XXXtreme Discretion

In the dictionary, under the definition of the word psychopath, there should be a picture of Dwight Barnes, a self-made business man whose success was born out of his twisted desire to fulfill a secret promise to a lost loved one.

When Roxbury, New Jersey detectives, Monica Ross and Mike D’Tavio, discover their case involving a missing woman might be linked to three others in the nearby area, all traceable to a casual-affair dating site known as XXXtreme Discretion, they try to fit the puzzle pieces together with little success.

Aided by a mysterious child, and a lover from her past, Monica takes the lead in the investigation, trusting her instincts, along with a little cryptic help from a surprising source.

With strange twists bombarding her from all directions, she eventually finds herself on a collision course with Dwight Barnes, a cold-hearted monster born of a tragic childhood. Barnes, a serial kidnapper, will stop at nothing in order to claim his simple, yet elusive prize.

Attempting to rescue those who might still be alive, Monica spirals into what appears to be a hopeless situation of pain and suffering, leading to an unexpected ending that will keep everyone on the edge of their seats.

KUDOS FOR XXXTREME DISCRETION

In XXXtreme Discretion by Michael Infinito, Dwight Barnes is a psycho serial killer who lures women into his trap by placing a personal ad on a dating website called XXXtreme Discretion. But Dwight isn’t looking for just anyone. Oh, no. He only wants a perfect size 12. And God help anyone who falls into his trap. Take Lori and Janice, for instance, two women who answered Dwight’s ad and are now missing. Infinito tells a chilling tale of murder and psychosis, courage, and fear. You know how they always say that evil people don’t think of themselves as evil? Well, Infinito’s villain is a perfect example of that. His characters are very realistic, and the story will keep you glued to the edge of your seat. ~ Taylor Jones, Reviewer

XXXtreme Discretion by Michael Infinito is thriller/horror of the first order. The book was creepy from start to finish. Incredibly fast-paced, it is definitely not a book you’ll find easy to put down once you pick it up. It is also pretty graphic in places, so be prepared. Personally, I loved it, but then I have a very strong stomach. It’s on a par with Stephen King, so if you like his books, you’ll love XXXtreme Discretion. Infinito’s characters are well developed and easy to identify with, even the bad guy. The plot is extremely strong, and just when you think you have it figured out, you find out you don’t. As I said, this book is a page-turner, so you’ll want to start it when you have some time, because you aren’t going to be able to put it down once you start. ~ Regan Murphy, Reviewer

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I wish to thank everyone who has supported my writing dream, friends and family alike. Special thanks go out to Lisa Regan, for keeping my head in the game when I’m overwhelmed at times, and to Michael Infinito Sr., whose reading critiques fuel my creative engine.

Jewell Cartwright McMurry, I obviously couldn’t have done it without a loving and supportive mother.

Thanks to the staff of Black Opal Books, and my agent, Jeanie Loiacono, for everything they’ve done to bring this novel to life.

XXXtreme Discretion

Michael Infinito

A Black Opal Books Publication

Copyright © 2015 by Michael Infinito

Cover Design by Jackson Cover Design

All cover art copyright © 2015

All Rights Reserved

EBOOK ISBN: 978-1-626942-40-0

EXCERPT

She knew her chances of getting out of this alive were slim to none, but she wasn’t going down without a fight...

Janice heard the squeaking noise again, followed by the sound of footsteps heading in her direction. She immediately put her head down on the mattress, feigning sleep. Two seconds later her door swung open.

What the fuck? Dwight barked.

Janice pretended to be confused, picking her head up abruptly. Huh? What?

Your door was open. What did you hear?

I didn’t hear anything. I fell asleep right after you left. How long have you been gone?

Not long. Dwight’s voice softened, returning to its less paranoid tone.

At that moment, Janice knew her time was limited. She had to act, and it had to be now. The only thing she had to bargain with was sex.

Dwight obviously wanted a woman’s touch, and if putting his dick in her mouth meant staying alive, it was a price she’d be willing to pay. The last failed attempt at a blow job had gotten her a lantern, a Coke, and a promise of a clean piss bucket.

