Posted by critmk on May 27, 2003 at 09:54:23:
To view the PICTURES that go with this novel, open a new window to my briefcase at
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Sisters
a novel by critmk
Chapter 23: Executives Executed
The rush was back. The thrill of killing engorged my dick and set my heart to racing. I was hoping to nail at least a few more before I got to Barbara.
I didn’t have to wait long.
A petite blond of about 30 was descending the marble steps from the third level as I was going up. Her hair was up in a French roll. Her high, black wedge sandals shaped her calves beautifully. Her red tank minidress gathered and raised her tits to form a delicious cleavage.
She saw the 9mm in my hand and the Uzi strapped to my leg, but she really didn’t get it until her eyes locked on mine. Then she knew she was about to die.
“Oh my God,” she said, quietly. “This is it.” That was all. No screaming, no running, no begging, no apparent fear. She let out a discreet little peep, a sound that fit her petite size and cutie-pie face, when I shot her in the right hip. She tumbled down a few steps and tried to sit up. A hand was over her wound, but still blood leaked from beneath her dress, down the curve of her ass and onto the marble tread and riser.[blondsteps30.jpg goes here]
Her lower lip quivered and her big blue eyes widened. She was about to cry.
The bulge of bare left tit above her dress exploded just as the first tear rolled down her cheek. The tear blended with blood that spattered across her face as her body jerked in spasms, battering itself against the stone beneath her for the half-minute it took her to die. She lay on the step with her eyes open and head wedged at a right angle against the wall. Her right leg, bent at the knee, rocked open to expose her waxed-smooth pussy. Maybe Blondie’s mother never told her that one about wearing clean panties every day, just in case there’s an accident.
I stepped over her corpse and climbed toward Barbara’s suite.
Seven women were in the conference room outside her private quarters. They were the classiest bunch I’d encountered thus far, all of them in pricey business attire. They looked smart. Given that and the proximity to the inner sanctum, they had to be Barbara’s top people.
They were gathered near a small television, listening to a short woman in her 30s. She was about to run a video. “This is the one segment of an advertising campaign designed to convince the major defense contractors that, despite the scandal surrounding Barbara and the company, we are serious people who can deliver product,” she said. Her tight taupe miniskirt and her pose accentuated the ample curve of her ass.
“Keep in mind,” she continued, “that this is not for the general public, but for a specific target audi -- .” She stopped abruptly when she saw me in the doorway, cradling the Uzi. She upped the volume: “Marla, call security – now!”
A brunette with very long legs ending in strappy black platforms grabbed a phone. I smiled as the other women grasped the situation. The room became deathly quiet; everyone could hear the phone ringing and ringing on the other end.
“I’m afraid they’ll have to get back to you – in hell,” I said, suppressing laughter. “You’ll meet them there in just a moment.”
I turned the Uzi on the woman standing nearest to me. [blousestand.jpg goes here] She was in her 20s, a delicate sort with long, straight brown hair parted in the middle. She wore a plain white blouse with 3/4 sleeves, a full black midiskirt in three tiers and velvet ankle-strap heels over sheer hose.
The first shot hit the center of her throat. The cotton above her small right breast bloomed red with the second, with red flowers in her sternum and belly completing the bouquet. Her arms wheeled about as the impact drove her hard into the wall behind her. Her skinny ass hit the floor as deadweight, and her long limbs flopped and bounced before settling.
I didn’t want the girl with the phone to call 911, so she got to die next.[marla(phone).jpg goes here.]
It was almost as if she were doing a seated Charleston, as she crossed and uncrossed those gorgeous long legs and sexy feet and shoes. She was on the floor, bleeding profusely from both thighs, when I turned my attention to Number Three.
I focused on the tits of a brunette in her 40s, an authoritative woman in a cream blouse and suit. [topexec41.jpg goes here.]Eight bullets tore through her chest. Their force lifted her chic, ankle-strap slingbacks off the floor and tossed her onto the conference table behind her. Her knees opened as she lay on her back. A full, dark bush was visible through sheer pantyhose.
