The Hitman and the Escort Read online

  And then the sound of a bullet cracking through skull, that’s pretty loud, too.

  Inside the confines of the limo driver’s cockpit, it’s loud enough that I’m glad I’m wearing earplugs, but I know nobody will hear it through the armor of the car, or see it through the tinted windows.

  The body slumps against the far window, blood trickling from the holes in the side of his head, and his feet kick a bit, and then he’s still.

  I take out the earplugs. I have a bit of tinnitus, a ringing in my right ear, from being in too many gunfights. Though I admit that there are far worse injuries that can result from gunfights.

  And I’ve had those, also.

  Chastity

  I’m riding her foot, squeezing my legs together around it, and she pushes it against my wetness.

  I look around the restaurant nervously, and the billionaire laughs a bit. “Do you want her to stop, Chastity?”

  I shake my head and bite my lip.

  The beauty queen is looking me right in the eye, smiling, as she rubs my pussy with her foot, and her fingertips are tracing over the slopes of her breasts, revealed in the low-cut silver dress.

  She dips one finger inside the neckline of her dress, inside her bra, and licks her lips.

  “Shall we get the check?” asks the billionaire.

  Oooh, this is going to be a good night.

  Vladimir

  When the two other security guards bring the billionaire out and deposit him, his trophy wife, and his slut for the evening in the back of the limo, they check in by radio but don’t bother to open the door and say hello. I gave the right radio call signal in my perfect Russian. Why should they even look in the tinted windows?

  I’d monitored their radio communications for the week I’d watched them, so I knew exactly what to say and when. I hear the door in the back close and I pull the car out into traffic and drive into the streets of the city.

  Chastity

  It’s a bit different than you’d imagine, being a highly-paid escort.

  I mean, I am with men more nights than not. And they are often kind and affectionate and treat me well.

  But still, I remain a thing they pay for.

  Do they think of me much differently than their expensive cars?

  We both give them pleasure, but…

  When I’m alone, however, I’m really alone.

  I mean I have a few acquaintances. Girls at the gym and the salon.

  But I don’t really hang around with other escorts, really. I know a few, of course. We work together occasionally. We tend not to hang out together when we’re not working because we’re all, at the end of the day, competition for each other.

  And we want to get away from work in our free time, I suppose.

  So I don’t have anybody in my life at the moment who I can discuss my job with, so I can’t really be honest with anybody.

  That’s a very special kind of loneliness, having a big secret like that.

  But I’m philosophical about it.

  I’m certainly not the only one with secrets.

  Vladimir

  It’s a bit different being a highly-paid assassin than you’d think.

  I watch movies and it’s always the lone assassin cleaning guns in his room or playing the cello alone on the dock of his lake house or something like that.

  I do my jobs alone, apart from some intelligence support from my contract arranger, and that’s one reason why I’m so in demand. It would be a lot easier to work with a team, but with me, you get no witnesses, and no accomplices.

  But when I’m not working?

  I socialize like any 28-year-old guy, I guess.

  I have a few buddies from the gym, guys who also work in security and military contracting who also can’t talk about their jobs much.

  Girls?

  Well. That just wouldn’t work, for reasons which will be clear soon enough. Fortunately, my work gives me certain opportunities to fulfill my needs, and that’s enough. That’s the world I live in.

  But I can’t have too many close relationships in this job, for obvious reasons.

  I mean, I told you already about the job where I had to strangle my acquaintance. I wouldn’t say I really liked that guy, but he was okay.

  I had friends when I was in the Spetznatz, the Russian special forces, and when I worked for a private military contracting company later. They were better friends because there weren’t so many secrets. Or at least, we shared secrets. It’s funny how talking about work is such a big part of friendships and relationships.

  You’d think it would be easier to separate work and life, but it isn’t. For anybody.

  Least of all for those of us with illegal jobs.

  Maybe that’s why crime syndicates are often family based.

  But friendship is over-rated in my opinion, anyway.

  Family too.

  Chastity

  I’m sitting across from them in the back of the limo, the leather seats so buttery soft they feel like you could sink into them. The seats run along three sides, and there’s a bar and music center along the right side next to the door.

  The billionaire pours himself a scotch.

  The billionaire’s wife strips down to her expensive underwear. It’s a silvery-grey lace, matching the dress which now lies on the seat next to her, and her white stockings stop at mid-thigh.

  She’s kept on the high heels.

  She’s watching me with those cold blue eyes as she has yet another glass of champagne.

  The billionaire has taken off his tie and jacket and begun unbuttoning his white shirt. His wife and he kiss for a bit, surprising me with their tenderness, and then he instructs me to take off my dress.

  I do so, as gracefully as I can in the confines of the backseat, and without removing my own high heels, which are expensive if perhaps not so expensive as hers.

  My underwear is black, and expensive, if perhaps not so expensive as hers.

  And my tits are perhaps not as big as hers, also.

  But mine are definitely real.

