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Subject: "Southern Hospitality" by Rhett Dreams, 6/10 [mf, crime drama]
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Date: 2 Mar 1997 21:35:54 GMT
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SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY
by Rhett Dreams (c. 1996)
Chapter Five (cont.)
Sheriff Trent pulled his cruiser in front of the dilapidated
Heinz house early Saturday morning, surprised that Tom hadn't
come out to greet him. He should have been able to hear
him coming down the long driveway whether he was in his
trailer or the house. Trent turned off the ignition and exited his
car, and warily approached the small silver trailer that had been
Tom's home for the past fourteen months.
He found Tom inside, snoring heavily, his clothed and
unkempt body sprawled on top of his filthy bed. He tried to
rouse the sleeping man, first verbally and then by shaking his
shoulder gently, but he was out cold. A quart bottle of Jack
Daniels lay on the floor, almost empty, the cap gone and
nowhere in sight. The place smelled from stale cigarette
smoke, stacks of half-eaten TV dinners that hadn't been thrown
out, and other garbage. He was about to leave when
he saw a video tape on the small table at the other end of the
trailer. Curious, he inserted the tape in the small TV/VCR unit.
He turned on the TV but kept the sound at it's lowest setting,
and rewound the tape for a minute or so before he hit play.
What he saw both angered him and frightened him. The
recording was obviously made in the basement of the main
house, and showed Tom fucking his massive cock into the
restrained body of sixteen year old Sarah Washington. The
bottle of bourbon was on the floor next to the bondage
contraption, almost full. Trent stopped the tape after a few
minutes, ejected the tape, and turned off the machine. He
examined the sleeping black man once again, and noticed that
he had a great deal of mud caked on his boots and dirt packed
under his nails.
"Shit, Tom," he said to himself. "What have you done,
you dumb nigger?"
He left the trailer quietly and was on his way to the
house when he noticed a shovel leaning against the side of the
trailer. The blade was caked with fresh soil. Trent took a quick
tour of the basement and found a video camera set up on a
tripod, aimed at the bondage contraption they'd built and used
so often. He also found blood on the concrete floor.
Angry with Tom and frustrated with himself for not
anticipating that this kind of thing might happen, Trent followed
Tom's tracks into the woods. Less than a hundred yards from
the house he found the girl's grave, the freshly turned earth
obvious despite Tom's pathetic attempt to cover it with leaves
and pine needles.
He returned to his cruiser and quietly drove away, his
mind examining his options. He couldn't arrest Tom, obviously.
He thought about his options as he drove to the police building,
and concluded that he'd have to watch the tape through before
deciding. He knew that Tom would be out for hours, and even
if he woke he'd be in no condition to remember what he'd done
with the tape now in Trent's hands.
He pulled the blinds in his office and told his secretary
that he didn't want to be disturbed. After rewinding the tape he
watched it from the beginning, using head phones to pick
up the audio. It started with the image of the black girl bound
across the barrel. Tom's body appeared and blocked the
camera for a second as he walked toward the girl. She cried
and begged as Tom undressed and took several long swallows
of the bourbon. He ignored her cries and greased the young
girl's sex before working his thick meat inside her virgin hole.
She cried and screamed as he methodically raped her, his cock
stained with her blood before he finally finished and withdrew.
Before the tape shifted to the next scene, Trent had plenty of
time to see the mixture of blood, cum and lubricant leak out of
the raped girl's hole.
It was quite clear that Tom and stopped the taping for
some time, then started it again later. He was still nude during
the beginning of the second scene, drinking heavily from the
now half-empty bottle. While he wove drunkenly back and
forth in front of the weeping girl, he taunted her, telling her that
he'd fuck her ass next. He apparently grew tired of her crying
and begging because he stuffed two socks into her mouth
before fucking her again, this time using her narrow ass. Trent
watched it through, spotting the moment, ten minutes into the
sodomy, where the girl choked to death on the large wad in her
mouth. He realized that the drunk black man was unaware that
he was now fucking a corpse.
