Monster: The Story Of A Maniac

by Peter Cry

  “Yes,” she answered intrigued.

  “Do you like it hard or gentle?”

  Rita smiled.

  “Gentle... And then hard, and then gentle again. I like it the way you like it.”

  Like a cat, Rita turned around and slowly walked towards the bedroom. On her way, with her thin fingers, she removed one shoulder strap from her shoulder, and then another one. Within a second, before him was revealed the most beautiful thing that Alfred had ever seen.

  Rita was completely naked. She was not wearing any panties, nor a bra. The light from a nearby floor lamp played on her silk skin enhancing her perfect silhouette. She disappeared into the bedroom.

  Alfred followed her. Although it was dark, the mystical light of a full moon penetrated through a huge, non-curtained window. It gave the turquoise-white bedroom an unnaturally beautiful, magical look. The room smelled of Rita and pleasure.

  Lying on a white sheet, she watched Alfred pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. The ebony beauty had no inhibitions about showing her emotions and desires. Her hands glided over her body, touching the most precious places for every man. Alfred watched and followed every gesture with growing desire, realizing that only a moment separated him from touching her coveted skin with his hands.

  Completely naked, excited to impossibility, he lay down next to her. In the twilight, she noticed several scars and marks on his athletic strong body which had not disappeared even after two years.

  Rita moved on top of Alfred and began covering his body with gentle kisses. She worked her way down to his chest, then the abdomen, paying particular attention to the cruel physical traces of the tragedy he had experienced. Rita's palms, like two snakes, glided over Alfred's hypersensitive body. Touching him with her lips, feeling his wounds and muscles with her fingertips, Rita felt that her head was spinning pleasantly, as if she was high. She was enjoying giving pleasure no less than her partner was receiving it. A sweet obsession drove her forward. Alfred was absorbed by the heavy breathing and quiet moaning of Rita as she caressed him. Going lower and lower, she strove for the most precious. With her hardened nipples, she touched the head of his erect, burning penis, making his body shudder. Reciprocating, Alfred stroked the satin back of the ebony enchantress, allowing her to continue taking the lead.

  He noticed how Rita pushed her loose hair to the side and took his penis with her long thin fingers. Then something fantastic happened. He never thought that one of his organs might experience something similar. He knew his tongue was able to taste what was sweet, but he could never have imagined that the head of his penis was capable of something similar. Her sweet, wet, warm lips enveloped his member. It was so pleasurable, although slightly painful, which turned him on even more.

  Alfred’s fingers were buried in Rita’s silk hair. With gentle thrusts, he began to help her. A suppressed moan erupted from his flaming chest spurring Rita on even more. Trying to make it as good as possible for Alfred, she took his hard cock deeper and deeper into her mouth, working faster and faster. She appeared to be entering some sort of meditative state, and to be receiving physical, and not only emotional pleasure, from the blowjob. She seemed to be on the verge of climaxing herself.

  Rita suddenly stopped and wiped away the tears that the intense blowjob had brought out. She slowly sat on Alfred’s torso.

  “Look into my eyes,” Rita told him.

  She took Alfred's well-formed, straight member in her hand, guided it to the moist lips of her vagina, and mounted him.

  Neither a heart attack, nuclear explosion next door, nor a zombie apocalypse, could have torn apart the two passionate lovers locked together and absorbed in their own fairy tale. Two pieces of a jig-saw puzzle of a million pieces fitting perfectly together. Blown together by a warm gentle sea wind and blended in a delicious dessert.

  “Look into my eyes,” Rita repeated as she groaned, riding him, pressing herself to his hips as hard as she could.

  Alfred suddenly grabbed her by the arms and, clasping her to himself, took control. He penetrated Rita deep and hard, again and again.

  “Yes, that’s right, don’t stop,” she urged him.

  Alfred pulled her closer and closer. He looked into her eyes and felt something that people apparently called love. Two bodies had tuned to one frequency of the highest emotions and vibrations. Two completely different souls had melted and merged into one.

