Palmer

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world – thesoundandfury. And check out his new novel – Models and Super Spies. Thanks Ken, not only for your editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 5: The Kill

Erin DeVere was convinced she'd found another gem. Kelli's encounter with Brooke confirmed that. So had the young model's masturbation during their phone conversation. And the blonde looked bright and alert this morning, ahead of time, eager to get on with the shoot.

As the Agency Head finished her conversation with Chad and headed towards the dressing room, it was difficult to remove the triumphant smile on her face. There was a lot to feel pleased about.

Kelli was accepting situations much more quickly than the older woman had anticipated. Giving her a taste of the hotel and then utilising Brooke had been masterstrokes. Today's shoot would add to the process.

Going forward, it would simply be a case of gradually grooming the naïve innocent, exposing her to situations that heightened her sexuality and provided further experiences of the good life.

The importance of this shoot couldn't be overemphasised. The opportunity to drive another wedge in Kelli's mind between what was

acceptable

sexual behaviour, and what that meant for her relationship with her husband, was too good to be missed.

"Ready for action, darling?" she asked, catching the young model staring into space as she walked into the dressing room. A wavy strand of blonde hair fell across her left eye, adding to her allure.

Kelli jerked her head up, glancing at Erin in the dressing room mirror. She'd been miles away. Thinking about the shoot. Thinking about Jack. Wondering exactly what life had in store. What if she didn't make it as a model?

"No, I'm fine ..." she hesitantly said, her eyes telling Erin something different.

When she raised a hand to push the loose strand of hair behind her ear, the outline of her right breast became more prominent against the thin, red top. Erin's eyes devoured the hard nipple pushing against the fabric.

"But?" she asked, leaning backwards against the closed door. She didn't want problems at this stage.

"I don't know... I was just thinking about my life," Kelli explained. "What will happen if this doesn't work out?" She turned to look into the sophisticated, older woman's eyes as she spoke, like a child looking for guidance.

Suddenly, Erin understood. Such fears were natural. Time for some ego stroking. She covered the few steps from her position against the door and stood behind the blonde, reaching down to massage her shoulders. "Do you believe what I tell you, darling?"

Kelli's head swung up and her eyes bore into the Agency Head's. "Absolutely, Erin. After what you've done for me in such a short time, how could I not believe you?"

The older woman dug her fingers deeper into the T-shirt, reaching for the kinks she could feel. "Good, darling. Because I'm telling you I haven't seen

anyone

like you since... Alicia Stiles, Gabrielle Dubois."

The blonde gasped. "They're fabulous!"

"Two good examples, Kelli. You could be either of them. Gabrielle is one of the most famous supermodels in the world. Her face on the cover of so many magazines.

And

she has her own brand of perfume and lingerie."

"I know," Kelli chuckled. "I wear both."

Erin bent to kiss her neck, sighing softly as she breathed in the delicious perfume. "Yes, darling, the perfume smells even better on you than Gabrielle herself!"

When the young woman gave a soft, pleasurable shiver, the American woman straightened. Not too fast! She'd be experiencing much more of that delicious flesh before too soon.

"And then, there's Alicia," she continued. "Not many know this, but she was married just before hitting it big? Did you know that?"

She'd heard the rumours, but wasn't sure if they were true. In the past year, the blonde had become the face of Estee Lauder and her stunning face had saturated the media. "She was married?"

"'Was,' yes. A husband and her career were too hard to juggle. And if she still went by 'Alicia Kennedy,' do you think you'd even know who she was?"

Erin DeVere paused, allowing her words to settle. Kelli's eyes were saucers, her body half turned in the chair as she stared up at the Agency Head. A pupil looking at her teacher. Time to hammer the point home.

"What you must decide, darling, is whether you can do what Alicia did?"

She felt the blonde tense under her stroking fingers, her head turning back to the mirror in front of the chair. Staring at the American's reflection, Kelli's reply was surprisingly firm. "Erin, I want this

so

badly."

"And your husband? Does he understand the sacrifices you'll have to make? And you... can you make Alicia's sacrifice?"