If she played her cards right, perhaps she could prostitute herself out of the dark dungeon and have an opportunity to see daylight again. In a sick kind of way, Janice had decided to sleep her way to the top.

DEDICATION

For Liz. My biggest inspiration.

Chapter 1

How many days had she been there? Sixty? Eighty? Aside from estimating the amount of time that had elapsed since her last menstrual cycle, Lori Glasner had no way of really knowing for sure. From the moment her right arm had been shackled to the concrete wall of a damp and dingy windowless room, the concept of counting days had become an exercise in futility.

Even though she spent ninety-nine percent of her captivity in the dark, naked, with only an eight foot piece of chain as a leash, her mouth remained gag free. She’d been taught not to scream the hard way. On the first night of her imprisonment, each terrified yell that escaped her throat had been met with a barrage of bruising punches to her face. Three missing teeth later, she learned the importance of remaining silent.

Lori knew the true meaning of hell. Along with having no light or clothes, her steel leash only allowed her enough mobility to reach a thin mattress. The full sized futon pad lay sprawled out on the cold concrete floor, three feet away from her point of restraint. At first she didn’t sleep on it because of the presence of large rats but, over time, she retreated to the mattress out of necessity, shooing the dirty pests away like common houseflies.

Along with the filthy bed, she had also been given a single blanket to use. In the dark dungeon, it served as her solitary friend, providing not just a source of warmth, but also her only article of clothing. Lori’s captor had disrobed her right after the abduction, leaving her stark naked for the rodents to feast their evil eyes upon. Oddly, the stranger seemed more interested in her clothing that day, than with her nude body. He didn’t rape, fondle, or even ogle her. Aside from the initial contact with the evil bastard, the only other time she’d been touched at all was when he silenced her that first night with his pounding fists.

Lori stood up and stepped off the mattress. Using her hands to feel along the cinderblock wall, she shuffled away from her filthy bed until her feet bumped into a plastic five-gallon bucket. She squatted down and pissed into the nearly full container, overflowing it onto the floor, soaking her toes with warm pee. Although her captor threw a bag of fast food into the room on a daily basis, he neglected to empty out her makeshift porta-potty. Often times, from her futon pad, she heard the rats and mice licking the spillage from the floor. In the early days of her captivity, Lori vomited at the thought of animals drinking her piss, but as time went by, she actually hoped their sick appetite would keep the flow of fluids from eventually reaching her bed.

After peeing, she returned to the mattress, dripping along the way. She had all but given up on the idea of proper hygiene. In her dungeon of despair, toilet paper was whatever she could get her hands on. Available in limited supply, McDonald’s bags and Burger King napkins had become a valuable commodity. She rarely wiped away her pee droplets anymore, saving the paper for the more distasteful acts of shitting and damming up period blood. After endless days without a shower or toothbrush, she could hardly distinguish between her arm pit odor and the piss bucket stench.

As Lori prepared to sit back down, she heard footsteps from outside of her room. Like a hungry dog waiting to be fed, she had learned to associate the patter of feet with the pleasure of a cold cheeseburger and a bottle of warm water, not to mention the added bonus of seeing a few seconds of light. Just glimpsing the dim illumination of a sixty watt bulb reminded her once a day she wasn’t, in fact, blind. Unfortunately for Lori, exposure to the light usually came in such short bursts that her eyes never had time to adjust to the brightness. Her cherished moments of vision flew by as little more than a blur.

Having been unconscious during her arrival to the hell chamber, Lori had no idea what lay beyond her door. Unable to rely on her eyes, she spent the majority of her confinement concentrating on the sounds outside the room. A barking dog and strange mechanical noises rang out from time to time and, on one other occasion, just a few days earlier, she distinctly heard the anguished cries of a frightened woman.

Just be quiet and he won’t hit you, Lori had muttered in the darkness, praying the woman would get the message before taking too much of a beating at the hands of their captor.

The awful screaming ended abruptly, eventually being replaced by an unknown ratcheting sound. Lori assumed the poor woman had either learned her lesson--or something much worse had possibly occurred. The latter thought she tried in vain to put out of her mind. She hoped, beyond all reason, that the stranger was still alive, stranded in the silent darkness, waiting to be rescued, just like her.

