An Assassin's Life

An Assassin's Life - Part 3

By

Rob McCall4

This is Part Three of the story of a professional hitman and his adventures traveling across the USA. It could be read as a stand-alone, but you will enjoy it more if you read Pt. 1 and Pt. 2 first. He is a complex and highly complicated man with many sides to his personality, good and evil, and everything in between. A warning: There is violence in this story and an attempted rape. If that's not your thing, please move on. Then again, it's a story about a hitman. What would you expect? This is the third part of a vibrant canvas. I hope you enjoy it.

© 2023 RMcCIV & Rob McCall4 - All Rights Reserved

Dawn called at three in the afternoon. I was delighted

"Are you going to join us a Woody's tonight? Change of plans. We leave the day after tomorrow."

I was no longer delighted.

"Really?" I said. "But I thought we were going to spend tomorrow together for me to explain what happened and for us to sort things out and then see the sites together for a couple of days."

"Yeah, me too, but Steph's our ride. She wanted to head out tomorrow, Something about her already experiencing all the sights she wanted to see. But we talked her into another day cause we haven't gotten to Arches yet and other stuff. I mean, what's the point of driving 2,000 miles to get here if you don't take in all the beauty? Right?"

"I couldn't agree more!" thinking about her stunning body and that hot, hot, pert ass.

"Then off to the Grand Canyon for a day and home, except for Sue. She already left to visit relatives in Flagstaff."

"Wow, err, okay. That's unexpected. Did something happen?

"I think she got bored."

My cock was still sore from just a few hours ago fucking Stephanie. I was fairly sure Stephanie wasn't bored, but I was the "experiences" she wanted to see. Maybe I gave her "her experiences" too soon...

"Hmmm, well, sure. Maybe we can talk to her about it."

"She seemed very determined."

"You know if you wanted to stay over, I would gladly pay for your plane ticket. Hell, you'd get home before the others. Did something happen?"

"Nah, Steph has always been this way. She flips on a dime.

"Sure, whatever, I guess, but after Woody's tonight, the two of us are still on, right? I mean, we have a lot to talk about and hopefully a few horizontal exercises..."

I heard a giggle on the other end. "Yes, Jax honey, we most certainly are. I'd make it a 48-hour evening if I could."

"Do you still love me?"

A pause. Yes, I do, but there are things, things, err, things to talk about, some serious things, but not here on the phone." Someone was talking behind her. I heard. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm coming." She came back to me. "Later. We'll figure it all out later. Okay? I'll see you at Woody's."

"Wait! Don't hang up yet," I said.

Damn! Something happened. Things kept getting more and more complicated. Maybe Stephanie blabbed. Maybe Dawn freaked over the gunshot and realized I wasn't for her. Maybe she finally landed on the reality that she was only 22 and going back to North Carolina to school, and I was a relatively old man in his 30s traveling to the opposite side of the country.

It would be easier if I viewed life more like Medea. The way she sees it, it's simple: You're working it out, or she killed you.

Hmmm.

Well, tonight would reveal all.

"So, we are still on for 8:00pm at Woody's. Okay? Ribs and a pool game?" I asked.

"You bet your ass we are."

"Oh! So are you saying you're willing to bet your ass on the pool game tonight?"

"A pool game? My ass on a pool game? You've got to be kidding me. Right?

"No."

"Really! You want to fuck my cute little southern girl's ass with that big ol' cock of yours? Do you think I'm that kind of girl? And you think I'd bet something like that in a pool game? Fat chance. Seriously, Jax. We've done that, and once is enough, sugar. You are too big, and it will fucking hurt. I'd rather have the Empire State Building up my butt." And she started laughing at her own joke.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay, how about this? Best two out of three. If I win, I get your ass again. And if you win, you get mine."

"What? Really?! How do you plan to do that? You understand that I'm lacking the proper equipment, and I thought that's why you're hot for me?" and she laughed at her joke again. You know I have a pussy. Right?! She was laughing and having a good time, probably being egged on by her friends in the room, and I was taking that as a good sign.

"Hey, you're the one who made a joke about that last night. I have a hunch you'll find a way. What's that ya'll say? Never doubt a UNC girl." I could hear the smirk on the other end of the line.

"Snort --- You've never played pool with me. Ever been fucked up the ass before?"

