Soon after their wedding George was offered a position with a very well-known law firm in Los Angeles, Tale & Josh. Catherine’s vision of Los Angeles was that of a degraded and violent city fueled by sex, drugs and greed, but after two months of discussions and promises she accepted that George’s job opportunity was too good to pass.
Catherine wasn’t bothered by the fact that her own professional future wasn’t involved in the move to Los Angeles. She’d never expected to be a career woman. Her parents had brought her up to be a good wife, to take care of her home, her children and her husband, and that was exactly what she wanted to do. She also believed George wouldn’t take to LA and after maybe a year or two he would grow tired of the ‘big city, bright lights
After winning his second case for his new law firm, George’s client invited him to a private party to celebrate the victory.
George was intrigued by the mysterious invitation. He gave Catherine the typical ‘working late
George’s only porn experience had been in high school. One of his friends had managed to get his hands on an old VHS movie and some adult magazines during a weekend when his parents were away. George had never forgotten it, but this was no movie, this was no acting. In one clean swoop George was introduced to BDSM, partner swapping, gloryholes, spanking, sex slavery, golden showers – things he’d never even dreamed of. He discovered a world he’d never thought existed outside adult books and sleazy films. Free sex, free drugs – a place where all his fantasies could come true, where his darkest sexual desires could be exposed with no guilt. It was there, inside the dungeon room of the luxurious mansion that George had had his first sexual experience with another man, and he’d loved it. After that, he couldn’t get enough of his new-found underground life. He loved the parties, the people, and the secrecy of it all.
George dried himself slowly before wrapping the towel around his waist. The anticipation of seeing Rafael again turned him on. In the kitchen he grabbed another beer and checked the wall clock – 8:45, not long now. He toyed with the idea of getting dressed again, but he enjoyed the excitement of greeting his lover with nothing on but a towel.
One thing they both enjoyed doing was role-playing and George had a story all worked out for tonight. In the bedroom he slid open one of the mirrored wardrobe doors to reveal an amazing variety of BDSM props – whips, chains, ropes, gags, leather straps, handcuffs, anything his imagination could come up with.
He carefully chose the toys he needed for his scenario and placed them on the bed, his excitement starting to show through his bath towel, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. He checked his watch – 8:53. He is early, George thought, maybe he’s as eager as I am
George couldn’t conceal the satisfied smile that came to his lips as he opened the door.
‘Who’re you?’ His smile evaporated into a worried frown.
The answer came as a punch to the stomach, powerful and precise. George contorted in pain as the air drained from his lungs, his eyes wide open and terrified. Gasping for oxygen, he took one step back, but it wasn’t enough to avoid the second blow. This time a kick straight between his legs. As the intruder’s foot made contact with George’s genitals, he fell backwards, his bath towel dropping to the floor. George wanted to speak, to fight back, but he had no strength left.
The intruder calmly closed the apartment’s door and approached George’s contorted body on the floor. George couldn’t make any sense of what was happening. He gurgled, unable to breathe and his heart skipped a beat as he saw the syringe. With a quick arm movement the intruder plunged it into George’s neck and all of a sudden there was no more pain, no more struggle. Only darkness.
Seventeen
Chris Melrose had been working for the County Department of Coroner for the last three years. From a very young age Chris had been fascinated with death, with everything morbid. His initial plan was to become a forensic scientist, but his poor school grades kept him from getting a place at university.
Chris’s first job was as a jack-of-all-trades in a mortuary. His duties ranged from funeral arrangements to lining the inside of coffins and preparing bodies, but that just wasn’t enough. Chris wanted the life he’d always dreamed of. He wanted the blood-stained rags, the stainless-steel tables, the stinging and intoxicating smell of death. He wanted to work with bodies in their raw state, before they were cleaned up and made ready for the funeral. After applying for almost every lower-level position with the County Department of Coroner he was finally offered a job as a lab porter. His new duties included cleaning autopsy rooms, moving bodies to and from the cooling chambers and making sure that all equipment was clean and ready to be used. The medical examiners in the Coroner’s office had never seen anyone take so much pride in his work. Chris was in everyone’s good books. What he loved doing more than anything else was sitting in on autopsies. None of the examiners minded.
Chris’s night shift went from 7:30 p.m. to 7:30 a.m. He liked to take his first break just before midnight; it gave him a chance to light up a cigarette and have a quick banana, peanut-butter and honey sandwich.
Chris took a last drag of his cigarette and flicked the butt in the air and watched it produce a dim, yellow arc. He got up from the small bench he’d been sitting on, folded his empty plastic sandwich bag and started walking back towards the Coroner’s building. A cold hand grabbed his left shoulder.
‘Hi there, Chris!’
‘Jesus Christ!’ Chris jumped and turned to face the figure standing behind him, his heart halfway up his throat. ‘Are you crazy? You scared the fuck out of me.’
Mark Culhane gave Chris a rehearsed yellow smile.
‘If I had a gun, you could be dead right now. How do you get off on sneaking up on people like that?’ Chris asked placing a hand over his chest, his heart pounding against it.
‘I’m a detective, I love sneaking up on people,’ Culhane said with a new smile. ‘Besides, why the fuck would you carry a gun? Everyone you deal with is already dead.’
‘Everybody packs these days, this is LA remember? Anyway, I haven’t seen you for a while, what the hell do you want?’
Chris was in his early thirties, a few pounds overweight with straight dark-brown hair that he kept quite short. He had strange cat-like brown eyes, a reddish complexion and a prominent nose.
‘Oh, Chris, that’s no way to greet an old friend.’
Chris didn’t answer back. He simply raised his eyebrows waiting for Culhane to state his business.
‘I need to check whatever new entries you’ve had in the past few days,’ Culhane finally said.
‘By entries, you mean bodies?’
‘What else would I mean, smart ass?’
‘Why don’t you just put in a request, you’re a cop, aren’t you?’
‘This is a friend, not necessarily official business.’
‘A friend?’ Chris’s voice took a dubious tone.
‘Are you training to be a cop? What’s with all the goddamn questions? Just show me the bodies, will you?’
‘And if I told you I couldn’t do that because it’s against regulations?’
Culhane placed his right arm around Chris’s neck and pulled him closer. ‘Well, that would certainly piss me off, and I don’t think you’d wanna do that, do you?’
Silence.
Culhane tightened his grip.
‘OK . . . OK, I was going back in anyway,’ Chris said, lifting both hands.
‘Adda boy,’ Culhane said, letting go of the headlock.
