Posted by Max5s on April 02, 2003 at 19:56:53:
The Redheads
by Max5s
I tossed the phone back down on its cradle and let go with a long
string of curses. "Should have known better," I sighed as I picked up
the large yellow envelope containing a short bio and a few pictures
of the mark. It was an easy hit. Hell, it was too easy, but the
strings attached made it particularly risky (in a business sense)…
and therefore rather expensive.
The first photo was the best. It was a professionally done portrait,
and those pale green eyes stared straight into the camera and dared
me to fall in love with their owner. It was a subtle invitation to
ecstasy; suggesting the opportunity to gaze back from the distance of
entwined lovers and run my fingers gently through her long red hair.
I closed my eyes for a moment and let the edge of the photo fall
against my forehead. In my imagination, I could detect her scent in
the air moving under the glossy image as it swirled under my brow. It
wasn't a perfume I could name, yet it conjured up memories of carnal
delights experienced when sins of the flesh were a new experience for
me.
The second picture had been taken by a private investigator that had
been hired to follow her around for a few days. I think I know who PI
was. Actually, I sure of who it was. The brownish tone said
Ektachrome, and SJ Inc. was the only agency still using traditional
film. It was a good shot, but the mere fact that it existed presented
me with an additional complication that I would have to fix before
the job would be complete. Someone else besides me had been paid to
take an interest in the lady's affairs, and when she turned up dead,
there was the possibility that some little voice might come out of
the woodwork pointing an accusing finger at her employer-for-a-day.
The redhead in the photo was a jogger; one who didn't mind showing
off a bit of skin as she made her trek around San Gabriel Park.
Cherrill Monroe. "Cherrill" was an interesting spelling of her name,
and left me wondering if it was pronounced "Cherrill", as in Cher
Bono or "Cherrill" like chaste. She was certainly dressed like an
athletic Cher, so I chose that option.
SJ Inc. was a one-person operation. Sara Jane had started her own
business a little over two years ago. After four years with those
idiots at Burnham & Lambert, she took the big jump into self-
employment and was doing pretty well. I'd used her services several
times when she was just starting out and discovered that she was very
resourceful.
As I walked into Sara Jane's office, it was readily apparent that her
agency was thriving. The sand colored walls still smelled of fresh
paint, and newly laid Saltillo tile provided a perfect contrast for
her set of soft leather easy chairs. She stood up and walked out from
behind her desk. "Hello, Cash," she stated with some surprise. A
genuine smile told me I was welcome. "I was just headed out, but
perhaps you could convince me to be fashionably late for my next
appointment."
"Appointment?" I responded with a questioning tone in my voice. "I'd
have guessed you had a date waiting. You look like you're ready for
the opera or a trip to one of those bourgeois dining establishments
you're so fond of."
"So you approve of my dress?" she replied with another warm smile. It
was a long, green, satin affair that plunged nicely at the neckline
and fit her almost like a second skin. She turned slowly so I could
see what wasn't covering her back, and then back around so that she
faced me again. I guess my appreciation was obvious. She pushed me
back against a table that she often used when discussing a case with
a client then kissed me gently on the lips.
I pulled the photo of the jogger out and held it up. "Did you take
this?"
Sara Jane picked up the picture and held it carefully by its edges. I
watched her face as I waited for a response. She bit her lip lightly
and briefly held her breath. "Maybe," she replied barely above a
whisper. "Why?" she asked as her lips pressed against mine again,
only with this time with an unexpected element of passion.
"Either you took it or you didn't."
"Cash, you know the drill. I can't talk about my clients. If I do,
word will get out and pretty soon I won't have any clients left. I
have to play by those rules."
"Sara," I whispered into her ear as my hands slid over her butt. "I
don't want to talk about your client. I just want to know if you took
the picture. And why you aren't wearing any underwear? Simple as
that."
She pushed me back onto the table and pulled down my zipper. It was
obvious that I was ready for her. "I hate those damn panty lines,"
she whispered back as she slid onto me. "And yes. I took the picture.
Now shut up and fuck me."
