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THE CASE girls don’t guess chose
From sandman@bitsmart.com Sat Jan 03 02:02:01 1998
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: {ASS} STORY: The Case (Sci-fi)(M/F)(M/M)(V-violence)
From: sandman@bitsmart.com
Date: Sat, 03 Jan 1998 08:02:01 GMT
Content Warning: The following work of fiction deals with sexual
situations between and women and and men. The subject deals
with a serial killer investigation and the darker side of sex is
touched upon. If this bothers you or it is illegal to possess such
material in your locality please hit the delete button now. This is a
work of fiction and any similarities between any person(s) living or
dead is pure coincidence. Under no circumstances should this material
be deemed suitable for minors.
Subject: In the near future a PI must uncover a serial killer in an
under sea pleasure dome where the inhabitants practice free sex.
Author’s note: There is very little graphic sex in this story. The
plot tended to override everything else and there was no strong
character interaction that I find necessary to write excruciatingly
graphic scenes. Still as a short science fiction with a few
noticeably kind nods to BladeRunner I feel the merits
publishing. Just don’t go in expecting to find a lot of life changing
orgasms.
Subject Matter: (Sci-fi)(M/F)(M/M)(V-violence)
Rating: (X) Not suitable for minors. May be illegal in some areas.
Author: The SandMan
Copyright: 1998 sandman@bitsmart.com
Distribution Rights: May be distributed freely WITHOUT MODIFICATION on
USENET, USENET II, not-for profit web sites, not-for profit ftp sites,
and news archival services which offer free public access to archived
articles. All other rights are specifically reserved by the author.
Creation Date: 1/2/98
Distribution Date: 1/3/98
The Case (By Sandman)
It was raining again It always rains hard this time of year. Even
when it doesn’t rain, the sky’s a murky gray all the time. The people
outside are all huddled over, scurrying from one place to another. If
you meet them they try not to let it show the weather’s gotten to
them, but it always has. It’s like people have their lives on hold
for a while, waiting for the sun to appear. The scientists had it
wrong, global warming didn’t melt the ice caps, it just rained more.
The cook brought me my order, a mishmash of Mexican, Chinese, and
Italian fare not all in distinct servings, sometimes the great melting
pot melted to much. But it was lunch. People milled around behind me
as I ate, some going somewhere, some going nowhere, some hawking goods
of one kind or another, probably stolen. Several bumped into me as
they passed. The streets were crowded, they always were.
I finished the meal and dropped two new dollars on the bar, it was an
expensive meal for sidewalk fare, but the cheaper alternatives would
probably have one in the hospital before the day was out. The chef
chattered at me in Spanish, he was yelling at me for not giving him
enough of a tip. I ignored him, if he wanted a tip the meal would
have to have been better and he would have to talk in English. I’m no
language bigot, I talk English to Anglos and Spanish to Hispanics, I
expect the same courtesy in return.
My office was empty of course. I only need a few cases a year to meet
expenses. Some years are better than others. The name on the door
says it all, Steve Whiley P.I., ex COP, ex FBI, ex CIA. Feds took me
from the Cops, CIA took me from the Feds, and I took myself from the
Spooks, they scared me. There’s not much call for a PI these days, a
few missing people now and again, usually dead, a few recovery of
stolen items that sort of thing. But the stock in trade was always
the spouse hunting, either to prove or disprove an affair. It wasn’t
much of one but it was a living. I pulled my hat down, leaned back in
my chair and put my feet up. It wasn’t much of a meal, but enough of
one that the nap came easy.
I looked up when the door opened. I’m a light sleeper, always have
been, and it’s saved my life quite a few times. The guy was a
corporate type. Short, conservative back suit, black shiny wing tips,
silver glasses, short black hair, mousy accountant look, black
briefcase. I took my feet off the desk and sat up.
"Mr. Whiley I presume?" He said as he took a seat across from my
desk.
"The same. What can I do for you?" I replied.
He sat the briefcase on my desk and opened it. He pulled out a folder
and handed it to me. I opened it, there was after of
mutilated and women. All naked, all very, very dead. My lunch
suddenly showed disturbing signs of life and I closed the folder.
"Not pretty." I said.
"Not at all. BioCorp wants you to find who did this.", he said.
"It’s a job for the cops." I replied. My ex-brothers-in-arms
protected their turf.
"There are no cops in Xanadu, we’ve never needed them before." The
man replied.