  Alfred experienced a tremendous feeling of altruism, when he was ready to do absolutely everything for the sake of another human – give his life, change, even give up his kidney or his heart. When he penetrated Rita, he felt her from the inside – there was no need to hold back or try to impress. Everything was natural.

  United, holding hands, fusing their hearts and bodies, they were reaching a peak within the clouds, somewhere between living matter and metaphysics.

  Rita felt an extraordinary glow radiate through her lower abdomen, which began to shake every muscle in her body. Screaming from pleasure, she throbbed like an exploding supernova, relishing every split second of the orgasm. Out of breath, she raised her head and looked at Alfred. He, breathing deeply, continued stroking her sweating back and remaining in a mystical sensual contact with her.

  “Did you cum?” she asked, stroking his cheek with her fingertips.

  He nodded silently.

  “Wow... What was that?” Rita asked, smiling and content, after which she wiped the sweat from Alfred's brow.

  “I don't know,” Alfred said, tenderly. “It's thanks to you...”

  “No. It's all because of you. You lied you had no experience. With your talent you should be working not for the FBI, but as a star in the porn industry.”

  Rita lay alongside him.

  “Did you like it?”

  “Yes,” he put a hand under her head. “And I’m sure if something like that had happened in my life before, I would have remembered it. I don’t think amnesia could erase it from my memory.”

  “Will you stay the night?”

  “Of course. But, being next to you, I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep.”

  Rita’s fingers, with their luxuriously manicured pink nails, gently fondled Alfred's receptive penis.

  “So, we’ll not sleep tonight. We’ll stay in bed until three in the afternoon, then watch television and eat pizza, and after that we can take a walk in the evening. And if you’re not fed up with me and you could stay tomorrow too.”

  Alfred kissed Rita gently on the lips.

  “With pleasure. I always wanted to spend time with a girlfriend like that.”

  “If I’m your girlfriend, then you’re my boyfriend?”

  “Apparently, I am.”

  “You know,” Rita joked, “before we made love, I would have had to think about it, but now I’m comfortable with everything.”

  Alfred gave her a serious look.

  “So, you say, it wasn’t sex, and that we made love?”

  “Yes, I'm sure.”

  “Well, I guess, it was a pretty good start for my career,” Alfred quipped, staring at the ceiling.

  “Your career?”

  “In porn, as you said. So, I guess I’ll practice a little, and then I’ll become a star.”

  Pulling a pillow from under her head, Rita struck him playfully with it.

  “Listen you, fat cobra, don’t joke with me like that. I’m the jealous type!”

  “Really?” he peeked out from behind the pillow.

  “Yes, so don't give me a reason to be so.”

  “Did I?”

  Rita looked pensively at the naked man lying in her bed. Getting up, she took a cigarette from her bedside table and wrapped in a blanket went to the balcony.

  “Have I ever given you a reason for it?” Alfred caught up with her, also wrapped in a sheet.

  Rita blew smoke in his face.

  “Have a good think.”

  “Firstly,” Alfred chastised his girlfriend softly. “I don’t like that you smoke, and secondly,
about Kate – are you being serious? Compared to you, she’s…”

  “Please, stop it,” Rita interrupted. “First, I don't smoke. I have one cigarette a week, and second, I don’t want to discuss my employees now, not even the one who likes you. We’ll need to be very careful that no one suspects anything. With our body language, the way we look at one another. The main thing on Monday is not to become unstuck when I see you at work.”

  “You won't...” Alfred became worried. “On Monday morning, I'm flying to Chicago.”

  Rita threw her unfinished cigarette down from the balcony.

  “Alf, listen to me, the fact that there is now something between us, something that I really appreciate and would like to develop, does not mean that you can pursue your personal matters during your working hours without telling anyone.”

  “The reason I'm flying there is connected with the investigation.”

  “And when were you going to tell me about it?”

