Wilmington Woman's Club Ch. 68byParis Waterman©
Criminal Minds at Work
Tuskegee Wilson brought it up before anyone else could. "So Marty, when are we going to hit him next?"
"I've been thinking about it," Marty replied. "He's not stupid, by this time he'll have plenty of heat backing up each place we might target. I don't see any sense in getting all shot up when all we're getting... maybe getting, I should say, is part of a week's money run. Let me tell you what I'm thinking," Marty said. "We take out a counting house – big deal. It's what, a week's take from one district? And to do it we risk our lives – worse, we don't hurt the motherfucker. Oh, we piss him off, but that ain't why I'm doing this. I wanna hurt the bastard big time. I want to bring him down."
George Burns nodded and said, "Okay, Marty, how are we gonna do it?"
"I don't know yet. My plan if you can call it a plan, is to wait and watch. Somewhere there's a key to his operation. We find it and he's dead meat."
"How long do we wait?" the hulking man known as Cason asked.
"I don't know. I have some people watching. I mean their watching Gentner and any of his people leaving their operational base. Right now we're following them. I haven't asked any of you to do it because of the possibility that might recognize you."
"They don't know me," Carson said as he cracked his knuckles.
"True enough," Marty admitted, "But Jesus, Carson, one good look at you and they'd make you for what you are... and you don't work for them. So who do you think they'll figure you're with?"
"I see your point," Carson said. "So... we wait."
"And watch," Marty added. What Marty hadn't mentioned was that he had K.C. dating Gentner on occasion and that she had also gotten Marty's permission to use a guy she had known all her life to follow Gentner when he left her place. He was to follow from a distance and note his license plate number, and where he went after leaving her place. No more, no less, and he was not to take any type risk. It was vital that he not be caught following Gentner.
"One more thing," Marty said. "Since we're in a wait and watch mode, I really don't need to keep you holed up here. My thoughts are that you head home and when I'm ready to attack Gentner I'll contact each of you in plenty of time to get back here."
"Sounds good to me," Carson said. "My wife could use a little TLC about now."
Wilson and Burns laughed and Marty grinned.
"It is something to think about," Wilson said after a few ticks of the clock.
"I might have some work waiting for me," Burns offered, "as long as you're sure you don't need us."
"Hey, we'd only start getting on one another's nerves," Marty said, still smiling.
"So, let's get the fuck outta Dodge," Wilson barked, and the others stood up in agreement.
"I need to get laid," Kunz said to general laughter. "I could find something here... but I don't think that's a good idea. So back to Jersey it is."
It took two hours for the group to pack and leave as they had come to Wilmington separately and with the exception of Burns and Kuntz, left the same way.
Marty took a nap after they had all departed, and on waking, called K.C. to make a date for that evening. He learned that she would be working at Dockside Girls, and so arranged to meet her at her apartment after the club had closed at three AM.
When he rang the doorbell, K.C. greeted Marty at the door drying her hair and wearing a terrycloth robe. Without saying much, she directed him to her living room, handed him a rather potent rum and coke, and seated herself upon an overstuffed chair.
Marty sat opposite her and began sipping the drink, as his eyes became accustomed to the low lighted room, he noticed a mostly-empty glass on the table next to her − evidently she had not waited for him, or there had been someone else in the apartment before he arrived. Although he trusted her, Marty had his guard up, and the Glock he was wearing near his armpit loomed large in his mind.
Not too many words had passed between them; Marty refrained from mentioning the suspect glass and took slow, short sips from his own drink, waiting for K.C. to fill him in on whomever, or whatever was responsible for the third glass.
A long minute passed and K.C. appeared to be getting nervous.
"Something wrong?" Marty inquired.
"No, nothing's wrong, Marty. I am worried that Conrad might get suspicious. I mean, if that happens he'll probably kill me. That is what he does, isn't it?"
"He has killed people before, or had them killed. I won't lie to you about it. But I can't see anything that would cause him to be overly suspicious of you."
"Overly suspicious. What the hell does that mean?"
"It means he trusts no one. Not even those closest to him. He would consider you suspect just because you're near him. But for the reasons I've mentioned and no other."
In order to change the subject and K.C.'s mood, Marty allowed his hand to glide down her smooth thigh, down to the hem of her robe. His hand slipped under it, moved in between her legs. Sneaked up along the inside of her thigh up till he was at the gusset of her panties.
He left his hand there. K.C. didn't do anything to stop him, and his fingers moved under the edge of her underwear to glide smoothly along the length of her pussy's lips.
"Marty," she sighed contentedly and pushed her pubis against his invading fingers.
He took a step back and put himself behind K.C. and pressed his hardon against her ass.
"Yes," she whispered and that was the signal he had been waiting for.
With one swift movement he drew her panties down to her knees; from there gravity took over and they fell to her feet. She took a little step to the side with her left leg and impatiently kicked the panties away, leaving him free access to her pussy.
