Killing Time

Hello again Dear Avid Reader…

I hope you are all well and… horny. A thought occured to me, ‘What if…’ sort of thought so the following was born. I hope as ever you enjoy and I might have a word with you after…



Killing Time



Time to kill.

She walked along the sidewalk trying not to walk too fast and not too slow either. Her heart was beating so loud in her chest that she couldn’t believe the others sharing the busy Manhattan thoroughfare didn’t stop and stare at her. She understood and knew all of the ‘trade-craft’ that was the ‘oxygen’ to her chosen profession but she also knew that she was a ‘number-cruncher’ in essence and not an ‘operative. “Check reflections” she muttered to herself and tried to casually glance at the glass in front of the shop displays as they rolled past. She saw no obvious signs that she was being followed and yet knew that she probably wouldn’t if there was any surveillance.

She was close to hyper-ventilating and possibly close to fainting but the adrenalin running through her system was over-riding her conscious will. She wanted to look at her watch but knew she shouldn’t; she needed to be just one more ‘bland’ commuter trying to get from A to B and not, to all intents and purposes, a fugitive on the run.

When it came it wasn’t a deafening bang as she had expected it to be but a soft ‘crump’ echoing down the canyon of city blocks. She managed to walk over a block and a half before the home-made fuse had ignited the rooms full of gas from the ‘leaky’ valve. Horns blared behind her and all the busy, ‘in-a-rush’ pedestrians about her had stopped to look behind her. She stopped herself after four or five steps as she realised she was the only one not turning to look at the ‘event’ behind her. She stopped and turned about and looked down the city street to see the pall of smoke rising out of the unremarkable office block a quarter of a mile behind her.


Fifteen minutes earlier

The components for the fuse had stood ready in a closet in her small non-descript office since she had moved in six years previously. It consisted of a few simple cleaning products that could be found in any office anywhere in the world and not seem out of place or strange. Of course the position they were in would obviously tell any Fire Inspector or Insurance Investigator that this wasn’t going to be an accidental fire but the heaps of paper and other flammable liquids not too far away would destroy most of the evidence anyway. the ashtray that she had kept beside the small tea-point (which she never used) would also confuse matters and when that did manage to work out that it had indeed been arson she would be in another country and probably on another continent.

She wasn’t really worried about Fire Inspectors and Insurance Investigators. It was those that would follow. Those that didn’t really want her but wanted the Irishman. She couldn’t blame the Irishman, it had been herself who had acted as his ‘agent’ for the past seven years and it had been her who had accepted and passed on all the ‘contracts’. Herself who had accepted the last five contracts thinking about the twenty percent she was earning as ‘middle-man’ and not that the contracts had been ‘linked’. That they were part of a ‘feud’ normally meant that it was good for their business. That the feud was between a ‘Family’ and ‘The Firm’ should have told her to stay away after the second ‘hit’. The Irishman had done his job as efficiently and professionally as usual. The first three had looked liked simple unfortunate accidents and then things had escalated into straight assassinations culminating in the ‘long-shot’ at Madison Square Park. It was only then that she had learnt through her contacts that ‘The Firm’ was not happy and that the final ‘hit’ had been a member of their management.

So it was time to move on, maybe even retire, she had made more than enough to spend the rest of her life living ‘on the interest’ anywhere in the tropics. She had let the Irishman know the State of Play and had wished him well and maybe in a few years down the line they might resume their business partnership. His soft lilt on the phone had re-assured her that they’d had a good run and parted with some colloquialism from his native soil. “Well, gorgeous, ‘may the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be always at your back and may you be in heaven a half hour before the Devil know’s you’re dead!” The phone went dead and she was sure in a few seconds it would have been disassembled and dumped in some gutter or little bin wherever the Irishman was. As usual she wondered what he looked like; the only photograph she had ever seen of him was at least fifteen years old and extremely grainy. If she still worked for the government she could probably now have got it enhanced with modern computer technology and got more of an idea of the man standing at a Caribbean bank counter with curly black hair.

The two bottles swayed in the breeze from the air-con on a string above the tea-point, a box of matches twisted within the string as she wrapped a cloth around the gas valve beside the entrance to the office and slowly loosened the brass knuckle. A persistent hiss issued from the pipe and the stink of gas assaulted her nose. Quickly she moved to the home-made fuse and lit the single match sticking out of the box and the heady aroma of sulphur further polluted her sense of smell. Carefully she made her way back through and pulled the door behind till it was slightly ajar. The hallway was already filling with the highly flammable gas as she exited her office and closed the door behind her.