  “Tomorrow, after the date. I didn’t expect everything would happen so quickly.”

  Rita looked at her subordinate and lover not knowing how to react. On the one hand, she wanted to swear at him, outraged, with the expectation he would calm her down. On the other, she wanted to give him a dressing down as her subordinate at work.

  “It’s not on, Alf.” She returned to the bedroom and sat on the bed. “You cannot run your own personal investigation separately from all of your colleagues in the investigation department.”

  Alfred followed slowly and knelt before her. He began to stroke her legs.

  “Forgive me. You’re right. But when I see the reluctance of Polaski, Ramirez and the rest not wanting to do anything, and their arrogance, I’m afraid they’ll only get in the way.”

  “Well, at least you could have told me... I’m still in charge of the investigation.”

  “Of course,” Alfred replied carefully. “I don’t dare undermine your authority, and I will certainly tell you about everything as soon as I return from Chicago. I’ll tell everyone. I’ll take a huge board, stick some photos on it, draw lines, write names and share everything I’ve managed to find out.”

  “Won’t you at least give me a hint?” Rita said, beginning to stroke the rogue’s hair.

  “Not yet. But, it seems, I’ve managed to find a thread leading to the children. I think we’ll be able to save Benjamin’s ass and maybe find the criminal and the children.”

  Shocked, Rita smiled, not believing her ears.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely. Just trust me and give me the opportunity to do everything the way I want.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  “Seriously? Will you let me do everything the way I want?”

  “That’s what I’ve just said. Why do you keep asking?”

  Alfred gave his lover a mischievous look.

  “Then I want you to teach me.”

  “Teach you what?” Rita’s curiosity was aroused.

  Putting his hands on her knees, Alfred began to gently push them apart.

  “I saw a couple of videos on the Internet, but I'm not sure I know how it’s done.

  He pushed Rita back, and she fell on her elbows.

  “So, you’ll will teach me, right?”

  “Of course, dear, I’ll teach you,” she said with a gasp, placing a hand on Alfred’s head and pressing his mouth to her pussy.

  Chapter 23

  Spot on 10:30 a.m. EST, the Boeing 737 brought Alfred Hope to O'Hare Airport outside of Chicago. Getting off the plane, he grabbed his small suitcase at the baggage claim point and hurried to the exit.

  He hailed a taxi and asked to be taken to an inexpensive hotel

  downtown. Then to the Old Town.

  During his short conscious life, Alfred had never been to the third largest and most populous city in the USA. On any other occasion, he probably would have spent time roaming around, exploring local attractions, admiring the skyscrapers, and walking along the shore of Lake Michigan. But he had no time for that. He was there for another purpose – he had the exact address of the person who he believed was connected with the abduction of the children.

  Nathan Zimmerman rented a two-room apartment on the fourth floor of a brick house. It was where Alfred intended to go after he dropped off his bag in the hotel. He was ready to watch the residence of the suspect as long as it was needed to finally see him.

  Sitting in the taxi, Alfred tried to foresee what awaited him. He imagined running up the stairs to the third floor, knocking on the door. It would open, and he would show his FBI agent badge. Zimmerman would get nervous and try to close the door. Alfred would kick it open, force his way in and close the door behind him. After a short, but very intense conversation, Zimmerman would admit his guilt, identify his accomplices and be taken back to Indianapolis in the trunk of a rented car. If the situation did not permit that, he would inform local FBI agents, and they would assist in transporting the dangerous witness and criminal back home.

  An hour and a half later, Agent Hope was at the location. His taxi driver brought him to the Old Town. Close to the business area, it retained all the charm and beauty of the early twentieth century. Low two-story houses in Art Nouveau, Federation and Edwardian styles which were a pleasure to see. Almost all of them had small shops and cafes on the ground floor.

  Alfred asked the taxi driver to stop fifty yards from the house that interested him.

  “57 dollars, please.”

