The Devil Ch. 01

This is the first chapter in a sexually explosive story. I have bent many real world "rules". How government entities run are not accurately described in this story. So please do not take everything at face value. I would love comments, please tell me what you really think. Love, Violet!

Dante and Sage's story begins now:

They say that he was a monster. That he would end up being my downfall. Of course, those warning me of the man that I had come to love, were monsters themselves. Prostitutes, drug dealers, pimps, killers.

But him. He was no monster.

He was an angel, well my angel that is, and they called him DANTE.

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The day started off cool, but quickly warmed up by the time I made it to the south side of town. I started my day with a jacket on top of a sweater that was hiding two undershirts.

I was clearly not ready for the Atlanta winter. I relocated to the city in a forest from the sunny state of florida, and my body was rightfully so, pissed off at me

And this new idea of four actual seasons, instead of it just being summer year round, was quite complex. I still couldn't get the season of fall in Atlanta, where the day would start quite chilly, but warm up like a bitch in heat.

So there I was, drenching in my own sweat, because I was again unprepared for the heat. I ditched my jacket before noon, but unfortunately couldn't part ways with the sweater. But I did get lucky and was able to take both undershirts off by the time I was given an assignment that took me to the underbelly of Atlanta.

This would be my first time actually working on this side of town, and I was more than a little anxious. Not because of the area itself, hell I come from the swamps of florida, but the people were the source of my anxiety.

At the moment the Italians, and Russian both control the projects of Atlanta. They each dabble in drugs, prostitution, weapons, and booze. They were not physically there, that's what they had flunkies for, but their power was overwhelming.

Well, that was what they taught us in my CPS classes.

What? You though I was some large and in charge police officer? Or maybe one of those sexy detectives with a big ass chip on his shoulder?

I am far from large. Quite a ways from large. I barley meet the 5 foot mark. That is why I was never picked for varsity sports, never had the blonde bimbo chick, and never won the respect of anyone who was anyone.

And truthfully I never really cared for any of that. Especially the blonde bimbo chick. I'm gay, which would eliminate the need for said chick.

But enough of that. I am currently employed by the Atlanta Child Protective Services, where I hold the title of "Doormat to those who are more important".

The title really doesn't matter. My responsibilities are to physically move myself in environments that are flagged. Home environments can be flagged by anyone who suspects children are being put in danger.

My visits are totally by surprise, which would not be a good thing in the particular area I find myself.

But at last here I am.

Apartment number 781.

Here goes nothing.

"Ms. Delconti, Child Protective Services. Please answer your door."

A large whooshing sound comes from inside. Like rats dispersing in the subway.

Or crackheads finding hiding spots in a two bedroom apartment.

Several locks are unlocked, and the door cracks open.

On the other side of the door, a frail women works hard at not meeting my eye.

"Ms. Delconti?"

She looks behind her and quickly moves herself in front of the door, shielding who and what is inside her apartment.

Her voice, a heavy gravel, speaks up, "Yes...yes...that be me..."

Still no eye contact.

I maneuver myself in a awkward dance to catch her eye, but she remains face down.

"Ms. Delconti, my name is Sage Thomas. I am with CPS. There was a call from a concerned neighbor. They have filed pretty important claims, that I have to investigate."

Quickly as I say this, her head snaps up, and an anger I've seen on plenty of faces seeps through. And with that I notice her eye color a water blue, that would be impressive, if her face wasn't aged by whatever drug she has found herself hooked on.

"I bet it was that bitch cross the street. She can't seem to mind her own damn business." She tugs the knotted bow of her house robe tight.

"I caught that bitch makin' moves on my man, so I cuss the bitch out. I tell her, "don't let me catch yo black ass across the street again, or I'll whoop the black off of it."

She continues to speak of her ungodly neighbor who dared to touch her man, and I couldn't help but be taken aback by the racial points in her rant. Ms. Delconti is a fair skinned woman, with blue eyes, and blonde hair. But if you take a closer look, there seems to be a little something else mixed into her.

But does that still make it right?

By the time I stop pondering these questions, a couple of minutes have passed by. I need to get out of letting my thoughts deter me.

I take a stance with my hand on my slender hips, and interrupt her.

"Ms. Delconti, I am forbidden to release our sources, the importance of CPS visit's are not to divulge who gives us tips, but to find out all we can about the environment the children are in. Now, I must ask you to let me in, to talk to your children, and investigate your home."

She starts to fidget again with the dirty belt of her robe, and starts stuttering, and cursing, and the sweat beads become visible.

"I can't do that...Thomas...was it?"

I roll my eyes, why didn't I bring police force this time?

"Ms. Delconti, I will only ask one more time, please allow me into your home."

The trembling begins, and I'm not quite sure if she's nervous, or going through a withdraw.

I start to take the cell phone out of my pocket, but before I could flip it open, the door opens from the inside.

A small girl, of about six or seven, with dark brown hair, and eyes the same color as her mother glares into me. She raises her eyebrows to question me, and then turns her scary glare to her mother. "It's okay Mama, let him in."

And astonishingly Ms. Delconti, agrees.

"Sure, sure, okay,......Thomas, come in."

She follows the small child in, not once looking back to see if I followed.

I was taken aback by this oddly little scene that just happened. I've never been in a situation where a mother took orders from a child.

But before I could step into the apartment, I was grabbed from behind by my arm, and pushed against a wall.

The force paralyzed me and I closed my eyes waiting for the onslaught I was sure to get.

Fuck, why did I not ask for an escort!

Before I could get the chance to piss on myself, a hard edged voice whispered in my ear.

"Who the fuck are you? And where the hell did you come from?"

Fresh peppermint breath. Odd what we think of, when facing death.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and pray to whoever was out there.

"Fucking answer me!"

Fuck it, if I was going to die, I would die fighting. Which would be comical, seeing how I have never fought in my life, but not so comical because I was for sure going to die.

I snap my eyes open, and the paralysis I thought overtook me moments beforehand, was nothing compared to what I felt now.

He was beautiful.

Tall, broad shouldered, hawk nose, and the greenest eyes I'm sure I have ever seen. If I wasn't immobilized by his strong hands, I could have reached out to his body, and felt the bulging muscle hidden by his clothes.

Damn his clothes, the dark italian suite, crisp white shirt, and shiny loafers.

I would have never thought I would think these things before I died. I always thought I would ponder my life, and regrets. Not how sexy the last person I would encounter would be.

It's quite laughable now. For many ways. One being the most important.

I prayed for someone to save me.

And I'm sure most people received angels.

But I got the devil.