Three hours to the wedding, and everything seemed to be going well. The families were booked into the hotel, there had been no last minute panics. In fact, as Matt emerged from the shower, dried himself and pulled on a bathrobe, there was little to do but wait.
Then there was a knock at the hotel room door.
“Sure, no problem,” he flicked the handle of the door down to unlatch it, and walked back into the main room of the suite. There had been so many comings and goings that he didn’t even check to see whether it was his parents, or his Best Man…. “So, what’s up?”
“You,” the voice was sultry, soft, and all too familiar, “are getting married.”
“Holy shit!” he spun around. “Yes, I’m getting fucking married, Louise, and you can’t be here!”
She closed the door behind her, and walked slowly towards him. “Do you know,” she pouted, with mock sadness, “how upset I was not to be invited?”
He backed away from her. He knew that look. Her purposeful approach – her high heels digging into the carpet, her stockinged legs stepping slowly one in front of the other, her hips swaying under her tight black dress, her blonde hair flowing in waves over her shoulders, her grey eyes fixing him with a hard stare. This was not a good time.
“Seriously!” he repeated, “You can’t fucking be here!”
“Why?” she asked with feigned innocence.
“A year ago! A fucking year ago she told you!” Now he was backed up to the coffee table, and could retreat no further.
“Yes, when you got engaged.” She stepped up close to him, her chest nearly touching his. “That jealous bitch said that you couldn’t see me anymore.”
“That was pretty damn clear!”
“And how many times have you fucked me since then?”
“This is my fucking wedding day!” He sidestepped to get away from her, and then walked away. “I have to get ready – so just leave!”
“I’m trying to remember,” she mused, walking after him. “Was it six, or seven? That time in my pool, the time on your back porch, and was it Valentines Day…?”
“No! Enough! Stop it!” He had walked into the bedroom to make a pretence of getting ready, but she followed him.
“No, you’re right. On Valentines Day I sucked you off after work, but you went home and fucked her instead.”
“Louise, enough! What the fuck do you want here? You know you can’t come to the wedding, for fuck’s sake!”
“You know why I’m here.” She stepped forward, and reached out towards his groin.
He brushed her hand away and stepped aside. “Louise, for Christ’s sake!”
“Tell me you aren’t getting hard. With me standing here, reminding you of the great sex we’ve had?”
“OK, I’ll tell you – I’m not getting hard!”
“Liar!” she snarled, reaching out to his bathrobe again as he retreated once more.
“Jesus Christ! I. Am. Getting. Married!”
“And that is exactly why I am here.”
“What?” By now he was backed up against the bedroom wall.
“You want to marry her. But you want to fuck me. So you will marry her. And then you will never see me again. But first,” she took a bottle from her handbag, and tossed it onto the bed, “you will fuck me!”
“Is that lube?” He stared at the bottle, he stared at her. “This is crazy!”
He stepped to push past her, but she pushed him sideways and he stumbled and fell on to the bed.
Immediately she was on top of him, her handbag cast aside, her legs astride him, her hands on his shoulders.
He tried to push her away, but she grabbed his wrists. He pulled free, and pushed her again, but, laughing, she brushed his hand aside and put her hand around his throat.
He slapped her across the face.
“Oh, yeah?” she growled, and slapped him back. “You wanna fucking hit me?” She slapped him again.
“Fuck you!” he slapped her again, turning her cheek red.
“Oh yeah!” She grabbed his face with her hand. “Do what you want to do! You fucking hate me, so you slap me! But you want to fuck me – so what are you doing about that, you pussy!”
He grabbed her hair and pulled down and away from him, dragging her off him. She lay next to him, and he put his other hand on her throat. “I don’t want you at my fucking wedding!”
“I don’t want to be at your fucking wedding!” She spat in his face, and he pulled his hand back to wipe the spit from his cheek.
Free again, she climbed back on top of him again. “I want you to fuck me!”
He struggled against her, but she stayed firmly astride him.
“Or maybe, I should go downstairs, and tell the blushing bride about the pool, about the porch, about fucking Valentine’s Day!”
“Yeah? That would make me a bitch? If I told her, the only reason your dick was so hard in her on Valentine’s Day was because it had already been rammed down my fucking throat!”
“You fucking wouldn’t!”
“What, fuck up your wedding day? You watch me, asshole!”
He grabbed her hair again and pulled, but with a grimace she sat firm.
“So, what’ll it be? Am I going to talk to your jealous bitch bride, or are you going to stop arguing!”
“Fuck you, bitch!” He slapped her again.
“Yeah, exactly – fuck me,” she laughed. “Go on! Fuck me!”
Lunging to his side, he threw her off him, to land on the bed beside him, and he stood up, his bathrobe falling open, revealing his hard, straight dick.
“You see what you’ve fucking done!”
“Yeah! I see what I’ve done. Now what are you going to do with it!”
He grabbed her thighs and dragged her hips to the edge of the bed. She pulled up her skirt, and reached down to push the gusset of her thong out of the way. She spread her legs, and he drove his cock into her cunt, already wet with anticipation.
