Posted by Rip on November 22, 2003 at 21:19:12:
Our feature story is written by an old one that has been with the Necro/snuff fetish for as long as I or anybody else can remember. Not only is he already in the Necrobabes Archives, but he is also still an active member of our sick little community. You can (And Should) check out Centerpunched, his Yahoo! Group, which I'm a quiet member of a few groups and I consider his to be the Very best out there right now. It has got a lot of talented contributors, and it is the only one that I have all of the posts directed to my email account so I always know when things are updated. If you have a belly fixation and enjoy centerpunching media, then head on over there and sign up as a member. It's high quality stuff, spam-free, and there is quite a lot to look through, too.
Anyway, this next story is one that I found over at centerpunched that I had never read before and absolutely loved it! Its fast-paced and pulpy, unpredictable, and of course it's as sexy as it is entertaining! If you're new to the scene, and looking for a good read in the archives but don't know were to go, check out some of Max's other snuff stories. He's a writer that has been at this for a long time and he never fails to please.
Jennifer Steele stepped out of the taxi and stared across the Rio Grande River at old El Paso. The hot, dry wind was making a mess of her already dirty hair, and her chapped lips ached from constant dryness. This was the last step of the journey; The Bridge of the Americas, "If I can just make it across the border," she thought, "I'll take my $1500.00 fee and go home."
She was dead tired. Four days before, she left Thailand heading for Amsterdam with an escort named Andy and four ounces of near pure heroin shoved up her crotch. Her job was to take all the risks, and his was to make sure she didn't abscond with the precious cargo. Andy was her ‘controller'. He was a big, muscular guy, maybe thirty-five years old, who tended to overdose himself with ‘Old Spice' aftershave. He had a habit of hovering around her like a fly. She sensed that he was attracted to her, but didn't want to make any moves until the assignment was over.
Several times during the trip she found herself staring at Andy and wondering what he would do to her if she tried to make a run for it. She knew he carried a long, thin pocketknife in his jacket, and despite the fact that she sensed he liked her, she was pretty sure he'd use it on her if he had to.
From the Netherlands they flew to Guatemala City. She was taken aback by the contrast of old and new, rich and poor. If there was a middle class there, she never saw it. After that came a god awful boat ride north to Mexico, followed by a long, bumpy ride to the border on a hot, crowded Mexican bus. She looked at her surroundings. "Juarez is a real shithole," she thought, but America was just across the river. "Just get through customs, girl, and you've got it made."
The familiar smell of cheap cologne warned her as Andy approached from behind. He handed her four little balls wrapped in plastic. "Swallow these," was all he said.
Reluctantly, she started washing them down with some fruit punch. Another ounce she thought as she choked down the last one. "With my luck, one of them will break the instant I clear customs," she muttered under her breath.
Jennifer popped open her small suitcase and pulled out her birth certificate and driver's license. "See you on the other side," she said as she took a deep breath and headed for the bridge. "One hundred yards to go," she reminded herself.
Down in the traffic lanes, she saw several INS officers checking vehicles with their dogs. One of them must have found something, she thought, as a large group of uniformed men gathered around a late model Nissan Sentra.
Just as she reached the inspection station, something crashed against her shoulder and sent her down to the ground. "What the. . . ." Jennifer looked up to see several officers wrestling with a young man who had foolishly decided to crash the gate. While they scuffled, another inspector helped her to her feet and sent her on her way after a cursory look at her documents and suitcase.
Andy was waiting for her. He'd already flagged down a cab, and within twenty minutes they were checking into the Holiday Inn. She'd finally made it! Four days of anxiety and discomfort, but she'd made it.
Her room was clean and cool. Andy gave her some ipecac, and told her that he'd come back in an hour for the dope. She told him she'd have it ready then watched him as he headed down the hallway to his own room. She was getting a warm feeling, she thought as she closed the door.
She stripped off her clothes and looked at herself in the mirror. Her thirty-year-old body looked pretty good. It needed a shower and a lot of sleep, but her breasts were firm, her skin was smooth and soft, and there wasn't a bit of unwanted fat on her. She removed the four-ounce packet and threw it in the sink. The plastic was pretty juicy, so she washed it off and dried it with a towel. The four little balls in her stomach could wait awhile longer.
The shower felt great, and daydreams filled Jennifer's head. She was soon to be $1500.00 richer and moving into a newer, larger apartment was one step closer to reality. Her daughter, Nicole, could finally have a room of her own. Eight-year-old girls need some space, it's for damn sure that their mothers do too. Then she thought about Andy and began to get that strange feeling again. Tired as she was, she wanted him, and she was going to do whatever it took to get him.