As Lori’s memory played the woman’s screams over and over in her head, her thoughts were interrupted by a turning doorknob. Seconds later, the heavy wooden door pushed open and her eyes became flooded with a dull, but blinding light. The silhouette of a man slowly came into focus.

I’m so thirsty, she whimpered. Could I please have more water today?

You’ve got five fucking gallons of drink right there you ungrateful bitch, the man said, pointing to the dimly lit piss bucket.

Lori sobbed.

Stop your damned crying. I came to take you out of here anyway. You won’t have to spend any more nights with the rats.

You’re letting me go? Lori asked hopefully.

He flashed a twisted grin. I didn’t say that.

Just as he had done on the night of their first encounter, the deranged man sprinkled a few drops from a bottle onto a rag, and then he held it over Lori’s mouth and nose. Moments later she fell unconscious.

Chapter 2

In-shape, single, white male wants to eat a size twelve pussy.

Of all the posts on the adult personal website, XXXtreme Discretion, that ad stuck out most in twenty-nine-year-old Janice Dunson’s eyes. The majority of desirable sounding men on the casual encounter meeting forum were usually married, looking to fulfill their perverted fantasies by hooking up with some eighteen-year-old, tight-bodied nymphomaniac. Although quite a few hefty men actively sought plus-sized companions, to see someone listing himself as in-shape in that category seemed unusual, and it totally caught her attention.

Janice had been single for three years. At five-foot-six, one hundred and seventy pounds, she’d let herself become chubby, losing the athletic figure she’d fought so hard to acquire in her late teens. She wore her natural blonde hair shoulder length, accenting her crystal blue eyes and a beautiful, light-skinned complexion Although still very attractive, the added weight had crippled Janice’s self-esteem, leaving her insecure about opening up her heart to a new relationship. Not only had it been three years since her last date, but it had also been that long since she shared her body with a man. Using a vibrator was getting old.

As she sat at the computer desk, Janice peered down at her blue jeans. The size fourteen pants squeezed tightly around her legs, making it hard for her to imagine that just a decade earlier she’d been a cheerleader and runner up for homecoming queen. Oh, but how the passing years had changed things. At nineteen, she’d married her childhood sweetheart, Rory Clark, and they divorced before she turned twenty. Rory, whose own heartbreak had been the reason behind the split, ran off, cutting their ties completely. Janice never saw or heard from him again.

At twenty two, she met another man named Neil Akerstrom, convincing herself she’d found love again. They moved in together, sharing an apartment in Sussex County, New Jersey. Although the location they chose turned out to be ideal, their relationship wasn’t. On the edge of depression, Janice substituted food for affection, and her clothes became tighter as the months passed. By the time the couple separated, she wore a size twelve.

With her self-image at rock bottom, Janice only dated a few times after Neil, settling on men well below her standards. No serious relationships to be explored, she eventually gave up on romance altogether. Now, on the verge of thirty, her social life had been reduced to sitting at the computer and browsing through adult pick-up web sites.

Based out of the Netherlands, XXXtreme Discretion created a huge problem for United States authorities. Like Facebook, the company had become a global phenomenon. With the age of consent being sixteen over there, the website refused to cooperate with any US investigations of underage or violent sex crimes. The biggest hurdle for law enforcement was that XXXtreme Discretion acted as a middle man between two consenting parties. Without the company’s cooperation, most clients could never be linked to one another. For the United States Government, it loomed as an uphill legal battle, but to the adult website, it quickly became their main selling point.

Janice had been browsing through the Northern New Jersey section of XXXtreme Discretion when she came across the ad for the plus-sized pussy licker. Normally, there would have been no way in hell she would have given it a second glance, but on this day, feelings of horniness and desperation arose within her. She clicked her mouse on the link and a personal page immediately popped up. Janice stared at the computer screen for a long time before making another move. Even though no one else could see her activity, she acted nervous. Her hands became clammy with sweat.

