The drive over to the Riviera was quick but for the duration of the short drive his hand was on her thigh kneading and caressing.  His hand slid higher a few times and his long fingers played with her already swollen lips hidden from his direct touch by the damp fabric of her unsexy bloomers.

At check-in, they split the bill 50-50 using cash.  The ride up the elevator was fraught with barely contained sexual tension brought about by another couple just catching the closing doors and joining the ascent. 

Derrick’s hand hovered by Jennifer’s elbow then his hand mindlessly moved up to the soft swell of her breast. 

Her hand slid from Derrick’s waist as Jennifer’s fingers meandered across the rise of his muscular bottom before they danced back up to his trim waist.

Their elevator companions were just as anxious to get to their room.  For them, grinding was the preferred method of foreplay. 

When the elevator opened onto the correct floor, Derrick and Jennifer raced out found their room door but got sidetracked by each other. 

Derrick slipped his hand under her shirt and was encircling the hardening bud.  His other hand sought out her heat below.

Jennifer heard him grunt as he slowly moved his hand from between her legs.  His fingers moved deftly over the door keypad.  With a loud click, they tumbled into the room not bothering to flick on the lights while groping and liberating one another from their superfluous garments.

Kicking the door shut Derrick didn’t notice Jennifer’s ankle holster nor did he notice the subtle shift in her as the Fury took over sending Jennifer deep into the recesses of her mind under a thick spell of sleep.

Derrick dragged her to the bed and threw her on it.  Abatu laughed and watched him catch his breath as the demon arched Jennifer’s back.  In a sensible bra and full brief underwear, the host’s lithe brown body was on full display.

Derrick climbed onto the bed and knelt in front of Jennifer.  He grabbed her hips and slid the drenched unremarkable undies off.  Pulling her up slowly, he reached behind her and unhooked her black no-nonsense sports bra and flicked it to the side.  Pulling back, Derrick stared at her breasts.  Jennifer’s small mounds were plump and firm.  Abatu undulated hypnotically.

Derrick sighed as the bulge in his underwear shot forward a good inch and a half.

Abatu saw him wince yet he moved his hand languidly to another area of interest.  The demon watched Derrick as he lazily ran his fingers through the thick dark brown curls that covered the host’s lower very wet lips.

He leaned down, parted them and placed his lips against her feminine core.

Abatu threw Jennifer’s head back as the electric sensations began flashing through both Jennifer and the demon.   As Derrick began to suckle her, Jennifer and Abatu whimpered; the demon was in urgent need stemming from centuries of sensual neglect.  The demon felt the full extent of the man’s expertise as Jennifer’s exploded in rapturous pleasure several minutes later.

Derrick lapped up her feminine juices and slinked his way north towards her unattended torso.  Placing his mouth on her left breast he sucked the taut nipple as he positioned himself to enter her warm pulsating body.  Derrick pulled his hips back and gently eased himself in enjoying the excruciating agony of the slow entry.  Derrick inhaled sharply as Jennifer’s feminine walls resisted him sending ripples of pleasure along his shaft. 

“Oh, so good…so tight!”  He held his breath as he thrust more firmly to gain even more entrance.

Beneath him, Abatu tried to relax Jennifer’s body and allow the coupling to take place.  However, Jennifer was fighting it by waking up! 

Even in the demon-induced stupor, Jennifer felt the tremors and sensations.  Her reflex reaction was that her Uncle was at it again.  With panic searing through her, she knew she needed to wake up…now!  She resisted the unwanted to pulsations while trying to claw through what felt like layers of water-logged wool blankets that seemed to weigh her body and eyelids down.

Growling, the Fury grabbed the man’s hand and placed it on the host’s unattended breast.

As Derrick kneaded the hard nipple and suckled the other one, he gave a hard thrust bringing him flush against her.

The trapped Jennifer was overpowered by the sexual onslaught and gave in as a wave of pleasure flooded through both herself and the Fury.  Jennifer’s body rocked with the massive orgasm which was intensified and fueled by the demon’s and Jennifer’s years of abstinence.

Abatu-Jennifer’s scream was muffled by Derrick’s own cry of release.  He arhythmically pumped above her while using both of his hands to knead and pleasure her.  All the while, Abatu-Jennifer rode the rocketing wave into satiation and bliss.