Almost immediately he sent two fingers into her. K.C. began to purr; her eyes took on a slightly glazed look as his fingers rummaged about in her love nest. He saw that her pussy lips were swollen and glistening with her juices.
Her eyes fluttered, almost closing from her mounting pleasure.
"Having fun?" He asked with a smile, and brought his fingers to her mouth so that she might sample her nectar.
She opened her mouth in acceptance of his offering and her robe opened exposing her right breast. Marty undid his trousers, freeing his cock which sprang up the moment it was freed.
K.C. smiled at him, and applied a liberal dosage of saliva to her fingertips then brought them brought them to her nipples which she coated slowly and for his benefit, giggling lewdly as she performed the operation.
Marty sank to his knees and took her left nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. K.C. moaned and pulled away only to push him backward until he lay prone on the thick plush carpet. Then with a very deliberate movement, she straddled his face, keeping her pussy tantalizingly out of reach of his mouth and began fingering herself.
From the way she was trembling he was sure she was very near her climax. But K.C. wasn't quite there yet, and dipped her fingers deep; covering them with her secretions then fed them to Marty who cleansed them for her.
Finally, she swung gracefully around, murmuring, "I have to taste your wonderful cock!" and enveloped his organ with furious movements of her mouth and tongue.
For his part, Marty buried his face in her cunt, and with K.C. engulfing his cock in her talented mouth, he started lightly-brushing her outer labia with his tongue and had her pelvis crashing into his face in short order. Trying to control her gyrations, he paid more attention to her clit than any other part of her sexual apparatus and brought her frenzy to a calmer intensity although by no means near normal level for the activity they were engaged in.
Finally, K.C. moaned and with what may have been a tremendous effort, wrenched her pussy from Marty's mouth and straddled him, hovering just above his saliva covered cock then with her right hand, spread her labia apart and lowered her body until his hard cock entered her dripping wet slit.
Summoning a control that Marty marveled at, K.C. slowly sank down upon his steely shaft only to rise again just as slowly as she'd sank down on him.
She didn't groan or moan. She didn't utter a syllable, she hardly breathed, her lips parted in a smile and her eyes turned upward as she absorbed his entire length into her vagina.
He wanted to pump away at her, but K.C.'s muscle control kept him mostly in place.
"Isn't it nice?" she whispered hoarsely, "Isn't it nice to fuck like this? Just lay still, baby. Feel how I can jerk you off with my talented pussy?"
"Um, you do seem to have a talent there, K.C."
Once again he attempted to wrest control from her only to have K.C. bark, "No. Don't move! I want to do it. I want to make us both feel nice."
Marty sighed and relaxed, letting her pussy muscles milk him. She wasn't even moving her hips any longer, and yet he felt himself being drawn ever deeper into her slippery wetness. And she was wet; so wet, in fact that her juices were running out of her and down his thighs as well as hers.
Suddenly K.C. began to tremble. Marty knew she was about to cum for the tremors were followed in rapid succession by her moaning a series of lewd words in his ear as she sought to bring them off together.
It worked. Marty came, discharging rope after rope of sperm into her as she ground herself down upon him mewing contentedly as her climax came and then faded away.
K.C. slumped down on Marty and lay with her body covering his. "Oh, how nice," she whispered, and gave him a sloppy wet kiss before she rolled down off him and stood up.
Marty looked up at her cunt, saw it flutter open and a foamy string of sperm mixed with pussy juice ran out of it.
"Oops," K.C. giggled, "I think you filled me up!" She reached for her panties and swept them over her pussy and between her legs, wiping the mixture away.
"It won't go down will it?" she said, staring at his still throbbing erection. "Do you think you can manage one more time on the same... erection?"
"I doubt it," he replied with a smile. "I need maybe twenty minutes or so."
"Do we have time for a shower before you have to leave?" she asked hiding her disappointment.
"I think so," he rasped.
"Good, I seem to be covered with your sperm."
"Yeah, well I have more than a little of your juices on me too," he said with a broad smile.
K.C. preceded him into the shower, and he admired her ass as he walked behind her. She must have felt his eyes on her because she turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder.
"Nice ass, isn't it?"
"World class, if you ask me."
"Then next time we can do it back there," she laughed, and he slapped her on the rump as she turned the water on.
An hour later he rolled off K.C. and watched as his semen oozed out of her asshole.
"You do have the loveliest ass, K.C."
"Flattery, flattery, flattery. I know it's all lies, but I love hearing you say it.
"I'm not making it up, K.C.; you are so tight back there I have a constant struggle not to cum as soon as I'm in there. And that's after dropping a load in you before we took the shower."
"Like I said, flattery, flattery...."
But he could see she was pleased with him, as well as satisfied sexually.
"So... shall we discuss business now that pleasure's out of the way?" he said.
"You mean, Gentner?"
"I haven't seen or heard from him since the last time, and that's almost three months now."
