling in his pants.

  Once the procession had left the building, the whispers began, with some noting other things that had disappeared during the preceding weeks and months. Others mentioned finding the woman deceptive and often acting suspiciously when seen from a distance. And throughout it all, Neville watched from the sidelines, quietly content with removing the competition.

  Emily Briarson’s home was searched that afternoon and as Neville had predicted, the stolen credit cards were found where he had planted them. The accused was charged with numerous offenses, including theft, credit card fraud and to Neville’s surprise, assaulting a police officer, after spitting on the officer watching her as the rest searched her home.

  Neville made it a point of ignoring the eventual outcome of her charges, instead focusing on what he knew lay ahead of him. Of course he received the promotion a few weeks later, handed the official notice by the good mayor herself. She even shook his hand, although Neville would have preferred a man’s shake instead. Women holding positions of power just didn’t feel right to him and although he was smiling on the outside, on the inside he was screaming.

  He celebrated his victory late into the night, hitting a couple of bars with a few friends. And when he got home sometime after midnight, he celebrated some more, first by breaking Pam’s nose after slamming it into the bedhead, then by sodomizing his wife as he rained fists down on her from behind. She buried her face into the pillow as hard as she could, but not enough to fully quieten her cries. Because it was the cries that Neville loved to hear the most.

  Almost a month after his promotion, Neville’s car had broken down one morning, the brakes suddenly failing at a set of traffic lights. After pushing the car off the side of the road, he’d ordered an Uber to take him to work. As he stood by his car waiting for the ride to show up, his anger began to grow, sure that somehow, it was Pam’s fault. She was, after all, the housewife. Wasn’t it her responsibility to make sure everything in the house worked?

  His hands were flexing and relaxing as he stood, leaning against the car with his fists clenching tighter and tighter. Pam’s face was front of mind and he knew the bitch would pay for making him look like an idiot. Only losers broke down in the middle of traffic and he needed to show her just how badly she fucked up.

  The Uber pulled up almost thirty minutes later and by then he’d added making him late for work on to the list he intended to share with his wife when he got home. He hopped in the back seat, closed the door and spat the address at the driver. The car pulled back into traffic almost immediately and Neville watched as the cars passed them by, his anger beginning to slowly recede.

  It were the driver’s eyes, repeatedly looking back at him through the rear-vision mirror, that got his attention. He hadn’t noticed at first, but from the side profile he could make out, combined with the partial face he could see in the mirror, the woman driving the car was hot. Not as hot as some of the porn stars he liked to masturbate over, but for a black chick? She was gorgeous.

  He found himself unable to keep his eyes off her and while he hadn’t noticed it in the beginning, now he could also smell the sweetness of her perfume.

  “I think I recognize that scent,” he began, trying his hardest to sound sincere.

  “Oh, really?” The woman turned a little, looked back at him, then returned her focus to the road. “It was a gift from my sister. It was her favorite.”

  “Poison, right?” The woman nodded.

  “Correct. Wow, you have a good nose,” she said.

  ‘I also have a
n amazing dick,’ he thought to himself. “Thank you.”

  “So, taking you to work?”

  “Yah. I work with the Mayor.” This time he sounded a little pompous, but he figured, what the hell. He’d deserved his promotion.

  “That’s so cool. Me? I just drive my car all day. Pretty sheltered life, you know?”

  “You don’t get out much? Can’t be good for the social life.”

  “Guess not. Still, this is a good way to meet people. You know, find out bits and pieces about their lives.” She paused briefly, then added, “Met my ex-husband doing this.”

  “Really? You met your husband?” He leaned forward in his seat, taken by the smile he could only half see.

  “Sure did. Sitting right where you are. A pilot. Took him to the airport that first time.”

  “You said ex?”

  “They all become exes once you find out about their cheating.” Neville felt the familiar warmth in his pants begin to throb.

  “Wait, someone cheated on you? Why would they do that? You’re beautiful.” He could see her blush a little, turning her head just enough to hide it. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  She looked back at him through the mirror and smiled again. His throbbing seemed to intensify as the erection struggled for room.

  “Don’t apologize. Some men are just assholes.”

  “Yes, they are.” He suddenly found himself trying to twist his wedding band off, not realizing he had even begun to try and remove it. He watched as traffic continued to pass them.

  “Hey, I know it’s a long shot, but I kind of feel like we have some sort of connection.” She looked back at him again, the same smile still staring back at him.

  “Connection? Really?” It seemed as if she caught his bullshit and for a second he was sure the game was over. He giggled a bit.

  “I’m sorry. Pretty lame, huh?”

  “Kind of,” she replied.

  They continued to head further towards the city, the conversation seemingly paused. Neville began to reconsider his wedding band and was about to slip it back on when the woman began to speak again.

  “You know, I’m open for a drink, if you want.” He jumped at the opportunity with open arms.

  “Drink? Sure. Where?”

  “How about I pick you up after work. I guess I know where that is now?” She laughed a little and it had an insane effect on his hard-on.

  “After work sounds great. Say 5.30?”

  Work went blindingly slow, almost to the point where he wanted to scream for the time to pass quicker. By 10 o’clock, Neville was sure that he’d stared at the clock for six straight hours, checking the time on his cell, wristwatch and computer almost every minute.

  At one point, he closed his eyes and imagined his Uber driver naked, performing a strip tease for him as he sat watching her with his pants down around his ankles. The tightness in his pants was driving him crazy and he almost considered closing his door and taking care of it himself.

