The Contract

Poor Sally, Brian thought, climaxing so early in the fuck? Blake was far from through with her! Brian became more and more impressed, as Blake fucked that poor, fragile woman brutally for a good half hour! All indications were that Sally was loving it, and she could not get enough of Blake's hard, thick cock. Wow, what a woman, he thought. I have to take this girl out for a spin myself! he thought.

Brian realized this was a perfect situation. With two lovers, there's always a motive. Kill John, plant the weapon with Blake, and then scoop up the girl for himself. He could sympathize with her about Blake killing John, and let her cry on his shoulder. No longer would Sally need to be the fall guy. This was manna from heaven. The gods were with him, Brian was sure.

Brian was never in a rush. He patiently waited to see how things would evolve with Sally, John, and Blake. Talk about a love triangle! This was a juicy one. Sally continued to date both men and as far as Brian could tell, neither man was aware of the other. Brian did have a day job, he worked for a contractor with the defense department, and he spent the evenings reviewing the motion activated recordings of the goings on in Sally's apartment.

He had collected eight videos worthy of five-star quality pornography videos. These were award winning videos in the 'amateur' category. Brian couldn't stand it. He had to take this to a new level. If Sally could balance two lovers, why not three? No, that would be suicidal; he would make himself a suspect! That could not come to pass. No, all he would do was to lay the foundation of his seduction of Sally, after John's untimely death.

Due to his extensive surveillance, he knew Sally's habits well. Mondays she went straight home after work. Tuesdays she went to the gym. Wednesdays was her day for yoga, and Thursdays she went to her favorite watering hole, taking advantage of their special Thursdays Happy Hour. Friday and Saturday nights she stepped out first with John and second with Blake, at least those times that Blake let her leave her apartment without fucking her silly first.

Brian began going to the Thursdays Happy Hour. He deliberately never noticed Sally, and he kept to himself. All he wanted was to look familiar to Sally when it finally was time to make his move. He had to have the patience of Job. Night after night he would see Sally giggling as men hit on her. One night she even let some aggressive asshole feel her up a bit right there in the bar.

Somehow Brian knew Sally was not one night stand kind of girl. She was not that kind of a slut, but boy, she was making a convincing case that she was one, nevertheless, wasn't she? Suddenly he saw the asshole who had been feeling her up while she giggled in reply, trying to pull her out of the bar to leave with him.

Sally was resisting, and beginning to get alarmed, although she had yet to cry out for help. Brian admired her reluctance to cry for help. He wasn't sure exactly why he admired it, but he was sure that he did. This was another serendipitous opportunity. Brian approached the couple as the man was pulling at Sally's arm, and Sally was using her other arm to grip the bar, preventing the masher's actions.

"Hello, Sally," Brian said, looking at the masher as menacingly as he could. The masher's efforts to remove Sally from the bar were instantly dropped. He mumbled excuses and left.

"My savior!" Sally said, batting her eyes at Brian. He could smell the booze on her breath. She had drunk one too many, or maybe four too many. Then she scrunched her face, looking puzzled, and asked, "How do you know my name?"

Brian knew Sally had used the alias 'Susan' whenever she visited the bar. He mentally kicked himself; he should have called her Susan! Damn!

Thinking quickly, Brian said "I know John Higgins. He speaks highly of you." Now Brian was pleased with himself, since he hadn't said 'John the Milquetoast," or his most recent moniker for John, 'The man formerly known as Milquetoast.' "He's shown me a picture of you, and I recognized you from the picture. You're very pretty, you know. You're even prettier in person. John's a lucky man."

Sally giggled. "Tell me what John told you," she asked.

Brian made up some drivel on the spot, and luckily Sally, in her inebriated state, drank it all in. Then Sally really surprised Brian by coming on to him! Wasn't balancing two lovers at once enough for this woman?

"Let's go someplace quiet and you can tell me more about how wonderful John thinks I am, okay? It's really noisy in here. We could go to my place, if you like?" Sally said.

"You're very tempting, Sally, but I'm afraid I couldn't do that to John," Brian said.

"Oh! I didn't mean it like that! Oh, my goodness, how I must have sounded! I just want to hear all about what John thinks of me. Call it insecurity if you like, but I wasn't coming on to you, even if you are of course handsome and sexy." Sally was a convincing liar. "I could never do that to John!" Sally said, just in case Brian doubted whether or not she had been lying. She had said it much too quickly and nervously, too. Sally licked her lips. It was a nervous gesture, but boy, was it sexy.

