Scamming Stewardess Chapter 6

Posted by critmk on January 11, 2002 at 09:29:58:

The Scamming Stewardess
A story by critmk
Chapter 6: Shootout at Asian Couture

Dominic dragged Carrie’s bloody body from the elevator and piled it with those of the PR woman and the two models. He rolled a loaded clothing rack to screen them from the view of anyone who might arrive on the third floor.

He took the stairway back to the second floor. He opened the door cautiously; no one there.

But he could hear faint voices from the ground floor. He moved stealthily back to the top of the Lucite stairway in the mezzanine office area, which overlooked the showroom below.

Petra was in her mid-30s. She was an Englishwoman with long, shapely legs, large breasts held high by a custom-made, Italian push-up bra, and long black hair up in a French roll. Petra wore a trim, black, three-button suit with no blouse beneath the jacket. It left an inch of tight cleavage showing. The short skirt was slit in the back; when she walked, it flashed open to show a bit of the black band at the top of her sheer stayups. A choker of black pearls surrounded her long, graceful neck, which held her head high and gave her an air of effortless dignity. Her 4” patent pumps put her over six feet tall. Petra was a commanding presence.

Her assistant, Marni, was shorter, plumper and younger, but took her cues from Petra in terms of haughty behavior. Marni looked curvy and fleshy in her plain white blouse (with one too many buttons left open) and gray pinstriped mini. Her auburn hair, cut rather in the style of an English schoolboy, parted in the middle, fell to the tops of her ears and covered her temples. Petra tolerated the girl’s unbusinesslike white platform heels, which tipped Marni’s youth – she was barely 21 – and lack of sophistication.

Juli, Petra and Marni bargained in a conversation pit with a sofa and a glass coffee table with upholstered chairs at either end. Yuki, Juli’s computer expert, took little notice of the visitors and continued to work with her laptop at a small writing table 15 feet to the left of the other women. Becky, Juli’s remaining bodyguard, strolled behind the sofa as Petra and her assistant sat down on it. Becky’s presence made Marni feel vulnerable and uncomfortable; she glared at her, then shifted to the chair on the right and unzipped the soft attaché case in her lap.

Dominic was prone at the edge of the mezzanine, maybe 70 feet away from the women and a good 20 feet above them. He had a little cover from a post and the bottom runner of the railing, and more from the dimness of the loft. The only light came from a few desk lamps well behind him.

He could hear enough of the conversation to understand that all parties were on edge. Juli, looking at once sexy and sweet in a black, sleeveless minidress trimmed with black lack at the top and black pumps and twin ponytails was apologizing for the absence of Yoko and Akiko. They were supposed to be confirming final numbers on the deal right now, before Bitsy Suzuki was to arrive with the encryption code discs. Petra was having none of it, and threatened Juli with utter financial ruin if anything went wrong.

Dominic knew that Becky was armed – her .45, like Carrie’s, was on her thigh in plain sight. He was sure that Marni had a gun in her attaché; she behaved more like a nervous bodyguard than like an administrative assistant. He wouldn’t be surprised if Petra and Juli had derringers strapped to their thighs beneath their short skirts. He was outnumbered, but had the advantages of position and surprise. And maybe he could use the women’s raw nerves and armament against them.

He drew his 9mm and removed the silencer. He screwed on the extended barrel and locked on a small scope. His eyes weren’t what they used to be, and this was a fairly long shot. He didn’t want to miss.

It was 10 minutes before 11 p.m. Juli told Becky to find Carrie and the others, and do it fast. Becky started to jog up the Lucite stairway, her tits bouncing in her skimpy leather bustier with each step.

Time for the fun to begin.

As he waited for Becky to get three quarters of the way up; he had a few seconds to decide where to shoot Petra. She sat on the sofa with her legs crossed – my, what legs! She was in animated conversation, pointing a finger at Juli.

