Part 50
Posted by Barbanne on December 11, 2002 at 22:31:14:
PART FIFTY
THEY DIED WITH THEIR SUITS ON
In the nightmares I am always thirteen years old.
Candice says that why I dream I am in a boxing ring or a martial arts arena, (once I dreamed I was up against sumo wrestlers) is because of my active imagination and my rich fantasy life, the very fantasy life that has led me to work here at Playdead.
Be that as it may I inevitably dream that I am being beaten until finally I am smashed senseless and going down and down into blackness and then I waken in a sweaty lather totally terrified. I fear that if I ever let myself go all the way into the black void that I will never come back. I will die.
Mostly its a boxing ring and my opponent is always huge and dark and unidentified and relentlessly, viciously dominant.
Candice says that I am reliving that awful moment when I was betrayed by those I loved best and my overworked imagination puts it in a fictional setting and I am crushed again and again as I was crushed all those years ago.
She has told me to quit Playdead but I told her that for various reasons that is impossible. For one thing my fantasy life is enormously important to me, but even more so, my relationship with Alex is the foundation of my continuing sanity. What I have agreed to is to quit modelling and even camera work and confine myself to script development and general office stuff for a while.
Alex has helped me through heaps of this and is amazingly supportive. I tell him to get himself a normal, well balanced, sane girlfriend and forget me but he just grins and that melts my heart.
I had written this scenario.
"They Died With Their Suits On," I had called it and to play a part all the girls needed was a smart business suit, the sort of thing you'd wear to the office. They all had at least one and I told them to bring it with them to our marathon shooting session over the coming weekend.
The idea was that a rival firm was annhilating the top female execs of it's competition and this was contracted out to a professional hit woman and she was picking the time and place of each execution. With some clever dressing of the set and a lot of location shots interspersed, the whole thing could be made to look realistic and believable. Roxie was playing the killer and to make it that much more interesting she was done up to take full advantage of her very youthful looks, a baby faced assassin. The victims were going to be played by Sibyl, (looked fantastic in a business suit) Sherilee, (so did she) Nadine, Jas, Jordan, Corinne and Frankie.
Frankie arrived with Roxie and it was obvious to me when I looked up from the desk and smiled, "G'day," that they were fighting again.
"Are you two still fighting?" I said, "God it pains me to say it but if you were men you'd have belted each other and gotten over it, but one thing we women can do is carry something to ridiculous lengths."
"Ah shut up Barbanne," said Frankie and stormed off to the change rooms.
"Jeez," I said to Roxie.
"Ah she's in a snit because that bastard Chas is treating her like shit and she's too stuck up to admit it."
"Struth Roxie, nobody needs that."
"I know, I know. Worst thing is I know he's hitting her around and if I try to help that's what I get. What you just saw."
"Ah sheesh, maybe I could talk to her?"
"Good luck if you do Barb."
"Well, I'll get her part over quick and if she wants to go she can. One thing we can't have is you being upset by all this. You're the secret of the success or otherwise of this set and I want you happy."
"I'll be OK Barb."
"Sure?"
"Yep."
I went and spoke to Frankie. She listened in silence and could hardly hide her anger and her misery but agreed to do her scene first and said she'd go home as soon as it was over. I sort of thought that was the best idea although I didn't say so in so many words.
I watched as Roxie killed Frankie.
Rubbing my hand idly through my page boy bob. My hair was growing back, brown, straight and very short and I looked like a young boy now. (almost flat chested enough to get away with it too) Frankie's suit was nice, a charcoal pin stripe with a short skirt and padded shoulders, very power dressing eighties. She was returning to her office from a business lunch meeting and glowed with the warmth of a couple of chardonnay's. Roxie was dressed in a lemon yellow short shift looking anything but threatening. Young, toothy, she was emphasising her overbite, and carrying a colourful shoulder bag. They rode up in the lift together. The lift stopped at Frankie's floor and the doors opened. She stepped forward. Roxie drew a silenced point two two from her bag and as Frankie left the lift she fired two shots into her back just under the shoulder blade, penetrating and wrecking her heart. Frankie said "oh" and clutched at the air and fell face down. Roxie pushed the button for the ground floor but the doors caught on Frankie's high heels. Roxie leant down and tumbled Frankie's feet out of the lift and the doors closed and she started descending. On Frankie's floor her secretary came out and found the boss lying wide eyed and dead on the lobby tiles. She screamed and they all came running. Alex showed this part by focussing the camera on Frankie's well dressed corpse and having the other girls' stockinged legs and high heeled feet crowding around the inert Frankie.
