The Contract
This story is written for the 2019 Literotica Geek Pride Story Event. It's a crime story, and it may be too long for some people's taste, at 18,000 words. It contains some violence and mayhem, group sex, and incest. Of course, there's the always already presence of Exhibitionism and Voyeurism. It's not SciFi, nor Fantasy. I'm not sure in fact where to put it, so I put it in my favorite rubric, Exhibitionism and Voyeur.
If you read it, please vote and -- especially -- please leave a comment! All comments are read and taken seriously, even the gratuitously nasty ones of that most frequent of all commenters, Mr. Anonymous.
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Sally was having trouble getting dressed for her big night out. What do you wear for the date when you are finally going to kill the brakes, and let the man decide what he wants to do with you? Do you wear a skirt and blouse for easy access, or a skirt and sweater for even easier access, or low riding slacks, or jeans, and a gypsy top for sex appeal, or a sexy dress that hugs your curves and in which -- basically -- you look hot? Sally had seductive outfits in each rubric. She didn't want to look cheap, just to send out the message that if he wanted what the clothing concealed, he could have it.
The key, Sally decided, was the accessories. It always comes down to that, doesn't it? A crop top and a tight skirt would show off her tramp stamp tattoo, but that would look cheap, and John didn't even know about the tattoo yet. He might not even approve, as he had good two shoes tendencies. It was the wrong way to go. Pants were sexy, but maybe too hard to get off, should she get lucky and drive the guy into a lust fueled craze.
Did it matter? She knew by now the guy would jump at the opportunity to add her to his list of conquests. Admit it, Sally, she told herself: She was dressing more for herself and the other women she would see on her date than she was for the guy. He was already a sure thing, when it came to sex. The only reason they hadn't yet done the deed was her own reluctance. The reluctance was now gone, she silently giggled to herself.
No, the key was the jewelry, the hose, the sexy lingerie, and especially, always the most important in her mind, the perfume. Maybe a necklace that would call attention to her boobs? As if she needed that with John! She giggled at her thoughts.
John was a sweetheart of a man. He was kind, and generous. He was never in too much of a rush to help out a tourist, he would often offer his seat in the subway to an old man, or a pregnant woman, or to just about anyone who looked exhausted and was dead on his feet.
Best of all in Sally's eyes was that he always gave to the many panhandlers one would come across during the morning and evening commutes. He gave away at least $20 every day, usually in $1 increments. Sally loved him for that attitude.
Sally wondered if his sexual style would reflect his personality. John was certainly a great kisser, she already knew that. She also knew he was frustrated. She had put off sex for much too long. John was getting restless, and since both he and Sally were young: she in her mid-twenties, and late twenties or more likely early thirties, or maybe even mid-thirties for him, dating for six weeks and not having sex was fairly unusual in today's climate. Sally knew it was time. Truth be told, it was past time.
Sally had been on the pill now for two weeks, so it had taken effect, and in case John was a 'bareback only' kind of guy, she was ready for him. For the sake of potential disease, however, she was hoping he'd use a condom. She had extra condoms in case he was stupid and didn't realize how many times she liked to go at things, once she finally gave herself to a man. She really had to stop going on and off the pill. It was hard on her system.
While she chose her outfit and its accessories, and her black belt with its big sterling silver buckle came to mind, she began to wonder what she'd wear the subsequent night with Blake? It was time to give him a taste of what she had to offer, too. Sally was fairly confident the men would like her sexual talents; thank goodness there's no Yelp pages (yet!) rating a girl's bedroom talents, but if there were, she was fairly sure she would have a five-star rating even if all twenty-three of her former lovers rated her.
Sally liked the idea that she had twenty-three former lovers. She thought of her sex life as being 'twenty-three and me.' Adding John would ruin the poetry, and she'd be up to twenty-four. What would she be then? A twenty-four kinda whore?
Twenty-three might seem a high number, but since she began at age fourteen, it did not seem that high to her, only around two a year, and if you discount the seven lovers of her college freshman year (here she was including the one time four-man gangbang at the Delta Kappa Epsilon party [during her hyper kinky period] in her calculations), it then looks reasonable?
John Higgins came on time. That was another nice feature of John: He hated to keep people waiting. She greeted him in her robe, wearing lingerie underneath. "I'm all dressed," she said. "All that's left are my clothes."
