Abby loved her house and her furniture. Her dining room table was her favorite and now it was an accessory to a crime. Of the thousands of hand crafted, Ethan Allen tables that had been used for distributing drugs or making tidy razor formed lines of coke or had marijuana sorted seed from stem, this table was supportive of one of the most creative drug activities possible. On a carefully split open trash bag, taped securely over the top and around the legs of the table, Eddie had set up a limited production facility.

The two J’s had worked for days and at the end of their toils, a proprietary, carefully screened, members only, web page popped up on the internet. Cyber invitations were sent to select clients and friends.

The continuation of the Serial Thriller Novel Dead Play by Terry L. Raun. To read this from the beginning go HERE. We will be starting to post a new scene at least once every two weeks; hopefully more frequently. We apologize to the faithful readers to this point for the hiatus.

Abby was still tipsy during the ride home. She knew, when she had seen the couple enter the front door to Power Exchange, she wanted Eddie’s young and obviously firm body. She felt naughty whispering in her mind that yes she wanted to fuck him. And less than an hour later, she was rushing head on, to her bed room, or living room, or kitchen, who cared which, to get into that boy’s pants.

For Eddie and Sara, the hunt was on in full swing and the prey was sitting willingly, but unknowingly with the predators. Eddie hated the music on the sound system but pasted a contented but slightly nervous look on his face. He was dressed in a more affluent style than was normal. It worked out well for him that Sara had wanted him to look just a bit uncomfortable because he was uncomfortable; but not for the reason the prey thought. He just hated these damned clothes.

It was early morning and Catherine Anne hadn’t gotten over yesterday’s encounter with the spectral potential client, Catherine Anne needed to reassert her control over her universe. That bitch had set off every alarm in Catherine Anne’s head and she hated being scared. Maybe mental imagining would help. Mental imaging was a therapeutic version of meditation and always helped Catherine Anne when she wasn’t as stable as she needed to be to face the freaks and lunatics who populated her thriving practice.

Sara preferred stealthy surveillance, but she was in a rush to learn about Abby and Bill’s therapist, Catherine Anne DeLenquant. Sara had done her usual electronic peeping into the lives of those who interested her because she hoped she could learn enough about both Bill and Abby to see if the plan had an acceptable chance at success. DeLenquant’s name had come up several times in billing records but things had only gotten interesting when Sara had accessed Bill’s saved on-line internet chats. It was amazing how often people used their computers to save the tools of their own destruction.

To say the streets in Seattle are steep is to say tornados sort of spin around a little. The streets near Columbia Center are the rule for Seattle not the exception, which is to say they are really fucking hilly. The ups and downs are brake burners and they scared the hell out of Eddie as he drove.

John Marshall was fuming more aggressively than his normal smolder. His office was a showcase of his combative nature. Every spare inch of shelf space was resplendent in the accoutrements of conflict and that calmed him and fueled his rage in the same turn.

Eddie couldn’t be more content that he and Sara both shared a lack of commitment to culinary excellence. A white and red bag of Chic-fil-A, Eddie called it, chicken fries, sat crumpled and tired after the power eating fest the couple had undertaken post sex. It couldn’t get lots better than this, thought the fully sated man. He had even just heard a small burp from Sara, after she had finished a decidedly unladylike sized slug of soda. Sara had actually taken such a large drink, that he had, by habit nearly gotten up to give her a Candy squeeze. While it had been beneficial to let Candy pop off the planet, he had no intention of letting this perfect woman follow the same path. Candy could let the drink kill her, but Eddie would go to the end of the planet to save Sara. The moment of near PTSD awareness shook Eddie to his core. Jesus Christ. He was in love and he loved the thought. He reveled in it, in her beauty, in their near prefect compatibility.

That tiny seed was fertilized by Eddie’s feeling that everyone could read the existence of his new kinky lifestyle. He could still feel the marks from her whip and other extreme treatments, but more to the point, for today, well, this was the first time he had murdered a man with his own hands and he was sure that somehow that must show as he wandered through a grocery store picking up cereal. He watched Sara read the ingredients of a new type of soup, just like she had done this a hundred times; murder, then soup reading; choke someone; oops too many carbs in the soup. He

For a man, who was firmly tied in a chair, wearing a woman’s panties and bra and had a ball gag in his mouth, things were going remarkably well for Eddie. By late afternoon, he had even gotten over his total fear of being blindfolded and bound.

Victoria found herself consistently enchanted with Seattle whenever she had the opportunity to spend a late evening gazing out of her living room windows at the twinkling lights of the Alki district of Seattle. In all the time she had lived in this apartment, since the divorce, she had never gone to the tiny coastal crescent of night lights, an illuminated oasis of hope. Every other community in the discontiguous suburbs of Puget Sound was fair game, but she desperately needed Alki to remain a twinkling dreamland.

Eddie lay on his back, completely stunned. Aside from the carnage of the bed sheets, Sara’s bedroom was a study in simplicity. The bed was a sturdy four post affair; firm and plush. The mattress was clearly the most expensive furniture in the room. Sara had explained that sleep was the most important thing she did at the apartment and an expensive bed was worth the price. Eddie didn’t care. He had just had the best sex of his life. It could have been on a wood floor and on nails.

Robert and Victoria sat in his office.  The desk was covered in paperwork and computer systems hummed in the back ground as Victoria spun lazy circles on an office chair.  Robert typed and clicked on the system.    
 
He glanced over at Victoria and said, “I’ll have the web page functional in the next day or [...]

Eddie thought it was cool how big tits could look on a large screen TV.  It didn’t hurt that it was a plasma television.  They looked better than real.  Perfect D cups turned into G cups.   God they were monstrous and you could see every jiggle and goose bump on hard pointing nipples.  The chick [...]

Parking around the Power Exchange club was tighter than usual even though this was a Saturday night party.  The club had been running full tilt for at least an hour and Victoria was late.  
 
Members kept their eyes on the big blue neon sign "MEMBERS ONLY".  It was time for the scheduled release of the [...]

 If there was such a thing as a “normal” sex and fetish club, Power Exchange wasn’t it.  Victoria had seen more than her unfair share of sex establishments and she worked hard to make sure hers was something above and beyond.  Power Exchange was a full service, high class, meeting, greeting, and sometimes play place [...]

Eddie’s living room was mostly unchanged from when Candy died at his feet. Soda still stained the carpet in a long-term tribute to Eddie’s hatred of cleaning and Candy’s final breath.  The few changes in the room were paid for with the surprise insurance payment; the largest and most expensive was a fifty-inch plasma television [...]

It was, to any eye, an odd threesome; the two patients and their therapist.  Bill Susman sat and glowered at his pathetic luck in life.  He realized that he was a touch too slick and not quite handsome enough.  He was just a middle-aged insurance salesman in the waning days of his ability to stand [...]

Eddie stepped into only the second Barnes and Nobel bookstore of his life. Before Candy’s death, the closest he came to bookstores had been the small, mall based booksellers. Even then, he only went in to get calendars for Christmas, or pick up soft-core porn magazines when he couldn’t sneak out to the [...]