"K.C." Marty said, putting his disappointment in each letter of her name.
"But I do have some news about him," she said quickly, somewhat frustrated with the way her surprise was going.
"Do tell, woman," he said, and she preened at the perceived warmth of his voice.
"Star, one of the stripper's at Dockside Doll's, had a date with him last week. The reason I know is he mentioned my name to her and she told me he's going to give me a call."
"That is good news, K.C."
She giggled, and added, "I asked her if she fucked him up the ass and she looked at me as if I were crazy. I think he's gonna call 'cause he wants me to do it."
"That certainly sounds like him. But listen, K.C., be very careful around him. Don't probe, don't ask questions. Just listen. Maybe he'll take a phone call, maybe he'll mention something that sounds useless, but will prove meaningful to me. So listen and remember what you hear. But be careful, he is a dangerous guy."
I will, Marty. Don't worry, I will. Marty?"
"He is involved in drugs isn't he?"
"Yeah, K.C., he is, and he has a lot to lose. Remember that at all times. Don't take any chances with him."
Marty left K.C. and decided to walk back to his place. He often walked to help him think knotty problems through. He knew too that he needed an opportunity to relieve some of the pressure that had been building ever since he'd arrived in Wilmington and narrowed the gap between himself and Gentner.
The opportunity presented itself just after he left a bar with an Irish name on Market Street. He fell into a rolling gait that is the special property of drunks and sailors. Thoroughly alert, Marty saw a movement in a doorway ten or twelve yards ahead of him, but he kept on walking, and when the man came out of the doorway with a knife in his hand, he knew he'd been looking for him since leaving K.C.'s place.
"Come on, come on, gimme your money," the man said threateningly.
He wasn't a junkie. Most people think these muggers are junkies, but they're not. Junkies break into apartments when nobody's home and take computers and television sets; they look for small things they can turn into quick cash, but they are desperate and will harm one if threatened with capture simply because it means deprivation of their drugs.
On the other hand, not one mugger out of five has real balls. The other four do it because it beats working, or they can't find work. And it lets them know how tough they are.
He made sure Marty could see the knife blade. They were in the shadows, but the blade still caught a little light and flashed wickedly at Marty. It was a knife mainly used for gutting fish, long and menacingly sharp.
"Just take it easy," Marty said.
"Let's see that fucking money."
"Sure," Marty said. "Just take it easy with the knife. Knives make me nervous."
Marty supposed the man was about twenty or twenty-two. He'd had a fierce case of acne not too many years ago, and his cheeks and chin were pitted. Marty moved toward his inside breast pocket but ignored the Glock resting comfortably under his armpit, and shouted, "Fuck you, Gentner!"
Then in an easy, rolling motion, dropped one shoulder, pivoted on his right heel, and kicked the mugger's wrist with his left foot.
The knife sailed out of his hand.
The mugger went for it and that was a mistake because it landed behind him and he had to scramble for it. He should have done one of two things. He should have come straight at Marty, or he should have turned and run away. But he went for the knife and that was definitely the wrong thing to do.
He never got within ten feet of it. He was off balance and scrambling, and Marty got a hand on his shoulder and spun him like a top. Marty threw a right, his hand open, and caught him under the nose. He yelped and put both hands to his face, and Marty hit him three or four times in the belly. When he folded up, Marty cupped his hands on the back of his head and brought a knee up while bringing his head down.
The impact was solid. Marty let go of him, and the mugger stood in a dazed crouch, legs bent at right angles at the knees. His body didn't know whether to straighten up or fall down.
Marty took his chin in his hand, and quietly said, "That was for Gloria," and shoved him away, sending him sprawling on his back where he remained.
Marty found a thick roll of bills in the right hand pocket of his jeans. It was just over two hundred dollars. He hadn't been in need of a fix, nor was he looking for enough money to buy milk and bread for his family. Marty tucked a dollar bill back into his pocket and kept the rest for himself while the man lay there without moving.
Marty got down on one knee and picked up his right hand in his left hand and put his face close to the mugger's.
The mugger's eyes were wide and he was frightened. Marty wanted him to be frightened; wanted him to know just what fear was and just how it felt.
"Listen to me," Marty said tersely. "These are tough streets, and you ain't hard enough or tough enough. You better get a straight job because you can't make it out here doing this shit. You're too soft for it. Up to now it's been easy pickings for you, but you pick a guy like me and it all turns to shit, or worse.
"Now I'm gonna show you how."
Marty took the hand and bent the fingers back one at a time until they broke. Just four fingers. He left the thumb alone. The mugger didn't scream or anything. It's highly probable the terror he felt blocked the pain.
Marty took the knife with him and dropped it in a sewer on the next block. He walked another block, saw a cab and hailed it. No sense it walking into one of Gentner's crew, he thought, and hummed a song he'd heard at K.C.'s earlier that evening. He felt better than he had for quite some time, for he thought this event was a prelude to his eventual confrontation with Gentner.