Abatu felt the full expansion of the man’s engorged member as his seed released. Quick on the mark, the demon thwarted the progress of his little swimming soldiers and shriveled them to ensure that the host would not be hindered by becoming with child.  With a feral smile, Abatu-Jennifer decided to let the man rest. 

Abatu would have another go at him later but this time it would be done the demon’s way.

Two hours later, Abatu, still in full control, mounted the sleeping man and placed the host’s mouth on his flaccid member.  Using techniques learned in the 15th century, the Fury brought the man to full arousal in mere minutes.  The demon slid Jennifer’s wet and ready heat onto his very capable member and rode the man slowly at first gradually picking up speed.

Derrick laughed and groaned simultaneously.

Abatu leaned over and bit his neck none too lightly and allowed him to come to orgasm fully once more before sliding off him and onto the host’s back.  The demon purred its pleasure.

Derrick sighed, flipped over onto his stomach and absently threw his arm over Jennifer’s stomach.

Soundlessly, Abatu reached down reached down and felt around on the floor.  Feeling it, the demon worked to pull the Smith and Wesson from its holster without jostling his arm over much.  With preternatural speed, Abatu placed the gun’s barrel at Derrick’s temple and removed the safety mechanism cackling.  Abatu steadied the host’s hand and shot a single bullet through Derrick’s skull before he could call out.

Dropping the gun, the Fury morphed into its demon form, bent over and fed on the grey oozing matter.  When Abatu was finished with its appetizer, it used its claws to score and rip open his torso.  Abatu chomped and guzzled its fill of vital organs and entrails getting stronger with every sinew and fibrous muscle it imbibed.  The laugh that rumbled in the demon’s chest was genuine as it decided to leave the man’s half-aroused member intact.  He deserved that much dignity as he pleasured the demon and its host so well prior to his demise.

The Fury fed for well over an hour but anticipated the final delicacy – the eyes – they were always last.  With a sharp nail, the Fury deftly detached his left eyeball, plucked it out with ease and popped it into its maw.  Abatu munched with relish.  The Fury eyed his member, wavered a moment, but went for the second eyeball instead.  When finished, the demon went back and licked the sockets clean of all blood and membrane.

Derrick’s heart, still warm to the touch, was the one organ that the Fury always left for that particular organ was reserved for Abatu’s master.  The heart had to be left with the carcass.  The Master would like Derrick Palmer’s soul because the man was far from squeaky clean.  Derrick’s aura was muddied sufficiently for him to reside for eternity in the lower region from which the Fury had come.  Immoral men were the most tasty of them all.

Full, but unable to stop itself, Abatu nibbled and gnawed at various parts of the man until it was tipsy from overfeeding.  Abatu, woozy from the large meal, dozed off in mid-lick.  Its claws slowly melting, unforming and reforming back into human hands as the demon fell into an insensate slumber forgetting its host entirely.

***

Saturday, November 10th, 3:30 A.M.

Jennifer stirred.  Something hard was under her ribcage on her left side.  She moved again trying to find a comfortable position but the effort woke her up even more.  With a groan she opened her eyes, saw the ceiling and realized it was not her ceiling.  She bolted upright, looked left and screamed.

A disemboweled man was sharing the bed with her and she had been sprawled across his very cold legs.  Jennifer clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle another scream.  However, her attention was diverted because something had smeared her lips.  She froze and moved only her eyes until she could see the back of her hand. 

It was crimson colored. 

Whimpering, she pulled the offensive hand away from her mouth.  When she saw that the rest of her hand was covered in flaked coagulated blood as were the rest of her limbs, a strangled scream erupted from her.

Jennifer leapt off the bed and raced into the bathroom frantic to get into the shower.  Slipping, she smeared blood on the tiles and on the flimsy plastic shower curtain as she banged her knee clambering into the tub.  She glanced down and pulled off her empty ankle holster.  She tossed it onto the cheap tiled floor and turned on the water full force.  Turning it as hot as it would go, which wasn’t nearly hot enough, Jennifer cried as she scrubbed herself with her bare hands watching the gloopy red water run down the drain.  She had cried herself out by the time the water had began to run clear.

Jennifer turned off the water, pulled back the shower curtain and just stood there.  She tried to think coherently but it was difficult.  Taking 10 deep ragged breaths, she forced her cop mind to work.  Soon, a plan began to take form in her mind.  Steeping out of the shower, she dried herself with a thin motel towel then ventured back into the bedroom. 