She studied the page closely. The first section contained a description of the man who posted the ad. As was the case with most discreet encounter sites, he provided no photo for her to see. According to the information, he stood over six foot tall, weighing an even two hundred pounds. He described himself as a well-to-do professional who liked the finer things in life. The man, referred to on the site as Plussizedluver34, claimed to be a thirty-four-year-old GQ hard body with dark hair and a tan complexion. With his location listed as Morris County, just a stone’s throw away from her Andover, New Jersey home, lonely Janice finally gave into temptation.

After studying the man’s profile, she turned her attention to the middle of the page. The first line in that section required her to enter an email address. She hesitantly typed in jdun29@tmail.com. Below her email address, which was the only required information on the form, a long, optional survey followed, loaded with personal questions. Name, age, gender, and race were among the first few lines she filled out. When Janice reached the section asking for a self-description, she couldn’t find the words. It wasn’t in her heart to write down pretty when referring to her own appearance. Eventually she settled on cute, cringing as the typed word appeared on the computer screen. She also lied about her weight. The man had requested a size twelve woman, but she definitely wore a fourteen. She couldn’t imagine that any guy would be able to tell the difference by looking at her. Just to be sure, she reluctantly attached a recent photo.

After re-reading her information five times, Janice hit the send button, nearly prompting a mini panic attack. She calmed the jittery nerves by convincing herself that Plussizedluver34 would never be interested.

She shut off her computer and changed into her pajamas, settling down in front of the TV with a bottle of white zinfandel. Two glasses of wine later, her head was spinning. All of her thoughts remained on the man behind the computer ad. She closed her eyes and imagined his face buried in her crotch, his tongue flicking rapidly over her stimulated clit. She reached into her pajama bottoms and rubbed herself in rapid, circular motions. After an intense orgasm, she changed her wet bottoms and headed off to bed, all the while still fantasizing about Plussizedluver34.

Chapter 3

Lori opened her eyes to the blinding light of an overhead bulb. She tried to bring her hand up to shield her face from the brightness, but her arm wouldn’t move. Even in her awakening state of confusion, it didn’t take long for her to realize she had been tightly restrained.

After having spent countless hours in the darkness, sharing her time with rats and a bucket of shit, Lori never imagined the conditions of her captivity could have become any worse. Unfortunately for her, she’d thought wrong. Terror filled the immobilized woman’s heart as her mind emerged from its foggy state. Although the urge to scream presented itself right away, painful memories of hard knuckles against the side of her jaw kept her quiet. Instead, she silently squinted for a while, gradually letting her eyes adjust. Ten minutes later they focused, allowing her to survey the surroundings.

Lori lay upon her back naked, strapped spread-eagle to a huge wooden table top. From what she could see out of the corner of her eye, it looked like a high school wood-shop work bench. Her wrists and ankles had been tied off to the corners of the table with rope, while nylon straps crisscrossed back and forth over the rest of her frame. Except for Lori’s ability to turn her head from side to side, she’d literally been paralyzed by her captor.

After scanning over any visible portions of her dirt stained body, Lori turned her attention to the surrounding area. As suspected all along, from the cold dampness of her makeshift prison cell, she was definitely in a basement. The walls of the large room were constructed from painted gray cinder blocks, and two tiny, ceiling-level windows loomed above, their smoky panes partially covered from the outside by grass and weed growth.

Focused on the windows, hoping to determine the time of day, Lori heard a high-pitched whimper emanate from the floor below. She turned her head to the right, attempting to locate the source of the noise.

Is someone there? she asked, not able to see downward.

Five feet from the edge of table, a head appeared in her line of sight. A dog lover at heart, she knew a Doberman Pinscher right away. A thick choker collar around its neck squeezed the dog tight as it stretched for the table, but a heavy duty chain kept the whimpering canine at bay.

I see he treats you the same way he treats me.

The Doberman let out a series of sharp yelps. Surprisingly, they were not vicious sounding at all, but more playful in nature.

Well, at least I know where all the barking I heard came from. Now if you could just tell me what happened to the other girl who was here, we’d be all set.

The Doberman barked again and then retreated to the floor, slipping out of sight. Worn out by the choker collar, it whimpered a few more times before falling silent.