When the tape ended, an idea formed in his mind that
would get rid of Tom, protect himself, and might even bolster
his chances at reelection. The tape would have to go. During
one moment Tom had bragged to the girl of the other times he
had bound and fucked white girls and men. He'd have to
search Tom's place and the house, to make sure that he hadn't
made tapes of any of the other victims. Then he'd kill Tom and
stage it so it looked as if he'd been forced to shoot the man in
self defense.
Trent visited the evidence room and borrowed another
gun, this one a .32 automatic. He found a box of shells and
returned to his cruiser for the short ride back to the farm. Tom
was still dead to the world, unmoved from where he was earlier,
sprawled on the bed. Working quickly and quietly, his hands in
gloves, Trent wrapped Tom's fingers around the gun, then on
each bullet before inserting them into the cartridge.
He searched the trailer thoroughly, finding two additional
video tapes as well as a box of jewelry and watches Tom had
taken from the victims. He went outside and placed this stuff in
the trunk of his car. A quick search of the house and basement
uncovered nothing incriminating, Trent returned to the trailer
and banged loudly of the door.
"Hey, Tom!" he hollered a few times before opening the
door.
Tom groaned and raised his head only after Trent had
repeatedly called his name and shook him on the shoulder.
"Aw, shit, boss... let me sleep this off."
"Can't Tom," he said. "Wake up, man!"
Tom groaned and rolled over. He held his head gingerly
between his hands as he struggled to his feet, then lurched into
the tiny bathroom just in time to throw up into the toilet.
Trent found a relatively clean towel and ran it under the faucet
at the kitchen sink. When Tom reappeared he tossed him the
towel and told him to clean up and meet him outside.
"I feel like warmed over shit," said Tom when he came
out a few minutes later. "Why couldn't you have let me sleep?
This hangover's a killer."
"Because there's a good chance they'll track the
Washington girl here and nail you for rape and murder. You
killed the girl, right?"
Tom's eyes widened as he remembered the previous
night, and his splitting head ache worsened. "Oh, shit!"
"Your fuckin' car, Tom... it left tracks where you nabbed
the girl, and the measurements will help us narrow it down to
just a few models, one of which is your old Caddy. My boys will
go through the registrations and, given your record, they'll visit
you real soon."
"It was an accident, boss," moaned Tom. "The little bitch
jes' died on me."
"You bury her?"
"Yeah, boss," he said, "over there I think."
"Is that where you buried that other guy last fall?"
"No... shit, my head hurts... the white guy I buried where
ya tol me, down in the pines, thataway." He motioned in the
opposite direction.
"Well, Tom, there's nothin' to do now 'cept cover your
tracks. Get a bucket full of soapy water, real hot, and a mop.
You're gonna have to wash up downstairs before one of my
boys comes to check on you."
The black moved to obey as fast as his head would
allow, and Trent went downstairs to retrieve the video camera
and its tripod. He passed Tom on the way out, and told him to
wash everything in the room, and wipe clean every surface. He
knew they'd still find traces of the girl's blood in the drain but he
wanted to wash away as many other hairs or fibers as possible,
so nobody would become suspicious that Tom might have been
involved in the other deaths. He stowed the camera equipment
in his trunk with the other stuff he'd taken earlier. After
reconnoitering the area for the best spot to do Tom, he waited
in the shade of a tree for Tom to finish his chore.
The closest neighbor heard the shots ten minutes later,
while he was working in his garden, two distant reports
followed seconds later by two more. Knowing it wasn't hunting
season, the man went into his house and called the police. The
deputy who took the man's call had only minutes before
received a radio call from Sheriff Trent, asking for backup at the
Heinz farm. Putting two and two together the deputy ran out to
his cruiser and raced to the farm, his siren blaring.
He found Sheriff Trent's cruiser and was relieved when
he found his boss around the side of the house, standing over
the body of a black man he recognized as Tom.
