Posted by Extranjero on October 26, 2007 at 12:19:41:
HAVOC ROAD
The road seemed infinite in each direction, receding in the mirror as it stretched ahead of her. Becky cruised at fifty-five with the top down on the Audi. The slipstream ruffled her dark hair and fanned her bare top half.
The highway lay deserted underneath a cloudless sky, with miles of empty fields on either side. She’d sped through emptiness for hours, her body slick with sweat, and her sense of daring growing with each mile. She’d peeled her tee-shirt off at last, and was relishing the feeling as the rushing breeze began to cool her breasts. She wore Gucci shades and denim shorts and a dampened neckerchief. And a pair of leather driving gloves, contrasting with the bareness of her skin.
This was freedom, Becky thought. The hot sun on her body. An open road ahead of her, and no need to look back. She’d let her short hair grow till it was almost collar length. Her olive skin was gleaming with good health.
Breathing in, she felt another twinge in her right breast, and gently fondled it with her gloved hand. There was just a pair of small white scars to mark the bullet’s passage from inner arc to outer curve. The wound had almost healed. The breast was plump, resilient beneath her black-gloved fingers. She squeezed her flesh till pleasure merged with pain.
She’d taken the bullet on her last assignment. It hadn’t stopped her finishing the job. She’d saved a kidnapped heiress, and the family was grateful. They’d offered Becky a vacation, all expenses paid. For the past month she’d been driving through the never-ending landscape, enjoying America at her own pace. On her passport she was plain Rebecca Palmer, a mousy English girl on holiday. But driving with her tits out, she was Becky Black once more – a working girl who specialised in death.
That was why she kept a pistol in the glove compartment and a switchblade tucked into the driver’s door. It was a big, bad world for a young woman on her own. She might be on vacation, but she never dropped her guard.
She was toying with her nipple as she crested the next rise, and saw another vehicle ahead. It was maybe half a mile away on the shimmering straight highway: a blemish on the bliss of solitude. Becky sighed, distracted from her sensual reverie. She steadied the wheel between her knees and pulled her cropped black tee-shirt on again. The vehicle was a mid-sized truck, and she was gaining on it slowly. She’d overtake it soon enough, and have the highway to herself again.
Half a mile ahead of her, the truck cruised steadily. The sides were armour-plated and the rear windows covered with steel mesh. Four women sat on benches in the passenger compartment. Three wore prison denim and the fourth was in a warder’s uniform.
“Are we there yet?” one of the prisoners asked.
Her sour tone made the warder smirk, like a schoolgirl who’d just heard a dirty joke. Her wide-lipped mouth curved wickedly, her blue eyes glittering. Her cap sat jauntily on her dark hair.
“You want a pee, Lisa? You should have gone before you came.”
The girl called Lisa glared at her with simmering brown eyes. Her face was kitten-pretty, but she looked about to turn into a cat. She had satiny Latina skin and pinned-up chestnut hair. Her denim shirt was half-undone, revealing the damp cleavage of her breasts.
The well-built girl beside her was a sulky-looking blonde. Her shirt was taut around her tits. She glowered at the guard with sea green eyes. There was a row of digits on the left breast of the blouse. Her given name was Corina, but to the system she was just a number now.
“When do we stop, Miss Sophie?” asked the third girl timidly. She sounded well-bred, diffident and way out of her depth. Her pulled-back hair and glasses made her look like an accountant. And that was what she’d been, before the other women had corrupted her.
The warder, Sophie, glanced at her. Still smiling. “I don’t know, Penny. Why, do you need a shower?”
Penny flinched and looked away, her pale cheeks colouring. She heard the warder chuckle to herself. Sophie preyed on her most weeks when she was in the showers. Naked but for cap and baton. Plundering the young accountant’s flesh. Last week she’d made Penny suck the nightstick. Then used it like a dildo on them both.
Sophie’s mocking gaze switched back to Lisa and Corina. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up, girls,” she said. “No matter how smart your lawyers are, this appeal is going nowhere. And your pals aren’t gonna rescue you. They’re much too busy spending what you stole ...”
No-one spared a glance through the back windows, where Becky’s car was gaining steadily. The bulky truck was in her way, but she was in no hurry. Her gloved fingers tapped the steering wheel as the Audi closed the distance, yard by yard.
