Forester’s long, slender, silk like legs entwined the thick hairy body of her latest lover, Jomaa. They lay on the sofa, wrapped around each other like octopian creatures, new born lovers whispering sweet nothings to each other. She whispered in his ear “I have not got any Knickers on”. His eyes became wide his heart beating with anticipation. He started to slide his hand up the inside of her silky legs and up under her short, soft, red cotton dress. His hand continued to slide like a snake hunting its prey, up the inside of her thigh, until he found the treasure he had been searching for.
Jomaa’s hand touched her warm lips, encircled with hair. She was damp, brought on by the thought and expectation of what he was going to do to her. His finger ran up the centre of her vagina, she leaned in and started to caress his neck and kiss his lips, pulling his head towards her. He inserted a finger and bent it up to find her G spot. Her pussy started to pulse and she bore down on him. He added another finger then another, she was full at four fingers, she was soaking wet, it ran down her legs and his hand. Forester was finding it hard to stay focused.
She put her hand under the cushion on which his head was resting. She felt around for a little while until she found the projection she had been looking for. She turned it towards his head as she rolled to the side as best she could. She pulled the trigger on the gun she had stashed there when she first arrived about an hour ago. The cushion muffled the noise of the Beretta pistol. Blood and brain tissue erupted from the large exit wound creating a deep crevasse in his face. His hand was still up her, she hurriedly pulled it out and got off the sofa.
Forester went to her hand bag and fished out a plastic bag to put her blood-soaked clothes in. She showered and then took a clean cotton dress and a pair of knickers from her bag. She slipped them on quickly, placing the pistol in her bag, she left the apartment, wiping handles as she went, trying to eliminate any trace of DNA. As she opened the main entrance door her mobile, a cheap call and message only phone sparked up. She peered down at the message “is it done yet”
She typed “yes” and pressed send. She smashed the phone and removed the sim card, throwing the pieces of the broken phone into the canal which ran alongside the road. She walked briskly to the top of the street the cold air biting at her face and penetrating the light cotton dress that covered her beautiful slim body. She found her keys and slipped into her black BMW Three series. She started the engine and drove off into the night. Another assassination in the murky light.
She arrived home desperate for sleep and to await her next instructions. As she got into the purple silk sheets, her personal mobile pinged a message. She flicked the screen up on the smartphone and read the incoming text, it confirmed that she had been paid for the job and that the client was satisfied her target was dead. she shut off her phone, and laid her head on the sumptuous pillows to try to find sleep.