CHAPTER 1

Hi darling. It's so good to see you again. Thank you so much forcoming at this late hour," Christian Rookwood, CEO of RayfieldIndustries, softly spoke.

"I don't mind, sweetie, that's what I'm paid for. It really doesn't matterthe hour, as long as you love me for what I'm about to do. My, don't welook handsome tonight. That is a beautiful suit," the sultry-voiced personreplied.

"I don't want to rush you, but it will be morning soon, so please hurry.Anyway, I can't wait much longer. I've been thinking about this all day."

"My goodness we are anxious, aren't we? Sit on the cutting table,because I can do the "lollipop" so much better when you sit up higher. Youstill want the lollipop, don't you, honey?"

"Yes, yes, and I hope it's as good as the last time."

"Oh it will be. Now sit back and relax, sweetie. You know how muchyou like me doing this; and I get my fulfillment too."

Christian squirmed and wiggled his butt as he positioned himselfcomfortably on the hard cutting table. He unbuckled his belt, thenhurriedly unzipped his trousers. He promptly removed his member fromits warm bondage, and gently pulled and massaged it a few times to makeit larger. Almost immediately, in anticipation of the most wonderful sexualpleasure ever received, his member stood tall, at full attention. At hisage, he felt proud glancing down at the large muscle as he waited for hislover.

"Ummmmmm, that looks soooo good," his guest responded. Thentaking a tube of lipstick, his guest highlighted around the already purple-coloredhead and then down the back of his member.

Christian loved the feel and his member responded. He leaned back,placing his hands behind him, anxiously waiting for that special warmsensation that would eventually flow throughout his entire body. Only ahighly-skilled person can provide perfection, and Christian never acceptedanything less. That had been Christian's trademark his entire life.

He sat impatiently on the table, his feet dangling over the side justoff the floor. Christian didn't like paying for sex, since it made him feelsecond-rate. However, this was an exception; it was the ultimate in sexualgratification.

His guest began "the movement," and it didn't take more than twominutes before Christian began moaning loudly and soon he ejaculated.His eyes were closed and his member began jerking uncontrollably. Thespasms took control of his weakened body, and he felt his inward tensionbeing swept away like an gentle ocean wave spreading across a sandybeach. His face was tilted slightly upward, and his smile showed completeecstasy. The wonderful afterglow that spread over his entire body wasbeyond description. He opened his eyes slightly, and in dismay, saw a largepair of cutting scissors plunging towards his chest. There wasn't time tomove. He tried to bring a hand up to stop the downward thrust, but was asecond too late. His loud scream was heard only by the killer, as the soundreverberated throughout the large open bay.

"I'm sure that didn't hurt too much, sweetie. God knows I am not oneof those pacifists you read about. However, I didn't want to prolong youragony, Christian. But who gives a shit about being a peace lover. Now yourlying mouth will be forever closed, you fucking bastard!"

The scissor blades were embedded so deep into Christian's chest thatthe rivet could barely be seen. Since the blades of the scissors were seveninches long, his death was almost instantaneous.

After his loud scream, the only other sound that was heard was theloud thump of his head striking the cutting table as the force of the blowcaused Christian to fall backwards. He was no longer handsome as he layon his back, eyes wide open, and blood oozing from around the embeddedscissors.

"Thank you, Christian, that was so nice of you. Now let me makeyou more comfortable, my love," the killer whispered, lifting the deadman's heavy legs up onto the table, and turning his body parallel to it.Christian was now laying flat on his back, as if he had placed himself inthat position.

"Okay now. I want to clean your privates. You wouldn't want toappear unclean when the police look you over. Don't you agree? Oh,I almost forgot, I want to make sure you never talk again, you lying,overbearing pervert!" The sharp, half-moon shaped needle, normally usedin upholstering, easily penetrated his lips. The strong thread was pulledtight, binding his mouth firmly closed. The pucker between the stitchesmade his mouth look like a small tied pork loin roast. There was threadleft over, so his guest meticulously tied a neat bow.

"There now, Christian, I'm sure that didn't hurt very much. You oughtto see yourself, sweetie. You look sooo cool."

CHAPTER 2

William "Bear" Zebrowski has been the Chief of Police in themetropolitan Raleigh, North Carolina area for over twenty-fiveyears. During his many years on the force, he had encounteredalmost every type of murder that could be imagined. However, when hewas informed that the body of the CEO of Rayfield Industries, ChristianRookwood, was lying dead on one of the cutting tables with his mouthsewn shut, he had to personally see what the hell was going on. He glancedat his watch. It was 7:30 a.m. As Chief, he normally didn't get to work foranother two hours.

Rayfield Industries, a custom suit and trousers clothier, and the largestmen's clothing manufacturer in the United States, had been headquarteredin North Carolina since its inception over seventy years ago. Financiallyit had weathered its ups and downs like most garment companies. Whenthey hired Christian Rookwood in 1995, he was touted to be the company'ssavior. He was full of new ideas, and energy, and got along well with theunion. Within six months the company was in the black, and Christianwas appointed CEO.

The economy flourished, and Rayfield Industries, under Rookwood'sexcellent stewardship, grew proportionately.

The Board of Directors thought the company should diversify. Theywanted to included other interests to supplement the garment industry.More managers and employees were hired. The overhead kept climbing,along with the CEO's salary.

Even though Christian Rookwood was an expert in the garmentindustry, he wasn't as knowledgeable in the other new business activitiesA few years later, the economy slowed and Rayfield Industries followed.However, this did not seem to bother Christian Rookwood, since therewasn't any change in his gambling and track betting. The bevy of beautiesstill clung to his arms, none resembling his wife, as he strutted around theclubhouses and stables from New York to Miami. Times were changing,but Christian didn't seem to care. Life was good.

Chief Zebrowski wondered if his death could be related to the demiseof the company. "It's a thought," he muttered out loud, looking at Christianlaying on the cutting table scissors seemingly growing out of his chest.With his mouth sewn closed, he looked ridiculous. Whoever did awaywith Christian either wanted to make sure he never spoke again, or wastrying to send a message to someone. "This killer is sick, mentally sick,"the Chief said aloud, turning to look at the officer in charge of the ForensicDepartment.

"Who in the world would take the time to sew their victim's lipsclosed?" the Chief yelled out to Lieutenant Charles Orman and threeother detectives inspecting the body and the murder scene. This wasLt Orman's last case with the Raleigh Police...