Brian was amused. She could never do that to John? She was freakin' fucking Blake the very next night after her fucks with John! Who knew what this girl was capable of!

"Nevertheless," Brian said. "I don't know if I could control myself with a pretty girl such as yourself."

Sally giggled. "You're right, of course. Going to one of our homes would not be prudent. I guess we could go to a café, I really want you to tell me about John..."

Sally saw the look in Brian's eyes, and she gave up. She said, "Well, I must be going home before I get in more trouble. Thanks again for saving me! Oh...what's your name?"

Brian smiled. "Brian Silk, at your service, Miss Sally."

"I'm Sally Stebbins. Give me a call sometime, okay? I mean, when you want to talk about John," and she handed Brian her business card. Brian gave Sally his card, and she flamboyantly inserted it under her bra. "It will be safe there," she said.

"I'm already jealous of my own business card," Brian said. Sally giggled.

Brian looked at Sally's business card, just a bit stunned. "Are you related to the famous Stebbins family of Newport?" he asked.

"Kyle Stebbins is my uncle," Sally said. She raised one eyebrow when she saw Brian's reaction. Sally was the niece of a notorious gangster? Who would've guessed? Maybe it was her uncle who'd put the hit out on John? Nah, it couldn't be. John was getting ready to testify and quite simply, he knew too much; that had to be the real reason Brian had the contract.

Brian had a theory about why John was targeted. He had done some research on John. Nobody puts a hit out on someone for tax evasion, or small-time criminal behavior, which was how John earned a living. No, John had a sideline of money laundering for various countries that the US Government didn't like, such as North Korea, Iran, and Russia. Brian had figured the hit was related to those activities. It couldn't possibly be because he was banging Sally! Could it?

Sally giggled at Brian's reaction. This cool, calm, unflappable man had just been clearly stunned. Score one for Sally, she thought to herself. Still, she liked Brian. There was something about him that reminded her of her uncle. She wondered if his cock would be like her uncle's? Would he fuck like Uncle Kyle? Oh my goodness, what was she thinking, anyway? That was over between Uncle Kyle and her, and had been over for years now.

"I'll call you, then," Brian said, and always the little coquette, Sally smiled a blaze of headlights at him. She said "Please do," and she turned around and left, wiggling her hips as her sexy body left the bar. Every man at the bar watched her dramatic and hopelessly sexy exit. Brian verified later via his spy cameras that she went straight home and used her dildo vibrator while pulling on her nipples, until she had a satisfying orgasm. What a woman! he thought.

***************

The hardest part of killing John was planting evidence to frame Sally's other lover, Blake. Blake didn't own a gun, so Brian couldn't steal Blake's gun and kill John the old-fashioned way, damn it all. Blake was a man of action, and not the type to use poison, either. Besides, the client wanted drama. A lover's triangle was the perfect recipe; murder in a fit of rage, a fit of pique. Everyone who mattered would know the real reason he was killed.

Brian needed to use Blake's switchblade knife, or in any event a knife. The problem was the switchblade was always with Blake; there was no way to steal it without Blake knowing right away. Brian needed Ellen's help. He was reluctant to ask for Ellen's help, especially after what happened the previous time, but she could do it easily and he trusted nobody else.

Ellen still carried a torch for Brian, and she would do whatever he asked, and that included seducing Blake. As long as Brian still pretended he loved her, he could get her to do most anything. Ellen was a fabulous lover, and her helpful attitude combined with her relaxed morals did in fact endear her to Brian.

Blake was in the habit of playing pool down in Greenwich Village. Brian told Ellen the place and what he needed from her, and she was on it. A few days later Blake had been lured to Ellen's apartment with promises of hot, lurid sex. "I'm a girl who likes to please my man. I'd love for a handsome guy like you to apply for the position," she had said. Ellen could back up her claims, and Blake had never had better sex than he had with Ellen that night. The girl was up for anything! She was even better than Sally!

After the third time Blake had unloaded deep inside Ellen, she opened the vintage Brut Rosé Champagne, and they each had a celebratory glass, as Ellen idly played with Blake's cock, trying to rouse it for a fourth go round. Blake wasn't up for it and instead he fell into a deep sleep. Chloral Hydrate will do that to a man. Ellen rose, sent a text, and unlocked the door to her apartment. The switchblade disappeared from Blake's pants' pocket, while Ellen slept, and while Blake was drugged into a deep slumber. Latex gloves were worn.

