Posted by critmk on May 08, 2003 at 07:49:18:
Sisters
a novel by critmk
Chapter 3 – A Pleasant Stroll on the Delmar Strip
Kennet and Sikes had to be liquidated immediately and all reference to David Laufer purged from their files before the Koncharovas’ bodies were discovered,
I had killed plenty of people in my time, but never six -- or possibly more -- at once. There was no time for planning. I didn’t know the layout of their office or what security measures might be in place. I didn’t know what time they arrived in the morning.
Still, I had no choice but to act fast. Barbara Laufer had me on a string, and not only because she possessed a tape that could earn me the death penalty. She rattled me; her cruelty and sexuality drew me in. I had always enjoyed killing, especially killing women, but she brought it to a new level. Fucking her with the dead Koncharova girls in full view… Well, I wanted more of that.
My brain was rightly apprehensive about wiping out an entire law firm on no notice, but my dick was eager for the task. I thought of Barbara’s parting words to me: “Perhaps you should make them look like sex killings. Isn’t that a lovely idea? Have fun, Jack. When it’s over we can have a drink and you can tell me all about what you did to them.”
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It was almost midnight. I caught a cab to my office – a shabby place above a dry-cleaning shop in University City. As usual, the Delmar Strip was bustling with business, as attractive 20 and 30-somethings hopped from bar to bar. As usual, traffic was stalled; I paid the cabbie and walked the rest of the way.
Given the events of the evening, I couldn’t help imagining gunning down every attractive girl who passed by. Is it that chemical-laden Mississippi water, or what? St. Louis is loaded with beautiful women.
In four blocks, I must have killed two dozen of them in my mind’s eye. Even now, I can remember three of them.
The first victim was a young, sweet-looking black girl in a spaghetti-strap red mini and soft, rounded black high heels. Three slugs in the gut would slam her against the wall. Blood would surge between her full lips and fall in drips onto the bare upper curves of her breasts. Her knees would buckle to expose a snow-white strip of panty as she slides down the wall and lands on her butt. She would relax as she dies and slowly tilt to a final rest on her left side.
And what about that curvy blonde in the phone booth, the surfer-girl type in the strapless, painted-on black PVC tube dress? The Uzi for her, I think -- a hailstorm pelting of lead that opens a dozen red holes in bare skin and taut black fabric from thighs to throat. She would jerk and bang about violently within the confining box with each impact. Bullets that miss and those that go through her would pierce and splinter the wood, metal and glass around her. She would die on her stiletto-sandaled feet, before she plopped down on the platform seat and her knees opened wide. Such an immodest girl -- shaved clean and not a stitch of underwear.
As for that young, slender girl emerging from the back seat of the car in her rust sheath minidress, a single shot in the center of the forehead would do. She’d be stunned still for a short moment. A thin trickle of blood would travel from the dime-sized wound down the ridge of her nose. Her eyes would go utterly blank. I would grab her throat to arrest her forward fall and push her back into the car. Her head would settle after bouncing once and rolling side to side. I would get in, cut her black thong off with a switchblade, and then…
I was back in my office, horney as hell. I resisted the temptation to masturbate because I had little time and needed to plan the job that was just a few hours away. Besides, I wanted to save some cum for the women I would really kill.
The nastiness of that thought hit me like a brick. What had Barbara Laufer done to me?