While Jennifer was drying herself off, she thought she heard Andy enter the hotel room. She anxiously brushed out her long brown hair, applied a generous amount of lotion to her body, and slipped on a pair of frilly bikini panties. She was nervous, yet she wanted to please him. Actually, she wanted him to please her. She wanted to wrap herself around his muscular frame and feel something better that a bag full of white powder inside her.
Jennifer looked in the mirror as she stepped from the bathroom, but instead of seeing the man she now desired, she saw two women sitting on the end of the big double bed instead. She spun around. "What do you want?" She demanded. "Where's Andy?"
The one closest to her, a shorthaired blonde, stood up, pointing a gun at her as she rose. "Where's the dope, bitch?" She growled.
Jennifer's voice was weak, but she managed a reply. "On the counter."
The other woman stood up. She was a bit smaller than her accomplice was. "Where's the rest of it?"
"That's all there is," replied Jennifer.
The shorter one walked up to Jennifer and punched her hard in the abdomen. Jennifer doubled over in pain. "It's probably still in her belly. I might have to cut it out of her."
"No!" Jennifer gasped as she stood up trying to regain her breath, hoping the blow hadn't ruptured any of the precious bits of cargo in her stomach. "You've got it all."
The tall blond pointed the gun at Jennifer's heart. The barrel looked immense, but the bore was only a bit over a quarter of an inch in diameter. There was a snapping sound, and Jennifer felt a sharp stinging pain just under her left breast, extending to a point next to her spine. She could see a small plume of blue-gray smoke floating in front of the gun's barrel as she staggered backward. She could barely breathe and her legs were getting weak. Suddenly, she could no longer stand. The blond was little more than a blurred image, but she reached out toward her anyway. "Nicole," she cried out in a voice that was barely a whisper. The blond stepped back out of the way and watched as Jennifer's body crashed to the floor.
" Kayla! Help me get her up on the bed."
They lifted Jennifer up, and put her down on her back. The bullet had stopped her heart almost instantly, so there was hardly any blood around the wound.
"Michelle! Are you really goin' to cut her open?"
"Did you see her swallow the balloons or not?"
"Yea. She swallowed them alright."
"Then I'm going to cut 'em out!"
Michelle sat on Jennifer's knees, straddling her as one would a horse. She leaned forward and stared at the blood around the tiny bullet-hole in the dead woman's chest.
"Michelle! Come on. We don't have time for anything kinky. Just cut her open and let's go!"
Michelle flipped open her knife with one hand. "If you don't want to watch, take the dope and the gun, and wait for me outside."
"Just hurry up," Kayla remarked impatiently as she grabbed the smack and Michelle's Commander and headed for the door. "That big guy with her could show up any minute."
Michelle placed the tip of the knife just under Jennifer's sternum and angled the blade so as to penetrate in the direction of the woman's left side, then she pushed it in right up to the hilt. She sliced her way down to a point just above the dead woman's navel, feeling each and every change in resistance as the blade encountered the different organs. With the incision made, she threw the knife onto the bedspread.
She slipped her left hand through the gash that now marred Jennifer's flat stomach. She'd done this once before, but instead of being repulsed, she savored the sensation and relished the intimacy it allowed. As she searched with her fingers, she stared at the dead woman's face. Her eyes, though blank, were locked on some imaginary point on the ceiling.
Michelle's index finger brushed over something hard. She'd found one of the little round heroin balls. She pulled it out and stared at it for a moment, holding it between her thumb and forefinger. Her attention shifted to the now thick, red, gooey blood that coated her hand. She dropped the heroin ball next to her knife then slowly licked a finger. It was salty, but her curiosity was satisfied.
As she went in for the next one, Andy walked through the door. A very startled Michelle, jumped back leaving the knife where it laid. She tried to out-flank Andy as he rounded the foot of the bed, but to no avail. His left hand caught her by the throat and slammed her against the wall. Andy flipped open his own knife with his right hand and dug the tip into the flesh under Michelle's chin.
"You're gonna answer some questions you fuckin' bitch, or I'm gonna gut you like a fish," he barked. She nodded in acquiescence.
After two questions, Andy put the tip of his knife between Michelle's ample breasts and pressed lightly, letting the blade drift in a straight line down to her navel where it stopped. As he slowly applied pressure, her nipples stiffened and each breath became more labored. When her belly could resist no more, the blade buried itself to the hilt in her soft flesh. Andy gave the knife a couple of sharp twists, churning up and slicing through Michelle's intestines.