"My marriage... Jack..." She stopped for a moment, trying to find the right words. But her eyes never left the Agency Head's in the mirror. "This might just rescue my marriage, Erin. If it doesn't, then Jack and I wouldn't have worked much longer anyway. This is my future, Erin. If I'm good enough.

That's

what frightens me."

"And I'm telling you, darling, you have no need to worry. Place yourself in my hands, do

everything

I tell you, and you'll be the next Gabrielle. But I need that obedience, Kelli. I need that dedication. If you have any doubts, we can stop right now."

The blonde swung around in her chair again. "No doubts, Erin. I have no doubts. I'll do

whatever

it takes."

***

The sound of the door closing behind Sandra Wilson brought Palmer out of his sleep. Jerking awake, he grabbed the Kel-Tec .380 as he sat up.

"Easy, tiger," Wilson blurted, taking a startled step backwards. "I've got bacon and eggs here." She held up the carrier bag with one hand, as if allowing him to see the outline of the contents.

Palmer sagged back, his gun hand dropping between his legs. "Sorry," he moaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Checking around, he realised he was still on the couch. He remembered lying awake until the early hours. Goodness knows what time he'd dropped asleep? Or how much sleep he'd actually had?

Wilson grinned at him as she walked into the middle of the room, stopping to survey the tired looking young detective. "You need a shave, Jack! Good night?"

"Lots of action," Palmer sighed, dropping his head back to rest against the top of the couch. "Not sure how much will help us."

"Shame. Who was the trick?"

Palmer didn't answer. Not at first. A sheepish look crossed his face.

"You're kidding," she gasped, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.

Palmer swallowed as he sat forward. He hadn't set a good example.

"How did that happen?"

What could he say? He was showering after wanking, whilst imagining he was fucking the beautiful redhead? "Fell asleep," he lied.

Wilson laughed. "Well, Palmer, I've done that before. And you wanna hear Webster's story about when

he

fucked up by falling asleep. Big time! You've gotta get him well and truly drunk first, though."

Although he returned her smile, her words didn't provide much comfort.

"But at least we've got the recordings," he mumbled, knowing they'd provide little that could help them. Except, perhaps, the name of her trick. Roxanne had spoken it when he'd arrived. That was something.

"Good quality?" Wilson asked, starting to make her way to the kitchen.

Palmer pulled an uncertain face. "They will be when Boyd has finished with them. But while you're making us some coffee and breakfast, let me check to see if I've missed anything this morning before I move on."

Wilson stopped at the door, slipping a hand to her hip as she raised her eyebrows. "While

I

make breakfast?"

Palmer grinned. It was his first grin of the morning. "I like my bacon crispy."

He watched Wilson waltz into the kitchen. Where

did

she get those figure hugging black jeans? They looked like they were spray painted on her body. That woman really did have a great ass. How come he hadn't noticed before?

Unfortunately for him, there was sound when he leant forward and checked the recorder. A couple of flicks identified the precise position and he adjusted the volume.

The redhead was moving around, opening and closing cupboard doors, presumably dressing. This time it was Alabama 3 in the background. Then she was singing along...

Woke up this morning...

before the song quickly ended. Her footsteps were followed by the soft click of a door opening and closing.

Damn! Not only had he missed the mark. Now he'd let Roxanne leave without a tail. Could things get much worse?

"She left the apartment," he told Wilson when she brought a coffee through for him.

The attractive cop grinned. "Looks like you've done well on your first watch, Jack." The look on his face was pure embarrassment. "Don't worry, she'll be back," she added, attempting to assuage his pain.

"Maybe," Palmer groaned, standing up and pacing to the door and back. "But we should have been on top of this."

"We?"

Palmer sighed, flopping back down onto the couch again.

***

Erin's heart was beating faster. Watching the young model undress and slip the robe over her naked body sent a tingle through her. The blonde had shown no objection to her being there while she undressed. In fact, if the Agency Head wasn't mistaken, Kelli actually teased her by strutting around for a few moments, turning this way and that as if openly displaying her body, before eventually covering herself.

This was even better than she could have anticipated. The mixture of blatant sexuality and naïve innocence was a combination as rare as the most precious of pearls.

"With your body, you'll be a sensation, darling," she warmly smiled, reinforcing her earlier words. "Even

I

get hot looking at you."