"You okay, Sheriff?" he said as he approached. The
man on the ground was clearly dead, two bullet holes visible in
his chest, his eyes staring blankly to the sky. Laying half on his
hand and half on the ground was an automatic pistol.
"Yeah, thanks, Fred. I was checkin' on ol' Tom, for the
business with the Washington girl, and he saw me and jes' took
off. I called for backup and followed him. He took a shot at me,
two actually." Trent motioned behind him and the deputy saw
two bullet holes in the side of the house, about head high. He
couldn't have known that the holes were made by Trent after he
had shot Tom, using the gun that was now in the dead man's
hand.
"Shee-it, sheriff," said the deputy, "you're lucky to be
alive. Any sign of the girl?"
"No. Why don't you check the trailer and I'll check the
house. Don't disturb anything, Fred. Nothin'. We're looking for
the girl now, or any sign she might have been here."
A third cruiser arrived and Trent went to meet them.
With only a few common-sense suggestions from Trent, one of
the deputies found the grave twenty minutes later. The county
coroner was called to the scene, joining a growing group of the
sheriffs men and state policemen who were swarming over the
trailer, house and grave, collecting evidence and photographing
the scene.
After the body was tentatively identified as Sarah
Washington, Trent left to drive to the parsonage to break the
bad news to the Reverend and his wife.
"We didn't get to little Sarah in time," he said, then
explained solemnly that their daughter had been found dead.
Later when he got the black minister alone he laid it on heavy,
blaming himself for the girl's death. "If I hadn't given Tom a
second chance, and gotten him that job as caretaker, he'd be in
jail and your little girl would still be alive."
"You can't blame yourself, Sheriff," said the slain girl's
father. "The lord Jesus says we got to forgive sinners, give
them the chance to hear His words and accept Him into their
hearts. You gave him that chance but the devil got that man first
and filled his sorry soul with evil."
- o -
Clarice came downstairs a little after nine Saturday
morning, freshly showered and dressed casually in blue jeans
and an oversized Washington Redskins tee shirt. She had
enjoyed waking up in Gene's arms, feeling his warm body
pressed against her back. He was still asleep when she left.
"Good morning," she said, finding Nora in the kitchen
drinking a cup of coffee. "That coffee smells heavenly."
"It's over there, Clarice, and the mugs are in the cabinet
above."
Clarice made herself a cup, while Nora asked, "I can't
remember that last time dad slept in past seven or so. You
must have really wore him out."
"Not me, I'm afraid. We spent the evening flying up to
Jackson, working on this case, then flying back. Didn't get
home until after four. I hope your night was more fun."
"Oh, that's too bad. But my evening with Lou was
super."
Clarice sat down with her coffee. "Tell me about it, so at
least I can live vicariously through you."
Nora did, and Clarice's eyes grew big as the younger girl
described the XXX movie that Lou had rented and how they'd
stopped in on occasion to perform live the acts they'd seen in
the film. She was in the middle of describing the anal sex
scene when her father came into the room.
"Hi dad," she said, her unfinished story lingering
between the two women.
"Hi Gene," echoed Starling, and both women smiled at
each other.
"Nora... Clarice," he said, knowing he'd interrupted
something. He went straight for the coffee pot and poured
himself a cup.
"What were you two ladies talking about that's such a
damn secret?"
"Oh, it was nothing, dear," said Clarice.
"I was telling her I got laid last night," said Nora. "You
want to hear all the details?"
"Not another word, daughter," he said, holding up his
hand. "Let me get my coffee, and the newspaper, and I'll go
find a hole someplace to hide in."
Nora laughed.
"That's not really necessary," said Clarice, smiling at
Gene's embarrassment but tapping the place next to her at the
table. "We promise to be good and not talk about... how some
men really know how to show a girl a good time while
others..."
"Take their honeys to Jackson in the middle of the night,
to look for used car parts," finished Nora.
"I got Abbott and fuckin' Costello," he muttered as he sat
heavily in the chair next to Starling.
"Don't swear in front of the children, dear," she said,
patting his hand, grinning.
"Fuckin' right he shouldn't," said Nora.