  She is fucking gorgeous, there’s no doubt about that, but I look down at my own flat smooth stomach and full breasts, and can’t resist the urge to take my breasts in my hands and squeeze them, and squeezing my legs together, feeling a warm glow in my pussy, still aroused from her rubbing her foot against it.

  The expensive leather feels good on my ass.

  God, I love fucking in limos.

  “Do you want to kiss my wife’s pussy, Chastity?” asks the billionaire.

  I smile. “I do. And do you want to watch me eat your wife’s pussy, Ivan?”

  “I do,” he says, taking off his shirt and revealing a muscular shaved chest and some old school Russian prison tattoos, stars and crosses and spider webs. Only a few.

  That brings back a short bad memory, but I’m good at putting those in the boxes they belong in.

  I look at the ripe mound of his wife’s crotch beneath those expensive panties and I lick my lips.

  Vladimir

  Security inside the actual limo is a bit of a joke.

  There’s an intercom, of course, but no open connection. He doesn’t want to be disturbed by his security, I guess. He could be dead already back there, for all I know.

  The partition is up and there’s a camera for rear view behind the limo but nothing to show what’s actually going on in the back.

  The limo is armored, I’d know that even if I couldn’t feel its ponderous added weight as I drive it, and the back door locks automatically, but there are ways around that, as with anything.

  Soundproofed, too. I can only hear a bit of faint music and the occasional giggle from the back as I drive in the usual random pattern through the streets. There’s a speaker through which I can hear the traffic around me, but almost nothing in the back.

  I look at the camera and I can see the tail car behind me, their solemn faces behind the wheel beginning to twist in discomfort.

  Finally, I get a ra
dio call from the tail car, saying that they’re both feeling sick and they’re afraid they may have been poisoned.

  Chastity

  The billionaire’s wife has spread her legs and pulled her panties to the side, revealing her billion-dollar pussy.

  And a nice little pussy it is!

  Trim and tight and pink, and of course waxed smooth.

  She runs her finger over the moist slit, and her labia open a bit, like a flower.

  I smile at her, my big open smile that can make even the hardest heart melt a little – one of the things that surely makes me, if not the best escort in the world, then certainly one of the best.

  I get on my hands and knees on the limo floor in front of her. The thick carpeting is nice and comfy and soft on my knees.

  Her pink tongue protrudes between her full lips for a moment and her eyes are dancing.

  “Are you ready?” she asks. She pulls the straps of her bra down off her shoulders, and her hard pink nipples appear above the edge of the cups. She teases the stiff buds with her bright, perfectly manicured fingernails, and then puts one finger in her mouth, then uses the wet finger to stoke each nipple in turn.

  I smile at her. “Are you ready?” I ask.

  “Yesssss,” she says, drawing out the sound as her husband the billionaire reaches over and cups one of her full breasts in his big hand and pulls her close and kisses her.

  I butterfly kiss my way up her inner thigh, in the white creamy flesh above the top of her thigh-high stockings.

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  She reaches down and strokes her finger up and down her pussy lips. They’re now glistening – her pussy lips and her fingers -- even in the low light inside the limo.

  “I’m sure,” she says.

  “Ask her nicely, Nadia,” says Ivan. “She’s our guest for the evening.”

  “Kiss it,” she says softly, putting her hand on the side of my face and stroking my cheek. “Kiss it now.”

  I slide my tongue slowly up the length of her slit, and she moans loudly.

  Vladimir

  The tail car warns me that they’re going to pull off, and that I should take the principal to the safe location and call for backup security.

  I answer, in my flawless Russian, in the affirmative, with the proper call signals, imitating the clipped cadence of the guy who had been driving. All security guys kind of talk the same anyway. I’d been listening to their radio communications all week and could passably imitate all of them, if I needed to.

  Another of my talents.

  But they were professional, and Russian, so they didn’t talk much anyway.

  In the rear-view mirror, the tail car pulls off.

  I exit from the crowded city streets and head toward the industrial area.

  Chastity

  I am sucking on the billionaire’s wife’s clit, and she has her husband’s billion-dollar dick out, jacking him off as he watches me tongue-fuck his wife’s hot tight pussy.

  She’s beginning to spasm and jerk as my tongue finds all the right places.

  At one point, she stabs me in the thigh with one of her spike heels but I let the pain galvanize me and dig my tongue in further, swirling it around her clit, and then slide two fingers into her, and she cries out in Russian. “Bozhemoi!”

  That means “Oh my god!” in Russian.

  I’ve learned how to say that in various languages, if nothing else.

  She grabs my hair and pulls my head up out of her crotch, and kisses me hard. Soon our mouths, our faces, are both covered with her pussy juice and smeared lipstick.

  She kisses my neck, making me moan, and hugs against me, the lace of our bras whispering together. She has he legs wrapped around my waist as we make out some more, and she unhooks my bra and eases it off me.

  We rub our tits together, back and forth and up and down, and she pulls my hair and kisses me between the breasts, then kisses and sucks my hard nipples, flicking them with her tongue.

  I’m enjoying it, moaning and writhing, rubbing my fingers through the silky curls of her hair, until she bites my left nipple, hard. I cry out.