Ellen was sleeping above the covers, next to Blake. The theif ignored Blake, lifting the switchblade from Blake's pants pocket, and then looked at the divine body of Ellen. Her boobs rose and fell gently with her breathing, and his eyes traveled south to her pussy. The thief noted with amusment that Ellen was still leaking cum from Blake's earlier loads. The thief silently left the apartment, letting the two lovers slumber.

When Brian let himself in to Ellen's apartment at 3AM however, Blake's switchblade was missing. Well maybe he did not have it with him at all times? He had thought he would have, but it wasn't there. Brian had taken the precaution of bringing along a close match to Blake's switchblade, and he placed it in Blake's right hand to give it some fingerprints. He quietly left the apartment.

Brian knew that Ellen would keep Brian busy in her bedroom the whole morning, too. By the time she was through with him, his balls would be exhausted and drained as dry as the Sahara Desert.

It was only a few days later that the police charged Blake in the brutal murder of John Higgins. John's throat had been slit with Blake's own knife. Blake had no alibi, and since it was a love triangle involving the niece of a gangster, the NY Post went to town with the story, as did the local affiliates of CBS, NBC, and especially Fox News. Blake's switchblade was identified as the murder weapon. It was found at the scene, and only Blakes prints were on it. It was covered with John's blood.

The NY Post printed a large picture of the 'seductress Sally,' the femme fatale at the center of the 'love triangle.' Somehow the Post had found pictures of Sally together with John, and also of Sally together with Blake. The pictures were X rated, but the Post, always a harbinger of good taste, blacked out Sally's lady bits. What they were doing in the pictures, however, was obvious to anyone beyond the age of puberty. Porn sites published the same pictures without the lady bits blacked out. Sally became infamous.

Blake was crucified in the media, and he requested solitary in prison to avoid retaliation from allies of Sally's uncle, Kyle Stebbins. He was killed in prison in short order in any event, before he even went to trial. Just like that, Sally's lovers went from two to none.

A few weeks later Brian got a call from Sally. He was lying in Ellen's bed, marveling once again at just how very talented she was at all things sexual. Sally was sobbing on the phone, but she managed to convey she wanted to see Brian. They agreed to meet at a dark bar on Second Avenue, downtown below 14th Street. Sally wore dark glasses to hide how red and swollen her eyes were. She could barely see inside the bar.

"Tell me about John," Sally said, in between fits of tears.

Luckily, Brian knew a lot about John, due to his extensive surveillance. Brian was the thorough type, so he had accessed John's computer, his Dropbox account, and -- in a feat that even impressed Brian himself -- John's three safe deposit boxes. He knew about his accounts in the Cayman Islands, and planned a short vacation there, where he would impersonate John and pillage his ill-gotten gains. Maybe he'd even see Mitt Romney while he was there? John used the same banks as Mitt.

John told mostly banalities to Sally, allowing her to access her positive memories of John. Sally confessed to him that she was the cause of his death. "Blake must have learned of John's existence as my lover," she said, and she shivered as she said it.

"You see, Brian, I can't help it. I think I'm just oversexed, or something. I also like variety. You're a man of the world. Have you known other women like me?" Sally said.

"One or two," Brian said, thinking of Ellen's sexy body, and a woman he would never be able to forget, his beloved Anna. He gave a soft smile as he thought of Anna.

"Then maybe you understand," Sally said. She had relaxed when she had seen Brian's smile.

"I understand women have needs too," Brian replied. "Most men, however, are conventional and don't tolerate cheating, unless of course it's by them."

Seeing the look in Sally's eyes, Brian quickly added, "I'm not one of those men."

"You mean you don't cheat?" Sally said, mocking him with her eyes.

"I mean that the woman can cheat, if she feels she has to," Brian explained, while Sally giggled. "Well, it's getting late. I have to take a trip tomorrow."

"Trips are better if you get some good loving the night before, you know," Sally said, and she winked.

"Your place or mine?" Brian asked. He was hoping for her place, so he'd have the video of them fucking to add to his collection.

"Where are you going tomorrow?" Sally asked.

"The Caymans."

"Hiding money? That's a good place for it, according to my Uncle Kyle," Sally said.