I lifted my eyebrow in surprise. Xanadu was one of the undersea
society domes built by the big multinationals. Rich people paid a
fortune for citizenship in the dome and lived by whatever societal
rules went on there. Most coddled religious fanatics, a few had a
utopian bent. Xanadu was the newest and largest, mostly devoted to
free love, or free sex. The domes were nations unto themselves, what
went on there beyond what you could see in the commercials or
brochures was anybody’s guess.
"What has BioCorp uncovered so far?" I asked.
He rifled through his briefcase and pushed forward a two page
document. I read it carefully, it was a standard non-disclosure
agreement, a bit more thorough than most but basically said I
couldn’t reveal what I discovered to any third party without
permission from BioCorp. It was acceptable, I signed.
"The murders have been sexual ritual slayings. There’s a lot of
variation but the sex organs have always been mutilated. The
perpetrator has a DNA scrambler, so we’ve been unable to construct a
physical profile. The psyc profile is that of a serial killer, the
usual stuff, I’ll make the report available to you if you take the
case. My company is very concerned that this may be more than just a
serial killer, it might be corporate espionage meant to drive
potential customers away from Xanadu and to their own domes. There’s
a 1 million new dollar bonus if you can prove that conclusively and
find the company that’s doing it. We’ll recoup our costs in court.
If you just find the serial killer we’ll pay you 100,000 new dollars.
If you don’t catch him within 60 days we’ll pay your expenses and
10,000 new dollars and decide weather or not to give you more time."
I flipped through the folder again while I considered the offer. It
was attractive even if I failed. BioCorp was ensuring I’d keep quiet
win or loose. It had been a while since I hunted a killer, and the
Cop in me was ready to jump on the case.
"How’d you draw me from the hat?" I asked.
"Our contacts at the FBI said you were the best. You’ve hunted serial
killers before.", he answered.
I nodded. The multinationals always had their contacts. The Feds
took a dim view on freelancing, even for political favors. Serial
killers were not so common that your average cop on the beat had any
experience in the area either. For the ten years I was with the FBI
it was all I did. BioCorp had done it’s homework. "What’s the
catch?" I asked. I didn’t really expect an answer, but it never
to ask. He surprised me.
"The catch is that you’ll go in undercover as a new citizen. Xanadu
offers it’s immigrants like yourself rejuvenation therapy.
You’ll spend a week in our labs and when you come out you’ll look and
feel 20 again. The process is irreversible save by age itself.
You’re 55 now, the optimum age for rejuvenation is 70. You can only
have it once you know, at least until we learn how to undo replication
errors. The process could conceivably cut 15 years off your potential
life by having it this early. And you will not look the same when you
finish the case and return here."
That wasn’t much of a catch. At fifty five you yearn for the care
free days of your twenties, and I wasn’t so flush that I could afford
rejuvenation any time soon if ever. "I’ll take the case." I
answered.
He just nodded. There was never really any doubt. Like I say they
had done their homework well. After I read and signed another
agreement that basically covered all the bases he touched on earlier,
he pushed over another folder with travel arrangements, a credit card
with my name on it, and the details of my new identity. I was still
leafing through it when he left.
I boarded the hypersonic as Robert Jordan, a wealthy businessman who
had lost and finally made several fortunes playing the global stock
markets. I stayed strapped in on the one hour flight from New York to
Auckland New Zealand. Most of the trip was sub-orbital and though a
few passengers frolicked in the zero G, the ever present sense of
falling was more than a little discomforting to me. A modified cruise
ship took me to the small platform out in the middle of the pacific.
It looked nothing more than countless off sea oil platforms, but there
was no oil here, only an elevator that took me three thousand feet
down to Xanadu.
The dome had been built ten years ago by BioCorp, citizenship cost
10,000,000 new dollars. It’s customers where usually wealthy
businessmen and women who had decided to retire and spend their second
lives having fun. Xanadu was built like a giant pleasure resort and
in fact made quite a bit of tourist income on the side. Under the ten
square mile dome, there where tropical beaches (complete with
artificial surf), golf courses, health spas, VR rooms, even a ski
slope. All the fun modern science could provide.
The dome was run by the latest androids, almost
indistinguishable from humans these days save they all tended to look
alike. If you saw a gorgeous woman and an identical twin nearby, she
was probably an android. If you were still unsure, all you had to do
was ask. Androids had to say yes, and it was considered a compliment
by most people to be asked the question. There were no ugly androids.
