"What I'd like to know, Clete," said Mark Denning pounding his fist on the wooden surface before him, "is why you haven't found hide nor hair of that damn dog Lobo."
The burly, black chief of police regarded the councillor across the imposing expanse of Mark's desk. It was strange how the white man's complacency about the wild dog pack had melted away in the last week and the councillor, slated to be the next state senator, was pushing to raise the reward on the dog pack leader's head to fifty thousand. That was fine with Clete, for he fully intended to be the one to bag that dog's hide and use the money to buy him and his young bride Nancy a new home and life here in Pickford's Meadows.
Nancy! She didn't deserve it, but a black man doesn't easily gain the affections of a beautiful white girl all that often, so he stayed with her, reserving her well-deserved beating for the future. Yes, Clete knew that she had fucked Mark Denning in his car out by the quarry, but ample revenge had been sought and obtained in drugging and possessing DesirЋe, the councillor's young bride of just a month, in an orgy arranged by Priscilla Devereaux. It had been the fulfilment of an obsessive dream that Clete had held ever since he had first laid eyes on the young, blonde choir girl. He knew now that he was hopelessly in love with DesirЋe Denning and he had every intention of having her again, even after his marriage to Nancy. And again. And again.
And he had the means to force her to submit to him, for the animalistic encounter had been filmed by Priscilla, and through a piece of hilarious subterfuge, Clete had obtained the video tape and the pictures from that evil young woman. He was sure that the devious bitch Priscilla intended to use the materials to manipulate and destroy DesirЋe with the purpose of wrenching Mark Denning out of his happy marriage to bring him back to her, but the police chief was not sure that that would serve his own purposes at the present time. He was certain that forcing DesirЋe into a sexual affair with himself would eventually destroy her marriage and her relationship with her husband, as it would wreck his own with Nancy, his wife-to-be. But Priscilla was bound and determined to rush into her nefarious plan and Clete needed more time to carry out his own in a way that would bind the girl to him, both sexually and emotionally. He had the seed of a plan, but he couldn't have Priscilla rushing things, for she had a different agenda from his. And, in good time, she could have Mark Denning for herself.
Clete often asked himself why he should want to marry Nancy Pace, young and beautiful though she was, when he was really in love with the angelic DesirЋe, but he knew that he needed Nancy, more than for just her body but also the respectability of being a member of a well-respected, if slightly less than fabulously rich, family. When she finally gave birth, he would be the husband and father of Paces and his standing in the community would be assured. Which meant that his planned affair with DesirЋe Denning would have to be conducted with discretion.
Even Clete's devious reasoning told him that his aspirations for making love to the lovely blonde music teacher and voice student were completely out of order, wrong, and impossible to bring to fruition. But it was an obsession, a romantic and sexual fantasy he lived in, made all the more concrete by his memories of that night, just days ago, of having the lovely blonde tripping on LSD, braced on all fours, and taking his big, black cock into her tender, pink cunt from behind. He had bathed her womb in his virile seed, in his own eyes making her his forever, whether or not she knew it or liked it. But he had to have her again soon or he knew he would begin taking his frustration out on Nancy in some way.
"You wanted the reward posted, Clete, so now that we've raised it and posted it and it's hanging there in front of your greedy nose, why haven't you caught the raping bastard?" Mark's eyes were blazing with a vehemence and fire that the black police chief had never seen. Why? Had he somehow found out about the night a month before their wedding when Lobo had broken in on the Canning gang's rape party and taken the pristine – or nearly so – maiden for himself? Or – and the thought filled him with a jealous fury even as he relished Mark's discomfort – had it happened again somehow? Had Lobo again taken his pleasure with that angel of the earth and temporarily turned her into a raving sex fiend with his giant canine cock? Yes, that was it! It must be! And Mark had walked in on the scene, had witnessed it somehow. So that he believed – finally – the threat posed by the dog pack. And wanted his own bloody revenge.
Clete shook himself. That must be it, and Lobo had defiled his beloved again. It was strange that he should have a common bond with the councillor he so hated, for the sake of the white man's wife. He had to grit his teeth to restrain himself from running amuck with a vengeful rage. No, it had to be done right, so that the kudos and the money would be his, all his, at the proper time, when DesirЋe would appreciate him as her protector and savior from a fate worse than – yes, let's face it – worse than death.
"I'm bringing in a tracker from Tennessee that can lead us to him next time he's spotted. He'll have to be paid out of the reward money, but we'll have to pay his expenses while he's hanging around waiting for his chance. Once we find him, I'll shoot Lobo."
"That's it, Clete," Mark said. "Slaughter the dirty, raping son of a bitch." And brought his fist down on the desk. At that moment, Clete could see his enemy's real anguish, and could almost feel sympathy for him.
Almost, but not quite. The chief of the police still intended to use his huge black cock on the man's new bride to vanquish the enemy that had made his job difficult and almost devoid of respect since he, Mark Denning had come to office and pushed his own ideas of law enforcement through the council. Clete fully intended to vote for Denning as state senator, just to get rid of him. Then with the help of the money he could make from his control of the two remaining members of the Canning drug "cartel", Clete would have no trouble rising to prominence and property in Pickford's Meadows.
The police chief stood up with a thin smile. "You got it, Councillor," he said, adjusting his gun belt. "One dead pack of dogs coming right up. I wouldn't want what happened to my Nancy to happen to anyone else, would you?"
Mark Denning answered with a silent, granite-like face, and Clete knew at that instant that, yes truly, Lobo had been back to DesirЋe for an encore and that her husband, Mr. Cool-Invulnerable of the Pickford's Meadows Town Council, had somehow found out or witnessed the event.
"Yeah, you got it, Councillor," Clete reassured him, fighting not to laugh in the young white man's face, even as he wept inside for DesirЋe. The girl would need some serious purging after a visit from Lobo, and Clete had every intention of helping her with it.
Yes, he sure did.