by Jenna Kelly
Marissa couldn't help but moan, glancing across to make sure they couldn't be seen. Kaitlyn and Meredith were busy discussing something, the Agency Head pointing across to the west. Despite herself, the blonde couldn't help but widen her legs to allow Rachel more freedom.
"D'you know what you look like?" Rachel murmured, the corners of her lips curling wickedly.
"What's… that…?" Marissa gasped, her breathing coming in harsh gasps as she stared into the other woman's commanding eyes. She was close.
"You look like you want to be kissed," the beautiful model sexily breathed. She pulled her long leg away as she sat forward, her big eyes devouring Marissa's face. "You want to be kissed, Marissa?" she asked the gawking young model.
Without waiting for an answer, she snaked a hand behind the blonde's neck and softly pulled their heads together. Marissa gulped as the dark haired model held their lips inches apart, silently telling her that she needed to make the final move. Marissa took the hint, jamming her mouth against the sweet lips waiting for her. In seconds, the two women were kissing passionately.
"You know what else you need, babe?" Rachel asked, her soft hands gently pulling Marissa's head away from hers. She held the blonde's gaze, no more than a few inches away, as she smiled playfully into the enchanted eyes. Her hands reached for the small bag on the table, working it loose while maintaining eye contact.
Marissa gulped again—hypnotised—lost in the moment. Whatever it was that Rachel was offering, she wanted some. She was lost in those eyes, aware that the dark haired model was creeping closer at the same time as raising a hand towards her blushing face. She understood immediately.
The exotic beauty kissed her again before slipping her finger into Reagan's mouth. The redhead's lips opened to receive the white powder, heart pounding as Rachel caressed it across her gums. The model rubbed slowly, turning the movement into what felt to Marissa like a deliberately sexual act. She licked her lips, sucking on the finger for a moment.
"Good?" she heard Rachel's voice, somewhere in the distance amidst the different colours behind her eyes. She could hear the experienced model's heavy, sensual breaths were filling her senses, sounding like the purring of a petted cat. The euphoric effect of the coke felt good.
Why hadn't she taken some earlier?
***
Early evening, and the headache David had been feeling all day was getting worse. While people had been moved from table to table all around them, theirs stayed intact. That had given Grizz the platform to continue his relentless trash talk theme. Worse, although he'd rebuilt his chip stack a little from its earlier low, at $10,400 he felt he was going nowhere.
Survival, he kept telling himself. Just stay tight and make it into day two. Stay patient and things would change. How many times had he repeated that? The crystal helped, too, though he wasn't sure why, other than the calm feeling engendered as he rubbed his thumb along the smooth surface.
The evening break would provide the opportunity for him to find some headache tablets. But not before he took advantage of Ace-Jack in late position. The last hand before the break was giving him the opportunity to increase his stack. After a couple of calls, he made a sizeable raise.
Take it there and then, he thought.
Grizz had other ideas, making his inevitable call. It wasn't just in the verbal stakes that he'd been riding David all day. With table cards that were as useless as they'd been all day, they checked all the way. Grizz flopped over his Jack-Six unsuited to display the pair he'd made with the six on the river. "Told ya, you ain't as good as you think, brother," he cackled as he raked in the pot.
David sighed. Any sort of bet on the flop or turn would have won him the pot - and was a pretty basic thing to do. But he hadn't. Geez!
"Nice pre-flop call," he sarcastically responded, slumping back in his seat in disappointment with his play, and at allowing himself to be drawn into the childish banter. If things had been frustrating all day, they were even worse now. He was down to $8500 in chips.
With the tables clearing for the interval, he eased himself to his feet and went in search of a couple of painkillers.
***
So far, so good. Carrie hadn't expected another man to be in the car when Kyle picked her up, but the well-worn Tony was as thick as Jack's number two. No problem there. The boot of the Chevy was filled with everything the two men needed to complete their mission, though with two dolts like this, Carrie's main fear was whether they'd blow up the car on the way.
Getting them to the location Samson had identified was straightforward enough. What was more of a problem was Kyle's instruction for Tony to 'go walkabout.' With the assassin due in less then fifteen minutes, the last thing she wanted was any surprises.
"Don't wander too far," she told the pencil thin man with a wink, as he was leaving the car. "I might have something for you when you get back!" Keeping him nearby might at least allow the assassin to suss out his presence.
Watching Tony slam the door behind him and move off into the dark, she reached into her purse and instantly had two lines of coke spread on the dashboard. "Join me, Kyle?" she mischievously grinned.
"What you doing, girl? I don't want any of that shit?" She couldn't see the shock on his face in the dark, but his voice told her it was there.
"You don't want coke?" she asked, her voice emphasising her mock incredulity. "Everyone who's anyone takes coke, Kyle. What century are you living in?"
"No," he answered, the tremor in his voice indicating a sudden uneasiness. "I'd never take that shit."
"Kyle!" she growled, her voice full of surprise, telling him it was the most natural thing in the world. Reaching out in the semi-dark, her fingernails ran along his thigh. "You've never fucked on coke?"