- o -
Myers and Starling spent a couple hours Saturday
afternoon in the office, mapping each entry in the journal with
the appropriate MP case.
"My mistake," he said, "assuming they were only after
women. What do you think they did with the men?"
"If they were young and good looking, they might have
sold them into slavery, assuming that's what they did with the
women. Quinn tells me there's a market for both."
"One of these guys... a Mr. Walter Flinn, was thirty-
eight."
"Gee, an old fart," said Clarice, smiling into the face of
her forty-three year old lover.
"You're gonna pay for that, missy," he growled.
They both smiled and went back to work. There were
thirteen Journal entries indicating that the Jackson shop bought
had bought the car from "PB", and they were able to find twelve
MP cases with exactly the right dates and car makes. Myers
got some poster board from the supply room and they created a
four-by-four-foot exhibit for the conference room, listing for each
case the date the car was delivered to Jackson, the date the
original MP report was filed, name of the MP, make and model
of the car, the last-known location of the victim, and the
direction they were presumably traveling.
Myers went to post the exhibit in the conference room for
when the team reassembled Monday morning, and Starling
used his office phone to call Jack Crawford. She tried his home
number and then his office, not surprised to find her boss at his
desk, working on a Saturday. Since his wife died of cancer two
years earlier, he'd put even more time at work.
"Enjoying your vacation, Starling?" he asked.
"I certainly am," she said, not taking the bait. She filled
him in on the Jackson raid, the journal they found, the matching
dates from Myer's collection of MP cases. She concluded her
succinct report with their theory that the Walters case might be
linked to a dozen other MP cases along the gulf coast.
"Good work, Starling," said Crawford. "Before I forget,
Congressman Walters called yesterday, wanting to talk to you
about his daughter's case. You may want to call him back and
update him."
"But I don't have anything solid, yet. It's all speculation
at this point."
"Tell him that. He's a U.S. Congressman with a hair up
his ass about the Bureau, and he's just lost a daughter. Don't
give him names or places, but you can sketch what you've
learned and what you're doing. He gets secret briefings all the
time, and knows not to blab anything."
She called the Congressman next and found him at
home. She carefully summarized their suspicion that his
daughter's case may be linked to a dozen missing persons
cases. She told him that other young people driving expensive
cars had disappeared and that it was possible that his daughter
and Henry Burns had run into the same outfit.
"Then it's possible that Henry Burns wasn't responsible
for Debbie's death."
"Too early to be sure, Congressman, but it's a possibility
that we're investigating very actively."
Chapter Six
They found Nora out in the yard pulling weeds when
Myers pulled the Explorer into the driveway. He told his
daughter that he'd change and join her, and went into the
house.
"I suppose you want me to disappear tonight," said Nora,
wiping the sweat from her brow. It was quite hot and very
humid.
"That's not necessary, Nora. It's not as if we're gonna do
anything that you haven't... shit, girl, is there anything that
would fit in that category?"
Nora grinned and then made her face into a thoughtful
pose. "Well, Clarice, maybe you could join me with Lou tonight.
I've never done a three-way with another girl."
Clarice laughed. "I think poor Lou has his hands full with
just you."
"And dad would be devastated."
"That too."
"Say, Nora," continued Clarice, "Why don't you invite Lou
over here for dinner tonight. I'll cook. Nothing fancy. How
does blackened fish sound?"
"Sounds yummy. I'll call him, but I think he's afraid of
dad."
Clarice put her hand on her hip and posed with her hip
out. "But he may come anyway, given the other company."
"I'll call," she said, grinning.
Clarice went inside to check on things she would need
for dinner and to make her shopping list, then took the Explorer
to the fish market and grocery store. When she returned Nora
and Gene were taking a break from their gardening, drinking
iced tea in the patio under the large elm. She put away the
groceries and joined them.
"So tonight I get to see if you can cook, woman," said
Gene, pouring a glass of iced tea for Starling.
"You're such an old-fashioned chauvinistic pig, dad," said
his daughter.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Oink."