Kelli's shiver was one of arousal. Erin had no doubt about that. She'd seen it in other women often enough when she'd used the same line. It wasn't a ploy. The American woman couldn't wait to experience this one.

"You'll love today's shoot," she continued, perching precariously on the edge of the dressing table. "You and Brooke have company."

"Company?"

"Oh, yes. Max will be perfect. A black body between two white always sells well."

"Black...?"

"Max Williams."

Kelli's sparkling brown eyes widened even further as she looked up from her position in the white, wicker chair. "Max Williams? Isn't he..."

The older woman nodded, crossing her legs with graceful ease. "That's right. The ex-porn star who's made it into the modelling world. And wait until you see the size of his dick, darling. It'll make your eyes water—"

"That is so true!" The voice came from the door. Brooke had arrived. Her cleavage almost fell out of the low cut top as she burst into the room, heading across the room to hug Kelli like a long lost friend. "Honey, you've no idea how much I've thought about you," she smiled.

"Me?"

"Mmm-hmm. I've never been into women in a big way," she lied, that angelic face beaming. "But you're as

hot

as they come."

As Kelli stared at the young model, Brooke self confidently thrust her tits out. Impervious to the forces of gravity and crowned by the assertive, hard nipples that pushed impatiently against the low cut top, she looked every man's wet dream.

"See, darling," Erin smiled, easing from the dressing table and bending low to adjust her hair in the mirror. "Now you have two women lusting after you. Just think of the effect you'll have on the great unwashed!"

"And don't give me that sexy, naive, what-do-you mean look," Brooke added, dropping her bag onto the chair in the corner of the small room. "I know what's going on inside that so-called innocent mind."

The brunette struck a carefree pose: hands on hips, head thrown back, ass jutting out. She was a regular pinup. Satisfied with the way the new model's eyes ran across her body, she strutted back, bending to plant a soft kiss on her lips. Kelli was taken by surprise, unsure what to do next. It was some relief when Erin's comforting smile told her this was normal.

"See," Brooke murmured, so close Kelli could feel her breath on her cheek. "You want me to take you to bed and

do you

properly. I know that. You know that. Erin knows it too. All you gotta do is admit it to yourself."

Kelli glanced across at the Agency Head again, a blush instantly appearing from nowhere. But the strawberry blonde Erin had her back to the two of them now, busying herself at the table. The tap, tap, tapping gave the blonde a clue as to what that was, her heart beginning to race even faster.

She looked back to Brooke. The raven-haired beauty had sauntered a couple of steps away. Swinging back with an exaggerated look of wickedness, her fingers went to the bottom of her t-shirt. "Want to see my tits again?" she giggled, beginning to pull it up.

Kelli couldn't help but lick his lips as the model's tits bounced free. She peeled her top over her head with all the panache of a stripper. That way she had of arching her back thrust the ripe, naked breasts towards the blonde. They really did belong in Playboy.

"Well?" she purred, cupping her tits, not letting Kelli off the hook.

"They're... they're incredible."

Brooke gave a soft, sexy laugh, rotating her palms across the small, brown nipples that sat high and tight on her majestic swells. "Oh, I know that. So suckable, too," she teased. "Want to taste?"

"Okay, darlings, time for your morning treat," Erin interrupted. Her eyes flashed as if to say there wasn't the slightest possibility of anything further happening between Brooke and Kelli. Not yet, anyway. She would be the first woman to take what the young innocent had to offer!

She nodded at the two lines of coke she'd just drawn on the table. It wouldn't be the only temptation Kelli had to face before the day was out.

Brooke went first, and the naïve blonde instantly followed. There was no hesitation. As she dipped to snort the powder, Brooke grinned across at the approving Agency Head.

***

The man in the café stared out of the surprisingly clean window, peering intently across at the apartment block. The direction of his gaze hadn't altered much in the hour he'd sat there.

The table for two in the corner was ideal in that it was sufficiently out of the way of others in the small, upmarket café and gave him the perfect view of his target.

