They lived in suburban Dallas. The blondes, Joanne and Phyllis, had been Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders; the brunette, Linda, was a divorce lawyer. Her blonde friends had been among her most lucrative clients.Posted by critmk on January 16, 2002 at 08:01:38:
The Scamming Stewardess
A Story by critmk
Part 10: Body Double
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The darkness and coolness of the lobby of the Bangkok American Hotel soothed Leona after the afternoon heat and tumult of the street. It had taken her an hour to lose Sandi, the tall, athletic stewardess who was trying to keep tabs on her.
Leona’s heart leapt as she spotted Dominic, his briefcase at his feet, at a corner table in the large, dim lounge. She fought the urge to throw her arms around him and instead sat down a few tables away. He had instructed her, hours before by phone, to make it look as if they met by chance.
They took their time, flirting obliquely as people do in bars; both enjoyed the charade. She crossed and uncrossed her bare, tanned legs under her simple pink shift, a summer cotton nothing with spaghetti straps. He at last offered to buy her a drink, and she invited him to her table. They spoke quietly, confidentially.
“Are you staying here? Isn’t this place a little touristy for you?”
The bar was beginning to fill, mostly with Americans: businessmen, enjoying the smiles of pretty Thai hookers working the room, and a fair number of tourists, ranging from backpacking collegiate types to a table of seniors on a guided tour.
Dominic had checked into the Imperial, a small, exclusive hotel near the central market. It was known in certain circles for privacy and discretion. Leona knew the place; she had used it for blackmail operations a few times in the past. She, and the seven other Lissair stews, were at the new International, a blandly comfortable, gleaming behemoth near the airport.
“So what are we doing here, Dominic?”
“We’re hunting,” he said. “We’re looking for an American woman, about 5’7”, 130, mid-40s, brown eyes. Someone like you.”
Leona was puzzled for a moment, then felt icy horror and hot excitement mingle in her veins. Dominic was looking for someone to take her place.
“As far as the world knows, I don’t exist. But you do. We need someone to die in your place, with your ID. She’ll be killed along with all the other stewardesses. The local cops will assume that you’re dead. Then you can become anyone you want; you can disappear. With me.”
The enormity of what he was saying dizzied Leona. Part of her hated the idea of killing Bettina, Barbanne and the rest – her friends and colleagues. But they were bringing it on themselves, with their intrusive greed. Now, Dominic was proposing to kill someone who had nothing to do with this. But his purpose was to allow her to live freely and safely – and with him!
Dominic would not have hatched this plan unless he intended to let her live. Until this moment, she had suspected that he was using her and would eventually kill her. The background doubt and fear that plagued her from the beginning drained out of her. She was moved to the marrow.
It took her a long moment to settle her agitation enough to speak.
“Does this mean… does this…”
Dominic placed his steady, heavy hand over her trembling, delicate one.
“This means that I love you. I won’t kill you. I came to understand that the other night. There was a turning point, it had something to do with hearing your voice on the phone and killing one of those women at Asian Couture. I liked her; I even thought about killing you and taking her on as my partner. I’ve done that sort of thing before, more than once. But she’s dead and I’m here with you. Something changed in me when I killed her.”
Leona leaned forward and placed her full lips and wide mouth on him in a deeply sensuous kiss. She moved her lips to his ear and whispered: “Tell me how you killed her, tell me every detail.”
Now Dominic was whispering into Leona’s ear. He told her about Asian Couture, about killing the models and the PR woman and Molly, about the fight with Carrie, about stabbing and fucking Yoko and snapping her neck, about tricking the women into killing one another in a gunfight, about blowing away Petra, about making love to her body and to Juli’s, and finally about stabbing Yuki to death as he came in her mouth.
Leona was working her thighs together and stroking herself under the table and tightly embracing Dominic. As Yuki died in Dominic’s story, she came to a quivering orgasm that was all the more intense for being restrained.
She opened her eyes to see, over his shoulder, three American women sit down two tables away. Leona smiled tremulously, then started to giggle. She had never felt so free, and she was giddy with the feeling.
“My body double has arrived, Mr. Director,” she said. “Right on cue.”
