Getting Away with Murder. Original Fiction

Dante, stop.  Don’t hit me again or else.”  “Or else what?”  Dante questioned  “You’ll leave me?  You won’t leave me you stupid bitch,  You are nothing without me.  What will you do, go back to the streets where I found your ass?  I married you because you are a pretty face a good fuck.  You look good on my arm at functions. Seen and not heard.  Other than that, you are a waste of space.”  I’ll call the cops.” Gia replied.  “Oh will you now? Do you think the cops are going to believe a trophy wife over me – the Mayor? I have the police chief in my back pocket.  Jesus, you really are a stupid whore”  Dante pushed her down onto the bed and out of his way and left the room.  “Or I’ll kill you.” Gia muttered under her breath when he was out of earshot.

Just a few short years ago, Gia was a waitress by day so that she could go to cattle calls and pursue her dream of modeling.  She had olive skin, long, black, wavy hair and translucent green eyes.  She was beautiful even by supermodel standards, but she lacked refinement. She was a little too street for the world of high fashion, so she made ends meet at The Jade Palace.  Gia was lucky in that she never had to work the main floor and dance on the poles for the heathen masses.  Her looks allowed her to work in the Sultan Room catering to high end clientele. She was always in demand by the kind who didn’t want people to know they frequented such establishments.  The kind like Dante Franco.

Dante was a self made man.  There were rumors that he backed certain mob bosses and was paid handsomely for it. Because he knew the right people to flash his cash at; he was able to buy his way onto the city counsel and eventually mayors seat. He had a way of making those who opposed him disappear and he basically owned the city.  Dante liked expensive toys and things of beauty and Miss Gia Carmine fit the latter.  He used the excuse of “making sure the clubs were following regulations” as to why he could almost always be found at various strip clubs.  When he came into the Jade Palace, he was ushered into the Sultan’s Room, where he encountered Gia for the first time.  She was on a revolving round bed in the center of the room engaged in the act of masturbation and it was standing room only around her.  As the music hit it’s climaxed, so did she and soon the red sheets were covered in green bills. The Jade Palace had a very strict no touching policy, but for the right amount of money, Ms. Gia could be your exclusive dancer for the evening.  There was always a bidding war for her attention and thanks to the tax payer’s dollars; Gia soon became the Mayor’s favorite.  Dante would come in several times a week and lavished her in cash and cocktails. Eventually he tired of having to fight for her attention and moved her into the Mayor’s mansion where he could get touch her to his hearts content and not have to throw dollar bills at her.. 

In the beginning it was great.  As long as she put out for Dante which she didn’t mind; she wanted for nothing.  Designer clothes, handbags and a personal hairdresser were just some of the perks that came from being at Dante’s side.  Gia had to admit she was attracted to his power and prestige. It was a turn on to know that the man she was falling for could snap his fingers and change the fate of the city.  It wasn’t a bad gig for a girl who formerly stripped to make ends meets and Gia didn’t hesitate to answer yes when he proposed to her.

Two weeks after the wedding, Dante let his true color fly. Gia had forgotten to remind the housekeepers about a spot on the carpet Dante had told her about.  He flew off the handle, threw her into the wall and hit her with a barrage of cursing and insults. She had called the police, but when the officers arrived, he turned it around on her making it seem like she was the one who attacked him. He had asked the police not to press charges though. It would make for some very bad publicity for him and it was an election year after all.  Once the cops left, he dragged Gia into the bedroom by her hair, beat her with a belt and told her if tried she tried a stunt like that again -  he’d break her fingers so she couldn’t ever dial the phone again. After that incident he was a bit more meticulous about his methods of abuse.  He couldn’t leave marks because he didn’t trust her. He worked too hard to have some stripper slut who didn’t listen to bring down his empire.

