The Hit Woman's Assassination Handbook

by Jane Brooke

  Okay, time to seal this section of the deal. She thinks.

  She moves forward, wraps her arms around his muscles, ignoring the physical pain, liking the shoots of it everywhere, fingers weaving into his hair. She presses her once in a lifetime lips to his and, then curls his toes with a kiss.

  Knowing only violence, when it comes to love, he forces his tongue into her mouth, crushing her lips, pain electrifying her body from his violent ways.

  Orchestrating the moment to perfection, she backs him off, touching her now bleeding lips with her fingertips, her Orchid breath playing music on his face.

  “Slow baby...Slow, it hurts. Here, like this.” She’s says, through brushes of her lips, and now gentle, sweet kisses.

  He grabs her, rough houses hugs her, his stiff dick pressing against her cunt. She audibly moans in pain, pushes him away and, then purrs to the maniac.

  “I’m sorry Billy.”

  She lifts her T shirt, shows him the blue bruises on her ribs, her small tummy.

  “We’re going to have to wait honey; I’m hurting real bad, a lot. Do you understand?”

  Just A taste.

  Just to get him on line never hurts when a girl is on the grift.

  Gods and Generals come in all shapes and form and feeling his dick hard, he wants to be a classy man. He wants to be gentlemen, the kind she deserves, he smiles, says.

  “A course Betty, Billy understands.”

  She lowers her shirt, as he continues.

  “Ya listen Betty. I love ya. It’s just a fact. Soon, after I get back from bidness, we gonna have a great thing a goin’. Ya want that, don’t ya, Betty. Me and you’s?”

  What I want is all of your money, your mother’s money, your brother’s money, his fucking truck too. I want to fuck the guy in the barn, have his genius kids too. If you all die along the way, tough fucking luck.

  Can’t say that, she thinks as all she really wants to do is howl. But, instead she becomes the whore she has always been.

  “Of course honey, I hate bein’ all alone. When ya get back, well...well, I can hardly wait. Please, can ya get Arvan to fix my Cadillac?”

  OPPS, a slip of the lip.

  “Ya Betty...He’s doin’ it...”

  He moves into her, takes her in his arms. She wrings her fingers into his hair, moans, and whispers.

  “Like this, baby...Slow, sweet.”

  She kisses him, feels a lodge pole against her tummy. She needs to stop.

  Make him want her, make him need her, perhaps die for her as she backs off, moans in pain.

  “Let’s leave some fer later, do you mind Billy? I don’t feel so good, all beat on and such. I think I lo...love...yo...yo...””

  Gushing, Billy backs up a step, tendered in respect for her.

  “Okay, Betty. I’ll go, let ya rest fer a spell. Listen, I’ll be back tamarraw. Get yer Caddy fixed. Ya never gonna have ta worry bout nothin’ again, ya hear.”

  Smiles, she’s heard that one before.

  “Thanks Billy.”

  Hand back to the forehead again. She sighs, swoons, so very southern and frail again.

  “I’m just going to count the hours until you return. I’m going to get some sleep, rest up fer ya.” She paints his cheek with a kiss, “Until then, darling. I’ can’t wait.”

  He smiles, turns to the door, turns back.

  “Rest, Betty, see ya in day or so.”

  More seductive smiles, he smiles and, then walks out of the door, his stiff dick barely missing the door jam on the way out.

  Slumping against the wall, for grifting is an exhaustive bidness; she sighs, looks at Angel, smiles and gaily says. “I think I will have a beer, what do you think Angel?”

  “Yelp, Yelp, Yelp”.

  Angel, a Welsh Collie, goes air born into her arms, a vibrating fluff ball, peppering her face with kisses, as she giggles.

  “Okay girl, Okay, Ouch, come on, back to earth.”

  Setting her to the floor, she says. “Go on, lay down, girl.”

  A brilliant dog brain, she twirls around and like a dart, she whizzes back to the pillow, winds into a ball, intelligent brown eyes waiting probing, for any indication for more opportunities for jumps, yelps, and kisses on her mistresses face.