The first CEO was dead.
With her part wrapped up Frankie went off home still in a snit.
Sibyl in Gucci elegance was sitting in her office going over a billion dollars worth of deals.
In came Roxie, dressed in a woollen twinset posing as an office gofer and carrying a heap of papers.
"What's this? Didn't anyone teach you to knock girl?"
"Sorry boss, Mister (mumbled) said they have to be signed straight away."
"Oh show me." Sibyl was magnificently regal and dismissive.
"Here boss."
"And don't call me boss."
"OK boss," Roxie dumped the papers in front of Sibyl revealing the gun in her hand which had been hidden under the pile.
Sibyl looked down.
Roxie leaned forward and placed the gun a centimetre from Sibyl's temple.
"And didn't anyone teach you not to crowd you useless girl, anyway what department do you come fr..........................."
Sibyl raised her eyes and POP! Roxie drilled her brain.
Sibyl collapsed face forward over the papers, leaking blood.
Roxie fled.
Sibyl slowly slid backward, her chair skidded across the carpet and she slithered gracefully down between chair and desk headed south, her skirt riding up and exposing sexy French knickers and long legs and then thump, she hit the floor and unfolded onto it.
The second CEO was dead.
Nadine was a dynamo exec.
Young, on the ball, head of a fast growing IT empire, she was dressed in a Simona black linen pant suit with chalk white stripes and no collar, sort of like really up market pyjamas for day wear.
Like most of her young employees, Roxie was dressed casually in jeans and a tube top with a denim jacket over it and had a pile of cd's in one hand.
"What's this then? Do I know you by the way, I'm Nadine," she offered her hand.
"Roxie," said Roxie, "from R and D." They shook hands.
"So what do we have here?"
"Something you just have to see Nadine."
"Right," she slipped the first disc into her computer and it fired up.
THE FUTURE OF NAD IT, lit up in blue on the screen. Underneath a little box blinked Continue.
Nadine clicked on the box.
BYE BYE BITCH! appeared.
"Hey what the hell is thi........................"
POP!
Bullet and a good part of Nadine's brain splattered on and broke the screen.
Nadine hung sideways in her chair, eyes crossed and tongue drooling and shattered skull leaking gore. Roxie recovered her disc and went.
Number three was eliminated.
Sherilee had on a three piece pant suit with a lovely ruffled silk shirt and was just finishing up addressing a high powered meeting. In the corridor behind her Roxie dressed as a cleaner mopped the floor.
Sherilee leant down to her assistant (Jas) and said, "I gotta use the bathroom."
She smiled at the clapping crowd and gripped her hands in a victory salute and then stepped down from the dais. She walked out and into the ablutions.
Roxie followed her, mop and bucket in hand.
Sherilee entered a cubicle and fumbled with her skirt.
Roxie slipped into the adjacent cubicle and standing on the pan fired down from above, drilling Sherilee through the top of the head. Sherilee tumbled awkwardly onto the floor in a tangle of female underwear and a spreading pool of piddle. She lay jammed against the porcelain pan with her chin on her chest and blood leaking from her mouth and her dignity ruined.
Four down and three to go.
Jas was a sporting enterpreneur. Her smart suit was more Adidas than Country Road and she was showing a panting Roxie around her flagship Body Factory leisure and workout centre.
They entered the steam rooms and as Jas raced along Roxie said, "What's in here?"
"Oh that's our super deluxe spa and steam complex, hires out at two hundred an hour."
"Sheesh can I see it?"
