Gangster's Moll Ch. 01

Suddenly, the lights turned on to show Brett sitting in the far corner of the room with a drink in his hand. He took out another glass and poured her a drink. He ushered her over. She sat on the sofa near him.

"Try the Corvusier. It's the best cognac in the world."

She took a sip as he kept staring at her, lazily surveying her over the rim of her glass.

"All right! Let's get this over with."

He blinked.

"What kind of a man do you think I am? I want to enjoy this and I want you to enjoy it as well. Settle down, relax, let the mood build."

He pressed the remote and the room was filled by the melodious tunes of Strangers In The Night by Sinatra.

"How can you expect me to enjoy it?"

"I know Annie liked it."

She could feel her hair bristle as he brought her up again. His mind games were clearly not over.

He got up and gently lifted her arms. She stood up and went along with his movements. He gently held her waist and kissed her on the lips. Unconsciously, her lips parted to accommodate his roving tongue as the intensity of the kiss built. Gently, he lifted her up and carried her to the bed in the next room.

He started by kissing her lips and then all over her face. She seemed largely passive aggressive, wanting to assert herself but without any emotion. His hands took off her clothes and spent some time fondling her soft breasts. She closed her eyes to shut out the scene as he lowered his mouth to her nipple and gently ran his tongue around it. She could not suppress a moan of pleasure. It came from a place deep inside, a place she had buried a year ago.

Sensing her arousal, he lowered his mouth further and reached her luscious pussy. He fixed his lips around her labia and stuck his tongue in as far as it would go. She bucked and thrashed as his tongue explored the inner crevasses of her vagina and reached places that had been neglected for so long.

She could feel her climax nearing and suppressed her urge to scream out loud. But she was powerless as wave after wave of pleasure swept over her being and she let out a scream of pleasure that resonated around the room. That scream was intermingled with a profound sense of sadness and shame. Sadness as it brought back memories of Simon, shame at her present situation.

Brett proceeded to clamber on top of her and rested the tip of his erection at the entrance of her vagina. He entered her slowly, and just held it inside for a while, waiting for her walls to respond. She could not face him out of shame as her vaginal responded by closing around his head. Smiling, he rocked back and forth and could feel the beginnings of a powerful orgasm building.

Soon, he collapsed on top of her as his member deposited its seed deep inside her orifice. He lay there beside her naked form for a while, draping his arms across her breasts. Monica was quietly staring at the ceiling, desperately trying to make sense of the situation she had found herself in. It seemed bizarre and surreal and yet she came out of her own free will.

She got up and started getting dressed, unable to face Brett anymore.

"I really didn't do it."

She turned around. He was sitting at the edge of the bed looking down at the floor.

"I didn't kill Annie. I did not know she was a cop. You probably won't believe me, but I was in love with her."

She could not believe what she was hearing.

"Will you help me find out who did this to her? Please."

He looked up with a sincerely entreating look in his eyes. No one in New York had seen it ever. She nodded in silent agreement. He got up and handed her a small box.

"It contains an encrypted phone. I got it from one of associates in Thailand. I am on speed dial 1. Contact me if you need help. In the meantime, I look forward to next Sunday."

She was just about to leave when Brett remembered something. He stopped her and handed her a piece of paper. She read it and asked.

"Ward 33, St. Sebastian Hospital. What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Just stop by on your way home."

Puzzled, Monica left the Tribeca and drove off towards St. Sebastian. She walked in and made her way to the third floor where the ward was. Finally, she was at ward 33. Opening the door, she gasped at what she saw inside.

The boy from that night. He was lying motionless on the bed as various tubes and drips were attached all over his body. His eyes remained closed as the various machines in the room kept him alive.

"Finally he has a visitor."

She spun around towards the door to see an elderly nurse smiling at her.

"You are the first person who has come to see him since he was admitted."

"What?"

"Yes, he came in a year back. No one knows his name or identity. We have orders from very high up to treat him at the city's expense but not ask any questions. It's all way above my pay grade."

Monica felt a twinge of sadness pass through her body.

"You should have seen him when he came in. His face was so badly injured from repeated beating that it was almost unrecognizable. His jawbone, cheekbone, orbit were all fractured. It took the doctors twenty surgeries to put them in place. His vitals have been consistently low all year long. He might never wake up from his coma."

That twinge had now morphed into a wallowing feeling of abject sorrow.

"Mother Mary full of grace, how could someone do that to a small boy. What kind of monster could do such a thing? I go home every night and clutch my grandson close to me when I sleep; terrified at what I saw when this boy came in through our doors."

"It takes a special kind of monster to do this. One with no goodness left in them," said Monica quietly.

"Stay here for as long as you want, just close the door when you leave."

With the nurse gone, she finally examined the boy's face closely. There were still the hints of several scars. Very faint, but visible up close. She tenderly ran her finger down the length of his face. She could not control the solitary teardrop that made its way down her face.

It was the first tear she had shed since Simon's funeral.

For those who live their lives coming to terms with their mistakes.