Then she glimpsed a movement in the mirror. Becky switched her gaze and saw a motorcycle cop was on her tail. Just sitting there, content to let the black truck set the pace. It looked to be a woman, though her helmet and blank shades obscured her face.
Becky hoped she’d overtake. She didn’t like having someone up her arse. Although she wasn’t on a job, her fine hairs started prickling. The sooner she lost both truck and cop, the sooner she would feel relaxed again.
Then the bike’s lights flashed at her, and the siren gave a whoop. Becky frowned behind her sunglasses. The mirror image of the cop was gesturing to the verge. Becky braked unhurriedly. The armoured truck went speeding on ahead. The Audi pulled onto the verge, and the woman stopped a dozen yards behind.
Becky watched her in the mirror, fingertips still drumming at the wheel. The cop wore a tight-fitting shirt and pants which emphasised her curves. Her polished knee-high boots gave her a military look. She stood beside the bike and talked into the radio handset. Becky pouted to herself. The cop let her free hand brush across her hip.
Someone less experienced would have missed it, but Becky’s nerve ends came alive at once. She knew the girl had just undone her pistol’s safety strap. Now why take that precaution on a quiet day like this?
Becky’s eyes flicked to the glove compartment. The cop was coming up behind her, mirrored shades and helmet still in place. Becky felt her palms begin to sweat inside her gloves. She turned her head and gave the woman her most winning smile.
“Any trouble, officer? I wasn’t speeding, was I?”
She still had her right hand on the wheel, her left arm on the door. The young cop stared at her impassively. The top two buttons of her shirt were casually unfastened, and her tits were pushed up by a Wonderbra.
“You English, Ma’am?” she asked after a moment.
Becky nodded. “Yeah. Just passing through.”
The cop gave a faint smile. “I love that accent.”
It was the first time anyone had said that about Becky’s Birmingham drawl. She shrugged, still smiling back. Her shades concealed her watchful eyes. She slid her right hand off the wheel. “Do you need to see my licence …?”
The cop pulled out her pistol. “Freeze right there.”
Becky’s mouth dropped open as she peered at the gun. It was a Beretta 96 Centurion. The cop’s mouth twisted wryly. “Nothing personal,” she said. “We’ve got some road work up ahead. You came too close to it.”
“Please, I’m just a tourist,” Becky whimpered frantically. “You can’t just shoot me, I’ve done nothing wrong ...”
“I pulled you over,” purred the cop. “You made a sudden move. I had to shoot. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Listen …” Becky whined, and then reacted like a rattler. The switchblade cupped in her left hand sprang open with a click. She jabbed the weapon viciously into the cop’s flat belly. The blade slid through the gym-toned muscles. “Hurgh!” the girl gasped as she doubled up. Reflex made her clutch herself, the pistol veering wildly. Becky’s free hand grasped her shirt and hauled her bodily across the door.
She drove the switchblade deep and felt the woman jerk against her. The cop’s firm breasts were pressed into her face. Her panting cleavage smelled of sweat and perfume. Becky gave the knife a twist, and the girl squirmed wretchedly and then went limp.
The knifepoint must have punctured her aorta. The buried blade still plugged the wound, but the cop’s face was already drained of blood. Her sunglasses were still in place, impassive as a death stare. She slithered back and crumpled to the road.
“Bollocks!” Becky spat and wiped her wrist across her mouth. There were crimson speckles on her olive skin. The switchblade had come free and blood was splashed across the paintwork. The dead girl’s gun had landed in her lap.
Her heart was thudding hard. She felt a flutter of arousal. Craning round, she scanned the road. It was empty for as far as she could see. She realised that her nipples had gone hard beneath her tee-shirt. Becky peered down at the cop. “So was that sudden enough for you?” she asked.
She got out of the car and dragged the body to the roadside, rolling it down into the drainage ditch. She didn’t waste time wondering if the uniform was real. A fake cop or a crooked one, the girl was just as dead.
“Bollocks!” she repeated with a burst of petulance. She hoped this wouldn’t spoil her holiday. Getting back behind the wheel, she took off down the highway. The girl’s abandoned bike receded in a cloud of dust.
Two miles ahead, the straight road disappeared over a ridge. The truck was already out of sight – and coming to a halt. A police cruiser had been parked across the highway. A pair of female officers were lounging next to it.
