Seven Shades of Crime

Seven Shades

of Crime

Salacious stories of criminals marred by sexual indiscretion...

Attorney David Sheehan

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imaginatinon or are used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2018 David Sheehan

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopy, recording, scanning and methods not invented or in common use at the time of this publication, without the prior written permission of

the author.

ISBN: 978-1-7324409-1-3

CONTENTS

He is not a Bastard

Mrs. Robinson

No, no, no

The Innocent Prostitute

Artificial Legal Intelligence

Beauty Comes at a Price

The Little Girl Inside

He is not a Bastard

Andrea Carter and Russel Steward were taller than most people. Russel was a 30-year-old accountant who stood at an impressive 6 feet 7 inches. Andrea, a successful 27-year-old pharmacist, was only slightly shorter at 6 feet 4 inches. They met at a mutual friend’s Fourth of July party—a crowded, sweaty, upscale bash at a beachfront house in San Clemente. Andrea spotted Russel in the shower of fireworks that exploded over the water. As the sky lit up and red, green, and blue embers rained down upon the waves, she could see only him, towering over the rest of the guests. His body was lean, with ropey muscles, and three-day stubble dusted his chin. His unbuttoned shirt revealed a richly tanned chest.

During the fireworks’ climax, Russel turned and caught Andrea staring. Something intrigued him about her face. He admired its soft, freckled paleness, and her body only complimented her inviting face. Her figure fit the stereotype described in love poems and rap songs—a slender hourglass waist, seductive curves gracing every angle of her frame, and unending, smooth legs drove Russel wild. His accountant’s brain calculated her measurements in his reverie.

A few days after the party, they met for drinks at The Matador, the kind of sports bar with more top-of-the-line televisions than dining options. When Russel sauntered in, he whacked his head on the doorframe, causing a nick above his left eyebrow. Andrea, who was sitting at the bar watching him over the top of her margarita, could not stifle her laughter.

Quite a fine beginning to a relationship, huh? she asked.

Oh, you know it, Russel smiled, placing his hand on her knee. She wore a short, form-fitting skirt that accentuated her thick, toned legs.

Within a few minutes, they both felt the electric chemistry between them. This chemistry continued to strengthen over the course of several dates. They laughed and drank and embraced one another’s company. Conversation was effortless; they spoke into the strange hours of the night, never finding conversation difficult. When they were apart, each waited eagerly for the next time they would see each other, their bodies just as hungry as their minds, craving the electric spark generated when they were together. The more they talked, the more they realized how much they had in common—their love for Vietnamese coffee, their dreams of one day travelling to Rome, and their shared desire to raise a child who would not only be intelligent and kind, but who would one day become a successful basketball player. Both Andrea and Russel were content with their lives, but some part of them regretted not taking advantage of their biological good fortune. They felt as if they had missed out on some higher calling.

With the potential to seize a unique opportunity, Andrea and Russel vowed to wield their collective energy to ensure their dream would come true. This child would play professional basketball, earn a substantial salary, and achieve more than they ever had. Once their decision was made, the goal of walking arm and arm through the beautiful streets of Rome shifted to that of conceiving a baby boy who would become a basketball star.

The couple began to investigate the most successful methods for conceiving an athletically gifted son. They consulted with highly-regarded fertility specialists who explained that in matters such as this, there is simply no guarantee.

Although the specialists considered talent to be a mix of pure luck and genetics, Andrea and Russel discovered a Chinese practice in which parents would abort female fetuses. Although they never discussed the morality of abortion, they were both convinced that aborting a baby girl was out of the question. They remained faithful and determined in hopes that their child would be the son of their dreams.

Aside from the gender concern, there were innumerable challenges confronting the couple, the primary one being how to ensure the child was a basketball prodigy. They contemplated many avenues to achieve this goal. They agreed that their son would of course attend basketball camps every summer. They would hire a private coach to run his drills in the off seasons. They’d erect a hoop in their driveway, on the side of the garage, so he could practice to his heart’s content. In the mornings, they would focus on conditioning, like jumping jacks and long runs, and at night, they would show him clips from legendary NBA games. Their approach would be methodical, and they were confident that it would work.

Late one evening, Russel was having a difficult time falling asleep. He decided to re-watch a classic NBA championship game, and a thought suddenly hit him. He shook Andrea awake.

I know how to create the perfect basketball prodigy, he said eagerly.

How? Andrea murmured as she wiped sleep from her eyes.

You need to get pregnant by a black NBA basketball player.

Andrea frowned and stared at Russel blankly.

What are you talking about? I thought the whole point of this was that we have the genes to make a basketball star. What does a black NBA star have to do with that?

Almost 75 percent of NBA players are black. Having a black son who has half of his genes from a superstar would increase our chances of producing our own prodigy exponentially.

