Posted by critmk on May 13, 2003 at 06:47:53:
To view the PICTURES that go with this novel, open a new window to my briefcase at
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Sisters
a novel by critmk
Chapter 9: The Russians Are Coming
Killing the last two lawyers wasn’t enough for Barbara.
“Let’s get ready for the Russians,” she said, bubbling over with murderous sexual mischief. “We don’t want the bodies discovered just yet, do we?”
We dragged Kell, Kennet and Natsumi into the conference room and out of sight, then cleaned up the offices and ourselves as best we could. In the washroom, Barbara was quite taken with the chic corpse of Angela Loft, the first lawyer I’d killed that morning. As I watched, she licked my cum off the dead woman’s face. [reprise of angelaloft28.jpg goes here]
“We wouldn’t want to leave DNA evidence in plain sight like that, lover,” she purred. “Mmm… that tasted so good, I’d like to try the fresh stuff.”
I’m sure that the greatest blowjob of my life would have ensued, but the door buzzer interrupted.
“Time to kill the Russians, Barb,” I said.
“And their translator. Don’t forget her. She’s good at tongues – maybe she can finish this little job for me.” Barbara zipped me up and filled her hand with my backup 9mm. She straightened her clothing and walked out into the main room. Barb veered off into Kell’s office and I went to the reception desk to buzz in our victims. I was surprised to see four women, not the expected three, on the little TV monitor. I buzzed them in.
A short, brisk, bespectacled woman in a snow-white suit, red blouse and red heels approached me. She was about 35, pleasingly plump and buxom. Her long, wispy red hair was up in a bun.
“I’m Kathy Kipinski, I’ll be translating for the Natovas. This is Nina, and this is Marina. Galina, there, just turned 18 today. Her sisters decided at the last minute to bring her along. They hope you don’t mind.”
No, I didn’t mind.
The elder Natovas had dressed not for business but to show themselves to best advantage. The elegant Nina was maybe 37, with a pleasing maturity of countenance, blue eyes, and thick, long brown hair parted just left of center. Her tanned, athletic legs extended from a snug, white linen sheath with spaghetti straps. The structured bodice pressed her braless 35D tits together to form 3 inches of cleavage.
Marina, 28, also wore a tight white mini dress. She was wilder looking than her older sister. Her hair was darker. Her tits were bigger and more jutting. Her brows were heavier, her eyes were a deeper blue. Her thick hair tumbled down her back. She was deeply tanned. Nina wore dressy high heels; Sonia stood on sandalwood mules.
Galina, the youngest Natova, was also the sluttiest. Her white wrap skirt barely covered her crotch. She wore no hose. The lower curves of her floppy, widely separated 34C’s hung beneath her cropped T, through which her nipples and areole were plainly visible. Her dishwater blond hair had barely been combed. Sleepy eyes suggested that she rarely saw morning light. She clattered across the floor in wooden Dr. Scholl’s sandals. She made a show of being bored.
I nodded and smiled at each sister in turn. They nodded and smiled back. My dick crawled up my boxers at a pleasant thought: In a few minutes, all of these women will be dead.
I ushered them into the late Mary Kell’s office and made introductions. Barbara, posing as the dead lawyer, spoke to the translator: “Make sure they understand that this job is very lucrative, but requires that they extend sexual favors to older men they might not find attractive.”
Kipinski dutifully translated; the trio of sisters responded in a dismissive way that needed no translation. “No problem” was “no problem” in any language.
I stood in the doorway, staring brazenly at the youngest one’s barely concealed tits. It didn’t embarrass her at all, but Kipinski scowled at me. “Must he be here?”
“Oh, certainly,” Barbara replied. “He’s our expert on sex appeal. We won’t bring your clients into the program unless he gets a hard-on looking at them.”
This flummoxed Kipinski. She tried to speak, but could only sputter: “Well, that’s outrageous, I mean…”
Barb interrupted: “So, Jack, how’s it hanging? Will they make the cut?” I shrugged and shook my head. She continued: “Tell baby sister to take her top off, and see if that does anything for Jack.” When the fuming Kipinski hesitated, Barb mimed shirt removal to the sullen girl, who nonchalantly pulled off her Tee.
“Nothing yet, Miss Kell,” I said, to Barbara.