"Sure, what paper did you say you're with? Will we get a good spread?"
"The Trib and yeah it'll be two pages at least."
"Great." Jas led Roxie into the marbled monster bathroom."
"Oh Jas, can I call you Jas?"
"Sure," Jas turned to face Roxie.
POP!
Jas crashed onto the tiles a neat hole between her eyes. Her lovely large soft breasts unfettered by a bra blooped into a widely splayed spread.
Roxie dragged her into a big glass shower cubicle leaving a red smear of blood behind.
And then there was two.
Jordan, slightly overweight but really nicely dressed in a rather severe suit with a long skirt and beautifully tailored jacket, looking every inch the successful exec drove up to her gargae in her new model car. (a rental actually) She climbed out and walked over to where the girl was cleaning the pool. The girl smiled up at her and then shot her through the mouth.
Roxie dragged Jordan into the gargage and over to where she could dump her in amongst the garden tools and mowers and stuff. Then she drove the car in and parked it where it would best conceal the fast cooling corpse.
Her task was nearing completion.
Corinne was in her office.
A neat and tidy office as befitted a top financial wizard. She wore a plain grey charcoal suit with an orange organza shirt and black stockings and heels. Her hair was done in a tightly scraped and pinned upward style. She wore minimal but classy makeup.
Roxie knocked at the door.
"Come in."
"Good morning Ms Corinne, here are the files on the Citibank merger."
"Thank you dear."
Roxie smiled and turned.
"How long have you been with us dear?"
"Not long at all Ms."
"Come here dear."
Roxie came.
Corinne smiled up at Roxie and ran her hand in under the toothily smiling youngster's very short green mini and brushed her pantied mound.
"You could move up quickly here my dear."
Roxie touched Corinne's face and said, "I'd like that."
"Come over to the couch dear and lock the door as you do."
Roxie did as she was told. Corinne sat beside her and placing both hands at either side of her face drew her forward and kissed her. Roxie's pouty lips met Corinne's and Corinne moaned loudly and her hands worked at Roxie's skirt, unzipping it, slipping it down and then her fingers invaded the front of Roxie's panties, sliding inside and probing for the wet warmth of her hot pulsing slit. Corinne's eyes were rolled back in ecstasy and she was making small grunty noises.
The silenced pistol came up.
POP!
The bullet crunched into Corinne's temple and rattled around inside her brain pan. She slumped back in her chair, guiltily caught with her hand inside her own panties, seeking and finding and stroking her own clit.
Roxie dressed quickly and left the building.
Her job was complete, her killing over, the competition had been wiped away.
"They Died With Their Suits On," was a very well executed set. When I watched the results I knew the girls had done a great job and had died for Playdead quite superbly. Roxie was a fabulous murderer. There would be more sets for her to show her killing skills that was for sure.
I sat in the bath with Alex.
He was behind me soaping my breasts and rubbing my back and he had a marvellous hard on which was probing insistently at the crack of my bum. I turned around and we had a soapy kiss and then I turned and touched his big one and coaxed it to stay aggressive while I mounted it in the confines of the tub. I got on top and I got myself screwed. Water went everywhere, a flood of biblical proportions and after, we had lain together, kissing, my breasts squashed against his chest, surrounded by cooling bath water and declining suds and floating cum. I finally had to climb out and while Alex dried himself I mopped the bathroom before it started leaking onto the floor below.
After that I complained softly to him that as I was holding back from modelling on Candice's advice I was suffering "being dead" deprivation. He was sweet and agreed to find me lying in the kitchen wearing a frilly apron and sneakers and gassed to death and then he stripped off my apron and worked on my chest but I was sadly gone for good and so he carried me, sagging bonelessly limp, into the bedroom and laid me on the bed with my head dangling over the side and then he played with my poor dead body, saying "Poor thing, she's dead," over and over and causing me to become insanely horny until finally he took pity on my corpse and, laying me out along the bed, he shagged me mercilessly. Throughout I wore my sneakers. Being dead and naked but for one thing like my gym shoes really turns me on!
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh............................................"