Saturday, October 10, 2009

killing harry...
part six (taking out Drasco)

[continued from...take a guess!]

     i lovvve to kill. and i hated Drasco.
     that's a simple equation. but there was a rather yucky 'x' factor.
     the code among hitters is that you don't bump off your competition.
     that would be like erasing the lanes on the san diego freeway. no one would know where the lines were. people would crash all over the friggin' place. it would be nasty hell for me to find the rosecrans exit to get over to my darling exorbitantly priced shop center across from manhattan beach and have a cappucinno after buying that prada blouse and gucci shades i sooo must have!
hitman, gangster
Drasco...a smug old school hit man, with
a pinky ring, that i was going to have to...make disappear

     so hitters aren't supposed to 'do' hitters.
     but some things are more important than 'the' code.
     like having to take crap from dross like Drasco.
     my sweet panties were wet with the thought of actually taking Drasco down.
     no. it wasn't like harry. harry would be a love affair kill. Drasco would be an ugly, nasty sportfuck rape. we all need those now and then.

     for anyone in the trades reading my prose here, i'll point out that Drasco had already violated the code. he had taken my job. kill my kill, will  you? i don't think so!
     my employers knew the rules. i would not have gotten the job had there already been an action pending on harry. so Drasco had got the job after moi!
     whatever harry was, and there was more to this sweet fellow than met the eye, i was becoming surer by the moment that probably several business partners, a few wives, and maybe a number of governments wanted him bye bye.
     but i'd frickin' got the call first. it was my honor to take his sweet life. Drasco wasn't buggin' in with his heavy hand.
sexy-feet, sexy-legs, hot-feet, hot-legs, stilletos, sexy-calves
I dressed cheap, small town. Still,
I looked good. You can't hide style, I suppose.

     so. decided. Drasco had to go.
     but therein lies the rub, to quote another worthy writer.
     whatever else my competition was, he was no fool. i'd have to meet Drasco in his motel and take no weapons. that means i'd have to take him out by hand.
     hmmmm. i was good. perhaps not that good.
     but there was another possibility...yes!
     i had what i needed. i always came prepared.
     i called Drasco at the...gasp...motel 8...
     "Drasco, you win. i'll be over to talk this out. we need to come to some agreement."
     there was a pause on the other end. then a nauseating phoney southern chuckle.
     why this italio-eastern european descendant of vlad the impaler insisted on sounding like a texas aggie was beyond my stylish wits. george the 'w' bush was born in connecticut, went to high school in andover mass, and sounded like an east texas wildcatter. it didn't do him much good in the end.
     and this cheeep drawl wouldn't help Drasco.
     "well, darlin', you've come around. and now, why don't you, come around.
     "how's about ninish sound?"
     i'd play dumb. but not too dumb. too much of a giveaway.
     "if something happens to my sweet ass, Drasco, i'm covered. i won't go into specifics..."
     "and i wouldn't want you to darlin'. if i was gonna do you, it would have been in that little piece of crap you were drivin'. come now, we're professionals. we'll wheel. deal. and work this out. seeya at nine doll. (click)"
     i had no backup plan. i wouldn't need one.
Drasco's phoney texas drawl po'd me. some people
say don't mess with texas. i say, don't mess with Misty

     i got a few looks walking up the street after parking round the corner from the '8'.
     i kept it low key. sears summer collection. but i looked good. couldn't help myself. even in that trash.
     if i knew anything, and i knew a lot, Drasco would make an offer. sex for killing harry in a way that would satisfy both our employers' requirements.
     Drasco would offer it. but i knew he couldn't break a contract for an 'example' killing. he'd lie to me, fuck me, and then go kill harry in a very ugly way. and, of course, i'd be on the line for letting harry get in the paper as a mob hit. or worse, international incident.
     so things had to turn out my way. not Drasco's.

