Monthly Archives: April 2012

DOT . COM (III)

“Are you absolutely sure?” asked the voice on the phone. “How long have you been searching the on-line dating sites in hopes of finding her?”

“It’s been over a year now Mauricio. I knew she’d look for a new way to meet her next victim, and an internet hook-up would provide the anonymous identity she requires. Remember that the detective from Cleveland is also anxious to question her about the suspicious death of one of his city’s wealthy older men.”

Peter continued, “Even though she’s slimmer and wears a different hairstyle, when I saw her picture, I recognized Monica from the videos and photographs you gave me. She calls herself Molly now.”

“Well I’d call her by an altogether different name! Stay on track Peter. I want my brother Lalo’s death to be avenged. I want her behind bars.

The Panadini brothers had always been close. Growing up poor, they’d had to hustle since boyhood and their determination to see the family safe from poverty had been all-consuming. Neither of them had married but the two men felt content knowing that they’d made a rousing success of their restaurant chain. Their twelve large bistros had a steady local clientele and tourists also flocked to the “Bella Vita” locations close to the ski hills.

The opening of a high-end tavern had been the beginning of the end. Lalo had told Mauricio, “We need a classy gal to manage the new place… someone who can handle the snooty tourists from upstate.” Both brothers looked ecstatic when Monica sashayed into their office and applied for the position.

Every day Mauricio asked himself how he had failed to see that his brother had fallen like a stone for the long-legged opportunist. Lalo married Monica and almost immediately, his health began to decline. She put who knows what kind of drugs into his food and drink until poor the besotted fool was a hopeless addict. He died of an overdose and of course, his wife inherited half of the family holdings. Mauricio gave Monica a lump settlement and “the grieving widow” quickly disappeared.

Two months after she had been long-gone, Mauricio put two and two together. He hired Peter, who tracked down Monica’s dealer and collected other incriminating evidence. They had a case now, but no perpetrator! The search began… “Don’t let her slip away,” the distraught man begged. “I dare not,” the private investigator told him, “I didn’t want to tell you but she shook something into my wine last night, if I don’t stay on my toes, I’ll also be lying six feet under.”

The next morning, as Molly stretched and twisted herself into a Yoga pretzel, the phone    rang. She jumped up to answer… she knew it would be last night’s sexy suitor. Peter Brown was a handsome man… maybe she’d hang onto him a little longer than the other two?

“Molly, I feel so stupid for falling asleep in my cups last night; how can I make it up to you?”

“No need to feel bad; it happens. But here’s an idea… why don’t I meet you for lunch and maybe a drive afterwards? “Las Mañanitas” is a favorite of mine.” She knew just where she’d take him afterwards… to the mountains. he’d be excited… and she’d let one thing need to the next.

“Where do you live Molly, I’ll pick you up.”

“Not necessary Peter, I have some errands in town. I’ll meet you at “Las Mañanitas” at 1:00 pm.

They both rang off, and Molly smiled in anticipation of the game about to unfold…  But Peter held the trump…she had no idea that he was a player too.

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DOT . COM (II)

He would be the third… “Third time’s a charm,” isn’t that what they say?

Molly sipped on a glass of water . In a few months time, the guy might not agree with that popular saying, but right now he sounded as excited as a boy with a new toy. “I really want to meet you,” he’d said. ‘Men are so predictable,’ she thought.

“I want to meet you too, but this is my first experience with on-line dating and I would feel more comfortable if we meet somewhere public,” she told her anxious admirer.

They arranged to meet the very next day at a well known restaurant by the harbor.          Immediately sparks flew from his blue eyes. Molly had never been at this restaurant before, but her date, Peter, seemed to be a regular patron.  This would be a mistake; she needed to isolate him from his world in order to bring him fully into hers. “It’s lovely here but so crowded. Why don’t we walk down the beach? I know a quiet oyster bar that I think you’d like.”