He swept the crosshairs over the inside of her left thigh; an inviting target, but he wanted to do more damage with his first shot. He moved up to her throat, just above her black pearls, but he was hoping she’d scream and contribute to the confusion he was banking on. The cleavage was tempting, but that would kill her immediately -- that’s where his third shot would go. He settled on her right breast. He centered the crosshairs on the bulge of flesh just above the black edge of her jacket. He glanced at Becky; she was a dozen steps from the top.

Bang! (Bang! Bang! Bang!)

The report echoed through the cavernous space. It was impossible to tell where it had come from. A hole opened in Petra’s breast and blood spurted onto her jacket. A fine spray of red tinted her throat and upper chest.

Her blue eyes widened. She clutched her tit and sputtered at Juli: “Why!? What have you…” A second shot ripped through her hand and burrowed lower on her right breast, just below the nipple. Petra jerked and arched.

Becky, meanwhile, had drawn her .45 and was looking frantically at the scene below, trying to figure out who had fired. Marni saw this and assumed that Becky was the shooter and pulled a compact little grease gun from her attaché. She stood and let out a terrible scream of anger and started blasting away at Becky.

Marni missed with the first five rounds, which punched neat holes in the Lucite panel on the railing to Becky’s right. But eight of the next 13 hit home, ripping into Becky’s thighs above her high black boots, and into her ass and crotch as the impact spun her and bounced her against the far railing. She tumbled violently all the way to the bottom of the stairs, leaving splashes and streaks of blood in her wake. She ended on her back, with her head on the floor and her heels on the fourth step. Her legs were spread; Becky didn’t believe in panties.

Juli drew the icepick from the narrow sheath on her thigh, put a foot on the coffee table and launched herself at Marni. She knocked Petra’s assistant back into her chair; the machine gun clattered across the hardwood floor. Julie’s right knee was between the girl’s legs and pressed into her crotch, pinning her down. Juli, enraged, stabbed Marni in the tits again and again and again, even after the girl had stopped kicking up her white platform heels with each stab. Even after she was dead and her blouse was shredded and crimson.

Petra was having trouble breathing, and blood was trickling from the right corner of her mouth. But she felt more anger than pain as she watched Juli slay Marni so brutally. She reached under her skirt and drew a little silver-plated, ivory-handled automatic, and shot Juli in the middle of her back.

The bullet went through her, exited her sternum, and hit dead Marni squarely in the center of her forehead. Petra fired again, this time nailing her just inside Juli’s right shoulder blade. The exit made a bloody wound where the right nipple had been on her conical, braless breast. She arched and rotated slowly; her grip loosened on the icepick in Marni’s chest. Juli turned as she fell back toward the coffee table. She came to rest with her back on the floor and her calves and pumps on the table.

Petra rose unsteadily and staggered forward. She snarled at Juli, who could barely move. She watched the young Chinese-American woman bleed for a moment, then shot her in the throat. Juli’s heels hopped up from the glass table when the bullet hit, then bumped back down.

“And one last bullet for you, just where you deserve it, you little bitch!”

Dominic watched Petra take aim at Juli’s clit. He nestled the crosshairs low into Petra’s cleavage. She was bending forward toward Juli and showing more of it than before.

“No, dear, I don’t believe I’ll let you shoot her there,” he muttered. “I might want to use that in a minute.”

A geyser of blood erupted between Petra’s tits as she threw her arms wide and fell back to the sofa. She tried to sit up, but was immediately punched back down by bullets to the base of her left breast and through the top button of her jacket. Petra sagged down the back of the sofa. Her head lolled to the left. Her jacket opened at the top to reveal a black lace bra no less beautiful for the blood and holes. The jacket rode up at the bottom to show some blood-streaked belly. Her feet rolled sideways, her high heels skewed to 45 degrees, and her knees opened. The view was nice: white skin above black stockings, a patch of expensive black lace over moist, open labia. Petra was dead.

All the mayhem had taken less that three minutes. Dominic turned his attention to Yuki.