"Fucked?" he said, his voice less sure. "No—"
"Poor baby," she exclaimed, her fingers now cupping his cloth covered cock. "There's nothing like it, baby. Letting Carrie fuck you after you've had coke is… like nothing you can imagine. It'll just blow your mind!"
"Really?"
"Fuck, yes, Kyle," she told him, tracing along the outline of his twitching hardness. "Feel good, baby?" she asked. "When you've had some coke and you're inside Carrie, it'll blow your fucking mind!" She leant forward and took the straw she'd produced from her purse, sniffing up one line and purring like a cat. "Oh, baby!"
"How's it feel?" he nervously asked.
One hand dropped to her skirt, flipping it up to her waist and then pulling his hand between her thighs. She wasn't wearing panties. "Sensational," she grunted. "C'mon, baby, the sooner you take it, the quicker we get into the back of the car. Don't you want little old Carrie to fuck your lights out?"
Sensing his hesitation, she pulled his hand away, pushing his fingers to his lips. "Taste me, baby," she told him, close enough to see the arousal in his eyes. "Go on, baby," she encouraged, pushing the straw into his free hand. "Take it and then get that big cock out. I'm waiting—"
The big man hesitated, still unsure, and then suddenly plunged forward, clumsily sniffing as much as he could. The spiky haired woman smiled. It had to be closing in on ten thirty, time to get down to business. She was out of the passenger door and into the back of the car within seconds.
"C'mon, big man," she encouraged. "What's keeping you?"
He clumsily hauled himself into the night air, the car light flicking on and then off as he climbed into the rear of the car beside her. With practised ease, she had his pants undone and cock exposed before the effect of the coke hit him.
"Feel good?" she asked, straddling his lap, leading him to the Promised Land.
"Yeah," he grunted, trying to focus as the lights exploded behind his eyes. "Yeah, kinda feels strange."
"You want to fuck Carrie?" she asked, sliding him inside her with a growl. The thought of what was to follow had her so wet that despite his size, he was able to enter her with the minimum of effort.
"Fuck, yeah," he grunted. "I ain't ever had one of Jack's girls b
efore!"
The spiky haired woman tightened her internal muscles around his thick girth. "What, you've never fucked a dancer?"
"Oh, yeah, done that," he grunted, feeling his head spin. Time to confess. "But never someone Jack's fucking. Never dared."
"Oh, you naughty boy," she whispered into his ear. She fucked him gently, her hands behind her to rest on his thighs. She'd keep him simmering until the assassin arrived. "So… Jack doesn't know you're fucking his little girl?"
"N… no…" he grunted, crunching his eyes and thrusting upwards. She'd been right, this was much better than he'd experienced before!
"Take your time, Kyle," she told him, her own body fighting against her words. The situation had her so fucking hot, she could feel her orgasm bubbling. "Make it last, baby. I promise, it'll be like nothing you've experienced before—"
*****
The infrared binoculars told Jessica that the licence plate on the black gas-guzzler was the one she was searching for. In the vicinity Samson had told her. Experience told her to focus, allowing her eyes to get used to the darkness. Eventually, the moving shadows in the car became clearer.
"The girl's a decoy," Samson had told her. "Not to be harmed." Jessica hoped the woman knew what she was doing. As far as she was concerned it was an added complication, not a help.
Reaching for the balaclava—her standard wear for such occasions—the tap on the driver's window interrupted her thoughts. Damn, how could she have been so careless? The gun pointing through the glass made her heart beat a little faster. A trap? No sudden movements, she told herself.
The barrel moved in an upward and downward motion and she obeyed the silent instruction, lowering the window to allow the well-worn face to peer in.
"Watcha doin'?" a suspicious, high-pitched voice asked, the gun trained on her. Jessica began to move but stopped as the weapon waved gently from side to side. "Uh-uh!" the guy uttered in admonishment. "I asked whatcha doin'!?!"
The blonde smiled brightly, slightly tugging open her jacket as she did so. His gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts above her thin black top. It paid to dress with a diversion in mind. The momentary distraction allowed her hidden hand to pick up the silencer at her side.
"I'm looking for a little action," she softly breathed. "Are you?"
The well-worn face broke into a grin and he glanced across at the gas-guzzler, as if contemplating his options. The split second distraction gave Jessica all the time she needed. Her swift movement was as deadly as her aim.
The bullet hit him directly between the eyes. The soft spit broke the silence, followed by the dull thud as his body collapsed to the ground.
Jessica's eyes returned to the vehicle across the street. If they'd seen anything, this was going to become complicated. Thirty seconds silence confirmed they'd been too busy to notice. Within seconds, she'd slipped the balaclava over her head. Flicking off the ceiling switch so as to ensure she'd remain in the dark, she opened the door. It moved only a couple of inches.
Damn! The thug's fallen body must have lodged itself against the door as it fell to the ground. Reaching across with her right leg, then left, she manoeuvred herself into the passenger seat and exited that way.
Half a dozen silent strides saw her cover the distance to the driver's side, within a few seconds; the thin body was pulled to one side.
