Posted by Ric delCampo on April 06, 2003 at 14:43:36:
A Season with the Dallas Cowgirl Cheerleaders
By Ric delCampo
Chapter 5
Dallas Cowgirls vs. Los Angeles Lobos
Raquel was absolutely seething with anger as she returned to the field to retrieve her cowboy hat. The lovely corpses of all forty Los Angeles Lobos were still strewn about the field. The clean up crews had not yet begun their work.
Raquel returned to midfield where she stepped over and around several piles of luscious bodies. Most of whom she herself had killed. Christine met her there and handed her the bullet riddled hat.
“Those bitches were trying to kill me!” Raquel complained bitterly.
“That’s kinda the object of the match,” Christine replied.
“I mean they were trying to kill just me, nothing else.”
“Yeah, I know,” Christine agreed.
The match had started normally. The Lobo captain had won the toss, but instead of shooting at Christine, some twenty yards away, she had fired an entire clip at Raquel, some forty yards away. Christine had killed her with her first shot.
Immediately the entire Lobo team massed on the right side of the field and charged Raquel’s position. Two Cowgirls in front of Raquel were killed right off the bat. One took a slug to the throat, the other right between her big blue eyes. No penalty whistle blew.
Raquel had emptied her revolver into the on rushing mass, killing six Lobos. Rather than retreating to reload, she snatched up a fallen revolver and unloaded six more .44 slugs into the charging Lobos, killing six more girls. Raquel threw down the empty revolver and snatched up yet another fallen Cowgirl’s gun. This one only had four shots left, but Raquel made each one count as she killed yet four more Lobos.
The Lobos were almost upon her when she noticed that they were shooting for her face. Bullets whizzed by at eye level. Her hat was shot off her head.
With her last shot Raquel killed the nearest Lobo, ran forward, and snatched up the dying woman’s gun. Charging directly into the Lobos, Raquel shot down the last eight women at point blank range and shattered their charge. Of the original twenty-five Lobos on the field, Raquel had killed twenty-four within the first four minutes of play.
Replacements leapt from the Lobo bench, poured onto the field and charged toward Raquel, all firing wildly. Rather than retreating, Raquel sprinted toward the supposed safety of the goal line. Even after she crossed the goal line, the Lobos continued firing at her. No penalty whistle blew. Raquel fled the field for the Dallas locker room where she barricaded herself and armed herself with two spare revolvers and a fistful of bullets. She remained in the locker room until Christine and the surviving Cowgirls gunned down the last of the Lobos.
“I’ve had enough of this shit,” Raquel said. “The next time the other team cheats and the ref’s won’t do their job, I’m going to kill one of them bitches!”
“No, you won’t,” Christine said. The tone in her voice indicated that this was not a polite request.
“Well, I gotta do something,” Raquel said. Looking across the field she spotted a couple of sport reporters and some photographers. She smiled as an idea occurred to her. “Well, if I’m such a Grandstander, let’s see if I can get my name in the news.” She started toward the reporters.
Christine grabbed her by the arm. “What’re you going to do, to say to them?”
“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Raquel said. “I’m just going to do a little ‘Grandstanding’ and tell them how I’ve been singled out for death—a clear violation of the rules.”
As she approached the coterie of reporters, she noticed a well-dressed man searching among the dead bodies.
“What’s going on?” Raquel asked a member of the clean up crew.
“That’s Mervin Hillman, he won the lottery. Lucky bastard!”
“What lottery?”
“They gave a drawing; the winner gets his choice of the corpses to fuck. Mr. Hillman won.”
Mr. Hillman was examining a particularly beautiful corpse when he looked up and saw Raquel. He leapt up and ran to her.
“Miss Ramos! I’m such a fan of your work!” He shook her hand, then gallantly kissed it. “My name is Mervin Hillman; I’m your number one fan!”
“You want my autograph?” Raquel asked piquantly.
“Oh, yes. Could I?” It was, of course, against League rules to give out autographs, and considered politically incorrect to ask for one. And one of the reporters reminded him of those facts.
“Oh, fuck the rules!” Mr. Hillman said.
Raquel instantly liked him.
“Listen,” Mr. Hillman said, and he spoke like a man who was used to being listened to, “this is one of the problems with our society today. No more heroes. We’re not even allowed sports heroes. Excellent athletes like Miss Ramos are expected to remain nameless entities, no different than these losers you see strewn amidst this field of combat. But clearly, Miss Ramos is not a loser. In spite of political correctness and imbecilic league rules, the fans know her name. It is clearly because she excels at her work. Instinctly, every fan knows what a champion she is and they admire her for it.”
A brave reporter stepped forward. “Do you have a comment, Miss Ramos?”
“Yes, I do,” Raquel said. “I didn’t ask for this. In spite of everything that’s been rumored about me, I am not a ‘Grandstander’ or ‘self-promoter.’ I just wanted to be a Dallas Cowgirl Cheerleader. I just wanted somebody to think I was pretty enough to die for the fans.