Jennifer refused to look at the bed.

She went over to the closet, grabbed the equally thin hotel robe and shrugged it on.  Taking another deep breath in, she turned and surveyed the body with her detached analytical cop eyes.      What was left of Derrick was mauled and chewed.  His intestines were nowhere to be seen.  She bent down and looked under the bed.  It was clean; no blood anywhere.

She walked to the other side of the bed and there was nothing there, either.  The mess was on the right side where the blood spray was evident on everything even on the nondescript tan lampshade.  The white sheets on that side were now a reddish-brown. 

Ignoring the tic above her left eye, Jennifer walked towards the bed and looked carefully at what was left of Derrick’s face.  Forcing her body not to react, she wondered where his blue eyes had gone.  As she inspected his bloodless eye sockets, she noticed that his face was quite clean; not a speck of blood anywhere on it.  His hollow stomach cavity was relatively clean as well.  The amount of blood that should have been in the room, in his stomach and around the bed wasn’t there.

Where the hell did all of his blood go?

An unthinkable notion came to her unbidden.  She pushed it away knowing she’d be sick if the thought ever fully formed.  Jennifer stepped back and tried to recall the last time she had eaten.  She recalled the coffee and the leftovers she ate after waking up.  She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand on the left.  It was 3:43 A.M.  Technically, she should be hungry.  She did a mental check of her body and realized she was full.  She wasn’t even a teeny bit thirsty.  Dread crept into her spine.

I should be hungry by now.  Why aren’t I hungry?  Where are his eyes and his blood?  Wouldn’t I want water if I drank his blood?  Isn’t blood salty?  What the hell am I thinking?  Am I a freakin’ cannibal!  What did I do?!

Composure crumbling, Jennifer slid down to the floor as bits of her sanity began to unravel.  The cop in her took over and pushed the panic away.  Her head snapped up and she scooted into the bathroom looking for cleaning products.  Pulling open the cabinet under the sink she found nothing and the mirrored medicine cabinet held no spoils either.  It only yielded a plastic-wrapped bright yellow toothbrush.  Slamming the mirrored door shut, Jennifer went back out into the bedroom and checked her clothes.  She found them.  Thankfully, they were untouched by blood, or gore.  Dressing quickly, she searched around for the gun and found it under one of the nightstands.  Slipping it back into its holster, she grabbed her keycard and left. 

Walking with purpose, she found an all-night bodega a couple blocks away on the well-lit main street, Atlantic Avenue.  She bought two pairs of household yellow cleaning gloves, a big bottle of bleach, a 4-pack of cellulose sponges, Ajax, Lysol and window cleaner.  As an afterthought, she also bought some incense, a lighter and a pack of Marlboros.  In a functional semi-catatonic state, Jennifer fervently wished her makeshift plan would work.

Back in the room, she checked the time; 4:21 A.M.  Putting on the gloves, she started cleaning the bedroom averting her eyes from the macabre corpse.  Using straight bleach, she wiped down everything in sight.  She took the one clear drinking glass she found in the bathroom, half-filled it with water and topped it off with bleach.  Using a sponge, she soaked both of the lampshades with the bleach mixture to befuddle the investigators.  She knew the Forensics team would be looking for any specks of blood no matter how minute.

Cursing her preoccupation, she checked herself for cuts or nicks.  Finding none, she breathed a sigh of relief.  With a sharp intake of breath, she touched her hair then began looking around for any stray strands and found two on the bed.  Jennifer took her time and diligently searched for any other strands on the floor, beside the bed, in the bathroom and by the closet.  She couldn’t afford to be lazy.  Finding nothing, she flushed the hairs she found down the toilet and remembered to look down the shower drain but she didn’t see anything.  As a precaution, she poured straight bleach down the drain and ran the hot water for ten minutes.

With all the stray specks of blood on the furniture and rugs gone, or greatly diminished it was on to part two of the plan.

Jennifer lit the incense blew its smoke all around the room.  Next, she puffed on five cigarettes dropping their ashes all over the floor around the bed.  Then, she litwo more sticks of incense and left both sticks on the nightstand burning brightly.  Phase three of her plan was the coup de grâce.