Both girls wore tan uniforms and Stetsons, with long blonde hair beneath the wide-brimmed hats. The taller of the two had blue eyes, innocent as cornflowers, and was chewing on a stalk of sun-dried grass. Her name was Danni and she had a fresh-faced, wholesome look, belying the big pistol on her hip. Jakki, her companion, had a sulkier appearance. Her brown eyes gleamed like buttons, and her glossed lips bulged as if they’d just been stung.
The truck came rumbling to a stop and the driver stuck his head out. He eyed the pair of cops and licked his lips. Both of them had tits as round as melons. The female guard beside him gave a small, disdainful sigh.
“’Fraid the road’s closed up ahead,” drawled Danni. “Fuel tanker overturned. It’s being recovered now. There’s a detour if y’all are in a hurry.” She unfolded a map across the cruiser’s hood.
The driver glanced at his companion. “Might as well stretch our legs and have a smoke.” The woman shrugged and glanced over her shoulder. “Sophe – we’ve got a comfort break. Make sure those gals are chained, and get some air.”
The driver climbed down from the cab and sauntered up to Danni. “We’ve got some bad girls from the pen. They’re going for a drive ...” His mouth dried as he realised that she didn’t have a bra on. He cleared his throat, and Danni offered him her sweetest smile.
The other guard was opening a pack of cigarettes. She nodded to the pair of cops, then pushed a Lucky Strike between her lips. Jakki straightened up from where she slouched against the cruiser. “Do you want a light?” she asked. The warder shrugged.
Snooty bitch, the driver thought, as Sophie came to join them. He wished that they’d change places; Sophie looked like she could be a lot more fun. He bent to pore over the map. “So where does this detour take us?”
Danni’s smile grew wider. “Straight to Hell.”
She drew her pistol as she spoke and fired into his head. The far side of his skull exploded, spattering the map with blots of red. Jakki pulled her own gun out and shot the guard before her, the bullet rupturing the woman’s throat. The warder clutched her larynx as if throttling herself. The bloody cigarette dropped from her lips. “They say those things can kill you,” Jakki told her equably. The guard just gurgled thickly and collapsed.
Sophie gasped and flinched away, her blue eyes huge with horror. Danni swung her gun to bear. “All right, let’s get your passengers unchained.” The pistol was a solid-looking Ruger P85. Sophie’s wide-lipped mouth curled down. “Don’t shoot,” she bleated, fumbling for the keys.
She led the two blondes round the truck and opened the rear door. Lisa turned her head, unfazed. A wry smile lit Corina’s sulky face. Penny’s eyes grew wide behind her glasses. She wet her lips uneasily as Sophie climbed in to unshackle them.
Corina rubbed her wrists and watched the guard with feline eyes. Sophie pouted nervously. She wasn’t such a dominatrix now. Her outsize breasts were panting in the confines of her blouse. Corina eyed them pointedly, then reached for the shotgun propped by Sophie’s seat. It was a Mossberg pump-action. She chambered the first cartridge and aimed towards the dumbstruck guard. “You never took me in the shower, you cow!”
The shotgun blast exploded in the confines of the truck, and the buckshot blew eight holes in Sophie’s tits. The guard cried out and threw her head back, hard enough to make her cap fly off. She clawed her punctured flesh until the dark wounds blurted scarlet, then tumbled back to thump onto the road.
Corina dismounted with a flushed, post-coital smirk. Lisa and Penny climbed out too. “You took your time,” said the Latina girl. Danni shrugged, still chewing on her stalk of grass. She’d knotted her shirt beneath her breasts and her plumped-up cleavage bulged invitingly. Lisa stared at it, then held her hand out. Danni put the Ruger casually into her grip.
Lisa flexed her fingers round the butt, then looked at Penny. The young accountant blinked uncertainly. Lisa’s dark eyes smouldered, full of menace. “I hear someone’s been trying to cut a deal.”
Penny’s face lost colour and she took a step away. “Oh, please,” she whimpered. “Lise, that isn’t true …” Lisa curled her lip and raised the Ruger. And Becky’s car came hurtling into view.