"Yes, I suppose it is. Want to come along?" Brian asked. Now he began to worry; was he being impetuous on top of everything else? Well, Sun Tzu had once said 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,' after all. Brian did not know yet which one Sally was, or why she was seducing him so quickly after the deaths of her two lovers. Was she friend, just horny, or did she (or worse, her Uncle Kyle who might have put her up to this?) suspect him of John's murder?

"Oh, I'm sorry John, it's a lovely idea, and the sun, sea and sand would do me a world of good right now, I'm sure, but it's just too short notice," Sally said.

"That's okay. We still up for tonight? Your place?" Brian tried. Perhaps he was being foolish?

"Why don't you call me when you get back from the Cayman Islands, Brian?" Sally said.

"Sure. Well, goodnight then."

"Walk me to the door of the bar and help me catch a cab?" Sally asked, getting a sweet, vulnerable look in her eyes.

Brian settled the tab, paying for Sally's drinks too, and when he got her the cab, he jumped in it, too. "This way I can walk you to your actual door. A girl can't be too careful, you know."

Sally giggled and leaned up against Brian in the taxi. Nobody spoke as they rode in the cab. Brian watched Sally's chest rise and fall as she breathed heavily. Brian began to think he might get lucky, after all? He had a feeling she was debating what to do. He figured: Let her think. While it ultimately didn't matter, it was always nicer if the lady wanted him, after all.

Brian paid off the cab and true to his word, he walked Sally to her door. They stood at Sally's door awkwardly.

"Thanks for seeing me home, Brian. You know, sometimes I wonder if Blake had really killed John? He just didn't seem the type, you know?" she said.

"From the papers, it seems he was guilty," Brian replied.

"He didn't live long enough even to have a trial. If someone else and not Blake killed John, for whatever reason I can't imagine, that might mean I'm in danger, too?" Sally said. Brian saw she was shivering. Her fear was genuine. "The papers said he was going to testify about money laundering, and maybe that was why he was killed? Maybe the murderer thinks I know something?"

"Would you like me to check to make sure there are no surprises in your apartment?" Brian asked.

"Would you please? I'm a little scared to go inside," she said.

Brian smiled. Maybe he really was going to get lucky? And if not, there was always Ellen. Ah, Ellen. That was his last thought before he crumpled to the ground under the vicious blow to his head.

Brian woke in a daze. He was disoriented at first, wondering where he was. He felt his head. There was blood in his hair. It took a second or two but he soon remembered where he was. He looked around, trying to focus his eyes. A beautiful woman looked down at him, concern in her eyes.

"Sally...what happened?"

"A baseball bat happened," Sally said.

"Are you okay?" Brian asked.

"Better off than you, from the look of things," Sally replied.

"What happened? Tell me, please," Brian said. Sally just looked at him. "Please?"

"Someone was lying in wait for me; he got you, instead," Sally began. "I'm ashamed but I thought only of myself and ran away, fast. The bastard caught me, though, and forced me to return. He forced some other stuff, too, you know," Sally said as she shivered at the memory. She saw the puzzlement in Brian's eyes. "Boy-girl stuff. He wanted sex and I complied. Got it? You need a doctor. Shall I call 911?"

"Were you...?"

"Violated? Raped? I don't know. Sort of, I suppose. The threat was there, but I told him what he wanted to know, apparently. Full disclosure: He forced me to strip, ostensibly to look for weapons, but in reality, just to perv. All he really wanted was the information. He got it, then he fucked me, and he left. I was too scared to say no to the fuck. Besides, I was turned on; for me, fear is an aphrodisiac. Please don't hate me for it, Brian," she said. "Shall I call 911?" she repeated.

"You were raped? How horrible! I'm so sorry, Sally," Brian said.

"I have history with the guy. He's a good fuck. Yeah, I may have been forced a little, but it's okay," she said.

"You know the guy who did this to me and who raped you?" Brian said.

"You could say that. He's my brother," Sally said, studying Brian's face for his reaction. She saw nothing alarming in his face. Most people are shocked by incest, Sally knew from experience.

"It must have been important, what he wanted to know," Brian said, tenderly touching his aching head.

"Hardly. He kept questioning me about Andorra, Bermuda, the Caymans, the Channel Islands, Panama, someplace called Lichtenstein, and also Luxembourg and Switzerland. I didn't even know that Andorra or the Channel Islands exist! And what the fuck is Lichtenstein?"