Posted by Extranjero on February 28, 2003 at 11:05:34:
ANGEL LUST
No-one ever shut the door on Susie. Her clear blue eyes and sunny smile could melt the hardest heart. She was twenty-four, but people saw the teenager in her. Her friendliness beguiled them, and the glow of her good nature cheered them up.
Laura was a tad perplexed to find her on the doorstep, but Susie’s grin was too bright to resist. The girl wore Gucci sunglasses, her stare anonymous – but then she pushed them up from her wide eyes. The gold frames glinted in her short fair hair.
“Sorry, did I get you up?” asked Susie breezily. Her English accent sparkled in the stillness. Laura shrugged, not needing to reply. Her thick brown hair was tangled, and she wore the man-size shirt she always slept in.
“It’s only eight a.m., you know!” She rubbed her bleary eyes. Susie had the grace to look abashed. She was dressed in a black T-shirt and a pair of Lycra shorts. A leather bag was slung over her shoulder. Behind her, Laura’s street lay quiet and empty, the sunlight creeping over well-kept lawns.
“I guess you can come in,” said Laura, stifling a yawn. Susie beamed and followed her inside. Her Nike trainers squeaked across the polished wooden floor. Laura padded barefoot to the kitchen. “Take a seat,” she said. “You want some coffee?”
“Please,” said Susie, glancing round the neatly-furnished room. Her figure was petite and trim, her muscles nicely toned. She must spend hours at the gym, thought Laura moodily. Aged nineteen herself, she still felt awkward and self-conscious. Men might love her boobs, but she still thought they were too big. And people called her pretty, but the mole above her lip just spoiled it all. At least her hair was something to be proud of. She shook it back, and put the coffee on.
The English girl had settled in an armchair. Laura came and sat down on the couch. She hadn’t put her bathrobe on, although her breasts were bare beneath the shirt. Susie caught a glimpse of cream silk panties as Laura grew her legs up under her.
“Won’t be a minute,” Laura said. Her voice was husky now.
“You haven’t changed your mind?” asked Susie lightly. Laura pursed her lips and shook her head. Susie took a pocket tape recorder from her bag and set it on the low table between them.
“Okay, then. In your own time, Laura … let’s go over what you told me on the phone.”
Laura cleared her throat. “You won’t identify me, right?”
“You’ll just be a source. And I don’t reveal my sources.”
“Will this be your first scoop?”
Susie smiled. “Who knows?” She switched the tape recorder on.
“Okay …” Laura swallowed. “Since I’ve been working at Marberg’s, I’ve realised just how crooked this town is. The place is just a front, you know? And everyone’s involved. The Sheriff lets them deal their drugs, and then he takes a cut! And as for the mayor …”
Her voice tailed off in puzzlement as Susie switched the tape recorder off. The faint click seemed to echo in the stillness of the lounge. The blonde reporter settled back, a faint smile on her lips. The two girls sat and stared at one another. The percolator gurgled in the kitchen.
“You’re … not from the Post, are you?” Laura said in a small voice.
Susie gave her head a little shake.
Laura bit her lip. Her brown eyes widened like a deer’s. They flicked towards the door, and Susie slid a silenced pistol from her bag. The thick tube levelled smoothly at the swell of Laura’s breasts.
“Jesus,” Laura whimpered, more in disbelief than fright. Her bosom heaved against the shirt and drew its buttons tight.
“I think we’d better step into the bedroom,” Susie said. Her face was calm, her gentle voice still soothing.
Laura simply gawped at her. A curl of unbrushed hair hung in her eyes. Her face was pale, her forehead moist with sweat. She shook her head.
“I won’t breathe a word to anyone. I promise!”
“Funny,” Susie murmured, “but I promised Mr Marberg the same thing.”
Standing up, she gestured with the pistol. Laura forced her muscles to unlock. Feeling sick and numb, she led the way into her bedroom. Adrenalin made everything seem woozy and unreal, as if this was a dream she could awake from.
The bed she’d just got out of was a mess of crumpled sheets. Her battered teddy bear lay on the quilt. Sunlight streamered through the blinds, igniting whorls of dust. I only hoovered yesterday, thought Laura plaintively. She turned around, her heartbeat thundering.