Staying in the shadows, she stealthily slipped across the open space, listening to her soft pants as she continually checked around her. No more unexpected disturbances! As she approached the vehicle, she could hear the groans inside. The girl, whoever she was, seemed to be enjoying her job.
It wasn't difficult to remain out of sight of the wing mirrors. A half-minute's pause allowed her to adjust her eyes to the shapes inside the vehicle. Kyle and his entertainment were in the back. The dark haired woman was riding him gently, but the way her head rotated indicated what was on her mind.
She was waiting for the assassin. The man would make an easier target that way. Jessica grimaced to herself. This was quite a woman, but despite her interest in making life easier for Jessica, she wasn't one she warmed to. Experience told her to keep her distance from thrillseekers.
Still, use the help if it was there. Jessica moved so that her shadow fell across the woman's eyesight. Inside the car, she checked her movements for a brief second, as if her brain was assimilating what was about to happen. Then she was moving again, only faster this time.
"Come on, baby," Jessica heard. "Cum for Carrie. You'll never have another one like this."
The assassin understood. The woman wanted the man's orgasm, but it was also to be a signal to Jessica. Fuck, she was a cool customer!
The vehicle began to rock under her exertions and then the timing was perfect.
"I'm cumming doll," he groaned, "I'm fucking cummmmmming—"
Jessica knew the woman had ensured the door was unlocked, not that it made any difference. She'd shoot him through the glass if necessary. It opened in one movement just as the man was ejaculating. The woman's face stared at Jessica, alive with excitement. "Do it!"
Her grunt as Jessica put the gun against his forehead and pulled the trigger was that of a wild animal. The bitch had cum, actually reaching her own orgasm!
"Wait," the woman breathlessly gasped as Jessica turned away. "He's got an accomplice, outside somewhere."
"Not any more," Jessica answered, immediately cursing herself for forgetting the Irish accent.
It made no difference, she told herself as she covered the distance back to her hired car. She was speeding from the vicinity even as Carrie was pushing herself away from the dead body and wondering how she'd get home.
***
"Mmm, I'm going to grab a shower before the flight. Join me?" Rachel asked as Meredith and Kaitlyn began packing up for the day. Kaitlyn watched Marissa carefully, smiling to herself as the young blonde took the exotic model's hand.
Their final session had taken place indoors at the top of the South Rim. Walking across to the small trailer with the more experienced model, Marissa was shocked to see it was dark. Where had the time gone?
The small vehicle was barely large enough to accommodate one person, let alone two. Rachel was already sliding out of her squaw outfit not two steps into it. All Marissa could do was follow, her eyes glued to the warm, chocolate brown skin of her bare back. With a slow cock of one hip, Rachel's thong joined her clothing on the floor.
Glancing at the blonde just outside, she arched a dark brow. "Pussycat got your tongue?"
The flimsy door of the trailer slapped shut and the sound of the shower flipped on. Marissa glanced over at Kaitlyn, although the Agency Head appeared to be preoccupied with the early proofs on her open laptop. Deep breath, she entered.
When she opened the door, Rachel was bending over—her slender body presented in profile—as she undid the straps of her sandals. Her long, glossy black hair was already out of its braids, hanging in silky waves around her face.
Rachel smiled playfully at the gawking young model. "Come on," she said, straightening to full height. "I'm not sure how much hot water we'll have."
Marissa's mouth went dry. She couldn't help herself as she scanned this other woman's full, frontal nudity. She thought of their kiss earlier. She thought of her sister's confession to being bi. And she knew that she wanted this woman before her.
"Want to soap me?" Rachel asked Marissa, smiling mischievously at her through those luminous, almond shaped eyes. Before Marissa could answer, the other girl stepped into the shower, swaying her ass as the hot water cascaded down her body.
Marissa gulped, quickly stripping off her skimpy attire. Rachel was ready for her, pushing a bar of soap over her shoulder. Marissa took it and stepped beneath the spray. The shower left barely enough room for them to manoeuvre and Marissa couldn't help it when her large breasts brushed along the other girl's back.
"Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed. Her nipples scraped Rachel's shoulder blades; there was no way she'd
miss that.
Rachel smiled to herself and said nothing. Instead, she closed her eyes and looked up into the hot spray, letting its warmth and the hesitant touch of Marissa's fingers relax her.
"Were you born in Vegas?" Marissa asked the black haired model, more for something to take her mind of the softness of Rachel's skin and the heat rising from their intimacy.
"No," Rachel softly answered. "You have such soft hands, Marissa. I love your touch…" She let the blonde trace her shoulder blades up to her slender neck before answering. "No, I was born in Rwanda."
"Rwanda?" Marissa wouldn't have guessed Africa; not with those almond-shaped eyes, although she'd been struggling with the girl's ethnicity all day now.
"Mmmm, lower please," the exotic model murmured, pushing her buttocks back. "I think my back's clean now." Marissa took the hint, running her soapy hands down the sweep of Rachel's spine until she had one firm buttock in each hand. It was all Rachel could do not to turn around—to pretend like they were having this conversation in a coffee shop, not naked in a tiny shower.