"No, never."

Suddenly Dawn dropped her voice and got serious. "Well, Jax, I hadn't either before last night. You know, you did more than take 'the great memory' that you promised and seduced me with. You took my anal virginity, and I may not have been ready for that."

I was stunned. "Oh, Dawn, I had no idea. If I had known," and I stopped and played it over in my mind's eye. "I'm truly sorry if it has caused you pain or regret. However, in my defense, allow me to say that at the end, you did have your largest orgasm of the night. And if memory serves - I was being cute for a moment - you had three. One more than I did."

And she laughed. "Yeah, that's true, honey. That was one big fuckin' orgasm courtesy of that horse cock you swing between your legs. I'll give you that!"

Once again, I was shocked by her candor.

"Miss Dawn McBride, you sure do have a filthy mouth for such a fine-looking, young Southern belle."

"You bet your fucking ass I do, and Jax, you just did. Get ready to bend over, my little dumpling." I could hear the twinkle in her voice. "I'll see you at Woody's at eight. Be prepared to lose! Get ready for the assfucking of your life because after you lose, there will be no mercy," and she hung up, giggling.

Medea was with me, listening. "Oh, isn't that cute and lovey-dovey. Two lovers assfucking each other, So romantic. Let me put my shit on your dick, my love. She actually spit on the hotel carpet floor. "God, that makes me want to puke!"

"Mariya," I said, using her given name. "As I recall, you rather like an occasional buttfuck. In fact, I believe it also gives you your biggest orgasm, and frequently want it as the last act. You know, the cherry on top?"

She looked at me with anger in her eyes.

"Yeah, so?"

"You are jealous."

I looked at her. I was right.

"You are jealous of a little naïve 22 year old girl from North Carolina because she is blonde, younger than you, and has larger tits and a pert booty. So you want to kill her for no reason other than she makes you jealous.

She said nothing.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, you are hot. Really fucking hot, and I love you. I will always love you in our special kind of way."

I stood there looking at a very tempestuous Medea. Which is not a good thing. That is when someone frequently dies.

It was an amusing reaction - granted, she is overly competitive, which is one of the things that makes her the second best in the world, along with great hand-eye coordination, fearlessness, a brain that can see the situation in front of her and a lust for blood. But the vehicle the Gods gave her to become who she is, her body, is amazing.

Tall, 5'11", a taunt athletic body with really nice B-cup tits that had hard, tight pink nipples. There was nothing fleshy on her, a rippling stomach and tiger-tight ass that showed the two-plus hours she worked out every day no matter where in the world she was located, a totally waxed pussy that could grab you in like a vice and never let your cock go. Her muscle control was so good.

A world-class gymnast with multiple black belts in many forms of fighting and a sexual appetite that matched her appetite for death and destruction. Medea would just as soon fuck you or kill you, and your actions made the choice.

She had way too many tats and piercings for my taste, but different strokes for different folks. I liked the nipple piercings. (I always do) and the tattoo going down her stomach leading to her pussy was very hot, and the tramp stamp, but I'm not a fan of sleeves. Medea had full sleeves down both arms.

In many ways regarding physical skills she was probably better than me. I didn't hold a zillion belts in martial arts. A few. Enough for my profession, but it was the differences in our heads that made the distinction.

I anticipated. Medea reacted. I can see the entire horizon and can plan 5, 6 moves ahead. She saw the next move. She could make a bold and frequently successful plan, but when the plan went sour, it was a challenge for her to improvise, and her solution was to simply kill everyone in sight.

That usually worked and was why she was number two, but sometimes it was best not to kill them all. It is better to have some judgment and understanding of the circumstances, and that is why I'm number one.

If circumstances dictate, I usually allow them to do the right thing. If they do, I don't kill them, and we go another way. Not Medea. If you are in your sights, you're meeting your maker.

As usual, she was dressed all in black. A loose fitting black top that I knew was hiding a gun of some kind, yet those tight, taunt nipples were poking out as always, with black yoga-style pants on the bottom. Not what people normally wear in a high desert environment like Moab, but on her, it worked.

I grabbed her shoulders reassuringly and said, "We are the only two people who know and understand who we are. Trust me. That is a bond that will never be broken."

I looked at her hard. "I know you fuck others,"

She nodded her head yes.