"Blackened fish fillets, Mexican Cole slaw with jalapenos
and mustard, home-made french fries, ice-cold beer."
"Oh boy," he said.
"She's gonna make somebody a good wife, dad," teased
Nora.
"We'll have to wait and see," he said. "We haven't eaten
the food yet."
"Oink, oink," she said, punching her father on the arm.
Lou wasn't in when Nora called, so she left him a
message. He didn't return the call until after they'd finished the
delicious dinner that Starling prepared. Nora excused herself
and brought the portable phone back inside.
"That was passable, Starling," he said after eating
seconds of everything.
"High praise indeed," she said, "considering how well
Nora takes care of you."
"Yeah, during the summers, but this may be the last one
she spends here. The job market is so competitive that she
thinks she needs research jobs on her resume, and has applied
for an internship at Scripts and Woods Hole for next summer."
"Good for her."
"Yep. Y'know, Starling, the food was really incredible. If
you were any good in the sack, you'd be a great catch."
"I'm working on it, Myers," she said. "I've got a great
tutor in mind, someone who can help me get over my straight-
laced ways."
"That's good to hear. What's the next lesson?"
"Hmmm. Well, let me put it this way---I don't think I'm
gonna be a virgin after tonight."
"That's a good place to start," he said as his daughter
returned.
"Lou just got back," she said. "He was out fishing with
his dad. As soon as he cleans up he'll come pick me up."
"Another movie tonight?" asked Clarice, and Gene
stared uncomprehendingly as both girls broke out in laughter.
After Nora left with Lou, Clarice washed dishes while
Gene cleared the table.
"You know what bugs me about this case," she said over
her shoulder to Gene. She was at the sink, finishing the last of
the dishes, and he was leaning against the counter, drinking a
beer that he'd just taken from the freezer.
"No shop talk, Starling."
"I know, I know. But I can't figure out how they moved so
fast. Beth leaves New Orleans at seven p.m., on a Sunday,
and her car is at the Jackson shop Monday, the next day.
Same thing with the other cases. That's fast work. And how
did they abduct them in the first place?"
"Excellent questions, Starling," said Gene, wrapping his
hands around her and pressing himself against her back,
trapping her against the sink. "But we're not gonna think about
that tonight."
"No?" she said, setting the rinsed pot aside, enjoying the
feel of his body against hers.
His hands moved up and cupped her breasts through the
tee shirt.
"You're not wearing a bra, Agent Starling," he whispered
into her ear.
"And they say you're a lousy detective," she joked,
feeling her nipples stiffen under his huge hands, and the
tingling from her sex. After a few moments she could also feel
his bulge pressing into the small of her back.
"I've fallen in love with you, Clarice," she heard him say,
knowing with certainty that this gentle giant had uttered similar
words only once before. He turned her and they kissed for a
long time, the he hugged her to him, crushing her to his chest.
"There won't be anyone to... love you back if you don't
stop," she said, barely having enough air in her lungs get it
out.
They made love slowly, allowing their passions to build
gradually and in concert. Their kisses were lengthy, and their
hands touched and probed and caressed each other as his
cock moved slowly back and forth in her sex. They came
together in the end, her legs wrapped around his waist,
moaning their pleasure into one another's mouths as they
kissed through their orgasms.
When he took her ass an hour later, it was only after
preparing her carefully and with great tenderness. He first gave
her an enema, filling her bowels twice with the warm cleansing
liquid, adding a special oil to the second bag. Kneeling behind
her on the bed, Gene fucked her first with a thin, well-lubricated
anal dildo and then with a thicker one. After a minute or so he
could tell that she was enjoying the thicker shaft and he flipped
the switch at the end, turning on the gentle vibrator. Clarice
came after less than a minute from the incredible sensations of
the humming shaft driving in and out of her virgin ass.
He greased his cock and positioned the head at her
rosette, talking to her softly, telling her to push back against him
when he pushed in.
