The Sweet Poison of Love

By Guillermo Morell-Chardon

While on the fourth floor the couples enjoyed all the variations and deviations never invented by man and inspired by the Devil
himself.
The trumpeter was still making love to his old silver trumpet, while directing the forty couples in a climatic harmony.
All inspired by the screams of pleasure that came from the old instrumen

• Language: English
• Publisher: ibukku, LLC
• Release date: Dec 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781640862845

Book preview

Chapter 1

"Like so many times in the past I was hiding behind the papyrus plants, the cold and gentle waters of the Nile caressed my most intimate parts, like a playful lover, interested in my arousal, causing a functional erection, which was no minor feat, given my relative advanced age. My eyes, overwhelmed by all the beauty, could not concentrate in any aspect of the panorama in front of them. Sundown was an explosion of beautiful colors, all permutations of pink, yellow and orange never imitated by human hand, not even the most gifted artists in the kingdom. In the middle of this explosion of colors was her, in all her youthful beauty.

Her name was Athenea, the last concubine of the God of the Nile. Originally from Macedonia, she had been sold to the king by Phoenician merchants. Her body, firm and voluptuous at the same time, was barely covered by a very fine white linen robe.

As she had just gone for a swim, the linen stocked to her body, leaving very little of her beauty was left to imagination. As imperial painter I have seen beautiful women, but her dignified stride, her self- governing look and her beautiful curves made her truly a unique beauty, the likes of which I will never see again.

Her life was in mortal danger, and she was keenly aware of that fact. Everybody in the court knew she was destined to die. The Royal Alchemist was already commissioned by the queen to prepare her abortive and poison. She wanted to eliminate all potential competition for her first born, who will become the new king of the Nile. This will prevent the king, the old fool corrupted by arthritis and the darkness of his many sins, from making her the new queen and the bastard in her womb the new God of the Nile. But all that laid in the future. Most of the court had been transferred to Memphis. All that was left was some artist, like me, some priests and some security to finish the last touches to the burial chamber in the Valley of the Kings.

Suddenly silence was broken by her, whispering his name, a cautious whisper as if my name was a state secret. She took of her robe and sat down on the sheets she has brought to dry and continued, ‘Anoint me with your blessed sap one more time. My days are numbered and tomorrow they are taking me to Memphis to receive by unjust punishment at the hands of the queen. She thinks that the boy I keep in me belongs to her demented, senile and impotent husband, not to you. Revealing such secret is futile and would only cause you to share my fate. Love me one more time, as the first time, when we did it in the shadows of the temple.’ On her urging I kissed all her body, with the hunger you can’t satisfy with food, I made her mine for hours at the splendor of the full moon. Finally, we succumbed to the celestial ecstasy. Exhausted, but satisfied, we laid side by side, with Sirius as our only witness." The therapist stopped the tape recorder, while the narrator of this erotic adventure laid in her couch, mesmerized in a hypnotic trance, relaxed, with a smile that reflected a state of peace and serenity. This was the first time she had been able to produce a trance deep enough to enable to complete his erotic tale.

Her therapy, which has been completed 6 months, revealed a bona fide case of regression to pre-incarnation, to go back to previous lives, which for some reason permit the subject to relax in this live and to face the challenges of the present life, The Buddha was wrong in that respect the past is not just the past. The present can be clearly healed by the events of the past. Either this was real, or the patient was a magnificent actor, thought the therapist, surprise by the arousal that this tale provoked in her. On this occasion she had to use all her self-control to avoid playing with herself. She rationalized he excitement because of memories of a trip to Egypt with a former lover, now long gone. She fixed her skirt and buttoned the shirt, which barely concealed her ample blossom, look at herself in the full mirror and ounce her own flushing had subsided, and she felt prim and proper, she proceeded to wake up her client, I am going to count to three and when you wake up you will feel relax and rested, like you slept all night, you won’t remember anything about Egypt. On. Two. Three.

Captain Alvarez stretched in the couch like a cat. He felt like a new man. For a fraction of a second, he looked and judged her as a possible sexual partner. Very rapidly he moved his head violently as to erase that image and got himself up, walking towards the door. He placed his hand in the handle as to open the door, but instead turned around and giving the good doctor an inquisitive look added, Dr. Jimenez, do you have any experience with forensic psychiatry? We have a bizarre case I will love to discuss with you, of course we will pay the full consulting fee.

If I can be of help, of course I will, she said sounding bizarrely anxious to please him.

Well call me when you have some free time in your schedule. he said while closing the door to her office behind him.

While he was waiting for the elevator, he turned on his phone. There was a myriad of text messages:

Mother, Call me, we have not heard from you since your sister’s last rosary

Brother, Call me, mom is worried about you, we all miss you on Sunday Brunch at Grandma’s

Father, Asshole, I would not kill you if you call your mother

Sargento Garcia, It happened again. Another similar crime scene, I suspect fresher. The coroner is already here. The Boss wants you here ASAP. He is pissed out of his mind. The address is Luna Street #14 Apt.2

Dr. Alvarez, "I am available Wednesday afternoon

Finally, the door to the elevator opened. Inside a pair of high school adolescent kissed passionately, oblivious to the rest of the universe, trying to find the limit of their souls. Ounce they reached the lobby, he walked towards the door. Outside it was raining cats and dogs. Darkness engulfed this centennial capital. He hesitated for a second, feared not getting wet, but slipping in the wet and blue cobblestones, causing what many Muslim insurgents and petty thieves have failed to do, cause his untimely death. The address was less than a mile, and he was up to a jog.