"And why wouldn't you? You travel the world. You are an attractive, sexual being. Of course, you do. Sometimes it's because you are horny or have needs, sometimes it is for your job and access or information, and I know that sometimes - like that blonde, Czechoslovakia super hunk, Olympic star, it might have been a bit more."

She actually stuck her tongue out at me and gave me a raspberry.

"How mature." I gave her one back. "Don't bullshit me. I know your relationships, and you know mine. Really? Do you expect anything less from me? We both know that we fuck around."

"Sure," she said, "But not a dangerous, secret revealing relationship that has to be erased."

"Is your Olympic star still alive?"

She hung he head, knowing that he had mysteriously died of what was called by the coroner "An accidental overdose."

I shoved her against the wall hard. Put my thigh between her legs, leaned in, and gave her a long, loving kiss with my hands roaming her body. I found the gun. It felt like a Walther PPK, the James Bond gun. "Perfect," I thought. I knew there were others in whatever Media was driving, which was most likely a metallic black Vette or Porche.

"Better?" I asked.

"Hrrummff."

We continued to kiss. I knew all of her buttons. A kiss here, a lick there, the right nipple with the ring particularly sensitive, especially when getting close to her period. An oversexed ass and a need for a strong, in charge, but not dominant mate. Medea needed an equal partner who could and was willing to flip dom/sub roles at her whim.

We made out for a long time. It had been a while since we had been together. I loved her in our special way, and she loved me, and it had been months. I wanted to take it slow. We took time getting reacquainted as lovers do. Making out like teenagers. No rush, but mouths, hands, and limbs in all of the right places.

We were at it long enough for her crotch to be soaking and for me to feel it leaking onto my thigh. My cock was so hard it was hurting, and I knew she was enjoying every moment of it as her pelvis rubbed against me.

My "horse cock" as Dawn had jokingly called it, had given Medea hours of pleasure throughout our years, and she was grinding on it now.

I eventually made my way into her pants and found her clit to discover she had a new piercing through her clitoral hood. I shook my head. A piercing involving her clit. The girl has balls!

I spread the hood and the new jewelry back, scooped up some of her juices, and began to frig her in the circular motion lingering on the underside the way she liked it, using the small bar through her hood as an erotic tool.

Her hips began to roll in rhythm with my finger, and her breathing and soft moans gave away that she was close.

I could always tell when she was going to come, so I backed off. I want this to take a while. It had been some time since we'd been together, and I wanted Medea to know what she'd been missing.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? she demanded.

"Hush up," and I started again.

When Medea was excited, her clit expanded and swelled like a small cock. One of my favorite things. I was waiting for that as I went back to my jilling her, grabbing the new piercing on her clit to jerk her off, up and down like a mini-cock.

Her juices started pouring down her leg, and her hips were living "the Vida Loca," grinding into my hand, wanting to cum, needing to cum.

With my other hand, I scooped up some of her dripping lubrication, dragged up her taint to her asshole, and wiggled it in. Now I had her going in both directions, and Medea was going crazy. As I knew she would.

Some girls are silent or, for some reason, like embarrassment, don't give off the signals, but Mariya lived her life in the moment with very few filters. I could read her like a book.

She started pounding hard on my back. I mean hard. She was strong and hitting me with all of her strength. Her clit was huge, swollen, and extended; her hips were rolling back fucking my finger deep in her ass, her moans got low and guttural. I pinched her clit as hard as I could and whispered in her ear, "Cum. Cum for me now, or I will fucking kill you."

That did it. With a loud scream of, "You motherfucker" a tremendous orgasm hit her, sending her shaking on the hotel wall. I kept going until she was begging me to stop and slowly lowered us down to the floor.

I kissed her, sliding my fingers between our mouths, enjoying the taste of her juices as our tongues dart around each other.

I kissed her cheek. "Feel better?"

"Yes,"

"Calmed down?"

"Yes."

"I believe it's my turn now."

Medea looked at me and, without a moment's hesitation, dropped to her knees, ripped open my pants, and yanked my cock out.

"I've always loved this monster that you drag around," she said and went at me with an old-fashioned, no-frills blow job. Grasping my shaft firmly, putting her mouth over the head just beyond the ridge, and started to whack me off with my cock in her mouth.