“I’ve just done as best as I could. It’s the fans who have promoted me.
“And now there is a conspiracy to murder me. You all saw it today. The other team singled me out. I didn’t do that. Why didn’t the referees call a penalty, I ask you?
“I’m not guilty. It’s the League that’s guilty of singling me out.”
The reporters were very excited. This was the most controversial story they had even uncovered and all were anxious to get it on the air.
“Mr. Hillman?” a member of the clean up crew approached him, “have you made your selection yet?”
“Yes,” he pointed to a statuesque blonde with a serene look on her face. And a .44 slug in her guts. “That one will do nicely. Please deliver her to my home.”
He turned to Raquel and handed her his business card. “I need to hurry, my guest won’t keep. But I would love to see you again and discuss our mutual interests.”
Raquel took the card. “So would I.”
After he had left, and the clean up crew began their work, Christine rejoined her. “What’d you say this time?”
Raquel rehearsed the conversation and showed Christine the card.
“Mr. Hillman! I’ve heard of him. He’s one of the richest men in Dallas. Nothing like Mrs. McKoy, mind you; but still, he’s quite a catch. If you can arrange to become his mistress, you’ve got it made.”
“I think he prefers his women a bit less lively,” Raquel said.
“Nonsense,” Christine countered. “He does this for charity.”
“Whatta guy!”
The Commissioner hesitantly entered the Matriarch’s office. The Matriarch angrily threw a newspaper at her. “It’s even in the newspapers!”
She came around the desk to stand eyeball to eyeball with the Commissioner. “I told you to take care of this problem and look at what you’ve done! She’s a folk hero. It’s on every 3V news program, E-zine, and even in the newspapers!”
“It’s been harder than expected . . .”
“How could it be so hard? Every week she has forty women shooting at her. Surely one of them ought to be able to kill her.”
“None of them are trained . . .” The Commissioner immediately regretted saying that. “I think they know what we’re doing. Mr. McKoy has kept her out of the last two matches.”
“You go run your fucking League,” the Matriarch dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “I’ll have a professional take care of this.”
“Yes, Madame Matriarch.”
“What’s the best team in the League?” the Matriarch suddenly asked.
“The Dallas team.”
“I mean other than the Dallas team!” the Matriarch nearly popped a blood vessel.
“I don’t know; they’re all about the same.” She didn’t mention that this was on purpose; that it was the Dallas team that was the aberration.
“Find your best team, or make one. But makes sure they play against Dallas in the Super Bowl.”
“Yes, Madame.”
“Don’t fuck this up. Christine Golden has to die in the Super Bowl—preferably by the first shot. And all the Cowgirls with her. Leave none alive to become sports heroes.”
Raquel was feeling very good. A short nap and she was totally refreshed. The silk sheets felt so good against her naked skin. She could spend all day in bed. If only some one would bring her food.
After this season, she decided, it would be nothing but silk sheets and meals in bed.
“Enjoying yourself?” the strange voice snapped Raquel out of her reverie.
The woman held a pistol with a long silencer attached. It was pointed at Raquel’s left breast. She was a tall, platinum blonde, with sparkling blue eyes, and pouty white lips. She wore a gray suit and mini-skirt, a lacy white bustier, and black nylons on her silky long legs.. There was a neatly folded white handkerchief in her left breast pocket. She wore white cotton, dress gloves.
“They couldn’t get me on the field, so they sent a professional?” Raquel said.
The killer smiled. “Takes one to know one.”
“You wanna make this fair?” Raquel teased. She nodded at her .44 hanging from a peg on the wall.
“No, of course not.”
“So why haven’t you already killed me?”
I wanted you to see me. I wanted you to know who it wa . . .”
The killer stopped. A curious look crossed her face. She dropped her pistol and reached for her back.
“Ah? Ah!” she moaned; trying to reach something behind her. She sank to her knees and her slender body quivered. She pitched forward, lying next to Raquel on the bed.
A razor sharp dagger protruded from her back.
“I wasn’t finished fucking you yet,” Mervin Hillman said, coming into the bedroom, dressed only in a silk robe. “How dare she interrupt us?” He pulled the knife from the dead woman’s back. And rolled her over. “Hummm, not bad looking.”
Raquel smiled at the bulge beneath his robe. “You wanna stick something else in her?”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Who, me?” Raquel grinned. “Just as long as you’ve got something left for me when you’re done with her.”
Hillman lifted the dead woman’s skirt and worked her silk panties down around her legs. He plowed into her.
It only took a few minutes of pounding away until her was ready to burst. Withdrawing from the dead pussy, he sprayed cum all across her breasts.
“Good?” Raquel asked.
“You want a comparison?”
“Obviously I’m better.”
“Obviously,” Hillman agreed. He picked up his phone and made a call. “I’ll have a clean up crew here in five minutes,” he said. “Let’s go shower while they clean up this mess.”
Five minutes later they were fucking in the shower. Raquel had to admit, for such a nerdy looking guy, not only was Hillman hung, he could keep his end up.
End of Chapter Five.