     i knocked on the door to Drasco's room. my 'fuck me' red wig looked hot. so did my spikey stilettos and floral print skirt. like something out of a nascar fan's fantasy. or a middle age hitman's. comprendo?
     the door opened. slow. sinatra was playing. was Drasco being 'romantic'? i had the urge to vomit.
     seeing his ugly mug didn't help. i held my lunch down and smiled.
     he motioned me in with the grace of...a hitman.
     "so, ya'll decided to come around darlin." there wasn't even a question mark at the end of his sentence. like there was never a question. grrrr!
     "just knock off the oilfield accent. we'll put our cards on the table and do what needs to be done." i couldn't be too nice to him. we didn't want a suspicious hitman.
dewars, white-label, scotch
the jackass offered me a dewars. he musta just read a 1972 issue of playboy if he thught i'd be impressed

     "how's bout a scotch before we get down to it." he had a bottle of dewars on the table, two glasses, and some already poured in one of them. The jackass was offering me a dewars. he musta just read a 1972 issue of playboy if he thought i'd be impressed.
     "what, couldn't afford the glen livet?"
     he shook his head. i'd stung him. "man, you know how to hurt a guy. i'll go get some if it'll make a difference."
     almost felt sorry for his murdering ass.
     "don't bother. what's your offer Drasco."
     "well, hon, before i back away from you and relax, i gotta have you take that dress off. and the hairpiece too"
     i smiled. "don't trust me, do you?"
     he smiled. "nothin' personal, darlin', but not on my life."
     i winked and pulled open my white trash blouse. tossed it to the floor. then dropped my floral print skirt. i was naked except for mervyn's cheap and sexy stilettos. i turned so he could see me 360, and then pulled off the red wig and shook my own glorious, dirty blonde hair out.
     "see mr. nasty? no guns, knives, bats...not even a pair of panties to strangle you with."
     "strangle me with panties, huh? i might like that darlin'."
     Drasco liked what he saw. the giveaway was mini-Drasco, below his waist.
     but by the looks of it, there was nothing mini about Drasco's cock. could the rumors be true? in response to my strip tease, it was sticking out like a ship mast. an arrow on a compass. pointin' due north.
     a hard north.
     "so what's the deal Drasco. what do you want for lettin' me kill harry. my way."
     Drasco turned without saying a word and ran to the bathroom. he wasn't in there long. only long enough to...well. you know.
     when he came back, i'd walked over to the dewars and was holding it. if he'd put anything nasty in the bottle i wasn't drinking. i handed it to him first. "have some."
     he did.
     i took it back and had a drink.
     "couldn't hold yourself in? i'm flattered," i said. he looked embarrassed, but no less the murdering bastard i knew he was.
     "gimme that," he growled, taking the dewars back, and throwing it down his ugly throat.

as Drasco and i were about to do the nasty, the big
red motel sign caught my eye through the window.
'color tv'. this was sooo tawdry. i loved it...

     "you and me on the bed. i take your pal out, but it'll look like he blew his own brains out. best i can do."
     i paused. wavered. quivered. just enough to look believable.
     "i can trust you..?"
     "if two working class stiffs can't trust each other in this game, what kind of a world are we livin' in, darlin'," the jackass drawled.
     i hesitated. then said yes.
     "you're a big guy, Drasco. you on bottom. i don't want your sweaty 250 pounds all over me when you lose your load a second time. you gotta condom?"
     "don't leave home without em'." Geesh. He was doing a karl malden impression.

     he began peeling off his overpriced, cheesy clothes. Drasco was a big, oily guy with a body that might once have looked like a greek statue. he'd had some practice getting undressed because he was down to black sox in about 30 seconds.
     his monogrammed designer briefs were still wet from losing control a few moments ago.
     i don't like men for anything but killing, but my eyebrows went up when he turned around and flopped over on the boxspring.
     "ya don't have to say a thing darlin'. my gift to you."
     he had the cock of a stallion. he was an arrogant bastard, but it was as nice as any i'd seen from my switch hitting days.
     i leaned over and held it in my right hand. "fuck!"
     "that's right, hon. fuck. now sit on it."