She poured window cleaner all over Derrick’s body emptying the bottle.  Next up was the can of Lysol.  She sprayed it away from herself putting the lighter into the highly flammable stream.  With the plastic gloves still on, her makeshift torch was hard to get going.  It caught on the fifth try.  In seconds, Derrick’s body caught on fire.  Stepping back to assess her work; the body was ablaze and the nightstand was engulfed in red flames that were racing towards to the carpet and the wallpapered walls.  Jennifer glanced up and noticed the round ubiquitous object that could ruin her plan.

“Shit!”

Jennifer had forgotten to take the batteries out of the smoke detector!  She raced to the front door and dragged the chair from the desk.  She gained a couple more inches by pushing up onto the tips of her toes while on the chair.   Jennifer unhooked the detector from the ceiling and saw it was the hardwired type without batteries.  Cursing, she clipped it back just as it began to shriek.  Within moments, a loud blaring fog horn sounding alert assaulted her ears.

“Please evacuate!  Fire detected in the building.  Use staircases only.  Please evacuate!”

Surveying the room, knowing she only had a few precious minutes left, Jennifer decided to advance the fire.  She put the lighter against both lampshades and spray torched Derrick’s blistering body again.  Lastly, she lit the corner of the bed sheet.  She wanted to ensure that any possible trace of her would burn away.  The sheet wouldn’t light readily.  After several attempts, a weak flame raced up the white sheet headed for the bloody bed. 

Backing up, Jennifer coughed and rubbed her stinging eyes.  Coughing some more, she lit the curtains on the far side of the bed before darting out with her bags of cleaning supplies. 

Jennifer kept her head down as she slowed down to join the dazed half-dressed people in the hall heading for the nearest staircase.  She hoped she had dodged the security cameras and remembered to stare at the ground using only her peripheral vision to move forward.  Even in all of the confusion, she refused to pass through the front lobby.  Jennifer veered off from the crowd and went out the back entrance through the small parking lot.  She walked with sure steps belying the fifty pound butterflies flitting around in her tummy and made her way up Atlantic Avenue at a brisk pace passing the bodega she had frequented just over an hour ago without giving it a second glance.  Her mind was awhirl.  However, she know she’d deal with what the hell happened to Derrick later…much later.

Four blocks past the bodega, Jennifer heard the first whine of the expected sirens.  Within moments, the first fire truck sped by with all of its lights flashing and the deafening siren made her cringe.  In case anyone was watching, she pulled on her single semester of acting and reprised her role as Roz from Grease (check this!). 

Jennifer put a look of disgust on her face and flipped the truck a bird.

Spying a half-open garbage bin in front of one of the shabby looking shingled homes on the busy avenue, Jennifer furtively checked to see if anyone was around.  Seeing no one at all, she dumped the two plastic bags into the half empty bin and covered it back securely.

With an affected saunter, she moved off towards the Broadway Junction train station which was too many blocks away for Jennifer’s comfort.  While she could have waited for the bus, or tried to hail the speeding cabs that passed by rather infrequently, she wasn’t willing to put herself in a position where someone could recognize her and pin her to the vicinity.  Sometimes proximity was more than enough to haul someone in for questioning.

Walking as swiftly as she dared in her studded boots, Jennifer noticed a few people walking past her as she got closer to the East New York train station.  She knew that this was an area that she shouldn’t be traveling alone in, on foot, at night.  Sighing, she shrugged off a sudden tingly sensation but knew she had to heighten her awareness of her surroundings.  In this environment, Jennifer’s gun was beginning to feel like her friend again.

Directly ahead of her, two dark-skinned men in sagging jeans loitered on the corner.  They came out of their slouches from against the wall and lamp post to peer down the avenue to where the fire trucks had stopped. 

“Yo ‘Ma!  What’s goin’ down?  You see anyting?”

Flinching back as the taller one came near enough for her to smell his personalized scent of sweat mixed with musky cologne and the smell of cannabis.

“Why would I see anything?”

“Cause you jus came from down der…” said the shorter one.

The short one came over to join the younger taller one crowding around her and looking her up and down in a manner that did not convey trust. 

The shorter one had a head full of long ropey hair that smelled sweetly exotic but the look on his face was anything but comforting.  He leered in her face as the flickering street light glinted off his gold fronts.

Jennifer pulled her leather jacket together and fixed them both with a stony glare.