Her tongue was swirling around my engorged head as her hand pumped me in an experienced manner. She positioned her hand at her mouth, pulled back for a moment, and said, "Fuck my mouth. Fuck it hard."

And I did, starting to ride her clutching hand and wet mouth in and out as my cock swelled. My balls tightened up to my body until they hurt and then suddenly released downward as my surging orgasm hit, blowing six or seven jets of my hot, sticky spunk into Medea's mouth as she swallowed like a pro with each ejaculation swallowing it all.

She stood up triumphantly, opened her empty mouth showing off, and then grabbed me for a long deep cum kiss. A ritual she always desired and was okay with me. I loved swapping juices after the fact. It tasted like sex. And that was a great taste.

"We stood like that for a while, making out until I backed off to reach down and pull my pants back up. "So, now," I said to her. Can we finally talk business?"

"Yes."

"Mariya, I can't kill them all."

"Okay, I will."

"NO! You can not kill them, either. Listen to me! NO ONE GETS KILLED. AGREED?!"

"For now."

"Listen, they are good and innocent girls. They did nothing wrong except meet me in a Utah State Park. They are students at the University of North Carolina. Plus, I think I'm in love with Dawn."

"So I will save you the pain and kill her myself."

"NO! Stop it. I know we have that as our bottom line, but let's not start there. How about you worked with me to figure out another way."

"Impossible."

"And that is why I'm the number one, and you're the number two. You never think outside of the box. You are an auditory-sequential thinker, and that is your problem.

"What the fuck are you talking about? I have no problems. I'm the best at my job and can kill anyone I want and then disappear into the night, never to be found."

"Yes, that is true, and you are a rare talent, but that's not what I'm saying. You are an auditory-sequential thinker. That's a form of intelligence. It's another way of saying, my love, that you are a liner thinker. You do not think outside of the box. Now, on the other hand, I am a visual-spatial thinker, and that means I see the horizon and all 64 squares on a chessboard, and that is why I am number one and you are number two."

She kicked me in the shins. It hurt.

"Stop that!! What I'm saying is you see a problem and think: Can it be solved? No. Okay, kill them. I think: Can it be solved? Maybe, let's try this or this first. We can always kill them if that doesn't work. That's the difference."

I looked at her, "How can we deflect the reality from me and onto someone else. What if someone else was the hitman or the killer. What if I was a cop, for example? Hell, that could work. I'm undercover, a cop, and we make someone else the bad guy."

"No."

"Why not?"

"You're the number one in the world."

I knew how to work with Mariya's locked down, hardass thought process.

"Yes, that is all true. But who knows that?? What if we tricked them? What if we tricked them all?! Played a con. You like that shit. All we need is a fall guy and a detailed backstory of how I'm really a cop. Oh! Better yet! FBI. I could be undercover FBI on a major drug investigation. We can create the story, Dixie can provide the docs, and it could work! Will you call Dixie for me?"

Reluctantly, "Okay."

"I need them by tomorrow."

"Shit! Let me ask her."

"Here's the problem the way I see it," I said. "I have to figure out how to keep my secrets and identity safe with the UNC posse without compromising my security and hopefully not hurting anyone and get my ass back on my way to the West Coast."

"It can't be done."

"There's always a way."

"Jax, you are forever the optimist. You are like that pussy Paul McCartney on 'Sgt. Pepper's' 'Getting Better,' singing, "I've got to admit it's getting better." Always the optimist as opposed to John Lennon's 'It can't get no worse.' John's a man with a much more realistic appraisal of your situation.

She put her hand on my knee and said, "Jax, it isn't getting better. It will only get worse. These girls will have to die."

"Well, I do think it's getting better, and it will keep on keeping on! Call Dixie, tell her what I need ASAP, and then I'll take you downstairs for a couple of Stolis and a snack before my date. We can talk more, but call Dixie now, please."

She did, and we went down to the lobby bar.

Chapter 2

I needed to get out of there, take a drive, and clear my mind. I thought about calling Stephanie to join me since she'd be fun, but I decided against it. I took my backpack out from its hiding place under the chassis so there'd be no accidents, secured it in a lock-up in the cab, and fired up the Ford F-150 pickup. I headed out north up the I-191 towards Interstate 70. It was a nice day, and I had rolled down the windows to enjoy the ride.