She took the scene in straightaway and felt her heartstrings tighten. The bodies slumped in spills of blood; the open prison truck. The glint of sun on gunmetal as she swerved to clear the vehicles, running up onto the verge as the guns began to fire. Something struck the bodywork, like a stone chip but much louder. An insect whine went past her ear and cracked the windshield like a spider’s web.
Then she was clear and barreling along the open highway. Jakki ran into the road, firing after her until a taillight smashed. Penny seized her chance and fled for cover. Lisa turned and shot her, saw the puff of smoke between her shoulder blades. Penny jerked and grunted as the bullet ripped straight through her, emerging in a scarlet plume between her panting tits. She pirouetted and pitched forward, scrabbling as she landed, still trying to drag herself towards the ditch. Lisa fired again and Penny bounced against the blacktop, as if her breasts were rubber balls. She rolled onto her back. A last, despairing sigh escaped her body, and then her bosom sagged and she was still.
Danni and Jakki were running for their cruiser. Lisa turned her back on Penny, following Corina to the truck. The two vehicles took off after the disappearing Audi. Whoever the bitch might be, she’d seen too much.
Becky kept the pedal to the metal. Exhilaration gripped her, as it always did when death was at her heels. The road stretched out before her like a runway and she felt the slipstream rippling through her hair. Her gloved hands tightened on the wheel, and her eyes flicked to the mirror. The first time, it was empty. When she checked again, the truck and car were there.
The cruiser pulled ahead and started eating up the distance, like a sleek shark closing in on Becky’s tail. Jakki had the wheel and Danni leaned out of the window. She aimed a pistol with both hands. Her bullet whanged into the Audi’s wing. The next shot clipped the headrest, Becky ducked and sawed the wheel. The car veered left and right again, while Danni tried to aim another shot.
The biker cop’s Beretta lay beside her on the seat, and Becky scooped it up and twisted round. She pumped the trigger, punching holes into the cruiser’s windshield, and then a howling klaxon filled her ears. She turned her head and saw that she had crossed the centre line, and a massive truck was bearing down on her. Becky swore and spun the wheel one-handed. She swerved out of the monster’s path, its shock wave almost batting her aside.
The Audi raced on down the open highway. She tossed the gun aside and gripped the wheel. Reaction sizzled through her veins and cold sweat soaked her tee-shirt. And yet she wore a twisted smile, like a schoolgirl on a rollercoaster ride.
The cruiser was catching up again, despite its frosted windshield, but the slower prison truck was losing ground. Becky reached once more for the Beretta. Its grip felt reassuring through her glove. She saw a bus ahead of her and came up fast behind it, pulling out to overtake, but the cruiser went the other side of it. Next moment, shots came blasting through the windows, and Becky ducked a shower of splintered glass. Danni had raised herself to fire across the cruiser’s roof, triggering her pistol, trying to put a bullet into Becky’s head. Becky fired back through the bus as they hurtled three abreast. The passengers ducked, screaming, as the crossfire smashed the windows on both sides. The bus lurched drunkenly and almost knocked the cruiser sideways. Jakki fishtailed clear of it, and Becky seized the chance to pull ahead.
She didn’t think she could outrun the cop car. The thing was like a spectre on her tail. A side-road flashed towards her and she swerved to follow it, churning out a fog of dust as the wheels of the Audi spun to get a grip. It was a farm road, running between cornfields, the tall crops rustling on either side. Becky powered down it with a quick glance in the mirror. Behind her, in the haze of dust, the cruiser was still snapping at her heels. She popped the glove compartment and pulled out her own Beretta – an army model 92 – and tossed it on the seat with the Centurion. Becky breathed in deep, and felt her large breasts stretch her tee-shirt. Then, as the road entered a dip, she wrenched the Audi in a handbrake turn.
It was a manoeuvre she had learned at 16, joy-riding round a Birmingham estate. The car spun round so sharply that it made her stomach turn a somersault. It jolted to a halt and Becky grabbed both automatics, standing up to trigger them as the cruiser plunged towards her through the dust. She blazed away with suicidal calm, and then leaped sideways, still firing as she tumbled clear and the cruiser smashed head on into her car.
The vehicles crunched horribly and slewed across the road. Becky landed with a roll, both pistols still gripped tightly in her hands. She rose into a crouch as the wrecked cars came to a standstill, their impact gouging out a pall of dust. Jakki was still behind the wheel: her blonde head whiplashed sharply, then dangled like a broken doll’s with an asterisk of blood between her brows.