Now they were just shy of their third anniversary and she feared she wouldn’t live see it .He had punched her in the side of the head and it was throbbing. Gia walked to the kitchen and got some ice, hoping to numb the pain.  When the pain subsided enough that she could think clearer, she did the only thing she could think of to do to get him back.  She went down to the park to give Dante’s money to the homeless.  Dante despised the homeless and was trying to get a law passed to get them banned from the Metro Park where they all seemed to congregate. The park was near the train station and was usually a good spot to extract people’s spare change.  The more Dante hit Gia, the more she could be seen walking through the park chatting up the homeless. Lately she had been a common sight there.

She stopped and chatted with Fred.  He was her favorite of the down trodden.  Mostly because he was the most respectful to her.  He didn’t catcall or holler at her like of others in the park.  Fred used to be a successful investor until his company clashed with one of Dante’s Dante’s company took over Fred’s, fired all the personnel and now Fred slept on a park bench.  He had used up the last of his savings months ago and now begrudgingly had to accept charity from strangers in order to eat. He and Gia talked for about a half an hour. “It’s going to be cold tonight.  Why don’t you use this to get a room for the night? It’s the least I can do for you”  She handed him two bills and walked back towards her car. 

When she got home, she wasn’t surprised to see the bouquet of red roses and that familiar blue box that Dante thought always made everything better.  She read the card attached to the flowers “Sorry about earlier baby, thought you would look stunning in this necklace tonight.”  Gia paled when she remembered she was supposed to attend some fundraising dinner with Dante that evening. Quickly she called her doctor to have him come declare her too ill to attend.  She did love that she had a medical concierge at her disposal.  An hour later, she was in bed diagnosed with a terrible stomach bug with doctored ordered instructions to stay put.

When Dante got home, he was furious to find her lounging in bed.  He was ready to punch her upside the head again, but thought better of it when Gia told her the doctor would be back later to check in on her.  She explained it was either a contagious stomach virus or food poisoning.  Either way, it would look really bad to the hosts if she had to excuse herself to throw up every 15 minutes.  Not that he would admit it, but he was slightly relieved he didn’t have to deal with her tonight.  If he had to listen to her try to sound like she had a clue as to what she was talking about, he would be apt to put her head through the windshield.  He got ready for the party, called for his car & kissed Gia good-bye.  She knew he was just going through the motions, but to keep sanity in the household, she straightened his tie and kissed him back.  She apologized again for her inability to attend and sent him out the door. 

When the car was long gone, Gia drew herself a hot bath and submerged herself in a sea of bubbles. She soaked for what felt like an eternity and it was divine. Feeling relaxed for the first time in ages, she stepped out of the tub and headed to bed.  She would have the bed to herself for a good part of the evening, so she stretched out in the middle, pulled the blankets up to her chin and fell into a deep slumber.  Around 12:30 am, she heard the phone ringing.  She roused herself awake and fumbled for her phone. She answered with a very soft “hello?”  On the other  end was Police Chief Jenkins.  “Mrs. Franco, there has been an incident involving your husband.  He is being taken to Memorial right now.” “What, oh my god.  What happened?” Gia sounded shock and tried to suppress a sob. “Well” Jenkins continued, “It seems as though he was attacked by a homeless man shortly after he left his fundraiser.  It appears to be robbery gone awry.  Mr. Franco’s wallet was on the ground and the perp had two five hundred dollars bills and Mr. Franco’s money clip.  Your husband shot the perp,  but only after he had sustained a few gaping stabs wounds.  The perp didn’t survive the shooting.  Just a moment Mrs. Franco.  This is Jenkins, copy.  WHAT?  Son of a bitch.  Yes I have his wife on the line.  I’ll let her know.”   Jenkins took a deep breath ”Mrs Franco, are you still there?”  “Yes”, Gia replied. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Franco, your husband has passed en route to hospital.  There are not words to describe how his loss will affect our city.  I’m so sorry” “Thank you Chief.  I will be there shortly”  was all she could manage to eek out..

She hung up the phone and dropped to her knees.  Not to cry over the loss of her husband, but to pray for Fred,  She paid him to take Dante out and given Fred’s past with Dante, the investigation would be short and sweet.  She put on the diamond necklace that Dante had given her earlier that day, got dressed and headed to the hospital to indentify the body.