I watched her face as she moved up and down. My hands slid up under
the dress and over her narrow hips. The fabric slowly inched upward
until her lower belly was exposed. For a few moments, she leaned
forward pressing her abdomen against mine. Our lips met again,
lightly at first; hers brushing over mine.
Tease.
Counter-tease.
Then French.
Deep.
Probing.
Wild!!
Then she was back up, riding high in the saddle again. My fingers
tightened around her narrow waste and pulled her slightly forward.
Her breath caught for a moment as my thumb pressed into the depths of
her navel. I pushed in then moved the digit in a circular motion. She
leaned hard against the increasing pressure in her belly and forced
herself down hard on my shaft. Then her body tightened as the moment
of release crept closer. He face was flush as she waited for the wave
to break. Eyes closed, lips slightly parted; she teetered at the edge
waiting for the curl to form and the long ecstatic fall that would
leave her in a state of sublime exhaustion. Seconds to go.
Three……
Two……
One……
The door behind me swung open and crashed against the wall. Three
muffled pops followed in quick succession forcing crimson flowers to
bloom on the green fabric that had slid back down over my hand and
covered Sara Jane's trembling belly. A thin spray had erupted from
each developing bud leaving a pink veneer on my face and the front of
my shirt. Sara's eyes opened wide as she processed the conflicting
sensations of pleasure and pain radiating from her center. She pulled
up the edge of her dress and stared at the three little openings
surrounding her navel. The symmetry was almost perfect. Two more pops
followed, burying copper-jacketed projectiles in and beside her left
nipple. Sara shook with the impacts then spun off onto the floor
leaving my dick waving like a flagpole on Mount Suribachi.
Jocelin stood there staring at me with a grin on her face. Smoke
drifted out of the long silencer tube. "Your DNA's gonna land you in
prison if you aren't careful."
I got up and went over to Sara Jane. She was lying flat on her back.
One hand pressed tightly against her wounded belly while the other
gripped the grout lines between the tiles in the floor.
"Who is she, Cash? I don't understand."
"Sorry Sara. You were a great lay, but business is business. The man
who hired you to follow Monroe, hired me to kill her, and you just
ended up a loose end. You know he was interested in her, and now,
that I'm interested. Just can't take the chance."
Jocelin kneeled down beside Sara admiring her work, but at the same
time a bit annoyed with herself. She took the gun and jammed the tip
of the silencer into Sara's belly button. "You'll love the feel of
this." Pfft…Pfft…Pfft. Sara's face contorted, then her eyes seemed
seamed to lose focus. Her head rolled to the left, and her chest sank
for the last time.
"Let's go," Jocelin growled with a hint of jealousy in her voice. "I
wanna charm your snake before it gets loose again."
Part 2
Cherrill looked down at her watch. It was a quarter to six. She was
right on time as she approached her three-mile mark. After a one-year
break she had started jogging again a little over a month ago and was
averaging about 10 minutes per mile. Some days it really felt like
she was pushing it, but as she round the Tivoli Fountain and headed
into the Market Street tunnel her stride was even and her legs felt
strong.
Perhaps the sex from the previous evening's encounter had raised her
spirits and provided her with the emotional energy to push herself
physically. It certainly was obvious that as her imagination brought
forth images from their act of consummation, her pace quickened. She
could still feel each sensuous stroke of her lover's fingers on her
breasts, down her sides, swirling madly across her belly and
descending into the nethers. Finally, she'd discovered a lover who
knew how to touch those special places in ways that turned her legs
into jello and left her steaming like molten lava. Suddenly Cherrill
felt flashes of heat in her face, down her back and across her
abdomen. Tiny beads of sweat decorated her naked belly; some just
glistening in the narrow rays of light penetrating the tunnel through
its numerous skylights, others obtaining sufficient mass to trickle
lightly over her skin only to disappear as they slid under the red,
spandex shorts she wore low across her hips.
As she approached the point where the tunnel opened once again into
the wooded park, Cherrill noticed a rather attractive redhead
approaching her. It was unusual to see other runners this early, and
as she tried to think up an appropriate greeting, the poor woman
tripped and fell roughly on the pathway they shared. The woman rolled
onto her side and drew her right knee upward while holding her lower
leg. Cherrill raced over to where the woman laid.