His mind was racing as much as his body. He knew it was a bad omen to receive so many messages in such a short period of time, particularly if they included a murder. Since the tragic and mysterious murder of his own sister, he had developed both fear and respect toward the supernatural. The many séances he had been involved only served to further muddy the waters of his soul. Other than the love he felt towards his mother, the one he had towards his twin sister was the purest. He has not recovered from her loss.

Lost in his thoughts and soaking wet by the rain, Alvarez arrived at the address at Luna Street provided by Garcia. He has been like a brother since their grade school years all the way to the war in Iraq. Alvarez course the bad weather, as he walked up the old stairs, as he knew that any outside clues will have been washed out by the rain.

Garcia greeted him with a dry towel and a smile. As he dried, he notices a series of smell emanating not only from the towel, but from the environment. These four-hundred-year-old houses usually smelled like old forts or museums. Here there was a sweet smell that overcame any other odor that the centuries of habitation may have deposited in this all house. First, he thought it was sweets from the bakery’s ovens downstairs, but later he realized it smelled like honey, not like refined sugar.

Seeing the coroner closing the body bag, Garcia inquired, What can you tell us about this case, Dr. Calvo?

It is very similar to all the four previous cases. started Dr. Calvo, a first-generation Cuban exile, who had more specialty boards than hairs in his head.

He added sadly and with trepidation, "Is the same modus operandi as your sister’s case six months ago. After uttering these words, he stopped himself dry, and looking at the face of pain of his old friend, he rapidly changed the theme, How it is going with Dr. Jimenez?"

After six month of therapy I have been able to sleep up to three hours per night. Under hypnosis my anxiety levels have diminished quite a bit. answered Alvarez, been grateful for the change of theme.

No idiot, I am asking if you have screwed her or not. I know from personal experience that she is a hot item, ready and willing at the toss of a hat, or in her case at the toss of a bra.

Even though the temptation is there, and I feel that she digs me, I want to keep this as professional as possible, as she has in six month what my priest and analyst could not achieve in a month of daily nocturnal meetings.

Yes, that experience was more exorcism than analysis. added Garcia only half -jokingly.

Recovered and grateful for the pause, Alvarez returned to business, "What do you mean by Modus Operandi, according to you there was no obvious evidence in these cases and now you are finding patterns?"

My friend, sometimes the lack of evidence is the most important clue, a lack of pattern is the pattern. This is this and that is that.

Garcia, it turns out we have a Zen Pathologist, after all!

The pattern was hidden in the evidence. Thanks to Carlos Torres, the director of electron microscopy at the UPR Medical School, we were able to analyze the barren skeleton of the previous cases. All these bones were full of bone marrow cells which were still undergoing mitosis, which unlike our previous assumption of slow, cannibalistic ritual, these cadavers were stripped of their tissues within 12 to 24 hours from the time of the murders, whatever digested these bodies was rather fast and efficient and there is a possibility that they suffered this process while still alive.

Garcia summarized, In summary, we have a murderer that can have sex and eat his victims without leaving a single knife trace or teeth trace, leaving barely the bones, which are fresh enough for the marrow cells to still be dividing. All victims lived in Old San Juan, there was no witnesses, no cries of pain or for mercy in the middle of the night. Also absent was semen or non-victim blood. Only this nauseating honey smell that permeated all the crimes scenes, including this one.

Suddenly Garcia and Alvarez had an epiphany. Like two lunatics they got on all fours and started looking for something, the source of the honey smell. Finally, under the bed Garcia found a three-ounce plastic container. He stood up and with caution opened it up. A strong smell of human semen and honey escaped the bottle.

Garcia, at times you still surprise me. Calvo said while placing the bottle in an evidence bag.

Back to the old drawing board, doc, said Alvarez.

Back to the electrophoresis and electronic microscopy, said Garcia.

Here is when the sugar cane plant demands four cuts. I have enough evidence to keep me busy for at least 24 hours, said Calvo, more excited than annoyed, while he picked all the evidence and placed it in his bag.

Suddenly, Alvarez felt a sharp pain in his foot and since he had experience gout in the past, he blamed, at least at first, the tripleta he had the night before. Just to be on the safe side, he took his boot and sock off to reveal a large insect bite in his toe, not the expected podagra. It looked like a bee sting. Instinctively he hit the boot against the wall and instead of a bee, a large ant fell to the floor, still alive. This was a rather unique ant. It measured three quarters of an inch and in its posterior aspect it carried a large cylindrical transparent appendage filled with a transparent liquid. Instinctively, Garcia was about to step on it when Calvo stopped him, "Wait a