Susie was leaned up against the doorframe, her pistol pointed calmly from the hip. Her pretty face looked sweetly reasonable. “Sit down,” she invited. Laura let herself slump down onto the bed.
“Good girl,” Susie smiled. “Now take your shirt off.”
Laura hesitated. “Why?” she whispered.
“In case you’re wearing Kevlar underneath it,” Susie purred.
Laura stared back hopelessly, then fumbled with the buttons. The big shirt came undone. She opened it. Her breasts were soft and shapely, with pink tips the size of quarters. Susie looked approving as she pulled the loose shirt down around her shoulders.
“Now, this won’t take a minute …” said the blonde girl amiably.
“Oh please don’t hurt me,” Laura sobbed. A single tear went rolling down her cheek. Reflexively she grasped her teddy, clutching the soft toy against her lap. Susie paused, as if to make a space for second thoughts – then smiled regretfully and squeezed the trigger.
The pistol gave a high-pitched cough. The teddy twitched and tore beneath the bullet. Laura’s sweet face twisted and she groaned in agony. Something stronger than a mule had kicked her in the stomach. She doubled forward, retching, and the pistol coughed again. The bullet thwacked into her firm right breast. The tidy hole it punched in her belied its crushing impact. Laura reared upright with a startled, breathless squeal. Blood spilled out behind her like a crimson money shot. Susie put a final bullet right between her tits. More blood sprayed from Laura’s back, as if a ripe tomato had exploded. Her head flipped back, she arched her spine and flopped across the bed.
Susie gave a ragged sigh and watched the body twitch, her nipples tight as buds beneath her T-shirt. Laura’s thighs splayed open and her silken panties bulged. She floundered in the blood-stained sheets, grimacing tearfully – then sagged as all the strength drained out of her. Her last breath gurgled in her throat, and then the room was quiet.
Lowering her pistol, Susie moved towards the bed. The dead girl’s utter stillness was compelling. Soon her lovely body would be cool and colourless, but the bloom had not yet faded from her skin. Susie stroked her victim’s cheek, then let her hand move down to Laura’s breasts. The nipples had been shocked erect. She trailed her fingers round them. Perhaps the hapless girl could feel the teasing, even now.
Laura’s heart had stopped, so she was technically dead – but nerves and neurons took a while to fade. Who could say how long sensation lingered in a corpse? Susie licked her lips and kept exploring. Ever since she’d been a child, she’d asked herself that question. Every time she did a job, she strained to catch a flicker of the soul.
Laura’s flesh was warm, but her expression never changed. Pinching her stiff nipples drew no visible response. Susie’s hand slid down across her belly, and settled on the cool silk of her briefs. She stared down at the girl’s neat bulge - then drew her hand back quickly. Short of breath, she stepped away and wiped the sudden slickness off her brow.
At once she was a cool, collected English rose again. Returning to the lounge, she stowed her pistol in her bag, and pulled a pair of latex surgeon’s gloves on. She planted traces of cocaine around the girl’s apartment – enough to make it look as if a dealer had done this. She paused to pour some coffee, and leaned idly on the breakfast bar to drink it. Then she gathered up her things and left by the back door. No-one was about this early on a Sunday. Susie slipped her shades back into place and strolled away.
Back in the car, she called up Marberg on her hands-free phone. Businesslike as ever, she confirmed the payment details, and Marberg flirted like he always did.
“It’s always nice to hear from you. I love that accent, see?”
Susie smiled and eased into the fast lane. “I’m glad that you know culture when you hear it!”
“Right.” She heard him chuckle. “And I might have something else to put your way.”
“Forget it. As of now, I’m on vacation.” The Audi picked up speed, the hot breeze ruffling her hair. Her shades reflected sunlight as she dipped her head to terminate the call.
Marberg waited for the click, then sat back in his chair. Across the desk, his right-hand man was listening thoughtfully.
“You sure she’s going over to Garrone?”
“Of course I’m sure. The bastard bought her dinner last weekend!” Marberg shook his head regretfully. “Maybe it’s more money, or perhaps she wants a change - but either way, we can’t just let her go.”
“I guess she’s got too much on us.”
“And worse, she’s too damn good at what she does. You don’t want Susie working for the other side, believe you me!”
“So who’re you sending after her?” the other man enquired after a pause.
“McCain,” said Marberg flatly.