The girl and her sisters seemed to have no problem with our procedures. Nina got the idea and perched on the arm of the sofa to show her legs off. Marina stuck out her ample tits and pulled her dress down a little more. But Kipinski was becoming indignant; she gathered up her clipboard and headed for the door. I closed it in front of her.
“Wait, now, Ms Kipinski. Don’t you want to see if I get an erection and open the door to wealth for these poor Russian sluts?” I zipped down and showed her my dick. She began to hyperventilate; the Russians giggled.
“You know what would do it,” Barb said, thoughtfully, “is a little violence.” The giggling stopped abruptly when she drew the silenced 9mm from the desk drawer.
“Which one?”
“Do the kid first.”[galina.jpg goes here]
Barbara shot Galina in the right tit, just above the nipple, and through the ribs just below her right breast. The girl grabbed a wound in each hand; blood trickled between her fingers as she sunk to her knees.
I slashed Kipinski’s throat deeply with the switchblade, the same knife Barb had used on Kell’s throat. [kipinskitralator.jpg goes here.]
A sheet of blood coursed down her chest and dyed her white jacket red over her tits. She dropped her clipboard and fell back into the corner, scratching at the door with her left hand and trying to stay on her feet. Kipinski made little gurgling sounds as her eyes rolled up in their sockets behind fluttering lids.
Barb shot Nina once in the center of the belly. The eldest sister, still perched on the arm of the sofa, grunted, bent forward and pressed the inside of her forearm against the wound.[nina.jpg goes here.]
Both of us turned our guns on Marina. She changed directions abruptly and comically as a tin duck in a shooting gallery as Barb and I took turns pumping her tits, belly and thighs. A dozen red eruptions pocked her bronzed flesh and white dress. After three shots, Marina was dead on her feet. Only the force of the bullets kept her upright. She dropped like a sack of potatoes when we ran out of ammo.[marina.jpgs A&B go here.]
Wild blood lust was written all over Barbara’s face. She took my switchblade from my hand and approached the badly wounded Galina, who had just enough life in her to be scared to death by Barbara’s approach. A feeble swing of her left hand did nothing to stop Barbara from stabbing her in the left breast four times. She left the knife embedded in the brown areola an inch above the dead girl’s left nipple.
She turned her attention to Kipinski, and was frustrated to find the translator seated on the floor in the corner, death-staring vacantly over her glasses.
Nina had fallen into a fetal position on the floor. Barbara, taking charge, told me to expose Nina by lifting her onto the sofa with her hips on the arm of it and her legs splayed out over the floor. Of course I obeyed.
Nina writhed and whimpered as I cut out the crotch of her pantyhose (there was nothing underneath) and spread her lips. I decided to give her a last thrill by gently licking and sucking her labia; she resisted for a moment, then gave in. A minute later, her juices were flowing. She adjusted her hips to cooperate as I pushed the head of my throbbing dick into her.
She never noticed Barbara at the opposite end of the sofa, standing over her and masturbating with the silencer of the 9mm. (Talk about unsafe sex!)
Barbara struck, cruelly, when Nina was just a moment away from orgasm. Nina screamed when Barbara plunged her ornate, exquisitely feminine Indian dagger between her breasts. She bucked wildly for 15 seconds, with blood flowing upward through her cleavage and toward her throat, as her tits rolled pendulously beneath her sheath dress. The bejeweled hilt of the dagger in her chest danced in cadence with Nina’s every move, like a perfect ballroom partner.
Barbara drove herself to orgasm by ramming the gun barrel into her own pussy as hard as I rammed my dick into the dying Nina.
Moments later, Barbara and I sat on the floor, completely spent and breathing hard. Nina lay sprawled on the sofa, completely spent and not breathing at all.
“Where’d you get that sissy knife?”
She laughed a low laugh and answered: “I thought you’d like it. It’s from the museum shop at the Art Institute of Chicago.”
Barb crawled sensuously toward me and sucked the last drop of come from my dick. Then she put her face between Nina’s still-spread legs, breathed in the musky perfumes of sex and death, and sucked my cum from her pussy.
“Mmmm,” she said, dreamily. “I love sucking up that DNA evidence.”
“Good point, partner. In that case, I’d like you to meet a dead girl named Marian. She’s in the conference room.”
“I’m still hungry, Jack – let me at her.”