Although the damp wind outside hinted of rain, the heavy, brown leather jacket over his Italian suit wasn't to keep out the cold. Nor were the sunglasses necessary, but they provided the anonymity he sought. The markings on his face were hidden by the turned up jacket collar and in the unlikely event of anyone noticing the undistinguished man, they wouldn't remember him tomorrow.

Giovanni's mind was focused on the need to get inside the apartment block without being seen. He hadn't expected the location to be so quiet, but a few minutes later he was given the perfect opportunity. Experience had taught him that patience invariably paid off.

The man strolling to the dark blue Mercedes was in no hurry and even stopped to check his tyres. It gave the watching Sicilian the chance to settle his bill and head across the road. He sauntered casually, as if he was simply walking past. When the garage gates slid open to allow the Mercedes to exit, he waited until it purred down the road and then slipped inside the complex seconds before they clanged shut again.

He moved quickly, like a cat, belying his age. The many hours he spent at the gym, when he wasn't gambling of course, were more and more necessary as each year passed.

It took him mere seconds to cover the distance to the far wall and, flattening himself against the wall, merge into the background. First problem overcome.

Pushing the wraparound glasses onto the top of his baldhead, the Italian's alert eyes studied the garage interior. There was a small elevator door in the side of the wall. Just what he wanted. The cars scattered across the parking area gave him problem number two - he could run into the owners at any time.

Loping across to the elevator door, he slipped the sunglasses back down across his eyes and held a handkerchief over his nose. Should any of the car owners appear, he'd fake a sneeze.

The fact the elevator connected directly from the car park to each floor was a bonus. That resolved potential problem number three.

Inside the left hand pocket of his heavy leather jacket, he held firmly onto the Makarov handgun. True stopping power in a small package. The longer, four inch barrel had served him well in the past. Better to be prepared.

His fears of meeting someone proved unfounded and as he exited on the fourth of six floors, he checked up and down the hallway. Empty. Hurrying to number thirty-eight, he rang the bell. As expected, there wasn't an answer. How could there be with the apartment empty?

His fictitious telephone offer to purchase the property had been accepted, giving him the assurance he needed that there'd be no more viewings. No interruptions!

In seconds, he'd picked the lock and was inside, quietly closing the door behind him. Motionless, he stared around the empty room, listening for any telltale sound. All he heard was his own breathing, harsh and erratic.

It would have been more comfortable had the room been furnished, but no problem. He'd concealed himself in far worse places.

It took half a minute to check the rest of the apartment. He didn't want any surprises. Only then did the pock-faced Italian allow himself to relax. Immediately he headed to the bathroom to relieve himself. The three cappuccino's he'd consumed in the café were one too many.

Returning to the living area, he removed a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of his heavy leather coat and slipped them on. They'd be his second skin until the mission was accomplished.

Sitting down on the plush carpet beside one of the two apartment windows, he removed a small stick from his pocket. It allowed him to prop open two slats of the Venetian blinds, the small gap giving him a clear view into the woman's apartment across the road.

He removed and spread the leather jacket across the floor – there was work to do. From one of the specially sown pockets inside, he removed the twin-barrelled carriage of the twelve-gauge shotgun. A second pocket contained the ammunition. The third held a cell phone, and the fourth contained a high-powered pair of 18x50IS AW binoculars.

With practiced ease, he snapped the shotgun together, cocked both hammers and caressed the two triggers. The hammers clicked a nano second apart. Removing the two shells from the special pocket, he loaded both barrels.

Carefully placing the shotgun on the floor beside him, he picked up the binoculars and trained them on the apartment opposite. The clear view allowed him to see it was empty inside. That wasn't a problem to him. Patience, he told himself. Patience.

Fishing into his shirt pocket as he eased to his feet, he removed the small plastic bag and carefully placed it on the windowsill.

His face had a look of purpose as he headed towards the kitchen. The four plastic cups inside one another on the counter were ideal. Slipping one from the others, he blew the dust away before half filling it with water from the gold tap.

His steps were measured as he returned to his position by the window. Placing the cup on the windowsill, he opened the clear, plastic bag and set the two red pills beside the water. Years of experience had taught him to be meticulous in everything he did.

With a gracefulness that belied his stocky size, he slipped back down against the wall. He could wait as long as it took for Roxanne to return.