"That's for Jennifer," he whispered as he pulled the knife out. She clutched her belly in agony as she slid down the wall, coming to rest slouched against a dresser. She tried to move her limbs, but couldn't. Instead, she tilted her head back, her eyes locking onto Andy's. He stared back at her, watching as the transformation from life to death slowly crept across her face.
Andy's shirt was covered with Michelle's blood. He didn't want to have to walk back to his room looking like he just finished the third ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre'. As he pulled the shirt over his head, he heard the door to the room open.
"Hey!" Came a female voice.
Andy turned just as Kayla pulled the trigger. The big .45caliber bullet, smashed through his sternum then flew apart inside his chest. A second slug punched through the left side of his thick neck and continued on its path through the wall behind him. A large chunk of flesh had been torn away and blood was spattered all over the mirror beside him.
Andy stood there looking at Kayla, trying to figure out what had happened. His eyes were a bit glazed, but he wouldn't drop. Kayla slowly walked up to him and placed the tip of the silencer under the big man's chin. She smiled at him and pulled the trigger. The whole top of his skull opened up, spewing blood and pieces of bone and brain matter all over the walls and ceiling. Then Kayla felt the thin red mist collecting on her face and arms. She stepped over Andy's body and grabbed a towel out of the bathroom and began wiping herself off.
She made a quick survey of the mess, then slipped out of the room.
Nigerian organized crime has gradually acquired a foothold in the United States by establishing networks used to smuggle heroin into our country. Historically, female couriers, from diverse backgrounds, traveled to Thailand to pick up the heroin and were joined by ‘controllers' who accompanied them to ensure that they reached their proper destinations. The flight routes almost always included an intermediate destination in France or the Netherlands before making the final leg into the United States. The heroin was either swallowed in a condom, concealed in baggage, or inserted into a body cavity. One courier could often carry several ounces of contraband at a time and slip through customs without detection.
In 1995, officials became wise to this method and began profiling arriving passengers in New York, Chicago and other large metropolitan airports. This interdiction effort was quite successful, and by the end of 1996, the Nigerians were diverting their cargo to Guatemala. From Guatemala, couriers were taken by boat to Mexico, and then they smuggled the heroin into the United States along the Texas/Mexico border.
On October 11, 1996, U.S. law enforcement agencies smashed a major drug trafficking ring in Chicago, Illinois. The project, known as "Operation Golden Sea", illustrated that the Nigerian criminal organizations were capable of operating sophisticated distribution networks in addition to smuggling. This particular cell, led by a woman named Jumoke Kafayat Majekodunmi, was bringing in approximately 400 pounds of heroin annually, and distributing it in 100gram quantities to street dealers and street gangs in the Midwest. Chicago's largest street gang, The Black Gangster Disciples, was one of their biggest customers.
Several of Majekodunmi's subalterns successfully avoided detection and have since established new cells throughout the United States. Lisa Balogun was one of that group. She settled in Santa Barbara, California in 1997 and established an import/export business called American Dreamers. Jennifer Steele was the second courier of Balogun's to be murdered in Texas during a two-week period. The 4 ounces of heroin taken from Ms. Steele had a wholesale value of approximately $20,000 and a street value many times that. This kind of loss was too great to be taken lightly.
Balogun was able to identify who had been ripping her off using her own resources. When I met with her, she gave me one name, Amber White. Balogun had suspected White after the first courier was hit. She decided to secretly schedule two couriers to enter the U.S. on the same date. She advised White (and only White) of Ms. Steele's impending return on the evening before it was to occur. Steele got hit. The other courier didn't. Post hoc, ergo propter hoc. Not always the best logic, but then I wasn't being paid for my opinion.
"Amanda, I want you to take care of this problem. You should be able to find both Amber and Kayla at Amber's house. I gave Amber the day off. By the way, those two are lovers if it makes any difference."
"Well after I kiss them goodnight, you can bury them side-by-side," I joked.
I caught up with Amber and Kayla at Amber's home in the hills of Montecito. Coney Island Pines marked off her property line while huge beds of nasturtiums and geraniums added color to the yard. I spotted the two of them making out beside her pool enjoying the spring weather of California's south coast. Kayla's right hand was buried in Amber's bikini bottom and she was nibbling away on Amber's bare breast. I watched them until Amber climaxed then I announced my presence.
Kayla jumped up and I double tapped her upper abdomen before she really got a look at me. She dropped almost instantly with a ruptured descending aorta. I think she was dead before she hit the ground.