The first shot was a little off to the left and shattered the TV screen, but the next seven found their way into the lush flesh of the black-haired woman who’d been addressing the group. [bizvcr33.jpg goes here.]Her heavy gold jewelry tinkled as she fell back onto the sofa behind her. Her chest and belly had been perforated. Blood surged from between her full red lips as she went limp.
The auburn-haired beauty in the neatly tailored beige suit – the four-button double-breasted jacket and elegant trousers looked custom-made for her slender frame – was the last of the women I’d have picked to make an offensive run at me. But there she was, scrabbling my way in her brown mules with fury in her blue eyes and her dainty hands balled into fists.[pantsuit.jpg _ goes here.]
She’d caught me while I was changing clips in the Uzi and the 9mm was holstered. Which meant that she died as a result of a knife wound to the solar plexus. I drew the combat knife at the last second and let her stab herself with her own momentum.
Eight inches of steel stopped her in her tracks face to face with me. I could feel her breath on my lips. She took a few slow steps back. Her jacket was reddening concentrically around the knife, which I left in her body.
Her eyes lost all focus. She didn’t blink when I opened my hand, gripped her face and gave her a firm push. She toppled back into the wall, dropped to a hard wooden bench and then rolled off. The handle of the knife hit the floor sharply; the impact drove the point of the blade out through the center of her back.
I saved the sexiest, most beautiful of the lot until last. Both were stunned and frozen with fear.
“You want to live?” I asked the tall blond in the violet pullover and straight black skirt.
A glimmer of hope lit in her eyes. “Yes… yes!”
“Then go pull the knife out of that dead girl.”
She hesitated. When I snapped in a new clip and leveled the Uzi at her, she forced herself to put one black high heel in front of the other and move toward the specified dead body. She knelt and touched the girl, then recoiled. She took a deep breath, gripped her by the hip and shoulder and rolled her over. Screwing up her courage, she gripped the blood-stained ebony hilt in both hands and pulled,
She arched the dead girl off the floor, but the knife did not budge from the corpse. The blond began to sob: “I can’t! I can’t do it – please don’t kill me, I’m trying.”
She tugged again at the knife, harder, even frantically. The dead girl’s head rocked and bounced on the floor and her limbs flailed, but still the knife wouldn’t move.
Finally, the brunet in the black leather skirt blurted out: “I want to live, too. Let me help.”
I nodded – this was amusing. The brunet leaned forward as she rose, showing off the ample cleavage above her black V-neck. She stepped a sharp black high heel into the lower belly of the dead woman, found her balance, and put weight on it.
This time, with the benefit of the counterweight, her colleague managed to yank the knife out.
“Now, please, let us go, we did what you said,” gasped the emotionally exhausted blond.
I looked the brunet in the eye and said: “Kill her.”
[longmodel26.jpg goes here.]
She didn’t hesitate. A hard kick to the jaw sent the blond sprawling onto her back. In a flash, the brunet was standing over her, raising her right knee. She plunged down hard, driving her sharp heel deep into the blond’s throat. Blood splashed up on to the killer’s black-stockinged calf. It ran from the wound and pooled on the floor beneath the blond.
The brunet did not withdraw her unorthodox weapon until the blond stopped twitching. It took a full minute.
The brunet looked me in the eye. “You’re going to kill me anyway, aren’t you?”
[leggy.jpg goes here.]
“I’m afraid so.”
“And there’s no point in bargaining?”
“None.”
“Then get it over with.”
I shot her in the belly. She stepped back and eased herself onto a sofa. She convulsed and reflexively drew up her leg. She lifted her head and shook her thick, lustrous hair from her face. She spoke through blood trickling from the left corner of her mouth.
“Finish it.”
I did, with a shot through the heart, at the top of her cleavage. Her body shook once, violently, with the impact. She let out a long sigh as she slowly lay back and died.
In life or death, the brunet was just my type. It would have been great to fuck her, but it was Barbara’s turn, and she was just beyond the heavy oak door on the other side of the room.