“Carrie!” Juli snapped at one of her two leather-clad bodyguards.Posted by critmk on January 11, 2002 at 09:20:17:
The Scamming Stewardess
A Story by critmk
Part 5: Fighting Carrie
Dominic gripped the handle of the stainless steel dagger embedded in Molly’s tit and pulled. The suction around the blade caused the dead woman’s upper torso to rise and turn a little; Yoko’s panties fell off Molly’s face. He gave the blade a twist to break the vacuum. The motion released a fresh surge of blood, and Molly sagged back to the floor as the blade slid out of her breast.
As he wiped it on Yoko’s discarded dress, his digital phone vibrated against his chest. It had to be Leona, the only one who knew the number.
“Don’t talk,” he said, tersely, “unless you’re using the encrypted phone I gave you.”
“I am,” Leona said.
“I’m busy. You shouldn’t have called.” Dominic checked his watch; Juli and her entourage were due in 12 minutes.
“I know, but something’s come up. Bettina confronted me this evening. She followed me to the hotel and…”
“Tall girl, graceful, with long, thick brown hair, maybe 22?”
“Yes…how did you…?”
“Never mind, Leona. Go on.”
“She knows that something strange is going on. Betty wants in. She might have told the rest of the stews about it. She’s been nagging me all day. I’m sure she’ll be at it again when she gets back to the room.”
“Where are you?”
“We’re still in Chicago, but we’re leaving for New York in the morning, with a plane full of partying executives.”
“Stall. Laugh it off. Do nothing until I get there. I’ll see you in New York – the Parker Meridien, right?”
“Dominic, this can’t wait! She saw that Japanese girl yanked into the hotel room!”
“Don’t panic. Don’t let her see you sweat. Just tell her that you have a boyfriend into some weird, harmless sex things. You won’t be lying about half of that. I have to go. Six women are going to show up here in nine minutes, and I have to be ready to kill them.”
That news oiled Leona’s dry, edgy tone.
“Mmmm… sounds fun. Have you killed any already? Were they cute?”
“Beautiful,” he said, gazing at Yoko and Molly’s corpses. “All six of them, each in her own way. But I don’t have time now. I’ll tell you all about it while we’re making love tomorrow. I will make time to say that I came inside two of them – one in the mouth, one in the pussy.”
Her low moan through the phone caused a rush of excitement in his loins. He suddenly couldn’t wait for the next batch to arrive.
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The phone rang on Yoko’s desk. Juli had arrived. Surely, Yoko was supposed to be in on the meeting, and she was calling her down to the first floor to meet their buyer, the mysterious Petra – yet another loose end.
He let it ring. Dominic had already stowed his last three victims – Molly, Yoko and Akiko – in the shower stall of Yoko’s private bathroom. He had found the dead women especially attractive piled and entangled in the shower and had been tempted to spray them all with cum, but there wasn’t time.
He figured that Juli or one of her thugs would come up to check when there was no answer. That’s when the fresh round of killing would begin.
Most of the women at Asian Couture were Japanese. Juli, the boss, was Chinese-American. She was petite, lovely and 25. She looked as innocent as the morning dew. When she had to turn on the charm, be it little-girl sweetness or sex appeal, she could.
Sweet as she seemed, Juli was in fact as ruthless as Dominic. She had come to sole ownership of this business by murdering her partner and her partner’s daughter with an ice pick. She made it look like a sex crime, and did it so convincingly that she was never a suspect, though she stood to gain by the murders.
She had quickly turned the fashion import-export house into a front for enormously profitable criminal activities. With the encryption disc caper, she was taking the biggest risk of her life. She was also on the verge of the biggest score of her life. Juli was exhilarated, and not about to tolerate any fuckups.
“Carrie!” Juli snapped at one of her two leather-clad bodyguards.
“Ma’am?”
“Go upstairs and see what the hell’s going on with Yoko and Akiko. And make sure those two models and that nitwit PR woman are out of the building. Becky, stay here. I wouldn’t put it past Petra to try to bring along some muscle and steal the discs from us without transferring the funds. And if anything is wrong with those discs or if they’re fakes, I want you to kill Bitsy Suzuki on the spot, in front of Petra. If something goes wrong, I want her to see that it wasn’t our fault, we held up our end.”