“Fuck, yeah!” she growled, propping herself up on her elbows to watch his cock slam into her.
He threw off his bathrobe, and grabbing her thighs, hammered into her.
“Yeah!” she snarled, “Keep fucking doing that!”
He reached up and grabbed her face, still slapping his hips against her, and scowled at her, “You fucking asked for it, bitch, so I’ll do whatever the fuck I want!”
“Oh yeah?” she mocked him.
“Yeah!” he pulled out, grabbed her hair and dragged her face down towards his cock. He forced her onto her back, her head hanging over the edge of the bed, and with his hand on her throat, he pushed his dick into her mouth.
“Mnnnhh!” she started to suck him greedily, but he gave her little chance, instead fucking her mouth, forcing his hard cock into her. “Ghagh…. Uhnggh!” she began to gag, and he kept fucking her face as her legs began to thrash, and her arms flailed.
He kept fucking her mouth, hearing her gag on him, and she reached up and ran her sharp fingernails down his stomach, drawing blood.
“Ah!” he pulled back.
She laughed and swung her legs around towards him, and pulled off her thong.
He grabbed her thighs again, dragged her to the edge of the bed, and began to pound in to her again.
“Ergh, fuck yes!” she snarled, as she watched him pound her.
She leaned forwards, reached around behind herself and unzipped her dress.
“You want to fuck me, you asshole!”
“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” he snapped, still pounding her.
“Yeah, fuck me, fuck me like an animal!”
“I’ll show you how animals fuck!”
He pulled out and turned her over. She knelt up, and pulled the dress over her head. Before her arms were free he had pushed her forward onto all fours, and rammed hard into her cunt again.
He grabbed her hips, and slammed into her, pulling her back on to his hard dick as he ploughed forwards.
She laughed, freed her arms and threw the dress aside, and began to push back against him.
He reached forward and grabbed her hair, dragging her head back, yanking with each thrust.
“Oh fuck, yeah, yeah!”
He slammed harder, and her body shook, her boobs bouncing in her bra, her buttocks rippling with each thrust.
Soon she could hear him begin to pant.
“You’re going to come!”
“Yeah!” he panted.
“Not yet!” She twisted her body, pulling away from his cock. “Come in my ass!”
He let go of her hair and she rolled on to her back, raising her hips, spreading her ass cheeks with her hands.
“Get the lube!”
He scrambled on the bed for the bottle that she had thrown, and climbed up to kneel by her ass. He opened the bottle and poured the clear sticky liquid over her pussy and ass, and over his cock. With one hand he worked it over his hard shaft, and with the other he began to finger her hole, pushing the lube deep inside.
She watched him with a grin, sighing as he began to finger her, and pulled her hands back from her ass, reaching between between her legs. With one hand she she pushed two fingers into her own pussy, wet with her juices and with lube, and with the other she began to rub her clit.
He pressed the tip of his cock against her asshole, and she relaxed her butt, letting him push in.
“Oh fuck yeah!”
She lay back, watching his face, still rubbing her clit with one hand.
He started to push, firmly, then harder, then faster.
“Oh fuck my ass, oh fuck, yes!”
He thrusted, she rubbed herself furiously.
“Does that feel tight?”
“Fuck, you’re tight!”
“Then come in me!”
She laughed at him as her climax built. “Fucking fuck… there’s lube…. everywhere…! Better… get the maid in…. before you bring… your bride… back here…! Or you’ll have to… explain to her… how you fucked… my tight ass… in your…. fucking… honeymoon… bed! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck I’m coming!”
His dick hard in her ass, her fingers fast on her clit, and the thought of humiliating his jealous bride, brought Louise to a crashing orgasm.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”
He kept thrusting, ignoring her, his own climax building.
“You’re going to come in my ass?” she panted.
“Go on then, come in me! Do it! Fucking come in me!”
“Uh – yessssss!” He shuddered, and held her thighs as his cum poured into her.
His dick slipped out, and she pulled away, leaving him kneeling, panting on the bed.
She raised herself on her elbows. “You’re sleeping here tonight, aren’t you? With your bitch bride?”
She leaned back across the pillows, raised her legs and pulled her butt cheeks apart with her hands. “I want you to remember this,” she told him, as his cum dripped down, “when you’re lying in bed with your bride. How you just fucked me on your marriage bed. And I hope you dream of coming in my ass, and that you’ll always know that you married her, but I’m the best fuck you’ll ever have!”
She rolled off the bed, and picked up her dress.
“So what are you doing now?” he asked.
She pulled the dress over her head and zipped it up. “I’m leaving.”
“Well….” He couldn’t find the words.
“Well, what?” she sneered, pulling her thong back on. “You know what? It’s your wedding day. I should say congratulations, and best wishes, and all that shit.”
“But I’m not going to!” she laughed, picking up her handbag. “You know what I’m wishing you? Nothing! Fuck you!”
And she turned, and walked away.
“So what have we got here?” Denison got out of his car in the hotel car park, and slammed the door. The uniformed guys were all over the place, with red and blue lights flashing everywhere.