Visitors and immigrants where screened for and vaccinated against
diseases. The only real rule in the dome was to have fun and be
adventurous.
The effects of rejuvenation where well documented. A retrovirus was
injected which helped repair damaged DNA, a second retrovirus was
injected which reactivated the genes which controlled puberty. It was
like having the worst case of flu you ever had in your life, but when
it was all over (about a week later), you walked out with a body of a
twenty year and all the raging hormones that went with it. The
sex drive returned to normal after a year or so, but in the first
year, the new patient was insatiable. Many didn’t really consider
this a bad side effect to have at all. The residents of Xanadu
celebrated it.
After a bit of cosmetic surgery and fat removal, I walked out of the
hospital a changed man, literally. I had stared at myself for an hour
in the mirror on the eighth day, unable to believe the changes. The
wrinkles and flabbiness of middle age had turned to smooth taunt skin.
My hair had been dyed (my natural color) to hide the gray but I
wouldn’t have gray hair for another thirty years. There was even some
new growth indicating my receding hairline was no longer receding.
In the clinic I ate enough to satisfy 10 and I was still hungry.
The drugs used the resources of the body to repair the ravages of age
and that took energy and energy took food, lots of it. I was told to
eat whatever and whenever I wanted for at least a month, overly long
periods of hunger could be fatal during this time. My sex drive which
had for years been a very managable part of me, grew into an
over powering need, and as often as I ate, I availed myself of the
Janet android nurse at my bedside.
The bungalow I had been assigned was large and very spacious with
several android servants that saw to all my needs, mostly eating and
sex for my second week. I really was little more than an
during that time. I ate, slept, and had sex with the androids. When
the third week began I reported in for work, trying to ignore the ever
present erection in my pants.
I reported to Mr. Squires the colony administrator, who looked to be
nothing more than the carbon copy of the who had visited me in the
office. He wasn’t an android, but there was little difference between
androids and corporate career anyway.
"I didn’t expect you for another week Mr. Whiley", he said after we
had shaken hands and sat down. "It takes at least four weeks to
really get back to normal after rejuvenation."
I shrugged. "I’m here to do a job, the sooner I do it, the happier
everyone will be."
He nodded and briefed me. "Since you were hired there’s been another
murder. They seem to be spaced at three week intervals." He handed
me a map of the dome with several X’s marked on it. "There’s no
pattern to the time or place, just the time between murders. We
haven’t been able to determine any link between the victims either.
The killer is deliberate in his or her randomness."
"I’ll need to avail myself of your clinic again." I said. "There is
one link you might have noticed." When his puzzled face said he
hadn’t noticed I explained. "The female victims all had large
breasts, the males larger than average penises."
"And you’ll want an enlargement?", he asked.
"I’ll be looking for our perp, but if he or she finds me, so much the
better.", I replied.
"Put it on your credit card, I’ll bump up the limit to make sure there
will be no problems.", he replied. "Keep me briefed at least once a
week on your findings or lack thereof."
I nodded. The next two days I was back in the clinic for the
relatively simple operation. I was normally stood around 5", but the
male victims averaged 7" and the largest 9", I settled for 8" in the
end since anything larger tended to drag the organ down under it’s own
weight. The upshot of the surgery was that the pain controlled my sex
drive enough for me to land on my feet and get to work.
I spent the week exploring Xanadu and talking with it’s residents
discretely. BioCorp wasn’t making the murders publicly known, so only
the friends of the deceased really knew anything was amiss. Generally
I found what I expected to find, a couple of thousand people all hell
bent on having fun. When I had finally healed after a few days, with
only a small tiny scar to indicate anything out of the ordinary, I
started visiting the public beaches and pleasure rooms where nudity
was the norm. I had no problems finding people who’d talk with me.
The general dialog went like this.
"Hi!" said the person approaching me. I’d return the greeting. "You
must be a Juvie." Juvies tended to walk around with erections all the
time so it was a safe bet. "Would you like to have some fun?"
I politely declined the advances from other Juvies. My perp had been
here a while, he wouldn’t be so obvious. It was harder to tell the
women Juvies from the men, but eventually I caught on to the erect
nipples. I also declined the offers from anyone without a citizenship
band. My perp wasn’t a visitor, a review of the records indicated at
least that much.