Drasco made me strip naked for concealed weapons.
He didn't think the best place to conceal was between
the halves of my naked ass...

     whatever plans i had for Drasco, it was on hold for a second. i wanted to feel that thing of his in me.
     he was a vile, disgusting, sadistic bastard. and i was the ultimo lezzie. but he was half the size of my arm. i wondered what that log would feel like in me as i did to Drasco what i was about to do...
     i didn't eat caviar. but if someone put a $1000 jar of it in front of me, i 'd sure as hell stuff some down just to say i had. Drasco's log was a $1000 jar of caviar.
     "where's your cock sock," i wanted to know.
     "wallet," he grunted.
     "optimistic sob, aren't you," i said. i bent down, took the wallet out of his pants on the floor. i pulled out one of three he had in there. he was hard by the time i peeled it on.
      for the black hole, waste of life, called Drasco, this was his one, one and only, redeeming characteristic.
     "i think you're the biggest piece of trash i ever came across, Drasco. but i'll admit, you got one hell of a cock." i pulled the latex down. it took some stretching to get anywhere near the base of his thing.
     when done, i threw one leg over Drasco's body so that i was straddling him.
     my one hand reached back, to my own lovely ass. my fingertips spread my delish, well formed glutes apart, until...i could feel it.
     hidden between the halves of my ass was a small plastic hypo, the needle covered with it's plastic protector so it wouldn' know...stick moi.
hot-sexy-ass, naked-ass, woman's-ass
i was the nurse goddess of a bad ending
for Drasco. i had a hypo filled with a gift...

     a little trick i'd used before to smuggle in that something special.
     i pulled out the hypo from my bottom, closed my hand around it, and bent down nose to nose with Drasco. the hand with my little gift was behind his head now. with the other hand i grabbed the one thing of value on this bastard, and stroked myself with the tip.
     i am a woman who can walk and chew gum at the same time. i can also pull the cover off a syringe with one hand, and pull a man's cock into me with the other.
     which is what i did with Drasco.
     while i can think about two or more things at once, Drasco had one thing on his mind as i pulled him in. judging by his earlier episode running to the boy's room, i didn't have long.

     almost immediately i felt him start to lose it.
     i looked down at the big, greasy italiano-slav with a phoney texas accent, and poised the needle against the thick artery in his neck.
     i had pulled myself up high on his cock, and with supreme maneuvering (way to go misty!), i eased back down slowly on the huge piece of him that was in me.
     as i came back down, he lost it...
     at that moment i put the needle deep in his neck and squeezed the full hypo into him.
     Drasco was too busy getting off to notice. the needle was empty and out of his neck before he was even done.
     i'd wanted his trophy in me, but i was over it by the time he was soft again. and by then, i'd finished shooting him up with enough horse tranquilizer to knock out...well...a horse.
hot-sexy-ass, naked-ass, woman's-ass, naked-sexy-woman, naked-woman, nude-woman
i pulled myself up off of Drasco after we did the nasty. he was out cold.
funny how a hypo of knockout juice in the neck will do that. i was the last
chic he'd ever get to do the nasty with.

     the big, nasty, bad ass hitter was out cold.
     i rose up on my long lovely thighs and his spent cock pulled out of me and flopped down like a caught bass on a redondo beach sport trawler in early spring. yeah, i like to fish.
     there was a half cup of little Drascos that he'd squirted into the latex. i pulled it off him, tied it off, and flushed the future Drascos down the toilet, where they would never blossom into the vile piece of shit now snoring away on the motel 8 bed.
     after i'd be done with Drasco, he'd never have a chance to infect a chic with his mutant progeny again. i was doing the human race a favor.
     always helping out. sooo 'me'.
     more important, when i was done with Drasco, harry would be left for me. and only me.
     ohhhhh, my delicious harry!
     i'd be coming for you soon enough my luv!

[to be continued...of course]

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