“Single homicide,” Richter had arrived a few minutes before. She looked at her partner cynically. “You get up late?”
“Not specially,” he shrugged. “You?”
“It was meant to be my day off.” As she stood speaking to him, she was still fastening her long brown hair in a pony tail, and hadn’t had time to put on make-up.
“So who’s dead?”
She led the way into the hotel and through the lobby.
“Matthew O’Connor. Financial analyst, thirty one, found dead in the honeymoon suite.”
“Just married?” Denison asked.
“Just about to be. Family are all here, plus a couple of hundred friends. It was going to be a big wedding.”
“So about three hundred suspects? That’s a lot of paperwork!”
“We can eliminate most of them. They were meeting downstairs, mostly in big groups. We just need the uniform guys to take statements, and see if anyone was missing. There’s only about an hour’s window between the victim being seen alive, and them finding the body. And we’ve got CCTV in the corridors, and the desk logs any key-cards issued to each room.”
“Should be plenty to go on.”
They took the elevator to the top floor, and made their way towards the suite door at the end of the corridor, on of the uniform guys standing on duty outside.
“Forensics are in,” the officer told them, “So, no entry yet. This your case?”
“So we’re told,” Richter shrugged.
“Holy shit,” Denison looked in through the doorway. “That’s a whole lot of blood!”
Richter also peered around the door. “Floor, furniture, windows, walls, even the ceiling. Jesus.”
“Well, our killer could be easy to find. I’d guess he’d be pretty much covered, too.”
“He, or she,” Richter noted.
“Sure,” Denison agreed. “Though this level of violence… likely someone physically pretty strong… more likely male. So, what next?”
“Not much we can do here,” Richter led the way back down the corridor. “You want to check with the uniform guys, coordinate statements? I’ll talk to hotel management?”
“Yeah, OK. We can catch up in a couple of hours,” Denison said, pulling out his phone. “And I’m going to make a call. Maybe see if there’s another angle. You know, copycat killings, press mentions of our victim.” He tapped the phone and raised it to his ear.
“That would be that young intern in Archives right?”
Denison shot her an irate glance and started to speak, but his call was answered and so, with a smile he stepped away: “Hey there, Maddy, how you doing…? Great, listen, I’ve got a couple of things for you to chase up, if you’re keen….? That’s great to hear….”
The two detectives met up again in the mid afternoon to compare notes.
“What did the uniform guys get?” Richter asked.
“Most guests have multiple alibis. A few are a bit thin. No likely motives suggested by the guests, except the usual – jealous ex-girlfriend and disgruntled co-worker rumours. Nothing to get excited about. But I caught the forensics guys on their way out. Preliminary report tomorrow, a few days for the lab results, but unofficially, a few comments.”
“Suggested murder weapon is a butcher’s cleaver, or similar – something with a large, sharp, heavy blade. No murder weapon found. Blood splatters consistent with the victim being hacked repeatedly – he was nearly dismembered – and no likelihood that the killer wouldn’t have got very bloody. Also, as well as the blood, there was a large amount of sexual lubricant, and a half empty bottle, on the bed, plus some stains which may turn out to be semen.”
“And the bride during all of this?”
“With her bridesmaids. And she hasn’t seen the groom for two days. What have you got?”
“Only one keycard issued by the hotel for the honeymoon suite, and that was given to Matthew O’Connor.”
“Sure,” Denison confirmed, “Forensics say they bagged it.”
“Several master keys are available to management and security, but all seem to be accounted for. No other access to the room – the windows barely open, for safety, and it’s eight stories up, with no balcony or access, so we can assume that the killer had to get in through the room door. Which is where it gets interesting.” Richter opened her laptop, and clicked through to a folder of videos. “All security camera footage is digitised, and these are copies of the files for the last two days. O’Connor checked in early this morning. Room staff had been in the room just before he arrived, and refreshed the flowers and so-on. Then he enters, then a few wedding guests come and go, but the people entering match the people leaving. By 11am there shouldn’t have been anyone else in there. Then this woman arrives. No keycard – he lets her in. Twenty minutes later, she leaves. Then nobody else until the Best Man tries to get in, can’t get an answer, calls the manager, and the body is found.”
“Go back to the footage of that woman.”
Richter scrolled through to the image of her leaving. “Not a big handbag. Presumably, no meat cleaver.”
“And she doesn’t look bloodied up. She looks kind of hot, though.”
“Really? I’d have said slutty. Anyway, what’s the girl in Archives like?”
“I hadn’t really noticed.”
Richter frowned. “Jesus, Ben! You don’t look up her number, just redial. You don’t introduce yourself, she knows your voice. And you were downstairs three times yesterday. I don’t have to be a detective….”
“Yeah, OK. She’s hot, too.”
“Well, don’t let it get in the way. This is a nasty one, lets get this done.”
“Sure, I get it. Lets see what else we can find here. We can print photos off this video, and show them around, maybe get an ID, since she looks like the last person to have seen him alive. Then I guess tomorrow, plenty to do back at the station.”