Despite my filtering, I had more than enough offers to satisfy my
surging hormones. For the first couple of days I stuck mostly to the
women. I knew my perp was probably a man, but I’ve never really
leaned in that direction myself. The male victims had all been
bisexual to greater or lesser degrees. As I interviewed the
deceased’s friends I decided the perp was probably a handsome man. A
few of the women where straight as an arrow, while all of the
where bisexual. A few of the where predominately heterosexual but
would have an occasional fling with a handsome man.
After I had arrived at Xanadu I had prepared for the eventuality with
tools and exercises designed to enlarge and relax the anus. Though I
didn’t practice it, I didn’t have any qualms about homosexuality there
simply wasn’t the social stigma there had been in the days. The
world was to big, to crowded, for anyone to really care what went on
behind closed doors. Entertainment also portrayed the act frequently
and in a positive light. When I was younger it wasn’t so common or
so favorably cast so it was never a part of my world, and at 55 I
might have been to set in my ways, but as a new 20 year with
raging hormones it wasn’t such a big deal that I would let it
interfere with my investigation.
My first encounter was just oral sex on the public beach. He was a
handsome with black hair and a cock almost as large as my new one.
He propositioned me, I accepted and he me off and then I
returned the favor. It definitely ranked near the top of my oral
experiences, the was good. I don’t know how well I ranked with
him, but he got off well enough. My first anal sex went about like
I expected it to, there was a little pain for me, although thanks to
the exercises I lived through it. I had anal sex with a few women in
my time and this wasn’t all that much different.
I was surprised that I developed an exotic tastes for threesomes. I
had the most intense experience of my life with a woman below me and a
man behind me. My perp probably a loner, but I didn’t turn down a
threesome when it was offered.
Despite the casual attitude about sex, most of the fare was pretty
standard stuff. A few exotic positions maybe, a tendency for group
sex, but there wasn’t all that much s/m, bondage and other games going
on. And the more I studied my prey the more I decided that’s what he
liked. This guy liked control, and the pinnacle of control was having
a person’s life in your hands.
I got my first suspect at Alph, the sacred bar where liquor ran free.
A startling handsome was eyeing me from across the room. He was
tall at about 6’5", and as he was wearing only a pair of shorts and
sandals it wasn’t hard to miss his broad shoulders or chiseled
features. He either worked out or used drugs to get that physique.
For the rest of the night I noticed him watching me as he talked.
As the evening drew long and I turned down numerous passes, he finally
came over.
"I’m Jim Jackson." He said offering his hand.
"Robert Jordan." I replied using my cover name as we shook.
"You’re quite a popular guy." He said.
I laughed. "Everyone’s popular here."
"But a discriminating popular guy isn’t." He said pointedly.
"Haven’t got an offer you couldn’t refuse yet?"
"Not tonight anyway." I said.
"I know where we can find a party. The people tend to like their sex
rough.", he said casually.
"Rough has it’s appeals." I replied taking the bait.
He smiled. "Lets go then. It ought to be in high gear by now."
The ride in the electric car was quiet. Jim didn’t say much, neither
did I. The bungalow we entered was much like mine in layout, but was
decorated like a dungeon, complete with torches on the wall. Several
androids hung in chains on the wall, moaning. The host who met us at
the door was a striking woman with jet black hair accented with a
small lock of silver. She was dressed in a black gown which showed
off her ample bosom in a very attractive way then trailed all the way
down to the floor and drug a foot along the floor behind her. Stylish
morbid.
"Jim!" She exclaimed kissing him on the cheek. "I haven’t seen you
in weeks. And who is your friend?"
He returned the kiss and introduced us. "Robert Jordan. I met him at
Alph’s a few minutes ago. He looked fun. Robert this is Fanisha."
She shook my hand, and I finished by bringing up her hand and kissing
it gallantly. "Ohh!" She exclaimed girlishly, "A gentleman.
Welcome to my home Robert."
"Rob." I insisted.
"Rob then." She agreed. "Are you a master or a slave?"
I thought quick. "Slave, but a new one. Since my rejuvenation I’m
more inclined to experiment."
"Aren’t we all" She winked. She turned to Jim and said, "Go join the
party, I’ll get him ready."
She drug me off to a small room and disrobed me, pausing to admire my
perennially erect cock. "You’re going to be a popular one all right."
She bubbled as she put a leather studded collar around my neck,
complete with a leash. "There’s not much to learn for this part.