Gia had just gotten away with murder.

50 Shades of a Soap Box Rant

I admit it.  I bought into the hype.  I tore through the first book like wildfire.  I couldn't put book two down.  I am half way through book three and now I am just irritated.  Mostly because of a fight with the ex - but then my brain starts to reel and well we all know where that leads.

It takes mature themes to a "respectable" level because it isn't the Harlequin romance with the damsel in distress and Fabio ripping his shirt of read.  Not that there is anything wrong with that - just not what a lot of women would be caught dead reading on the bus as it were.  It has put the genre of erotica into the spot light because everyone is talking about it.  The series has the top spot of 5 categories of the New York Times Best Sellers list.  Ms. James made it OK to want to read sex.  In the most liberal country in the world - we can't be naked, we can't talk about sex and we certainly can like it without shame.

So here is where my beef starts.  Now granted most of us do not encounter a 27 year old gorgeous billionaires who becomes instantly smitten with us.  Yes I know - it's fiction.  Think back to your first time.  Maybe it was with someone you truly loved, maybe it was the after prom rite of passage or maybe it was in your driveway in the front seat of a Mercury Cougar.  No matter where it was - I can almost bet it was painful.  Almost excruciating for those of us who were uptight and never got further that allowing an occasional feel to be copped.  There was no earth shattering, mind blowing, life changing orgasm.  Not the first time, not the second, third or 20th time and not from good old fashioned missionary position.  Again - speaking from personal experience and hoping you can relate.  Mine was on top with 5th guy I had sex with with and it was an accident - a good accident - but one nonetheless.  I have slept with some exceptionally gorgeous men who had it going on - but I have never come from missionary position.  Sorry to all my exes who may be reading this - yes I am a great actress too.  So it just seems far fetched to me that Ms. Mousy literary geek who has never so much as touched herself - not only had an orgasm on the 1st try, but could have sex the rest of the weekend and not only walk, but also not complain about how sore she was.  After that - I am ok with the rest of the sexual encounters.  It is after all fiction.

The rest is a very scary undercurrent of abuse and control.  We understand Grey's need to for control, we understand his abused past and sympathize with what possesses his personality to be the way it is. We want Grey and Ana to weather the storm and live happily ever after.  Would we be so sympathetic if it was Jack who makes minimum wage at Jiffy Lube and controls Diane's every move?  When he insists on knowing where she is at all times and gets pissed of when Diane disobeys his commands?  When Jack feels the need to punish Diane because she went out after promising she'd stay home?  Hell no!!! We would be on our high horses pulling for Diane to leave Jack's ass and never look back.  We don't see it as abuse in Ana's case because we pull for that happily ever after.  We want her to make Grey complete and heal the wounds that are gaping.  In the end though, it's a case of CO-DEPENDENCY wrapped in a pretty package.  Ana feels she needs to be with Grey, she loves him, she cannot be without him yet she is frustrated by his smothering tendencies. But she loves him and she deals with it.  After she leaves him in the 1st book, the second book picks up with her miserable.  She can't eat or sleep.  She is consumed with grief over what has transpired and even though she asked him to show her what he was capable of, got freaked out and left - she is miserable.  Again  - if it were Diane - we would applaud her courage.  We would want to empower her and show her she can be loved by someone who doesn't need to control a woman in & out of the bedroom.  We'd be singing "I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar".  No -  mousy little Ana who in 3 weeks who has been exposed to more than most of us in a lifetime, mousy Ana who never had a boyfriend before, mousy Ana who is in "love" with a fucked up billionaire will go back and they will work through it together.  He will continue to abuse his power and control her and she will let him because that is just how he is.  That is what irks me.

There are more Jack and Dianes than Ana and Greys.  There are more Dianes that are killed on a daily basis by a controlling significant other than Greys who somehow find restraint when he wants to beat her into submission.  There are more Jack's giving  black eyes and "I'm so sorry baby, but you drive me to it" than than Greys who say sorry with orgasms.  It is a slippery slope and again I know it's fiction - but a lot of women will read this book and think it's ok because it is fiction.  I just hope that while they pull for Ana, they pray for Diane.  I am sure the book ends with Ana's happily ever after.  Diane might not see tomorrow.