"How badly are you hurt?" she panted. "Let me c-check your leg before
you try to move it."
"I'm okay," the young redhead remarked. "Just help me up."
"Sure," Cherrill replied and she took the woman's hand, "But take it
slow ……..and easy."
"Not to worry," the stranger whispered as she eyed the firm, flat
belly of her rescuer. "Just take my arm."
Cherrill started to speak again, but was distracted by a flash of
steel. Instantly, she recognized it as the long, thin blade of a
stiletto, but as she attempted to react, her whole existence slid
into a slow-motion twilight zone. The hand she pulling on was now
somehow pushing up under her right breast and driving her shoulder
against the tunnel wall. The impact stunned her, and she watched
helplessly as the blade zeroed in on her gut. Cherrill's brain
screamed at her to turn away, but her body refused to accept the
command. Instead her waist rotated back toward her assailant, leaving
her wide open for an easy kill.
Horror filled eyes watched as the blade seemed to inch its way toward
her. Then the tip of the blade disappeared under the upper fold of
her navel, and Cherrill braced for the pain. Deeper and deeper it
went. One quarter in. One half. Three quarters. Her body just seemed
to swallow it up. Until the hilt touched her skin. The pain instantly
exploded within her. Hands frozen in motion suddenly felt freedom and
gripped fiercely at her wounded belly. Breathing was suddenly hard,
as if she had been held under water and been given the opportunity to
taste the air one last time. Her lungs filled rapidly, but couldn't
capture the needed oxygen fast enough. She coughed hard, intensifying
the pain that radiated from her punctured center.
Cherrill looked into the eyes of her attacker. They were wide with
excitement, and she was thoroughly enjoying her murderous act. "I got
ya," she whispered, "right where it really hurts."
Cherrill didn't reply. She couldn't. Surprise, pain, fear, all
apparent on her face. But no words.
The sound of another jogger's footfalls broke the momentary silence.
As Cherrill prepared to signal him, the attacker gave the stiletto a
sharp twist then pressed her lips firmly against Cherrill's and
flattened her against the wall in an overanxious lover's embrace.
Helpless, she watched the man avert his gaze as he ran past them.
When the jogger was safely out of sight, the woman twisted the blade
once again, tearing and slicing through more of Cherrill's abdominal
arteries and veins. Then as quickly as she appeared, the woman pulled
out the long, wicked blade and took off running in the direction from
which she came.
Cherrill looked down at the stream of blood that oozed from her
ruined navel. She pressed her fingers tightly against the wound and
staggered out of the tunnel and into the morning light. The roses
along the path were blooming in different shades of red and yellow
and a mockingbird was busy dive-bombing a crow that was circling
overhead. As she watched the big, black bird, a muscle in her belly
cramped up and dropped her to her knees in screaming agony. The damp
ground at the edge of the path cushioned the impact of her collapse
and felt cool against her cheek as she doubled over. She coughed
several more times, each sending an accumulation of blood over her
lower lip. Then the pain subsided a bit, but she knew she'd never
make it to a hospital. With her finger she felt the ugly tear in the
center of her belly button. She could feel her heart beat in her
fingertip and the stickiness as new blood oozed out of the wound with
each ventricular contraction. She closed her eyes and waited. Waited
to die.
Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. The scent of cologne told her
it was a man. He helped her lift her face out of the dirt and got her
into a position where she was sitting on the heels of her shoes.
"My God!" he remarked in an alarmed tone after he saw all the
blood. "What happened? Who did this to you?"
Cherrill opened her eyes, but instead of seeing her potential
rescuer, she saw the redhead walking on the path back toward her. For
a second she stared at her, then raised her left arm and tried to
point. "Noooooo," she screamed in a whisper, then fell forward into
the mud; into endless silence.
Part 3
"Leave the engine running. I won't be long." Famous last words?
Perhaps? But I really intended to deliver payment and go.