When their feet hit the sand, Molly bent over to remove her strappy sandals, and in the process gave Peter a fleeting glimpse of her well-shaped thighs. She suspected that from now on, her every wish would be his command.

Searching for something to say, Peter looked into Molly’s eyes… “The sunset will be gorgeous this evening.” She smiled and began walking.

Molly steered the conversation and soon had Peter talking on and on about his life as an airline executive. He’d traveled a lot and had become accustomed to an enviable life style. There was no ex-wife in the picture, and no kids. When he asked about her, she coyly told him that her life had been dull compared with his, but she so hoped this would soon change. He grinned and brushed his hand against hers.

‘Too soon for that,’ she knew and moved slightly away. He had to feel the thrill of the chase… “Look there’s the place I told you about; ´want to go inside?”

A twenty-something waiter led Molly and Peter to a window table with a panoramic view of the sea. The breeze blew seductively and the candlelight flattered them both. Slow Bossa Nova serenaded from recessed speakers, adding an exotic allure.  Peter launched into a long anecdote about his travels through Brazil…

Molly gazed at him with eyes that said: I’m – fascinated – with – you.“Now, what shall we order?” she asked.

“Oysters of course,” said he. She waited for a few breaths… she suspected he’d add a come-on, and he did. “You know what they say about oysters?” he asked her.

Molly was ready. “Indeed I do,” she purred, “Soon we’ll see if it’s all true.” Peter grinned when she ordered half a dozen on the half shell.

He got up eventually to visit the rest room, and Molly slipped a little Percodan into his chilled Chablis. As she’d planned, after the walk back to the parking lot, Peter seemed more pooped than primed.

“I think maybe you overdid the wine,” said Molly. “Would you like me to drive you home? You can pick up your own car tomorrow.”

“You are as responsible as you are ravishing,” he slurred, “I feel so sleepy.” Molly got in behind the wheel and asked him where he lived. He gave her his address and directed her towards a luxurious looking villa up in the hills above the bay.

Delivering her date to his door, she saw that he got safely inside before she drove back down the winding roadway. ‘This is getting better and better…’ she thought.

Peter watched her ease away. His head pounded as he picked up the phone. “She’s definitely the one,” he said. “But the little temptress is in for a surprise… not all men are as predictable as she assumes.”

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DOT . COM

Often my pieces of short fiction surprise me… I have no idea where the ideas come from. Over the next few days, I am going to post installments of a story that I recently wrote.

DOT . COM

Before her debut in this new city, Molly had sweated as hard as a runner preparing for a marathon. She dieted and abstained from salt so that her belly felt tight, and her butt tucked. Her hair had been colored and cut at a top salon. She bought new clothes – not too racy but certainly not prim. Her manicured fingernails sported scarlet polish, and after the pedicure she asked for the same shade on her toenails.

It had been worth the expense and every effort endured. She faced the full length mirror and turned around so she could see herself from various angles. Molly knew she was hot.

As a final measure, she opted to have a studio portrait taken. When she told the photographer why she needed the picture, he suggested that she undo the two top buttons of her loosely woven dark sweater. She complied … after all he was a professional and knew about such things.

She felt ready. She provided all the information that the online profile sheet requested. She uploaded her photograph, paid the fee with her Mastercard… and pressed SUBMIT.

Two days later, she felt a rush when she saw her image and info prominently displayed on the site. Twenty minutes after that, the emails began arriving.

She pored over each one, studied the profiles and tried to glean a sense of the personality type. She decided that Letter Number 4’s sender was likely the type of man she was hunting for. Should she respond? Or should she see who else might write to her over the next few days. She didn’t want to waste time pursuing false leads.

The eleventh reply made her heart race… She stretched out on the chaise lounge so the sun could warm her whole body. Yes she’d definitely contact this one.

“The Internet is a marvelous tool,” Molly mused. “Imagine… ‘Marry-Me-Dot-Com’ has not only facilitated my next marriage, but also my next murder.”

To be continued…

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