The short sweet-haired one grabbed her arm and jerked her against the lamp post.  His baggy jeans and open Shearling jacket were no hindrance in his movements.

“Look, I just left a friend’s house and I’m going to the train.  Why you gotta bother me?  I didn’t do nothing to you.”

She knew she had to keep her voice down or else panic would shine through her words.  The younger guy was tall; around 6’ 2”.  He was clean shaven, and well-groomed.  In his late twenties, she guessed.  She watched as he turned his back on them and watched the immediate area.  He didn’t to say a word to the shorter guy.  Clearly, they had done this type of thing before.

“Look at me!”

Bringing her dark brown eyes to stare into the older man’s eyes in front of her, Jennifer gave him a good once over.

He was about 5’9” and 185 pounds.  He was sturdy without being fat.  He had all of his teeth but they were stained a deep yellow but his breath wasn’t sour.  However, it wasn’t as pleasant smelling as his hair.  His smooth skin was the color of roasted coffee beans with no blemishes but the scraggly mustache and goatee detracted from the intense seriousness of his eyes.

Jennifer looked into his yellowing eyes and wondered how many years more he had before the herb robbed him of his brain power.

“Yeah, I’m looking.  What?”

He smiled at her sassiness.  “I like you, Cocoa Girl.  So, give me you money and we leht chu go.  Nice and simple, heh?”

“That simple, huh?”

He nodded while smiling as he stroked her arm through the thin leather of her jacket. 

Jennifer realized, a tad too late, that his smile had become very suggestive at the same moment she felt his fingers groping her breast.

Jennifer flashed back to the first day her Uncle touched her.

She was twelve.  It was a few days after Halloween and she was wearing her favorite burnt orange coat with the floppy lapels and the pumpkin-shaped buttons her mother had sewn on to make her little angel happy.  Pre-teen Jennifer had come home a bit early because her best friend had walked home with Janey Kellner instead of with her.  Bursting into the house, Jennifer called for her mother but only a very drunk Uncle Tommy answered.

Her uncle grabbed her lapels and pulled laughing at little Jennifer’s tears the whole time.  He watched the buttons scatter all over the parquet floors.  Her uncle continued to laugh as he held her down while pushing her coat and knees open…

Blinking rapidly, Jennifer refocused and screamed.  She saw a weird blurry image of Uncle Tommy superimposed upon the older man with the locs.  She kicked up and out, and as if in a dream, Jennifer watched herself crouch down and grab the Smith and Wesson semi-automatic from her ankle holster. 

In her mind’s eye, she saw her younger self on the floor with the large looming face of her Uncle inches away from her face.  She heard that familiar keening wail as the phantom pain revisited her yet again.

Forcing her mind back to some semblance of reality, adult Jennifer on Atlantic Avenue screamed as she protected younger Jennifer for the second fatal time, “No, Uncle Tommy!  Don’t!  Please!”  Her trigger finger twitched twice and her hands recoiled from the violence of the two shots.

Still in perfect killing stance, she blinked back the tears and shuddered as she stuffed the memory back into the dark place she kept it closeted.

Shaking her head forcibly, Jennifer took a shuddery breath as she inspected the scene.  There was no movement from either man.

With sickening dread, she knew she needed to move from the bodies with a good bit of speed…now.  Fingers trembling, Jennifer put her gun back in its holster and backed away from the bodies.  Refusing to look around to see if anyone was around, she crossed the street without looking back and continued to walk up Atlantic with the fervent wish that no one stopped her.  Her heart began to slow its pitter-pattery race when no one did.

However, the aftershock from her brush with another attempted assault on her person made walking difficult.  Her legs wouldn’t stop wobbling nor would the tears stop streaming down her face.  She walked woodenly.  She hardly noticed that the large hub station’s bright lights were making unusually creepy shadows on the broken sidewalk as the light passed through the nude skeletal tree branches.

Through it all, deep inside of Jennifer’s mind, Fury Abatu was still deeply asleep under the blanket of supreme satiation.

Walking as briskly as her legs would carry her Jennifer flinched as two patrol cars streaked past her.  She was sure they were headed towards the Riviera, or maybe, to the guys she left on the street corner.  Either way, she they were headed to investigate her handiwork.

For the first time since she was twelve, Jennifer prayed to get home without any further incident. 

Thankfully, that night, someone was listening.

***

Next Chapter: Chapter 9