  Grabbing a beer, unable to control herself, for the con is intricate, exciting, she forgets her battered torso, flops on the bed, goes rigid, muffles her mouth from a scream. Pure manic, she kicks her legs into the air, feels the pain, ignores it, embraces it and, then screams in girlish delight.

  “CHRRRISSST.”

  Gold manic ingot of glee loses it shine. She winces in pain as slowly she lowers her legs to the pillow, moans and, then calms.

  Thinking, about her world spinning either in control or out of control, she picks up the manuscript, presses it to her bruised breast, moans, and whispers.

  “Okay, let’s see what’s going on in his head.”

  Struggling off of the bed, she takes inventory of weapons and some snooping she wants to do. Holstering her 44 on her shoulders, she dons her bomber jacket, pats her 38, knife in the boot, sneaks to the door and peeks out.

  Coast clear, she slither’s out through the door.

  On the porch, darkness; that’s good.

  She creeps to the edge of the porch, becomes translucent as she presses herself against the wall, listening to music, laughter, the usual stuff filtering from the bar.

  Then again, from the wreckage of the junk yard, Billy materializes, followed by Arvan.

  Both have back packs on their shoulders. They chat for a moment and, then Arvan moves into the garage, throws the pack into it, watches none to brotherly as Billy, carrying a small grey metal briefcase, moves into the bar.

  Great sleuths are patients ones as she lights up a smoke, bides her time. Literally smelling opportunity, money, lots of money, patience at times is probably the only virtue that she possesses.

  Why she does not run to the road, stick out her thumb and just Hit it, never enters her mind. She is famous for out thinking herself, watching the whirlwind of her life circling all around her and now perhaps she has done it again.

  The hard, cold fact that she might just die for such folly, well, that never enters her mind.

  The Barns

  “I KNOWED, SON. Her car done broke down. I’m sorry, she a nice gal, real nice. That’s all, son.”

  Standing, at the door, shadows the room illuminated by a monitors green glow, candles flickering, Mava stares at her son huddled in the corner, cape, cowl, sitting on his Indian blanket.

  His gravel breathing drones. Mava, tears in her eyes, actually wonders if this Betty, this no lies girl, pretty, bright thing, might be the one to finally understand her son?

  A compassionate mother, living within delusion, the absurd in her mind has a simple wish and that is for her son to be happy.

  “Okay, Son. Ya okay fer a time. Ya got everythin ya need, my beautiful boy. Ya knowed I love ya, so much.”

  Sounds of gravcel breathingas a match ignite illuminating the nape of his neck. Inside this single moment, a marvelous mottled canvas of colors, scars and beauty caught within the flames, exposing his beauty, appears.

  Smoke, coughs, growls from his throat and, then, the match dies. The room, the room fills with phantom images, his face turns, as he whispers. “Yes...Yes mother, I know. I love you too.”

  His face lowers beneath his hood, is hidden within the biosphere of shadows, once again. Mava turns, closes the door and walks from the room.

  Whinnies, snorts and hoofs banging the Earth.

  He lowers his face again, begins to dream in strident markings of places he will never visit; things he will never see and a life he will never know.

  Head Banger

  FOR SOM
E reason, storm clouds, cumbrous, ponderous move into the desert night bringing with them the cold. Winter holds no reckoning to its masters. Thus is the seduction of her smile.

  The moon is full and again, bomber pressed against her cheeks, standing on the porches end, Luna looks touchable to Mandals fingertips.

  She is the chameleon, enjoys the chill on her ever changing skin, as she stares out across the compound at the road, where a lit eighteen wheeler crushes by, reminding her of her own trip ten years earlier.

  AT a road stop, for payment, she had sucked the truckers cock and, then was fucked for hours by the young stud from Toledo, Ohio. Five hundred miles, after more sucking, fucking, she had thanked him, hopped another semi and had fucked her herself silly across the country.

  Blink, Arvan, under the hood, revving the Pick-ups engine, draws her back to stares.

  Time to move, satisfy her urges, she peeks back, around the corner at the barns. Looking back to the compound, like a sniper, she decides she has the perfect vantage point. From where she stands in the night, she can see every angle of the compound.

  The horse’s make a ruckus as Mava walks from the barn, across the dirt and, then enters the back door of the cafe.

  Mandal smiles and looks off at the horses and, then whispers. “Spoiled children.”