Andrea half smiled as she realized that Russel was doing what he always does—using numbers and statistics to explain the world.

She sighed. I just want the two of us to have a child together. We shouldn’t have to share him with anyone else.

Baby, we wouldn’t have to share him with anyone. A sperm donor is a sperm donor. He would be ours and he would be everything we could ever imagine.

At first, Andrea thought Russel’s plan was ridiculous. But, after pleading his case for days, he finally convinced Andrea that having a black child by an NBA player was a solid plan. The challenge was to find and persuade an NBA star to donate his sperm and quietly disappear from their lives.

They knew that finding an already established basketball star in the NBA to father their child was unlikely because of the legal advisors at their disposal and potential scandal from this type of situation. After weeks of considering their options, they decided to observe college basketball players who would have desirable physical attributes but little public exposure. They needed someone who would have no interest in being in the child’s life and would not interfere with their new life together as a family.

***

Russel and Andrea had dated for three years before deciding to move in together, and they bought a lovely home in a suburban neighborhood. They agonized over every detail, wanting everything to be perfect for the child they were finally ready to have. A year later, they had a small courthouse wedding with just their closest family in attendance. They were excited to start their lives together and immediately began to plan their family.

When college basketball season arrived the first year they owned the house, they began to spend most of their days together, curled up on the couch, watching every game for potential donors. The process of suggesting and eliminating countless candidates could have caused problems in their relationship, but instead it brought them closer together. From the comfort of their living room, they watched the players practice layups and no-look passes with hope. Whenever they thought they may have found the perfect player for the job, they found flaws. Often the players were too athletic and seemed destined for fame, aware that fortune awaited them. These players had too much on the line, too many reasons to say no to their proposition. Other times, the player wasn’t athletic enough and couldn’t possibly father the prodigy they desired. In those early months, they cheered on and applauded those prospective donors who appeared to be the perfect fit as they dribbled into their lives and abandoned them out of frustration when they soon discovered their flaws.

One day, Russel came home from work to announce that he had found the perfect player—a young man named Michael Gordon who played for a medium-sized college in South Carolina. Michael was a handsome kid with strong ball handling skills and a decent free-throw percentage who could sink it from outside of the paint about 57% of the time. He was nearing seven feet tall but was lucky if he even played ten minutes per game. He was a sophomore now and, although he wasn’t attracting much attention, Russel felt he showed potential to play in the NBA after he finished college.

Without a doubt, Russel claimed, Michael Gordon is the one.

Andrea and Russel bought tickets to attend one of Michael’s games and flew out to South Carolina the following weekend. They purchased expensive courtside seats and felt it was a bargain considering what they were hoping to accomplish. They wanted to scrutinize Michael and truly understand the potential significance of his impressive height and athletic abilities.

They arrived at the game early. Andrea was ecstatic. After several years of talking about having a future NBA superstar, they were finally ready to realize their dream. The crowd cheered as the announcer introduced each player. When he announced Michael Gordon, there was not much noise form the crowd. Andrea and Russel cheered the loudest. The couple sitting next to them was puzzled about their enthusiasm for Michael Gordon. Michael dashed onto the court, waving, smiling, and stretching. In real life, he was even taller than they’d thought.

Michael sat on the bench at the beginning of the game. By the fourth quarter, he had played a total of eleven minutes. He was not the star of the team, but he was fit and built like a machine. His speed and agility were impressive, but he did not make any noticeable contributions to the game. Michael’s team lost, and he hung his head as he walked off the court. His tall body seemed slightly bent and his steps were slow.

While the players shook hands on the court, Andrea and Russel approached the team’s seats. Russel struck up a conversation with the team’s manager to learn how the recruiting process worked. As soon as Michael finished his last handshake, Andrea rushed to his side without missing a beat. Her high heels clicked on the hardwood floor, each step a call to her sensuality and sexual confidence. Her approach was smooth and natural, as if she had been anticipating this moment, replaying what she was going to say in her head over and over again.

Hey. I saw the game out there. Her voice was soft and feminine, yet it held a hint of raspy breathlessness that accentuated the way she moved. You’ve got something good going for you. I’m Andrea. I’m a journalist working on a story about the life of college basketball players.

She extended her manicured hand, and Michael’s massive hands seemed to swallow her own as he returned the pleasantry. Andrea tried not to blush as she struggled to maintain professionalism. Her eyes were aching to wander over the chiseled features of his sweaty body. She had thought he was attractive when she and her husband watched him on television, but to see him in person was more than she had hoped for. She gently bit the corner of her lower lip and felt the blood coursing through her body. Her mind leapt to the dark purple lace and silk lingerie she had chosen for this evening. She felt sexy, and she was certain Michael could sense her confidence.

"Would