His henchman gave a twisted smile. “You’ve got me feeling sorry for her now …”
* * *
Susie slammed the Audi’s trunk and carried her small case towards the porch. The rooks were cawing overhead, the noise dispersing out across the lake. She smelled the sticky tang of pine, the clean depths of the water. The summer heat was glutinous as syrup. The cabin slumbered underneath the trees.
She’d called ahead to get the bedding aired, the fridge stocked up. The prospect of a chilled Coke made her smile. As she fumbled with the keys, the rookery fell silent. A natural alarm system, they warned of any strangers in the woods. Susie glanced across the lake. The surface shimmered faintly in the heat. She might go for a swim after she’d got her things unpacked.
The cabin’s dim interior didn’t offer much relief. The air was close and rancid, and her sweat began to ooze. She’d changed into a polo shirt and faded denim shorts, but even so her body couldn’t breathe. Carrying her case into the bedroom, she opened it and took her pistol out. Even on vacation, she could never quite relax. She padded back into the lounge and laid the handgun on the coffee table. Then she went to get herself a Coke.
Cold light wafted from the fridge as she retrieved a can. The welcome chill soaked through her shirt and made her nipples itch. Taking off her sunglasses, she put them to one side. Her fringe was clinging damply to her brow. She rolled the icy can across her forehead, then pulled the ring and gulped a mouthful down.
Another hefty payment would go into her account; she invoiced as a “personnel consultant.” Her earnings had already bought this place; the car outside. Now Garrone’s firm had promised even fatter contracts. What they said was true: the dream was easy to buy into. She’d got off the plane two years ago as sweet Susannah Rookwood, and carved herself a niche as Susie Sharpe.
The shirt was clinging to her back. She hauled it off and let the sweat run free. Susie drank again, and held the can between her breasts: the coldness made her quiver blissfully. She hadn’t bothered with a bra – or knickers, come to that. Her denim shorts felt rough and hot: perhaps she’d better take them off as well. She undid the top button and reached in to rub herself.
At first she’d meant no more than to explore her sweaty groin - but as she fumbled absently, her fingers found a rhythm of their own. Listless though she felt, she couldn’t stop them. Setting down the half-drunk can, she wavered in the hallway, the shadow of a frown on her peaked face.
… She thought of Laura slumping back, the wounds like raw stigmata in her flesh. Her skin had been peach-perfect, and her nipples hard as stalks. Susie closed her eyes and sighed, still fingering herself. She’d kept the lid on this all day, but now the pent-up pressure had to blow. She couldn’t help remembering the feel of Laura’s sex, a tender bulge against the creamy silk …
It felt as if her shorts had shrunk to fit her. Susie flopped down on the couch and prised the buttons open. She glimpsed her mousy pubic hair and rubbed more urgently. Her free hand fumbled with her breasts, still tender from the cold shock of the can. The nipples tightened, aching to be tweaked. She made a throaty sound and came; her head flipped back and then her body arched. The hot contractions spent themselves and left her sprawling there. Breathing through her open mouth, she stared up at the ceiling.
Beyond the open window, something sloshed in the still lake.
Susie lay unmoving for a moment, not sure what she had heard or what it meant. The sound was not repeated. There was no noise from the rooks. Her thudding heart began to slow, but still she didn’t stir. The air was thick, the water like a mirror. Nothing moved.
She slowly raised her fingers to her lips and sucked them clean, the taste of her own juices on her tongue. Then she reached out carefully and picked her pistol up. Her smoothed-out breasts pulsated gently as her breathing eased. Her nipples still felt tender, and her sex was warm and slick. Drawing up one knee, she strained her ears against the silence. The languid water slopped again. The planking of the deck creaked very faintly.
Susie slithered off the couch and slipped across the room. She pressed her naked shoulder to the wall beside the window, her forefinger contracting on the trigger. The gentle pressure disengaged the safety mechanism. Holding her breath, she risked a peek. The decking was deserted.
She backed away, the pistol in a double-handed grip beside her cheek. Her shorts were still unbuttoned, but the curves of her slim hips kept them in place. The house was hushed around her, as if brewing up a storm. Her fine hairs rose and prickled with a phantom static charge.
Stealthy as a ghost, she tiptoed through into the hall. A pine-framed mirror faced her in the dimness. It showed a sunlit window, like a glimpse into some undisturbed dimension. Susie turned and prowled towards the lobby. Behind her, in the mirror’s depths, a figure filled the window, peering in.