She looked down the street, one among the throng as sirens were heard echoing through the maze of city blocks rapidly approaching the fire she had started. It had taken firm hold and was rising rapidly up the building. She hoped that the other occupants had gotten to safety but she was a pragmatist and realised she cared more for her own safety before turning on her heels and proceeding away from her inferno of a former office. She had been scanning all of the people in sight, on both sides of the street and couldn’t see anyone taking undue interest in her. She felt her chest relax a little as she disappeared into vast city. Now she needed somewhere to ‘hole’ up for at least twenty four hours if not forty eight. She knew well that all routes out of New York would be under surveillance and the more time she could remain undetected before leaving the better her chances of making a clean getaway.

She needed a man.


Seven years ago

She stood beside the open grave looking down at the mahogany box. She realised she felt more for the tree that had been cut down to entomb her late husband than for the man she had been married to for seven years. Various friends, relatives and in-laws came and went as they offered her their heart-felt condolences. She was sure that some of his family understood what a conniving bastard he had been and wondered if they felt more sympathy for her when he was alive than they did now on the day of his funeral.

A ‘crocodile’ tear ran down her cheek as she wondered what all gathered would think if they knew she had arranged his accident. Of course none of them knew how closely she worked with the ‘Intelligence’ community and the dealings she’d had with some of the more ‘shadowy’ figures that skirted the periphery of it. That was how she had heard of ‘The Irishman’, a result of the ‘troubles’ in Northern Ireland and now that Peace had broken out for the most part over there, a useful asset now available to hire. Even her dearly departed hadn’t known of her unsavoury dealings, I do something for ‘Foreign Affairs’ had been her usual response when asked about her occupation and for the most part all it involved was the shuffling of papers and personnel. It sounded boring and rarely got further enquiry. Even from the corpse lying below her.

It had been incredibly easy to arrange and she barely even noticed the fact that she was free from guilt about it. He shouldn’t have cheated on her (on numerous occasions) and he shouldn’t have become so cavalier to have left the evidence lying about. The Irishman with his soft lilt had been subtle and efficient. An asset, that seemed to her, much under-used and potentially a very profitable one. Maybe it was time to retire and branch out into the private sector. She had quite a nest egg saved up, no children and a little black book full of contacts from around the world with so many grievances and scores to settle. And a highly capable Irishman!



She walked through the lobby of the hotel and into the expansive lounge crowded with lots of business people attending a conference. She scanned the various groups looking for a ‘mark’. She wasn’t unattractive and even though she was the wrong side of forty she had stayed slim and fit. She had known what she was going to have to do before she had gone to the office that morning and was dressed in a smart business suit with a skirt that hung just above her knees with a long slit up the side that would show the sheer stocking tops and suspenders she was wearing when she sat down. She held the small leather clutch bag to her hip as she continued scanning the crowd.

She cast her gaze around as if she was looking for someone (which she was) that she knew (which she didn’t yet). She looked back along the bar she had passed and saw a solitary man sat near the end which she must have walked by when she came in. He was holding an empty glass and trying to attract the attention of the busy bar staff. He looked to be about the same age as her with closely cropped grey hair and fairly wiry beneath his suit. “Well, if I’m going to fuck someone tonight he may as well be attractive” she whispered to herself. She watched him twist on his suit and stare at a group behind him and saw a slight look of annoyance in his features. “A lamb strayed from the flock… better and better..”

She walked over towards him increasingly happy with what she saw and slipped onto the vacant stool beside him. He glanced at her for a moment before once again trying to attract the nearest barman. A golden wedding band encircled his ring finger not that she cared as she wouldn’t be seeing him after tonight or maybe the next. She looked at the barman to her right and clicked her fingers gaining his attention almost immediately. She ordered a Gin and Tonic, “Bombay Sapphire, please” she added. She slipped a note across the bar and then her ‘mark’ ordered a whiskey sour.

“I wish that’d work for me!” he said. He spoke with a slight drawl, probably from a southern State.

She turned to face him, twisting on the stool happy that the slit in her skirt fell open almost completely exposing her left thigh. His eyes glanced down as his left hand slipped into his pocket. “Well, there has to be some perks in this Man’s world for us gals!” she commented. The hand reappeared minus the wedding ring. This is going to be easy she thought to herself.