  But then his thoughts turned to the possibility that she wanted more than just a drink. Maybe she needed what he had to give. Maybe she could tell that he wasn’t one of these faggy new-age sensitive homos that everybody needed so badly these days. He was a real man, an old-school man that she wanted to take her and do with as he pleased. She wanted to be fucked the way a woman needed to be fucked.

  “Do you have the updated press release for me, Neville?”

  He almost jumped out of his chair as the voice sounded closer than the door. Neville looked up and saw the mayor standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame and eyeing him as if she’d been standing there forever.

  “Ma’am, sorry.”

  “Not sleeping, were you?”

  “No, of course not. My car broke down and I had a full-on morning. Yes, I’ll get the release up to you straightaway.”

  Theresa Coppins nodded, her eyes drilling into him like lasers, before she turned and disappeared back into the hallway. Neville held his breath until she disappeared from view, then sighed, feeling the color return to his face.

  “Fucken bitch,” he hissed, before returning to his computer screen.

  Neville nearly stumbled as he raced down the stairs and out the through the front doors of the building. The anticipation had been building all day and now that the time had finally arrived, found himself unable to keep up with his legs. There was a short walk back to where he had been dropped off and with the amount of people out and about, almost missed where his date was waiting.

  She was parked in almost the same place, her smile visible through the windshield. He didn’t hesitate and instead of sitting in the back seat, this time hopped in the front. As she started to turn out into traffic, he reached across and squeezed her leg, feeling the heat of her through the stockings.

  “Jazabel,” he said out loud, reading her ID card fixed to the sun visor. Inside, he thought, “that’s a hookers name if ever there was one.”

  “And your’s?”

  “Bill,” he lied, unsure of why he felt the need to. He was, after all, the master of his domain and not even Pam would ever dare to question him.

  “Pleased to meet you, Bill,” Jazabel said, offering him her hand. He shook with her, then sat back and just stared as she worked the vehicle through peak hour.

  “Has anybody ever told you just how unbelievably sexy you are?” He thought his confidence would rattle her a bit and waited for her girly response, no doubt something weak and uninspired. But what she said, brought him crashing back down to earth in a second.

  “You think so? Does that mean we can skip the drink and just get right down to fucking?”

  They found the nearest hotel and Jazabel lead Neville into the elevator, waited for the doors to close, then kissed him passionately. As the elevator shot up, his hand shot down, rubbing the hotspot of her crotch as her tongue worked its magic in his mouth. He could feel her moan building as he pressed on her spot hard. Just as he felt his prick needing to burst through his pants, the elevator died, slowed and opened up to a dark hallway.

  “Let’s go, stud,” she crooned, pulling him along by his tie.

  Neville had never felt so overcome with urge before, feeling as if he needed this woman right there and then. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her tight butt, trying to reach out and grab it as she walked a couple of feet ahead.

  Once they reached the door, she slid the key in and he spun her back to face him. Without hesitating, Neville slipped his hand up her skirt and tried to feel her wetness. But she closed her thighs before his fingers had a chance to pull the soft cloth of her knickers aside and instead, twisted the door open and disappeared inside.

  He slowly followed, locked the door behind him and started to undo his pants. Just as they dropped around his ankles, the cell sitting in his pocket began to ring. He looked at it for a moment, considered answering it, then kicked the pants away. It would just be Pam and that bitch had no idea of the shit-storm coming home to her tonight.

  Jazabel slipped off her top, revealing firm breasts that seemed to stare at him. He felt the throbbing hit high gear and saw Jazabel take a peak.

  “I think someone wants to play,” she whispered, pointing to his crotch.

  “He certainly does.” He stepped forward until his knees touched the bed, then watched as his new conquest slipped out of her skirt. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

  She turned a little, let him see her red thong in all its glory and wiggled her butt at him.

  “See anything you like?”

  He felt like fainting, believing all the blood in his body was somehow inside his cock. It felt huge, almost too big to believe and wanted nothing more than to watch it disappear between her lips.

  “Come here, beautiful,” he whispered, gesturing for her to crawl across the bed. Jazabel complied, slinking her way across to him. Just before reaching him, she began to circle a nipple with one of her fingers, slowly teasing him as she moaned in time.

  “Want a
little taste?”

  He didn’t need to be asked twice and dropped onto the bed. He slowly kissed her shin, then thigh, slowly working his way up. He paused briefly near her honey pot, sniffed deeply and closed his eyes. Once he reached her breasts, there was no stopping him, as he began to suck on the first one he could get into his mouth, almost hard enough for the nipple to reach the back of his throat. He never felt the dizziness start until it was much too late to avert it. And as he fell back on the bed, with the world starting to swim before him, he saw a shadow rise above him that he knew wanted more than his body.

  It was the taste in his mouth that first brought him up from the shadows. He could feel the restraints on his arms and legs and for the briefest moment, still believed it was all part of the game. This woman was more than just a sex maniac. She wanted to have some real fun, the kind of fun he himself understood.

  He tried to speak, but his throat felt much too dry and so didn’t bother. The shadows in the room were playing tricks on him and he tried to focus on each, wondering which one she was hiding in.

  As his eyes adjusted to the light , he finally saw her, standing near the back wall. She was watching him, as if waiting for him to come around so she could make sure he enjoyed her game as well.

  When she finally stepped forward, he felt himself getting hard again, this time not feeling the previous restrictions his clothes had on it. He tried to look down and saw his dick lying on the crest of his stomach. He forced a throb and saw it bounce a little.

  “You’ve excited him,” was what he tried to say, but the words failed to leave his throat.

  “Don’t speak,” the woman said and it was her tone that first made him question the moment.

  “But,” he tried again, for the first time sensing something wrong.