  Feeling sneaky, she is about to nose around when Mava answers her prayers. Hefting a back pack, Mava walks out the back door, moving directly towards her.

  Deep breath, quiet, she presses herself against the wall, peeks at the broken light bulb and silently giggles.

  “Letter to the management. Fix light bulbs, so career criminals have no where to hide while their planning to steal everything you have.”

  Giggling, she looks to her right, sees the motels office light illuminate.

  Unable to help herself, she sneaks off of the porch, sneak thief’s over to the office, goes on tippy toes, elevates, in the dark peeks through the office window. Her mind begins to hum as she watches the old woman spin the dial, back and forth, back, lifts an iron safe lid and, then proceeds to lay stacks of hundred dollar bills over layers of their cousins.

  Cool. She thinks.

  Knowing that this kind of information is exactly what a business woman needs as she claws her self rung, by rung, up the ladder of success, she can feel her thief mind crunching the numbers.

  “Later MA.”

  She jokes, like Arvan, to herself.

  On cat’s feet, dancing on fog, she turns, scampers back to her wall, holds her breath as the light dies and Mava walks right past her back into the cafe.

  Exhale, she smiles, whispers. “It can’t be this easy? Can it?”

  Of course being a lucky whore, helps, as the bars back screen door “Creaks,” slams open and there is Sue, Billy tearing at each other, falling all over each other.

  Locked in lip locks, Billy slams her against the wooden planks and, then they begin to rip it up.

  Mandal shakes her head, proving by what she is seeing that love is an oblique thing.

  Never listen to a man with a hard on, for he will say anything before he fucks you. That is her golden rule.

  For there he is, with the girl he has A understanin’ with, smashing his saliva all over her frantic face, as she swallows his tongue.

  And to just think, an hour earlier Billy was promisin’ through his own kissin’, huggin’ and lies, a lifetime tagether. Go figure, will ya.

  Sue, wild, out of control, moans, shakes, fingers ripping at his black hair, to Mandal’s lit eye’s trying to swallow his head. Billy, ripping on the brass snaps on her jeans, the entire wall shuddering from his worked up lust, finally gets her Levi’s to fall down her thin legs, around her ankles. He rips them right off over her boots.

  Nice legs, Mandal thinks.

  Sue’s got a body a lot like hers, narrow hips, small booty, great bod, hard like a gal tending a hard bar, as Billy lifts her T shirt up over her arms and rips it to the ground.

  Kinda excited, more from seeing Sue’s froth, Mandals giggles. “This should be good.”

  Lifting her, like she’s made a balsa wood, Billy flips her like a coin, bends her like she’s one a those Chinese contortionists, the kind that can put their feet behind their ears.

  A little hop, Billy’s iron fingers wrap around her butt, her white legs snarl around his waist. Sue’s frantic fingers wrap around his neck, pouring kisses into his mouth.

  Billy, Levi’s puddled around his cowboy boots, a cock like a V-12 piston, ferociously rams it into her cunt, slams her against the wall.

  “WHOOP, WHOOP, WHOOPS.”

  Gushes explode out of Sues stretched lips, past her bared teeth, as Mandal, wide eyed, leers at them, knowing:

  Thank fucking God, finally someone knows how to fuck a girl right.

  Not every one can fuck standing up with his jeans flopping down around his ankles, but Billy can.

  Revved up, he pumps, ruthless with his dick.

  IN, UP, OUT, IN, punishing Sue.

  Moaning, laughing, her blond head bangs the wood slat wall as she hangs on for dear life, eating his lips, licking his face, her long legs flopping everywhere, hanging off of Billy elbows.

  “Swoosh, Swoosh.”

  Sue’s head cracks back, she ORGASMS, screams towards the stars, hanging on to Billy’s black hair for dear life. Billy, jest getting started, rams harder, faster. Sue literally being shaken apart like a white rag doll and like she’s hanging on to one of those berserk bulls she done seen at the rodeo hangs on to the reigns.

  For a moment, Mandal wonders if she Blew it not fucking him back in the motel room. She giggles, wishing she had a cowboy hat so she could hand it to Sue so the rodeo gal could wave it in the air as she continues to get her brains fucked out, by clearly an insane Billy.