  Paying in cash, he got out of the car, put on his sunglasses, and buttoned his black jacket. He decided to look around.

  Halstead Street was quite a busy place thanks to the variety of shops. People always scurried about it, and the traffic was almost as busy as in the city’s business center.

  Alfred walked along the houses, keeping in his head the image of Nathan Zimmermann, who might just walk or drive along the road heading home. It shouldn’t be too difficult to spot the young, tall, man with long curly hair, a slightly flat nose, and empty gray eyes among passers-by. The main thing was to be careful.

  Alfred went to the transparent glass doors of the house where the photographer was supposed to live. Opening them, he went into the small bright lobby. Although there was no concierge or any security inside, it was flawlessly clean and tidy. Elevators were not always provided for five-story buildings, so the federal agent had to use the stairs.

  Walking down the corridor, examining all the nooks and crannies, checking if there was a cunningly hidden fire escape that his suspect could use to run away, he went to the door of apartment number 422. Gathering his strength, he pushed the doorbell. Loud pleasant bells sounded from the other side of the door. Shifting his feet nervously, Alfred waited for the door to open, but nothing happened. He rang again, holding his thumb on the button for a few seconds longer than before. Nothing happened again.

  Agent Hope knocked on the door.

  “Mr. Zimmerman, are you at home?”

  No one answered, so he went down to the ground floor hoping to find mailboxes there.

  At the entrance 15 metal boxes with transparent plastic covers were installed on the wall in three rows.

  Alfred looked at box number 422 – it was empty. Some boxes were empty, while the rest contained envelopes and advertising catalogs, which meant that Zimmerman most likely picked up his mail in the morning, and that was good news.

  Stepping outside, the federal agent crossed over to the “Linea” restaurant, offering new American cuisine. He sat down at a small round table by a tinted window, took off his sunglasses and prepared to watch for his suspect.

  A short young woman came up to the table, holding a menu in her hands.

  “Double espresso, please. That will be all,” he smiled, making it clear that he needed nothing else.

  After just over half an hour, he spotted a tall man walking along the sidewalk carrying a heavy paper bag full of provisions.

  �
��It's him,” Alfred thought, drawing attention to the black curly hair tucked behind the man’s ears.

  His heart beat faster. Getting up, he went outside, forgetting to pay the bill. From the entrance of the restaurant, he watched Zimmermann approach the front door of his home. As soon as he entered the house, Alfred wanted to run after him.

  “Are you leaving?” the waitress politely interrupted him.

  Alfred was so focused on his suspect that he did not even pay attention to her.

  “Shall I bring you the bill?” she repeated more loudly.

  “Not now,” Alfred hissed through his teeth.

  “Sir, are you going to pay for your order?” she confronted him.

  The federal agent turned around, pulled out twenty dollars and handed the money to the waitress.

  “Take it and leave me alone!”

  Offended, snorting something under her breath, the waitress went back inside.

  Alfred wanted to make sure that Zimmerman had already entered the house. The FBI agent was suddenly stunned – his suspect stood thirty feet away on the opposite side of the road and was staring directly at him. It was not a mistake. He gazed at the federal agent with intense interest, as if hypnotized. Alfred was like a pit bull ready to attack. But Zimmerman would surely try to escape.

  With his peripheral vision, the charged federal agent noticed a passenger bus approaching at high speed.

  “As soon as it drives by, I will go for him,” Alfred thought.

  The two of them kept staring at one another. Suddenly Zimmerman smiled in bewilderment.

  “Jason!” he exclaimed, stepping on the roadway, wanting to cross.

  “Stop!” Alfred whispered uncertainly.

  Moving at high speed, the bus hit Zimmerman like a concrete wall, throwing his body about thirty feet forward. A woman screamed as the vehicle braked, stopping inches from the bloody lifeless body.

  Groceries from the paper bag were spilled all around Zimmerman. Confused and terrified people started to gather around.

  Stunned, Alfred was the first to approach the corpse.