  I can’t say I don’t enjoy that a bit, also.

  “Now suck my husband’s cock,” says Nadia the trophy wife.

  The billionaire’s rich dick is hanging from the fly of his suit trousers, hard and heavy and throbbing in his lap, and I look at it and take it in one small hand, and begin licking the head gently, tentatively, savoring it, like a girl with a popsicle.

  Then I take it all the way into my mouth, into my throat.

  His crotch is shaved, also; there is a bit of stubble, as silver as the hair on his head, but I like the rough feel of that against my cheeks quite a bit.

  “Suck his balls,” she says. “Jack him off while you suck his balls,” she says. Her accent is a bit heavy but her English is really very good.

  But I suppose this is a vocabulary set she’s practiced plenty of times.

  I gently take each of his nuts, in turn, into my mouth; they’re the size of plums. I massage them with my tongue.

  “Now suck it again,” she says. She has her head on her husband’s shoulder, stroking his nipples with her long fingernails while she watches me suck him.

  I take his cock all the way into my mouth again, letting it fill my throat, until I gag, and then I wrap my lips tight around it and slide it slowly in and out of my mouth, worshipping it.

  He is moaning, also watching me as my head bobs up and down in his lap.

  “Touch yourself, whore. I want to watch you touch yourself while you suck my husband’s cock,” she says.

  My hand slides into the waistband of my panties and eagerly encounters my hot hard little clit, stroking it in tandem with the rhythm of my cocksucking.

  I reach over and put my hand on his wife’s thigh, and she bends down to speak in my ear.

  “You want to fuck my husband, whore?” says Nadia.

  “Yes,” I say, between mouthfuls of cock.

  “Did I say you could take his cock out of your mouth? Keep his cock in your mouth and tell me again, do you want to fuck him?”

  “Mmmm-hmmmm,” I moan around a mouthful of throbbing Russian cock. I’m sliding it in and out slowly, moaning around it.

  “Then fuck him now, whore. Let me watch you fuck him.” She leans back in the seat, one hand squeezing one of her breasts and the other sliding into her own panties.

  His big cock leaves my mouth with an audible pop of suction, and I climb into his lap, although that’s a little awkward and I’m careful that I don’t poke holes in anything or anyone with my heels, and I’m very wet but I still gasp as he enters me, stretching my wet eager pussy.

  Vladimir

  The soundproofing is good, but I can hear somebody having an orgasm in the back seat.

  I feel my lips press together tightly, and don’t let myself think about that.

  Not yet.

  There are assassins who won’t kill women or children.

  Me?

  I won’t kill children.

  Women?

  No problem.

  Women are just as evil as men.

  No doubt about that.

  My first was a Georgian woman. That would be Georgia, the former Soviet territory, not Georgia the American state.

  She was a terrorist of the type known as a “black widow.” To avenge the death of her husband in a Russian military campaign there, she recruited other young widows to work as suicide bombers.

  One took down a whole plane.

  I abducted her and spent a weekend with her before she died.

  I’m not proud of it, but it is what it is.

  It became my specialty.

  The warehouse that I chose is not far from the highway, of course. I pull into the completely dark back alley that leads to one of the back entrances, which I’ve rigged up with an automatic opener so I can drive right in.

  I drive across the empty warehouse floor towards the three boxes.

 
; Chastity

  I am fucking the billionaire.

  He’s thrusting hard into me and I’m bouncing up and down eagerly in his lap, facing him, straddling him.

  His wife is playing with her pussy as she watches me, her bright fingernails dancing, glittering as she toys with her clit.

  She reaches over with one hand to squeeze my tits, and I bring my hands up and squeeze her hand to my full, firm breasts, kneading myself, maximizing my own pleasure.

  I’m very close.

  “Are you going to cum, little whore?” she asks sweetly.

  “Oh, god, yes,” I moan and I throw my head back and cry out.

  But I don’t cum.

  I never do.

  I’m close, of course. I’m very close. The pleasure is intense, my whole body is filled with heat, and I’m literally surfing on the edge of one, every muscle right on the verge.

  But I don’t cum.

  It doesn’t take much art to fake an orgasm, especially when you’re really close. It’s just like… you stop moaning and relax, and people think you’re done.

  That’s about all it takes.

  I don’t know why it’s always like that.

  I enjoy the fucking of course.

  But it’s like that last little piece of myself I can’t quite give away, maybe.

  I don’t know whether I should be ashamed of that or proud of it.

  I collapse off the rich guy’s cock, panting, onto the side seat of the limo, and Nadia climbs onto his still throbbing cock.

  And then the side door of the limo begins to slide open.

  Vladimir

  I open the door and when the billionaire turns towards me his face is already contorting with anger at my interruption.

  The handheld Taser weapon that I’m using fires two small darts attached to wires that deliver a shock of 50,000 volts. This is enough to scramble somebody’s brain for a few minutes, and is painful, but doesn’t cause any permanent damage.

  One of the darts hits him in the side of the face, and the other hits him in his bare shoulder.