John looked puzzled. He didn't understand that most of the time a girl spends getting ready is spent choosing the outfit, and then it's the bath, the body creams, the make-up (especially the eye make-up), the hair, and the perfume that takes a while. This night the chosen scent was to be Coco, by Chanel. Coco just barely edged out Twilly, of Hermes. She had had a long internal debate about the perfume decision; she had considered it and reconsidered it all during her long work day. It was a nice distraction.
She was about to apply the Coco when she decided to wear a colorful Hermes scarf. Yes, a touch of color around her long neck would add a bit of oomph to her outfit, and hide her revealing cleavage, at least most of the time! Every so often John would get a peek as she would adjust her scarf. Sally always loved to tease. That tipped the scales for Twilly. Sally always tried to stay in one designer's wheelhouse whenever she could.
Greeting John in her lingerie hidden behind a robe allowed Sally to give him a foreshadow of her plans for later in the evening. She excused herself, going to her bedroom in her tiny apartment, but she left the door wide open. Once in the bedroom she dropped the robe, giving John a tantalizing view of her lovely, curvaceous body, clad only in lace lingerie that did little to hide her delightful feminine charms, the very charms Sally knew John lusted for.
John watched as she slowly pulled her hold up stockings up her legs. The action emphasized her thin but nevertheless shapely legs, and he continued to watch as she stepped into her red dress, with its low-cut front, made of red mesh above her boobs. The dress hugged her curves and it left not even a scintilla of doubt that she was a genuine woman.
Maybe she was a goddess, that was debatable; John could have argued the goddess case from either side. That he adored her and wanted to bed her however was not in doubt. He happily zipped up the back of her dress, noticing the little hook that held her delicate bra clasped on her body, as he looked forward to undoing that same zip and clasp later in the evening.
While John was watching Sally dress, Brian the assassin was cleaning his gun. His gun had one more kill in it, and then he would need to go to Virginia and get a new one. He'd want another untraceable gun, of course. He knew just the vendor he would see at the gun shows. The vendor always wore a bright red NRA cap. If you're a professional assassin, every day you bow down and face Fairfax, Virginia.
Brian tried never to use his own gun. His preferred method was to steal someone else's gun. His favorite targets for theft were gun collectors. Often, they did not even realize they had been robbed for quite a while. The police would seize the gun as evidence in the killing and then contact the victim of the theft, possibly subjecting him to unwanted scrutiny, too. Brian found the entire process to be quite entertaining.
His new target was this milquetoast John Higgins. Brian had standards. He would refuse all contracts on women and children. He lost a lot of business having his male chauvinistic ethics, since there were a surprisingly large number of rich men willing to pay $100k and higher to have their wife bumped off. If the price was high enough, sometimes he would need to bend his ethics. (He never though took out a contract on a child.) Since a divorce would involve a loss of much more money than a mere $100k, and nothing was more important than money to these people, Brian thought of his rates as a bargain.
One time he offered to seduce the wife instead, complete with photo evidence of the sexual acts themselves. That, he had to admit, turned out to be a most enjoyable solution. He concluded that the man was an idiot to let go of such a tiger in the sack. He supposed, however, that outside of the sack she traded her tiger persona for that of a pecking hen? The two of them, the ex-wife and Brian, still got it on from time to time, too. That only worked once, however. He could not be the evidence in more than one divorce after all. It would get around.
Most of his business involved subtlety. "Make it look like an accident," was the standard request. The 'accident' murders were fun, because he got to be creative. Sometimes a victim would look for a subway train coming. For example, when it was both late at night and the man had been drinking, and if the subway platform was deserted, then Brian-the-Assassin could use Plan A. All Brian would need to do would be to give the target a quick shot of a fast-acting paralytic. Then he would give a hidden but healthy push entailing a consequent fall onto the tracks right in front of the train barreling into the station. The police called it an accident every time.
Another time Brian took over a Lexus via a remote control that resembled a play station. The unfortunate driver frantically tried to prevent the horrific accident that ensued, but despite the driver's efforts, Brian made sure the accident was fatal. For some reason the airbag did not inflate. Brian of course knew the reason for the unusual simultaneous failure of both the seatbelt and the airbag.