Juli fell silent for a moment as she watched Carrie climb the clear, Lucite stairway. The bodyguard looked formidable in her thigh-high lace-up high heel boots, leather hotpants and matching bustier. A .45 was strapped to her naked thigh.
“It hurts, Juli,” Becky said softly. “You like her better than you like me.”
“Shut up, Becky. Keep your mind on your work. You remember – your job? Protecting me? Killing people when I tell you to? Get your head in the game.”
Juli’s computer expert, yet another Japanese girl, Yuki, ignored all of this. This delicate, modest beauty of 24 was engrossed in her work, getting everything just right to check the authenticity and functionality of the supposed miracle encryption code they were set to receive tonight. Yuki hadn’t dared say anything, but she privately doubted that anything so revolutionary existed. Yuki looked sweet and sensible. She wore no makeup and needed none; the simplicity of her white-on-black, button-front floral print shift, bare legs and plain black mules suited her.
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Dominic, from the dimness surrounding the office area, watched the leathered bodyguard make her way to Yoko’s office, the only one with a light on.
The torchiere he’d left on in the corner didn’t show up the blood on the floor and desk, but it did stop Carrie from feeling the need to turn on a brighter light. Carrie walked back to the top of the stairway and shouted to Juli:
“They’re not up here, boss. What should I do?”
Carrie, grumbling, headed for the elevator. When the door slid open, a strong hand clutched the leather between her firm, substantial tits and yanked her into the car, so hard that she banged her head on the back wall. She was momentarily stunned.
Dominic turned to the control panel and stopped the elevator between floors, then spun and launched a kick in the direction of the leather-clad woman’s chin. He figured on knocking her senseless and quickly slitting her throat with a switchblade to finish her.
Not this time.
Carrie deflected the kick with her forearm and hooked her instep around the ankle of Dominic’s supporting leg. He went down hard and dropped his knife. Carrie sprung to her feet and let fly a flurry of kicks and blows. He parried most but not all of them; a shot to the side of the head made his ears ring.
Dominic was on the defensive for the first time in years, but he never lost his cool, killer’s detachment. He took or blocked the blows, ignored the pain and waited for an opening. Sooner or later, she’d go for her gun, and that’s when he’d nail her.
Carrie got her right hand around her automatic, but never got it out of the holster. Dominic, in a flash, had clamped his left bicep over her wrist and wrapped his arm completely around her taut thigh.
As she tugged futilely to free her right arm and her gun, he landed a brick-hard fist below her left breast.
He felt a couple of ribs break beneath his knuckles and hastened to press his advantage, With his left arm still clamped around Carrie’s leg, he swung back a little and landed three heavy blows to her gut, just above the navel. He could feel the fight going out of her. Blood was dribbling out of her mouth, over the center of her lower lip. Her eyes were glassy. She lost her grip on her gun.
Dominic stood and drew the heavy .45 from Carrie’s holster. He gripped her right breast in his left hand and pushed her against the wall of the elevator, then pressed the big .45 into the center of her left breast.
The blast deafened Dominic for a moment and Carrie forever. Her limbs jerked wildly – she was like a marionette whose puppeteer had sneezed. She went limp.
The hot slug not only ripped a big hole clear through her body; it also burned the black leather over her nipple. When Dominic pulled the barrel away from her tit, a curl of smoke rose into the air of the elevator, which was none too fragrant after the life-and-death struggle and the cordite discharged by the gunshot. A second later, a surge of bright heartblood ran from the burned-black hole and streamed over her bustier. He moved the barrel to her right breast and fired again. When he released, Carrie dead-weight dropped to the floor of the elevator.
Dominic flopped down opposite his latest victim, to catch his breath. “Sometimes I think I might be getting to old for this line of work,” he muttered. Then he gazed into her dead, pretty blue eyes.
“What a babe,” he thought. “If I only had more time…” He stood, stretched his bruised, aching body, reactivated the elevator and pressed 2.