Lori turned her head in the opposite direction, further examining the room. A long workbench caught her eye. From what she could see, it ran the entire length of an interior wall, an estimated distance of over twenty feet. The wooden work surface appeared at least four inches thick, covered with streaks of brown stain. A nail gun and hand saw lay together on the bench, while other wood working tools hung neatly from a peg board behind. Judging by the type of items seen in the basement, Lori deduced that the bastard who had taken her prisoner could possibly be a carpenter by trade, or perhaps a handyman.

Mounted on the far end of the workbench stood some kind of tool she had never before seen--a large metal contraption with a long hand-crank. A sizeable round funnel opening stuck out on top of the machine, while a small pipe protruded from its base. Lori had no idea what the strange box might be used for, but it didn’t look to her like a wood-working device. She stared at the mystery tool for a few more minutes and then turned her attention elsewhere, trying to absorb as much information as possible while still alone with the light on.

Lori pulled up on her head, straining her neck in order to see beyond her feet. A few yards past her left foot, pushed up against a wall, she spotted a mobile clothes rack, the same kind they use in stores to transport garments. Staring over her erect nipples and beyond her filthy, unkempt pubic hair, she immediately recognized her dress, wrapped in clear plastic, neatly dangling from a fancy hanger. In that moment she longed to have it back upon her bare body. She yearned for life to be normal again.

After fantasizing for a second or two about waking up in her own bed and chalking the entire horrific experience up as just some bad dream, Lori noticed that her dress wasn’t the only one on the rack. At least three others hung there, all having one thing in common. They were all yellow. Four sunshine-colored dresses dangling in a dungeon woodshop, neatly displayed for the rats and one mistreated dog to see. None of it made any sense to her at all.

With one more neck strain, Lori brought her head up again and looked beyond her feet to the far end of the room. What appeared in the shadows of the darkness made her heart skip. Bridged across two old milk crates, a closed casket sat at least a foot off the floor. The outside of the plain wooden box was caked with dirt, and wilted flower arrangements decorated the surrounding area. The sight of the coffin prompted her to scream. Seconds later, as her yelling echoed throughout the dank basement, a balled up fist found the side of her face, sending her back into unconsciousness. The Doberman barked from all of the commotion.

Shut the fuck up, you mangy hound, or you’ll end up like this pathetic cunt, a man’s voice growled.

The dog didn’t make another sound. The man stood over Lori and surveyed the damage his fist had just done to the side of her face.

I told you not to scream, you bitch. He stared at the huge red welt on the side of her head. Now I have to wait for you to wake up again. You really should learn to listen to me.

He walked away from the table and crossed the room, stopping in front of the casket. He bent over and kissed the top of the lid.

One of these days you’re going to have what you always wanted. I love you. Tears found his eyes.

He stood silent for a moment and then exited the room, closing the door behind him and turning the light off in the process. Lori remained unconscious, sharing the dark basement with a silent dog, an army of rats, a mysterious coffin, and a rack of pristine yellow dresses. She was truly at the mercy of a mad man.

Chapter 4

The message on Janice Dunson’s computer screen was short and simple.

You’re exactly what I’m looking for in a woman. I’d love for us to meet sometime.

Janice felt a giddy sense of excitement arise from within her heart. She’d sent her picture out, expecting Plussizedluver34 to dismiss her for being too big, but instead he totally shocked her with his positive reply. Feeling like a little school girl, she typed out an immediate response.

Meeting sounds fun, but I’d like to see a picture of you first if you don’t mind.

She hit send, hoping her request wouldn’t offend the mystery man. Not expecting a quick response, she started surfing web pages, browsing through the Hollywood gossip sites. After reading seemingly endless accounts of drug addicted superstars who’d gone into rehab, or about some supermodel whose sex tape had allegedly been stolen, only to turn up weeks later for sale on an adult website, Janice clicked back over to her email. A quick response from Plussizedluver34 came as an unexpected surprise.

It kills me that I can’t send you a picture. I have a government job, and if my photo were to ever turn up on XXXtreme Discretion I’d find myself unemployed. The best I can do for you is to compare myself with someone famous. I’ve been told by a number of people that I look like Carlos Russo. If you don’t know who he is then you can run a search on him. If you’re still interested after you Google him, then maybe we can set up a meeting someplace. Hope to hear from you soon, and once again, I’m very sorry about having to