Just as she had said on the phone, Jocelin was in her back yard
catching some sun by her swimming pool. So California like.
I paused at the gate and took a deep breath. It was unlocked, so I
turned the handle and walked across the stone patio to where she was
laying.
"Hello, Cash," she remarked. "Did ya bring your suit, or are you
catch the sun in those shorts?"
Jocelin was laying on a bright white towel. Her auburn red hair was
pulled into a ponytail and draped over her left shoulder, the tip
resting on her breast just atop about an inch below where her nipple
hid under a red and white bikini top.
I rolled a towel out beside her and sat down at first, then turned
and rested on my hip and one elbow. "I put 25 in your account for the
Monroe contract."
Jocelin rolled over on her side and looked me square in the eye. "I
got her good, didn't I? You should have seen the look on her face
when I rammed my steel into her belly button. I thought I was gonna
cum right there."
Jocelin's bikini bottom had two thin straps that rolled over her hips
and cut into a deep "V" the rode just over her pubic bone. I reached
out and slowly traced a straight line from a point between her
breasts down to her navel. I pushed my finger into her belly button
and felt her softness. "I this where you got her?" I whispered.
Jocelin looked down at my finger. Her navel was deep and wide, and my
finger swirled around its rim. As she watched, I pushed in lightly
and rotated my finger back and forth. Her nipples were suddenly erect
and pushing against the fabric of her top.
"Push harder," she moaned and she leaned toward me. "Push it in deep
until you can feel my spine." Her lips touched mine. They were soft
and warm and told me of her wantings.
"I stabbed her, Cash. Right through her belly button. Then I kissed
her as I twisted the blade in her guts. She was pretty, Cash. Real
pretty. And she went down hard. I made her crawl, Cash. I made her
crawl in the dirt."
I could feel myself growing as I kissed Jocelin's lips. Carefully, I
undid the straps of her top and tasted the sweetness of her ample
breasts.
"I want you, Cash," she whispered. "Push into my belly as you take
me. Use you finger like a knife and stab me with it."
As we kissed, I withdrew a CO2 powered airgun tucked under my belt at
the small of my back. It was modeled after a SIG .380, but equally
lethal if used properly. I pushed the muzzle into her bellyhole and
pulled the trigger before she realized what was happening. It made a
bit of a "pop" as it hammered a 2 inch long dart into the center of
her navel. Her expression was clearly that of surprise. Slowly, she
looked down at the point of entry. A tuft of green bristles cut in a
circular pattern that served as the feathers of an arrow do rested
atop the black shaft of the dart. Penetration was only about 1 and a
half inches, but certainly deep enough to do the job.
"What the fuck?" she spoke as she puzzled over the projectile. She
touched it, then pulled lightly at it. "You bastard!" she screamed.
Her anger suddenly turned to confusion as nausea overcame her. "I
can't move my arm," she whispered as she gazed down between her
breasts at the tiny wound.
"What have you done to me?"
"It's a poison, Jocelin. You'll feel a lot of pain around the wound,
then paralysis followed by respiratory failure."
Jocelin clutched her gut with her left hand and rolled onto her back.
Pain cut through her belly just as if I'd stuck her with a knife.
"How much time do I have?" she coughed.
Her face mirrored her agony as her eyes met mine. Hatred slowly took
over as the strongest emotion. I stood up, watching her as I shoved
the gun into my belt again.
"A minute. Two at the most."
"You bastard," she cried again. "You cheap bastard."
She languished for a few moments the struggled furiously to breathe.
There was an audible gasp, then her head turned slightly, and her
eyes went blank. I bent down and felt her pulse. Satisfied, I closed
her eyelids then carefully pulled out the dart. The coroner would
really have to look hard to find the tell-tale mark. My guess was
that few would be all that interested in examining her navel, but
then, ya never know. Most would just write her off as a heart attack
victim despite her age.
I refolded my towel and returned it to the stack on the patio
table. "Easy money," I thought to myself.
I climbed into the waiting car. Sinead's legs were long and her eyes
reminded me of Neptune's sea. "Let's go," I said.