Just do what you’re told. If it’s really objectionable to you, say
so, but be very open minded, what may seem objectionable may really
take you places that are far more pleasurable than you’ve ever been
before. Keep that in mind."
Wearing only the collar she led me by the leash into the main room.
There was a small orgy going on but everyone paused when she clapped.
"We have a new slave. He’s not broken in yet and will need suitable
training!"
And so my training began as I was passed back and forth between the
partygoers. Aside from the sex being a little rougher than normal (a
few claw marks on my back and buttocks), and a few unusual positions,
it was pretty much what I was used to by now. The only hard part was
that being a slave my pleasure was secondary, subservient to my master
of the moment and more than a few times I was in physical discomfort
awaiting my release. Several times I noticed Jim looking on. He had
not come near me since Fanisha had released me.
One woman led me to a back room and tied me to a bed. For two hours
she kept me on the painful verge or orgasm, holding me back by
occasionally a knife across my skin to draw blood. It wasn’t
something I’d like to do every day, but the orgasm when it came was
unbelievable in it’s intensity and duration. Still bleeding in
places I decided it call it a night. Jim met me at the door.
"I see you’ve met Trish.", he said with a smile. "We call her the
butcher around here.."
I smiled weakly. "A good name."
Jim drove me back to my bungalow, tired though I was I invited him
in, but he declined. "Maybe later, I think we’ve both had a busy
night."
The next day I paid Fanisha a call in daylight hours. She was groggy
but ever the good host she invited me in. Over some delicious well
made coffee I showed her some photos. They were all victims of the
killer, but these were not the autopsy photos. She knew a surprising
number of them, almost a full two thirds. They had all been visitors
at one time or another, two of them were even regulars. She didn’t
think it odd that they had stopped showing up, people tended to drift
in and out of places like this. Only a few were really hard core
fanatics like Fanicia.
"Why do you want to know about them?" She asked finally.
My non-disclosure agreement allowed me a certain latitude in my
investigation in Xanadu itself and she was a good source of
information. She frowned deeply on learning they were all dead and I
was investigating their murders. But the disclosure had the desired
effect, she was very forthcoming with the information I needed. She
wasn’t to familiar with dates, but she supplied me with a list of
names of people who had just started visiting before the murders had
begun. Jim’s name was on the list. She was also the best source of
information I had on the victims. And my profile began to sharpen
both of the killer and what he wanted in his victims. I had chosen
right by being a submissive, but I don’t think I fit the profile of
what the killer was looking for. If it was Jim, I was close enough to
get invited here, maybe close enough to have sex with, but I think he
had probably mentally ruled me out even if he didn’t know it or not.
When I left I checked into the office and made my report. Mr. Squires
was very pleased. It was the first break in the case. Even the
company security hadn’t made as much headway. And so I settled
down and started stalking my prey. I went through the list Fanicia
had given me and in the end, Jim was my only suspect and I staked him
out.
Using the net and some good contacts I reconstructed his past. A
prominent and wealthy business man, graduate of Yale, no police
record, nothing to make him really stand out. But what really zeroed
me in on him as a suspect was the fact that in his twenties there were
a number of unsolved serial murders in the area he lived in, all
female though, and all disturbingly similar to the victims in Xanadu.
It was only circumstantial. Circumstantial evidence isn’t very valid
in the courts, but every good policeman uses it to zero in on the
prey.
According to his records he had immigrated three years ago, undergoing
rejuvenation on his arrival. He had been sixty five. The sex-drive
returns to normal after a year, but Jim’s normal was practically
indistinguishable from rejuvenation. In the first day of the stake
out, he paired off with six different women and in the evening,
brought two home to his apartment.
I used "The Snooper" to pry into his life. It was a small, illegal
device which used a quirk of quantum physics to gather the few photons
that escaped through walls, no matter how dense, and used
sophisticated real time image enhancement routines to piece together a
picture as good and sharply defined as if a had been
planted in the house. The device was so good I could even select
from different angles and magnification. The built in laser targeted
the window and reconstructed sound from the molecular level vibrations
in the glass. The Snooper was one of the toys I had from the CIA.
They probably knew I still had it, most people would be surprised at
how much the CIA actually did know, but as long as I was discrete
they offered some latitude to their ex agents.