They sat and listened to the women talk for a while. They were old college classmates who’d kept in touch; they looked to be mid-40s to 50. After their third gin and tonics, they were getting a little raucous and loose, carrying on about their pact to marry well and divorce even better, and how their plan had come to pass.
Leona and Dominic focused on the brunette between the two blondes. Her age was right, her height was right, and so were her cheekbones. Her lips weren’t as full as Leona’s and her mouth was narrower. Her hair was little shorter, but almost the same color. Leona was a 34B, and this woman was an ample 34C.
“I could wear her clothes, for sure,” Leona whispered to Dominic.
“And you will, my dear – on the way out of here this evening,” he replied.
“Tomorrow night, we won’t be alone,” one of the blondes intoned loudly, as a toast.
“Who will we sleep with tomorrow night?” the second blonde chimed in. It was part of an oft-repeated ritual.
“Thai boy sex toys,” the brunette shouted, triumphantly, to the glaring disapproval of the Thai staff in the bar. The three women clanked glasses loudly and took long draws on their drinks. They repeated their catch phrase – “Thai boy sex toys” – faster and faster, until it became a tongue-twister. They found this hilarious, and the phrase dissolved into paroxysms of laughter.
“I’m going to enjoy killing those women,” Leona whispered to Dominic. “What bitches!”
Dominic smiled – that’s my girl, he thought. He took her hand and drew her close again.
“It’s just 4 o’clock,” he said. “The hotel salon is open. I love your wedge cut, but you need to look a little more like your body double. Here’s $200; bribe your way to the top of the appointment book. We’ll kill the two blondes here, but keep the brunette alive and take her with us.”
“But how will we -- ?”
“Don’t worry; I have it all figured out. You have your .25 caliber with you, and the silencer? And take this, so you don’t have to knock to get in their room.” He gave her a key card that could unlock most of the world’s hotel rooms.
She nodded, then smiled. Her shoulders relaxed. “You always have everything figured out.”
Leona took one last, close look at her “double’s” short hair, and decided to have hers dyed a little darker, to match. She kissed Dominic and headed off to find the salon. The three women took a keen interest in her exit. Those bitches will be all over him as soon as I’m out of the room, she thought.
She was right. They sent a drink to Dominic’s table and invited him to theirs.
They lived in suburban Dallas. The blondes, Joanne and Phyllis, had been Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders; the brunette, Linda, was a divorce lawyer. Her blonde friends had been among her most lucrative clients.
Joanne nattered on about her breast implants and how young and attractive they made her feel. (Dominic figured she’d had a facelift, as well.) Her enormous tits were unrestrained by a bra beneath a thin, black, rayon floral print dress She was sitting to Dominic’s right, and took every opportunity to brush her nipples against his arm. She showed a lot of cleavage and a lot of tanned, meaty leg. She’d left several buttons undone at the top and bottom of her dress.
Except for the brassy blonde hair, every inch of Phyllis, seated to his left, was natural. She looked her 50 years, but wore them gracefully, even though she was dressed like a teen slut. The prominent nipples on her 34B’s poked provocatively through her tight white tube top. Her long, slender legs, shown almost in their entirety by denim shorts, ended in pretty feet flattered by strappy brown wedge sandals. She had put her hand on Dominic’s left knee the moment he sat down and was inching toward his crotch.
Linda looked intelligent and outdoorsy, even in a lacy white dress over a structured white body briefer and high silver mules. Dominic liked her white-gold hoop earrings. She pressed her knees against his.
Dominic loved this part: Sitting with them, chatting, flirting, knowing full well that he and Leona would murder two of them within hours and the third tomorrow. It was delicious to turn over visions of their deaths, to ponder whether to stab, shoot or strangle them. Would he kill them, or would he leave it to Leona? Or would they do it together? Would he kill them and then fuck them, or vice versa? Or would he simply kill them and make love to Leona?
It wasn’t a matter of planning, because the actual doing was always an improvisation. It was a matter of possibility, pleasure and reverie.
A pointed cross-examination from Linda brought him out of it: “So – where did your girlfriend go? Or is she the wifey-poo?”