Amber stood up, looking first at me, then at Kayla. The fingers of her right hand were busy playing with the gold ring in her pierced navel.
I raised my weapon and pointed it at her. "Lisa sent me," I said. "She thinks that you've been ripping her off, and killing her couriers."
The color rapidly drained from her face, and she looked like she was going to be sick. "What's your action, Amber?"
She thought for a few moments. Her options were pretty limited, and she knew it. She knew how to manipulate finances, and she knew a lot about manipulating people. I figured she'd try to stall me until she could figure a way to do the latter with me. In the meantime, I let my senses take in the vibrant colors of her rose garden and the smell of coco butter.
"Putting Kayla and Michelle together was a careless mistake," she said as she looked back at Kayla's body.
"So why were you stealing the dope?"
"I launder their money." Her eyes and voice reflected some newfound confidence, putting me on the alert. "I take the proceeds of the organization and funnel them through shell corporations and Caribbean banking institutions that protect the identity of their customers. Unfortunately, I started depositing money into the First Bank of Antigua, located in St. Johns. Customer identity was totally masked, and ALL transactions were handled over the Internet." With her thumbs she slowly slid the bikini bottom over her hips and let it fall to the pavement.
‘Shit, she's trying to seduce me,' I thought. ‘I blow away her girlfriend and now she's coming after me. God she's cold.'
"The Nigerian and Russian organized crime elements started putting millions into their accounts. Then the U.S. government started putting pressure on Antigua, and in December, the authorities closed the bank down. The locals, however, notified the bank officers ahead of time, and not surprisingly, most of the accounts were emptied before anyone could seize them."
She gently ran her hands up the front of her body then cupped her breasts. Her nipples were smooth and erect. My mind started playing tricks on me, ‘Shit, she's succeeding. Just like that woman near Bakersfield. I feel like I'm going to do something stupid — I want to do something stupid.'
"I lost $300,000 by not acting fast enough, and I thought they'd kill me if they found out. I tried to cover my mistake by stealing drugs from our couriers, re-selling them and reinvesting the cash back into our other laundering accounts. Everything was going fine until Michelle fucked up in El Paso."
"It wasn't Michelle. You did something that made Lisa suspicious. She set you up by telling you about Steele the night before she crossed. You were the only one that knew she'd be there other than Lisa."
She started playing with that gold ring again.
"So what do you want to do with me?" She asked, her expression that of a suppliant thief hoping for mercy.
I decided to take a chance. I racked back the slide on my gun, letting her see both the ejected cartridge and the new one slipping into the chamber. I removed the magazine and set the Browning on the table. "There's one bullet in the chamber. I'll let you kill yourself."
She thought for a minute then picked up the gun and pointed it at my chest. "That was pretty foolish," she said with a sinister smile.
‘How predictable,' I thought.
"Did you really think I'd kill myself?" She asked, amused by her own question.
"Well I'm sure you'll find I'm full of surprises."
"Not anymore," she laughed.
Amber pulled on the trigger, but nothing happened. She checked the safety and pulled again and again but still nothing happened. I no longer had any reservations about killing her. "It's a Browning High Power, Amber." I drew my AMT back-up and leveled it at her gut. "It won't fire with the magazine removed."
She looked at the gun, then she looked up at me. "You set me up," she said as if she expected a different outcome.
"Like I said, I'm full of surprises. By the way, your little act of seduction almost worked."
She started to smile, but I couldn't tell if it was forced or not. I ran my tongue under my upper lip then blew her a kiss. She smiled for real after that one and started fiddling with that ring again. I don't mean to brag, but I'm not so bad-looking myself.
As she relaxed a bit, I fired one round. Damn that thing is loud without a silencer. She staggered backward, tripped over the lounge chair and landed on her back about three feet from Kayla's body. At first she struggled to get back up, but the fire burning in the center of her belly was too much for her to overcome. Instead, she rolled onto her side and doubled up.
I turned on the radio and picked up a bundle of papers sitting on the table and sat down in one of the chairs. On top was a short story titled The Picnic. The author's name had been scratched out and something illegible was scrawled above it.
When I got up to leave, Amber was lying on her back, very dead, and the gold ring was nowhere in sight. She had a nice body, and I wondered what she would have been like. Then I thought, ‘How could I make love to a person like her. But then again, I'm just like her? How can I even love myself?'
As I headed for the gate, I could hear the strained chords of my old friend, Meat Loaf, coming from the radio:
I've been looking for an original sin,
One with a twist and a bit of a spin
And since I've done all the old ones
'Til they've all been done in
Now I'm just looking
Then I'm gone with the wind!