  “Ugg, Ugh, Ugh, SWOOSH blasts into the air.

  Sue screams again, banging her fists on Billy shoulders as she ORGASMS again.

  Don’t stop Billy though as he twists her around, rips her butt back, plants her palms on the wooden slats. Her head bows to her breasts as he drives his cock into her ass.

  “SWOOSH.”

  Sue’s spine, bent, arched, psycho babble pouring past her trembling lips, Billy holding onto her ass, as she screams. Drooling now, moaning, weeping, Morse Code is chirping out of her lips, she screams,

  “Just don’t fucking stop. FUCK ME BILLY.”

  Gurgle, gurgle, her tummy heaving, fingernails scratching the wood.

  “I...I...I...I....lo...lo...lo...you...Bi...Bi..BILLY”

  She screams, as he drives his cock into her ass, up to his balls, just about paralyzing her.

  Her head, almost breaking off at her long neck, slashes up, down, in, out, in, out. Billy holding her hip’s, goes literally berserk.

  Mandal watches him move like a piston right outta Arvans Pick-up truck, sighs.

  What if? Chirps in Mandals noggin’.

  Sue CLIMAXES again, shrieking. “OH...OH...OH BABY...OH BABY...RIGHT THERE...YER...YER ON FIRE TANIGHT.”

  He flips her, revolving his cock inside of her, rams her solid. Her legs flop, up, down, up, again, all supported by his steel elbows. She rips her hands around his neck, eyeballs dilating, as he begins to wildly bounce her up and down as he takes off right where he started, fucking her in the ass.

  Mandal, deciding to give Sue the respect she deserves, flames out her lighter, pours fire to her cigarette so Sue, who face looks like a blur, its bouncing up and down so fast, can see the flames and that she, Mandal respects her.

  Suddenly Billy stops, tenses, jerks, jerks again deep in her ass. He racks his head around like a Rabid dog, impaling Sue’s ass as every muscle in his body cuts like an anatomy chart.

  Sue smiles at Mandal over Billy’s shoulder.

 
Mandal smiles back at her, killing the Zippos flame. Sue’s eyes go oval. Then, Billy goes haywire as he SLAMS, SLAMS, one more SLAM, then deflates. He holds her by her butt, as his head meshes against her breasts, and he finishes Cuming inside of her.

  He releases her. Her cowboy boots touch the ground.

  Zip, zip, zip, jeans go back up his girder legs. Sue turns, begins to struggle back into her jeans. Billy whacks her on the ass, says as he walks right past her.

  “Ya best geet now. Bar needs tendin.”

  No roses, chocolates hearts, no sweet sighs of lovey dovey talk, no call ya in the mornin’.

  Just a slap on the ass and the word. “GEET.”

  AT the back door, Billy stops, ignites his Bic, inhales from his cigarette and, then stares off to where his Betty, who he knowed was there all along was watchin’. He smiles through smoke, knows she knowed that he knowed she was there. He chuckles as her shadow dissolves away as if it weren’t ever there.

  Nodding to him self, he knowed he may be dumb, but he ain’t stupid, through the door he goes.

  Sue, finishing up dressing, feeling like her insides were driven over by a tractor, yet lovin’ his lovin, lifts her eyes, stares at the porch. The shadow is no longer there. Unbelievably she feels turned on just knowin’ the crazy bitch was staring at her and her man fuckin’.

  More confused than ever, she shakes her head once, hears a scream from inside the bar and moans.

  Back to work tending to the patients that once again have taken over the asylum.

  Two Paulies

  GOOD LUCK, for travelers is certainly a necessary thing.

  A little bit here, there, especially when you’re hunting down your bosses ex prostitute/girlfriend that just ripped him off for seven-fifty-large and a couple of gumbas are far from home.

  Paulie, the other Paulie, driving, stopping, driving, stopping, driving, stopping, made their way on a common sense off road direct line through Tennessee. Finally hitting up some good luck, finding Jackie’s Tennessee Truck Stop, they found remnants of her. Folks their liked money, seemed a whole horde of different men in overalls that had remembered the beautiful girl in the old Cadillac with the blond hair.