As I sat there watching the screen showing a very well endowed
royally fucking a gorgeous and very active red-haired woman doggie
style while another woman stood behind him running her hands across
his chest waiting her turn, I realized how hard a job this was. The
demands of rejuvenation are hard to ignore, and it took every shred of
will power not to run off and find a willing partner or android to
meet those demands. A solitary hand job was a poor substitute but it
allowed me to keep focused on the job.
Over a week, I began to wonder if I had the wrong man. So far he had
brought home only women, and the perp had also targeted men. There
was a pattern to the killings as well in the gender selections, two
women were killed then a male. If the killer remained true, the next
victim would be a male. But it wasn’t uncommon for a killer to vary
his style every now and again to try and be less predictable.
I sat up and stared hard at the screen. The woman Jim had brought
home this evening was a knockout, and a Juvie from the looks of her.
She had gone all to willingly to his bed, and they had a good fuck
missionary style but she had resisted when he brought out the
handcuffs. This was the first I’d seen him try the dominance games,
but this was the first time I’d seen him with a partner who fitted a
victim’s profile as well.
He slapped her across the face, hard. And she cried as he handcuffed
her to the bed. Then using pieces of rope he tied her legs to the
bedpost until he had her spread eagle on the bed. Juvie or not, the
woman didn’t care for this at all and I could clearly see she showed
absolutely no signs of sexual arousal.
"Prissy little bitch!" He hissed and slapped her again leaving an
angry welt on the side of her face. "Bossing around like a
queen because of these." He reached down, pinching and twisting her
nipples until she cried out in pain. I hesitated, I should call in
security now before this went any further but then I’d have to explain
The Snooper, and the best we could get him on would be rape. He
slapped his hand over her and dug in, pulling so that her waist
was lifted from the bed. "Well who’s the boss now Bitch?"
When she just continued to scream and cry he hissed, "Say it! Who’s
the boss now!" and she whimpered "You are, you’re the boss."
"Damn right." He said as he let her recover a moment. I could see
him staring at her, it was the face of a thinking, considering.
Finally he removed the cuffs and the ropes and helped her dry her
tears. "I’m sorry Sara." He said. "Some like these games,
some don’t. I guess I chose wrong this time."
It was like watching two different men. One moment he had been a
towering bastion of dominion, the next a strong compassionate, caring
man. Sara was as puzzled as I was, but she accepted the apology and
left. As I pondered what had happened I managed to puzzle it out.
Whatever needs Jim had, came to the forefront tonight. If he had
continued Sara would have been another victim and the killer was to
careful to in his own cave.
The next day Jim had settled back into his normal routine. Being
handsome he was often approached by as often as women, but he had
always declined politely. But today he accepted the advances of an
average looking of around 30, well muscled and since they were at
the beach, obviously well endowed. A tingle went up my spine as I
realized the prey was near.
They went back to the man’s house with me following well behind. My
equipment had let me know their intentions well before hand and it
wasn’t hard to trace the man’s address down once I had a name.
They where disrobing when I finally got my equipment set up. The man,
David was his name and a brief study of public information revealed he
was probably completely homosexual, came over and started to suck on
Jim;s cock. Jim let him until he was fully erect. Jim then lifted the
man almost forcefully and pushed him over to a nearby table and bent
the over.
"Ohhh a rough one!" David exclaimed excitedly. "Do it Stud, use me,
I’m yours."
Jim hesitated. It obviously wasn’t what he expected. I knew it too.
I had the killers number now and Jim’s as well. The killer wanted
dominance but that dominance had to be earned over a strong willed
victim. This caved in to early. Jim plunged in roughly and dug
his fingernails into the man’s back until I could see blood flow.
David gasped in surprise and pain. "You’re hurting me." David
protested.
"Shut up faggot." Jim hissed as he raked his fingernails across the
man’s back even more blood. All the while pummeling the man’s
ass. "You’re a worm, a low, crawling faggot of a worm."
As David howled in pain between sobs, Jim finished quickly. He didn’t
look back as he put on his cloths and left. I followed Jim back to
his house where he spent a solitary night. I was sure Jim was my man,
and I was sure it wouldn’t be long before I snared him. It had been
three weeks since the last murder. The killer was ready to kill
again, and when he tried it would be his last.