Susie crept up to the door, and slid the bolt across. The iron scraped. She flexed her sweaty grip around the gun. Then she heard a muffled noise, a skittering from somewhere behind her. She swung around again. The hall was empty. Dusty sunlight spilled through open doorways. The cabin crouched in silence. Nothing stirred.
Was someone in here with her? Susie moistened her tight lips. She put her back against the door, and let the solid woodwork take her weight.
Come on, then. Let’s see you. She took aim along the hall.
Something smashed into the door, enough to make her heart come leaping loose. She felt the panel shudder, and a sudden numbing shock engulfed her gut. Susie squawked despite herself, and tried to double forward, but something kept her pinned against the wood. She writhed in vain, then dropped her gaze and mewled in disbelief. A metal spear was poking from her midriff. The polished point was barely stained, but crimson flecks had sprayed across the floor.
For a moment she just stared at it in horrified dismay. Then a spasm gripped her like a scalding tummy ache, and Susie threw her head back with a groan. The pistol slipped out of her grasp and clattered to the boards. She fumbled blindly with the spear, and agony boiled up out of her belly. Her pert breasts tautened, heaving as she squirmed against the door, her elfin face as woeful as a child’s. She made a frantic keening sound. A hot, metallic nausea clogged her throat.
She gagged on it and let her head flop forward. The spear stayed rigid, gleaming wickedly. Belatedly she realised that he’d fired it through the door: transfixed her like a chicken on a skewer.
The image made her whimper as the anguish forced all feeling from her flesh. A last tear trickled down her cheek, and consciousness slid off her like a cloak. Her miserable grimace relaxed, her eyelids growing heavy. She slumped, her body drooping round the axis of the spear. Her head slipped down to rest against her shoulder. Her breasts filled out and hung like ripened fruit.
Silence filled the cabin, till the back door opened with a lazy creak. Bare feet padded through the house, and left a trail of wet prints on the floorboards. A man in soaking swimming trunks came through into the hall. He held a discharged speargun like a futuristic rifle at his side. A diver’s knife was sheathed against his hip.
It wasn’t needed.
His victim’s punctured body was voluptuously poised, like a graceful marble angel on a grave. Her naked flesh was pale and filmed with sweat. His own flesh quickened at the sight and tented his wet trunks. Reaching out, he stroked her breasts and felt their clammy coolness. The barbed harpoon protruded just below them. A crimson ooze had dribbled down her stomach. Spots of scarlet glistened in her puff of pubic hair.
He dipped his head to hers and licked the dampness off her cheek. Her healthy glow had faded, and her sandy hair hung lank in her closed eyes. He slid his hand into her shorts; the crotch was soggy where she’d pissed herself. His fingers found the cleft between her thighs and parted it. The dead girl’s bloodless features didn’t flinch.
Susie felt as if she’d sunk into a gulf of pitch. Her lungs were clogged, her eyes glued shut, her mind a bleary blur. The agony had faded, but she had a shapeless sense of her own body. She thought she felt a tingle from the nerve ends in her tits. She waited in confusion, but the suffocating twilight didn’t change.
Then she felt a finger start to tease her clitoris.
A glow began to spread through her, like thick soup coming slowly to the boil. She had an urge to squirm, but all her muscles had gone slack. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t breathe, and yet the phantom finger had aroused her. It wriggled in her pussy and her nerves began to fizz. She felt her climax building like a wave ...
The killer smiled contentedly, and slid his finger out. The girl hung like a dying swan; he felt that he could toy with her all day. But the heat outside was calling him, the lake as warm as oil. Time to slide back in. There would be other fish to catch. He wiped his sticky fingers on the denim of her shorts, and left the fresh-cut English rose to wilt.
Susie teetered blindly on the very edge of orgasm. Her pent-up climax itched in every nerve. Whimpering inside herself, she begged for one last touch, enough to set her passion flooding free. But nothing came. She tried to writhe. The unfulfilling moment wouldn’t end. Susie moaned inside her mind, confronted by the answer to her question. Sensation would persist until her cells died, one by one – and that might last for hours, or even days.
Her spirit started wailing with unbearable frustration.
Her beautiful dead body didn’t stir.