She was trying to provoke. He didn’t like this woman. He stayed calm within and jovial without. He had a serious erection, which Phyllis was nudging with the back of her hand.
“Leona had a hair appointment – she mentioned that she liked your style, by the way. And I just met her here this afternoon. Seems to be my lucky day, or my lucky bar. I should come here more often.”
“How’s about y’all just cuuuumm on up to our room,” Joanne drawled, in her most exaggerated Texas dialect. She imagined it was seductive, and some men found it so. Her friends found it hilarious, and started laughing their half-drunk heads off once again.
“Now there’s a woman with a plan,” Dominic said. “Why don’t you girls go on up to your room. I’ll just sit here for a minute and wait for this hard-on to calm down so I can walk.”
This set them to giggling – and in Joanne’s case, to jiggling – all over again. They rose unsteadily and started to totter off, when Linda turned and said, too loudly: “We’re Suite 1019.”
“I’ll bring up some champagne.”
The bartender looked at Dominic and smiled as he handed over two magnums of bubbly. “Days like this don’t come along too often, even here in Thailand.”
“Oh, I have days like this every now and then,” Dominic said. “Life is short, you gotta play hard.”
He passed the salon on the way to the elevator. The pretty Thai attendant was drying Leona’s suddenly shorter, darker hair. He winked at the hairdresser and took the towel from her. He massaged Leona’s head through the towel with his strong, broad hands.
“Mmmmm, that feels good,” she said, but gave a little start as she opened her eyes. She laughed. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice sneaking up on people.” He leaned down to kiss her and whispered: “Suite 1019.” He flipped the towel back to the attendant, gathered up his briefcase and champagne, blew a kiss to his lover and strode to the elevator.
Up in 1019, the women got ready to party. Phyllis stripped naked. Joanne removed her black g-string and unbuttoned her dress more at the top. She spilled out her tits and practiced handling them provocatively, to the great amusement of her friends. Linda removed her lace dress – she didn’t want any cum getting on it – but left on her heels and body shaper.
“OK, who gets him first? I vote me,” Joanne said, with a finality that struck her friends as hilariously absurd. There was a knock on the door. They tried to calm down, but Linda was still stifling the titters when she opened the door, first a crack and then wide.
“Three horny sluts, no waiting,” she said, joining the others in laughing hard at her own joke.
“Well, where to begin?” he said, amiably. Where to begin, indeed.
“Me first, me first,” Joanne said, in a singsong voice through pouty lips. She massaged her massive breasts, batted her eyes and rolled her hips.
Phyllis tossed a sofa pillow at her. “My god, Joanne, you’re like a cartoon character – Jessica Rabbit in heat.”
“Well, we could do rock-scissors-paper to see who gets him first,” Linda said. “How about you, big guy – any suggestions?”
Dominic thought for a moment. “Why don’t you girls come on over and work together to undress me, and let’s just see what happens after that?”
They liked that idea, and before Dominic knew it, six hands and the occasional mouth were working him over, head to toe. Shoes were untied and slid off, jacket and tie were gone, shirt was unbuttoned with kisses on his chest and belly to mark the trail.
Aggressive Joanne pulled down his briefs and pressed his hard dick into her enveloping cleavage. He fell back to sit at the end of the sofa and tit-fucked her as she knelt before him. Linda bent over Joanne and sucked and licked the head of his dick each time it popped up between Joanne’s lush breasts. Phyllis lay back on the sofa, her head away and her pussy near to Dominic. He put two fingers of his left hand up her vagina as she worked her clit.
He pushed Joanne back and let Linda really go down on him, which she did with gusto. Joanne gave a frustrated little hmph! She rose and perched cross-legged and arms folded on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She was pouting.
Dominic withdrew from Linda’s mouth. He turned and slid into Phyllis, who continued to finger her clit while he fucked her. She started moaning immediately and had a bucking orgasm a few moments later.
Joanne was petulant: “No fair! I have better tits and look younger, I should have been first.”
Linda was sitting on the floor, with the crotch of her lingerie pulled aside. She stroked herself dreamily. When Dominic met her eyes, she said, “Don’t mind me, I’m happy to watch. Let Joanne have her turn.”
