Special thanks to TRCIII for editoring this story.
*
I locked the door as I entered behind her. Without making a sound I followed her to the granite sink. Her blue eyes opened wide in alarm when she caught my image behind her in the mirror. Normally I wouldn't have waited. I would have raised the pistol in my right hand, placed it at the back of her head, and fired. But not this time.
She intrigued me; that much I can admit. Her name was Yvonne Cuny. I had followed her the previous few days to gauge her vulnerabilities, gain an understanding of her routine. It certainly wasn't an unpleasant task. She was beautiful, blessed with a lithe, yet supple body. Her face was elegant and refined: thin lips, high cheekbones, all prim and proper, all except for her eyes...her eyes were pure sin, a feeling accentuated by the golden locks of wavy blonde hair that cascaded wantonly down her back.
I could easily imagine the spell her appearance once cast upon her husband, as well as understand how they eventually drove him to contact me. I've seen other cases like it; an older man making the mistake of marrying a woman too young, too wild. Something goes wrong, that original lust turns to rage, and I receive a call from his lawyer looking for something more than a divorce.
She stood there frozen before me, panic dripping from her eyes. Her hands trembled as they gripped the sink. She shut her eyes tightly and bowed her head down as if to pray—or maybe to absorb the blow—before raising them again to the mirror. Tears now trickled down her cheeks. She looked at me again, silently pleading for her life.
"My husband..." a statement, not a question, finally emerged from her lips. I nodded my head slightly in return. "The bastard. He didn't even have the courage to do it himself." She turned around suddenly, causing me to step back and aim the pistol at her face. Every rational sense in my head was telling me to simply squeeze the trigger, but I hesitated.
"Whatever he paid, I'll double it," she begged, crumbling to the floor before me.
My only response was to aim the gun down at her forehead. She clutched my leg, imploring me to spare her life with the stream of tears rolling down her face. I tried to keep my eyes focused on the middle of her forehead, but her eyes persistently stabbed at me in desperation.
"You want to know why he wants me dead?" she asked frantically.
"No," I curtly answered, in a cool, dry voice.
"He wants to marry someone else. And he doesn't want to pay for a divorce. That's why. That's why he wants you to kill me; because he doesn't want to pay alimony. The bastard just wants to save money," she told me anyway. Her cheeks began to flush as I could hear her hysteria turn into anger. "You think I should I die for that?"
"It's not up to me." I knew the only proper response was a flash from the muzzle, but I couldn't resist the impulse to answer. I instantly regretted the lack of control as I saw a flash of hope spring in her eye.
"You say that holding a gun to my head? It is up to you. I swear I'll pay you double just to let me live."
I just shook my head in response. I maintained an outward coldness, but inside doubt was flooding my brain. Only one cure for that: "Pull the trigger," I told myself, but before I could do so she threw her body against my legs.
"I'll do anything. Anything you want...just tell me," she pleaded with all her heart.
I was about to respond with a shove and a shot, when she inadvertently placed her forehead against my crotch. My cock awoke with a twitch. The movement didn't go unnoticed.
Her face instantly sprang up at me. My gaze remained unchanged, but her hand crept up and found my clothed sex. She rubbed it forcefully, causing it to expand.
"Is that what you want?" she asked with a sudden smile. The glint in her eye told me that she thought she had me. I tried to fight the new sensation rushing through my body, but I couldn't focus. I brandished the gun towards her again to remind her, and myself, of why I was there. But just looking at her pretty face made me wonder what it would feel like to kiss those luscious lips.
"I'll be more than happy to do that," she offered brazenly, trying to seize upon the chance my crudeness was offering. She knew the part well; I could see the natural temptress emerge, despite the remnants of her previous panic—the red eyes, her cheeks still wet from the tears.
She backed away from me and with one deft motion pulled the front of her top down to expose her tits snug in a pink strapless bra. She squeezed her soft breasts together exaggerating their size. I tried to maintain my cold stare, but from the look in her eyes I could tell my mask had cracked.
I still knew my duty. I held the gun steadily at her but she simply ignored it. She casually reached for my belt and undid it. I did nothing to stop her. She continued with my button fly and zipper until she had my pants down around my ankles.
Maintaining eye contact with me she pulled down my boxers and revealed my stiff dick. I was embarrassed by my passivity, yet obviously not enough to temper my arousal. In fact it only fed it. I attempted to regain control of the situation by placing the gun against her head, but it didn't deter her. The action actually made it appear that I was forcing her to proceed. She smirked at me, before looking down and wantonly flicking her tongue against my cock. I almost shivered at the tingle that it sent up my spine.
"Put the gun away," she cooed, while sliding her delicate hand down my throbbing cock. I responded by once again aiming the gun at her, but its effect was minimal. "If that's the way you want it, I'll play along," she answered, her growing bravado manifesting itself in her suddenly confident tone of voice. She slowly stroked my cock a few times before finally sliding it into her mouth. The sensation her warm mouth created was simply amazing. Unable to maintain my composure I let out a groan as I looked up to the ceiling. She began to steadily draw my cock in and out of her mouth. Her soft lips felt like fine velvet.
Possibly thinking that I was too preoccupied to notice, she reached up for the gun I held limply in my hand. But I wasn't that far gone. Upon sensing the slightest touch I instinctively pulled my hand with the gun in it away and with the other hand pushed her down roughly to the floor.
"Not a smart move, sugar," I said sternly, aiming the gun maliciously towards her.
"I wasn't trying to do anything...I mean I was just trying to...the gun was making me nervous," she frantically stammered out, her lips quivering.
"That's what guns do, they make people nervous. They make the person looking at them nervous and they make the person holding the gun nervous. Especially when someone tries to grab the gun they are holding."
"I was just trying to get you to put it down."
"Please, don't bother," I said angrily. "Even if that was the case, it wouldn't make a difference. It just made me realize what a mistake I was making."
"No, please don't shoot me, I swear I'm telling the truth." The tears were running down her face once again. Sitting there on the dirty green tile, half-naked and sobbing, she looked pathetic.
"And why shouldn't I?"
"I'll do anything, whatever you want. I'll suck your dick."