Danni was thrown clear and struck the verge with winding force. She wriggled like a landed fish, then forced her body up out of the dirt. She’d lost her Stetson, and her knotted shirt was coming loose. One of her breasts was almost free, the rosy nipple peeping into view.
Then she glimpsed the pistol she’d been using: Jakki’s Smith & Wesson, with its stainless steel frame. Danni clawed her way towards it, scooping up the gun. As she began to clamber up, a bullet thudded hard into her breast.
Becky had used the pink disc of her nipple as a bull’s-eye. The shot just missed it, biting a neat hole in the soft flesh. Danni reared back with a grunt, still trying to aim the pistol, her bosom quivering beneath the blow. Becky fired again and blew a hole through Danni’s sternum, making both tits joggle as the blonde girl arched her spine. She somersaulted backwards to land sprawling in the dust, her shocked blue eyes dilating as they stared towards the disappearing sky.
The dust ball from the wreck was still expanding as the prison truck came jouncing down the road. Corina braked as the cloud obscured the windshield. Then the dust spiraled off like smoke to reveal the two cars locked in an embrace.
Corina chewed her lip and glanced at Lisa. There was no sign of the woman they’d pursued. The Audi’s seats were empty and the driver’s door ajar, the windshield like a cobweb of cracked glass. Danni’s body lay nearby, tits-up and soaked with scarlet. The cornfields rustled in a breath of wind.
The pair of cons dismounted warily and glanced around. Corina kept the Mossberg braced, while Lisa gripped her Ruger in both hands. Their breasts heaved slowly, sweatily, against their denim shirtfronts. They could hear a wind pump in the stillness, whirring maybe half a mile away.
They moved towards the vehicles in silence. Corina sidled past the cruiser, peering in, but Jakki was dead too. The back of her blonde head was dark and sticky. Blood had streamed between her closed eyes, dripping down into her open shirt.
Lisa padded round the Audi like a stalking cat. The bitch was gone into the corn – but had she fled, or was she lying in wait? Lisa gave the car a glance, and then she saw the pistol: a black Beretta in the dust beside the driver’s door. The slide hadn’t locked open, so it still had shells to spare. Lisa flicked her gaze around, then crouched to pick it up.
The driver’s door swung open under Becky’s piston-kick. It walloped Lisa in the face and knocked her back onto her shapely butt. Becky vaulted up from where she’d lain across the seats, and leveled the Centurion towards Corina’s melon-heavy tits. The blonde girl was still pivoting, face tight with desperation, the Mossberg coming round as Becky’s trigger finger squeezed. She got off three fast shots, and then the pistol’s slide sprang open. Belatedly she realized that its bigger bullets meant a smaller load.
Which was no consolation for Corina. The .40 calibre shells ploughed through her firm but yielding breasts. One of them burst her heart, and blood erupted through her shirtfront. The big girl flipped back, grimacing, as if she’d been knocked over by a truck.
Becky dropped the empty gun and swung back towards Lisa. The Latina girl had rolled and was already scrambling up. Blood oozed from her lip, and she was furious, a blaze of feral light in her dark eyes. She raised her Ruger shakily and tried to draw a bead. Becky felt her stomach plunge. She knew her own tits would be hard to miss. Instinctively she jerked her switchblade from its hiding place, the long blade snapping open as her arm came whipping down.
The knife flashed through the air and thudded into Lisa’s chest. “Hggh!” the stricken girl choked out, her face contorting as she clutched herself. She jerked the Ruger’s trigger and it jumped out of her grasp. Lisa twisted half around and flopped into the dust like a dead weight.
Becky’s breath sighed out, her breasts subsiding. She clutched the windshield frame with one gloved hand. The girls she’d killed lay strewn around her, motionless and sullen. The cornstalks whispered faintly, and the distant wind pump muttered to itself.
A wry smile curved her lip at last, and she slumped down in the Audi’s driving seat. Bracing one boot against the dash, she fished her cellphone out. She had contacts in the business who could make this go away.
“Hi,” she said when she got through. “It’s me: Bikini Black. There’s been a spot of road rage, and I really need a tow …” She glanced round at the bodies, and a thought occurred to her. “Say,” she said, smile widening, “do they still offer rewards for outlaws here …?”