Leona heard those remarks through the door. She was trying to get an angry look on her face as she unlocked it, but the dialogue struck her as funny. She paused to get her game face on.
Her icy, angry expression – and the silenced automatic -- froze the three other women in the room. Joanne started to hyperventilate, her tits rising with each rapid breath.
“Anyone who screams, dies,” Leona said. “I guess he forgot to tell you girls that I’m the jealous type. I don’t like other women to fuck my men.” She sauntered to the end of the sofa and stood over Phyllis’ head. Dominic’s stiff cock was still inside her.
“You’re about as caught as caught gets,” she said, to the quivering blonde on the couch. “Did you have a nice orgasm?” The woman nodded, weakly. “Good, because it’s your last one.”
Dominic pulled out of her and sat back to see what Leona would do. She looked at Linda, seated on the floor near him and said: “You – put his penis in your mouth. And show some enthusiasm.” Linda did as directed.
Leona’s gun made its peculiar, silenced chirp and a small hole opened below Phyllis’ navel. She jumped with the bullet impact, then covered the wound with her right hand. Blood trickled between her fingers and toward her tuft of brown pubic hair.
Leona moved around the coffee table, to change the angle for her next shot. Chirp! Into the center of that tuft of pubic hair. Phyllis lurched and cried out. A thin line of blood trickled from the left corner of her mouth. Chirp! Chirp! Her right breast flapped twice and bullets ripped through white flesh to the left of the nipple.
Her eyes were rolling up in her head, and her left arm swung loosely off the sofa; she was almost dead. Leona walked back to her original position, and lowered her gun to Phyllis’ left breast. Her erect nipple just filled the hole at the business end of the silencer. Leona pulled the trigger once more. Blood spattered out in a circle of droplets around the end of the barrel, then poured down her breast and side in a thick stream, then stopped flowing. Phyllis was dead.
Dominic came in Linda’s mouth as Phyllis died. Leona icily commanded her to swallow it, and she forced it down with an audible gulp. Joanne was still on the coffee table, but twisted around and looking, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at Phyllis’ corpse. Leona lifted the barrel from the dead woman’s tit, revealing a red-black hole where her nipple had been. She smacked Joanne hard in the side of the head with her weapon, then strode toward Dominic’s briefcase.
“Owww,” Joanne sobbed. “What was that for? I didn’t even fuck the guy.”
“Oh? Is that true, Dominic?”
“Well, Leona, I suppose that depends on what the meaning of the word is is.”
“Don’t tell me you came on her dress!” Leona said, laughing. “That’s an impeachable offense.”
“No, but I think I did come a little on her tits,” he said. “She has great tits, don’t you think? Even if they are fake.”
Leona drew a silenced 9mm from Dominic’s briefcase and pitched her own little .25, which had just one bullet left, to him.
Linda had gone pale. Joanne, never one to put two and two together early in the game, looked puzzled. She still looked more confused than afraid when Leona opened up on her tits with the 9mm.
Her melons bounced and bobbed heavily and wildly as Leona opened splattery, quarter-sized holes in the taut, tanned skin and large, pink areole. Her head, arms and legs engaged in a crazed-marionette ballet as the force of nine slugs pushed her back across the coffee table and onto the couch, where Joanne’s curvy dead butt came to rest on Phyllis’ dead, flat belly.
Joanne had just enough life in her to look down with dismay at her ruined tits. She expired with a long, feminine sigh and tilted slowly to the right, until her right cheekbone came to rest against Phyllis’ bent, raised right knee. Gravity, ever at work on her heavy tits, swung them together and to the right.
Leona raised her skirt and began to work the butt of the gun into her pussy, stroking and pressing the cold steel into her hot flesh and gazing upon her handiwork until a trembling orgasm made her sink to her knees.
Linda, in shock, took it all in dumbly.
After a long stillness, she asked, in a small, girlish voice: “Are you going to kill me, too?”
“No,” Dominic answered. “At least, not today.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“It’s a long story, my dear. But let’s just say we’re doing this because we like the way you look.”