Clarice did as he suggested, groaning loudly as his cock
popped past her tight anal muscle and lodged itself an inch or
so inside. He was much thicker than the vibrator that he had
used earlier, and it hurt. He kept his cock where it was, his
hands caressing her back and ass, and after a minute the pain
lessened.
"Try again," she said, and braced herself for his next
thrust.
"Ohhhhh," she groaned, willing herself to push back
against him as his cock drove deeper inside her. "Oh Jesus...
I'm... I'm so goddamn full!"
"You okay?"
"Yeah... wait a while... Oh, Jesus... let me got used to it."
Gene was patient, remembering the first time he had
done this, ten years earlier, with his wife. It had taken several
minutes to enter her completely that night, at which point he
promptly erupted from the incredibly tight feeling of her ass and
the novelty of the taboo act. This time, with Starling, he was
glad that he'd first cum in her pussy. He knew that he wouldn't
be able to hold back his orgasm otherwise.
At her signal, he eased forward, driving another inch or
so in her ass. Starling's ass gripped his cock like a vice, with
four inches of his shaft now buried inside her. It took three
more thrusts before he was fully inside her.
"That's it, babe. I'm all the way in."
"Jesus, Gene... how'd I ever let you... talk me into this,"
she said, her voice strained. Then she then laughed softly.
"Just wanted to save on condoms?" he suggested.
She chuckled, then winced when Gene shifted his
position, balancing himself with one hand on the bed, lowering
his head so he could kiss her back. His free hand found her
breasts and caressed the firm mounds.
"How does it feel?" he asked, sliding his hand down to
her sex.
"Like I'm split in two... incredibly full. But not terrible."
He eased out very slowly, letting her natural muscular
action help expel the thick intruder. The second time back in
seemed to take nearly as long as the first, with Clarice groaning
at each thrust. But after the forth time both of them noticed that
it was much easier. Her groans were softer. By the sixth time
he was able to cork her completely with one steady thrust.
"Oh, God," she said, feeling his balls slap into her sex
when he bottomed out.
"This feels incredible, Clarice... so tight... so nasty." He
kept his cock stationary while his hand caressed her hanging
tits.
"It's... okay... better now," she said. "Go ahead, Gene, I
want to feel you really fuck me, slowly though."
He shifted his position again, kneeling upright behind
her, and withdrew his cock. He paused only briefly before
driving it back inside, to the hilt, his balls slapping into her sex.
He continued to fuck her with a slow even pace, her passage
easier now but still deliciously tight.
"I'm fucking you now, Clarice Starling... fucking your
sweet tight ass."
"This ain't bad, Gene... Oh, my!"
"Lower your shoulders to the bed, Clarice, and reach
back to feel me... feel me fucking my cock into your nasty ass."
She did as he suggested, and he felt her fingers on his
balls, then on the slippery union of his lubricated cock driving
back and forth in her ass.
"Finger yourself, babe... cum for me."
She slipped her fingers into her sex, and could feel his
driving cock through the tissue that separated her two
passages. She then rubbed her clit, bringing herself to the
edge before stopping the direct contact to the sensitive nub.
"Oh, my, Gene... fuck me harder now... cum in me... oh,
yes," she said, her senses alive with the feeling coming from
her ass. The earlier pain and discomfort were gone, replaced
by sensations that were new to her, an incredibly sexy feeling
of fullness, of being thoroughly and completely Fucked. His
cock felt huge, utterly and wonderfully huge as he drove it
faster, harder, his hands gripping her hips for leverage.
"Fuck my ass, Gene... fuck it hard... cum in me," she
cried, her fingers returning to her clit and rubbing, bringing her
very quickly over the edge.
"Ohhhhhhh," she cried as her body experienced the
greatest orgasm of her life, her senses overwhelmed by the
intense waves of pleasure coming from her ass and cunt. The
waves continued and intensified when she felt his cock throb in
her ass and erupt.
"Oh, God! Oh, yes!" she heard him chant through his
own release, his hips slamming into her ass as his cock
squirted hot cum deep in her bowels.
--
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