Trouble (another [mostly] fictional work)

I should have know the moment I laid eyes on him that he would be nothing but trouble. He was beautiful in a way most would find unappealing. He had long black hair and a long black goatee to match.  He looked like evil incarnate except for those soft, soulful brown eyes. His was a broken soul which was what probably drew me to him in the first place.  I was always thinking I could fix the damaged ones.

It takes a lot of balls to wear a Winnie the Pooh T-shirt with black leather pants at a gay club on "straight" night, but he was always unconventional. It was of course the first thing I noticed. He was nothing like the pretty boys who usually grabbed my attention and if they were lucky enough - would keep it for the evening. No, there was something different about him and my inner diva wasn't going to rest until I conquered him.  After all;  I almost always got what I wanted. I sauntered up to him in my miniskirt, patent leather boots and my t-shirt with a black patent leather heart on it.  I was sexy cute if such a description existed.  It was a combination few men could resist.  He would be not an exception. Small talk initiated, common ground found as we work in the same mall and the seeds of enchantment planted.  By the end of the night, I am making out with him under  the harsh lights of the bathroom hallway and I didn't care who saw.  Perhaps I should’ve cared since jealously will not only rear her ugly head, that head will be attached to one who despises me most.

The club scene was more cliquish than high school and almost had an inbredness about it.  After awhile it was hard to find anyone who hadn't slept with you, your best friend and her room-mate.   Loyalty was both paper thin and the strongest bond depending on whose side you were on. You could be despised simply for a friend's actions as I was.  Not that I really cared. It was simply fuel for my fire and my fire burned bright. I had no idea that she wanted him but at that point, I am sure she made it her mission to get him. For all I know, she already had him.  That was OK by me.  All is fair in lust and war.

Feeling rather proud of myself, I presented myself at his store the following day.  I was a bit perturbed to find out he barely remembered me and had no recollection of his tongue assaulting my mouth. My inner diva seethed, but my outer self remained cool. "No matter" I told him "I'm simply here for the lipstick".  Once it was paid for, I made sure to lock eyes with him and apply it slowly.  I licked my lips seductively and quipped "mmm....cherry" as I walked out of the store.  I didn't have to look back.  I could feel his eyes burning the back of my head.  The effect was not lost on him - nor was the lesson.  He would have a good 24 hours to ponder his mistake as it was Friday.  Friday was the day of rest in our club circuit. The night to recover from Wednesdays and Thursdays indiscretions and prepare oneself for Saturday.

If Wednesday is the script reading. Thursday is the dress rehearsal. Saturday is day night of the show. It is the night you wear your best, you look your best and quite frankly you are your best.  I had bigger fish to fry than worrying about a miscreant who couldn't remember kissing me.  In fact, I wasn't even thinking about him.  Instead every sense of my being to tell me skip the party I was planning on attending prior to the club. I never listen to myself but that night I did.  I go to the club solo and everything that could go wrong that night does. Psycho boys giving me love poetry, every ex boyfriend I ever had at the club so show up and I discover why my spidey senses were tingling. My enemy's best friend shows up on the arm of the DJ I thought I was dating.  Apparently they had become exclusive that night and the party was their time to announce it to the world. I am sick to my stomach and too drunk to consider driving home.  Two disses in two days is more than my inner diva can take. I do what any self-centered beauty would do - I order up another very strong drink and go to the couches and pout.  The goddesses of clubbing are not on my side that night and I am ready to chalk it up as a loss....until he strolls in.  He is kind of like my black night in tarnished armor.  Under any other circumstances, I would have told him to fuck off but I am weak and my fragile ego is bruised.