Over the next few days, Jim focused almost exclusively on men,
accepting many offers and politely declining the women. Almost always
Jim struck a dominant pose and most fell to submissive, a few left
before anything could really begin. Then the hairs on the back of my
neck pricked when I watched him being picked up by a large muscular
man. They went back to Jim’s house and was followed quickly by some
pretty rough sex. Jim posed dominant but the other didn’t really
fall for it and maintained some pretty good control. It might not
have been what the had expected but he apparently had enough fun
to accept a date the next evening at the waterfall.
I knew the spot, it was a small garden like setting with many private
places. One of the many romantic destinations in the dome. I also
cursed, it would be hard to track someone there, at least without
drawing attention. The next morning I made a show of bumping into Jim
we chatted a while, mostly about my absence at Fanicia’s but he seemed
to take it in stride when I told him it really wasn’t my ball of wax.
When we shook hands, what he might have mistaken for sweaty palms was
really an invisible water proof radioactive ink that would let one of
my devices track him.
As I watched him get ready for his date I knew I had the I wanted
when he removed two devices from a panel. A muffler that
damped sound, and a DNA scrambler. The first was legal, the second
was not. Under dome law, I had enough of a case to send Jim through
the nearest air lock without a pressure suit. But that would have to
wait a while, my ex employers might have accepted the fact that a
snooper had been broken and lost in a river on an assignment, but if I
didn’t remain discrete I’d have spooks all over me to get it back, and
maybe a few unwanted charges as well.
I followed him to the waterfall and watched them disappear into the
forested gardens. It was late so there weren’t to many people here.
Jim had chosen well, the chances of anyone stumbling on him while he
worked where small. After a few minutes, I followed them.
I was almost to late. Jim had bashed his dates head with a rock. The
rock with blood dripping from it was still in Jim’s hand. Jim’s date
was a collapsed bloody mass on the clearing floor. Jim quickly set up
the muffler, and started binding his victim with rope, tying him to
stakes that had been driven into the ground. The stakes where long,
the would have to be stronger than he already looked to pull free.
I flipped open my cell phone and called security, there was no need
for silence, the muffler kept sound out as well as in. "Robert here.
Send an armed squad to the waterfall, take the main trail to the first
path to the left, take the second path to the right, our killer is in
a clearing and we’ve got him handed."
I stuck around long enough to make sure no serious harm happened
before security arrived. There wasn’t much security in Xanadu, a
small force of about 5 men, but they were all well trained and did
their job well. There would be no Victim number 9.
I met Mr. Squires the next day and he was beaming if a corporate
can beam. "Well done Mr. Whiley. Security tells me that Mr. Jackson
has made a full and complete and that he acted alone."
I nodded. I had suspected as much. 1 million new dollars would have
been a nice bonus, but when I had found out about the previous murders
before Jim had immigrated I figured it was just another serial killer,
no corporate sabotage.
"I’d like you to stay on. As a full citizen of course. There’s almost
no crime to speak of here, but it won’t to protect our investment
by having a professional investigator available should the need
arise."
"Citizenship plus 100,000 new dollars a year." I said. "I like to
travel."
"As long as you are available if needed when you do." Mr. Squires
countered.
"And I don’t work for security. I’ve done my time as a cop. I’m free
lance all the way." I said.
"As you say." Mr. Squires replied.
"Then you’ve got yourself a detective." I said as I stretched out my
hand. There was no such thing as a gentlemen’s handshake agreement
with multinationals, I’d use a bit of my 100,000 new dollars to hire a
lawyer and hammer out a respectable contract, in the end it was the
only deals these guy’s understood.
As I stepped outside the administration building I looked up at the
giant dome overhead, shying my eyes away from the giant fusion driven
light at the very top. Xanadu was a great place to live, and the
perfect place for an PI just recouping from rejuvenation. Smiling
I walked up to an attractive nearby and wrapped my arm around
her waist. I whispered a few sweet nothings into her ear and she
smiled and walked beside me to my bungalow. It was great to be 20
again!
-Sandman
I spied a lass a walkin’
as pretty as could be
soon we started talkin’
as she sat upon my knee
We laughed, we cried
and by the fire did we abide
The hour grew late
The ale grew strong
Until she looked at me and sighed
We played the game of lovers
under those silken covers
where beads of sweat
where as beads of pearls
And women turned into mothers
At dawn I kissed her softly
as she slumbered in dreamy sleep
And I slipped out with great caution
Lest she catch me as a thief
I greeted the sun with a smile that day
made ready my and was on my way
and as I rode along the trail
I spied a lass a walkin’