He sits down next to me and I coldly ask him why he is sitting next to me when he could barely remember me? By this time, the amount of alcohol I have consumed and my emotions conspire against me and I just  cry.  The kind of cry that only makes sense when you are drunk and feeling sorry for yourself.  He apologizes for Thursday night by offering up excuses of drunkenness and pain killers.  He tells me his coworkers admonished him for forgetting such a detail and he wipes the tears from my eyes.  Tilting my chin up so that I am forced to look at him with probably the most acute case of raccoon eyes - he then kisses me.  It isn't the "drunken I don't care who is watching" kind of kiss.  It is one that feels genuine. I can sense he really feels bad and I am too weak to stay mad.  I surrender myself to his lips and because of the intoxication, I allow myself to be lost in the moment. Very few people can cause me to lose control of my sense of self, but I feel hypnotized in a sense.  I am no longer pouting.  I lead him, he who I despised hours before, out of the club and back to my car.  He will come home with me.  We will have very primal, passionate sex. I will wake up in the morning and he will be there next to me and I will be overcome with a feeling I can't comprehend.  I mean he isn't the first club boy I have woken up next to the next day. Even after a serious live-in boyfriend a couple of relationships on the side - nothing has ever felt as real as it does right then. My spidey senses should have been telling me to run, but instead it seems to be as enthralled with him as I am.

                                                                  *********/***********

From that moment on, we are an unspoken item. We are inseparable for the most part. I parade him around like the freak trophy he is and he brings me food when I am working 12 hour mall shifts.  We talk all the time.  When I am not with him, he is all I think about.  My mother does not approve.  My room-mate despises him and my friends just don't get it.  On one hand it is an extremely sexual relationship.  He excites parts of me that had never been stirred, but there is more to it than that.  I feel connected to him in every way, shape and form.  What I don't know, is that while I am pining for him when we are apart - he is with her.  Probably making her feel the same way. Feeding her the same lines. Telling her we are just friends and not to over react much like he tells me.  I know he is lying to me, but I am in too deep and have lost control. He will ask me to move out of state with him and I will answer yes and not think twice. I have to wonder now if he was ever going to tell me he asked the same of her.  Eventually it will come to a head and I will give up the fight..  I do not have the time to fight this fight nor do I have the energy.  He has sucked out my soul and I feel as though I am a shell of person. 

He will call and I will ignore him.  When I finally have no tears left to cry, I agree to meet him downtown.  We meet a biker bar of all places.  He is already drunk. I am yet again immune to him.  My head is saying NO NO NO, but my body yearns for him.  I take him home and he throws up in my car.  He swears they are done and I am the only one he wants to be with.  I fall for it and nurse him back to sober.  I don't entirely trust him, but I need him.  I do keep him at arms length though.  The following week after not hearing from him - I resign myself yet again to be done.  I run into her at the club.  We hug and exchange apologies for every letting a man come between the bonds of womanhood.  They are the falsest platitudes ever spoken.  She plays nice because she knows she is there with him tonight.  He is with his friend whom I will bed at a later date in hopes it gets back to him.  Somehow he does it again.  I guess my platitudes are false because there is so much tension that we don't even make it my apartment. 

We get as far as my little hatchback.  We are all over each other.  Our needs can not be satiated and somehow we manage to get it on in hatch.  Not an easy accomplishment when one person is over 6 feet tall and all legs.  The Charger is rocking, my ass is plastered to the back window offering maybe the few who haven't seen me naked a free glimpse.  Our bodies are entwined, our breathing is heavy and I feel like there is nothing else in the world except the two of us Then we hear it.  She is running frantic around the parking lot looking for him.  He has her keys, I am have him.  Once we hear the shrieks of what sounds like a banshee diminish - we head back to my place to finish what we started.  A mad, pensioned, fevered lust.  Perhaps it is so intense because it is a grudge fuck.  Perhaps because I know I loved him and she wanted him just so I couldn't.  Maybe subconsciously I know this is the end.  The morning sun rises and it hits me that after everything he has told me, swearing a week ago they were done - he went to the club with her.  If I hadn’t shown up, he would have fucked her last night instead of me.  I take him back to her car and tell him I never want to see him again and drive off.  It is the most liberating thing I have ever done and yet my heart is broken.  I am however; finally free of trouble.