“Are y’ here for the conference?” he asked.

“No… I was meant to be meeting someone but it looks like I’ve been stood up” she replied.

“The boy’s gotta be a fool, then!” he said with a smirk.

“Who said it was a boy?” the colour rose in his cheeks as she imagined his mind working through the connotations.

“Boy or girl, still a fool!” she let her knee brush against his and watched as his white teeth appeared as he chewed the left side of hi bottom lip. He offered his hand, “The name’s Bill.”

She took his hand and grasped it softly, holding it for a second or two longer than normal for greeting a stranger, the action wasn’t lost on him as he slightly puffed out his chest. “Valerie pleased to meet you, Bill.”

“Likewise Valerie, likewise!” she answered. There was a commotion behind them at the table Bill had cast a look at earlier. One of the group was visible splayed across the table, drinks knocked to the floor and a trickle of blood seeping across the glass top from his head before their view was obstructed by the rest of the group gathering closer around. “Friends of yours?” she asked.

“Not exactly… more like competitors. Steve could never hold his drink!” The staff from the hotel moved in quickly and the group was shepherded from the lounge with two of Steve’s friends carrying him from the room.

She noted the look of dislike on Bill’s face, “Did he steal a sale from you?”

Bill blushed and admitted, “Actually I’ve probably stolen three of four sales right from under his nose over the past couple of years… it’s a cut-throat world in the Sanitation Industry!”

“You’re in ‘Toilets’” she grinned. He blushed a little more and smiled.

“It’s a dirty job…” he left the phrase hanging.

He bought the next two drinks and they retired to a more comfortable couch in the corner of the lounge which allowed her to keep an eye out for any potential surveillance and the opportunity for more obvious and tactile signalling with her ‘mark’ not that she thought she needed much ‘line’ to draw in this ‘fish’. He excused himself and headed for the toilet leaving his jacket on the cushion beside him. Nobody was paying her undue attention as she pulled the jacket across. She jumped slightly as she heard a siren from outside the hotel and was ready to make for the rear exit of the lounge before her heart settled and she realised it was the Paramedics for the unfortunate Steve.

There was the wedding ring in his left pocket even though the indentation on his finger was easily visible and inside the right was one of those typical conference labels which told her he worked for a ‘Toilet’ company based in New Orleans. She found his wallet with driving license and two small photographs in an inside pocket. One was a petite blonde housewife and the other two small boys aged about seven and five. “Daddy’s away from home, boys and he’s not a well behaved boy himself… still he might just get himself a night to remember…” she spoke to herself as she put away the wallet and placed the jacket back on the cushion.

The ‘mark’ returned smiling broadly. She returned the smile with equal enthusiasm.



They spent another hour in the lounge. Bill was charming and full of funny anecdotes, she was equally charming and flirtatious with her own anecdotes about the fictitious ‘Legend’ she was creating as she went along. The nerves had left her as she enjoyed her ‘acting’ especially regaling him of more risqué tales that had an obvious effect upon him. Eventually her long fingernails crept up his thigh and scratched at the material just below the obvious bulge in his crotch. She leant close to his ear, “Shall we stop dancing and move somewhere… more private?”

He gulped loudly and nodded before she placed a soft kiss on his lips.

She vaguely wondered if being ‘on the run’ normally made a person so horny. They were stood against the rear of the elevator as it rose up the building, a retired couple standing in front of them, their distorted reflections in the diffused mirrored doors as she slipped her hand into Bill’s trousers and straightened his cock within. Her thumb smeared the plentiful pre-cum around his glans, gaining a small moan of appreciation from him, as his hand slipped through the slit in her skirt and rose up nylon-ed thigh. Her sheer lace knickers soaked almost instantaneously as her pussy trembled and tightened in anticipation squeezing out her juices.

The old couple got out of the car two floors before them, a glance of disgust on the man’s face and a furtive grin on the elderly woman’s. She spread her legs as Bill’s finger pressed against the soaking gusset and pushed it between her outer lips. “Ohh…fuck…” she whispered. When the elevator doors opened they stumbled halfway down the empty corridor before Bill realised they had turned the wrong way and they retraced their steps; neither of them wanting to release the other’s sex.

At the door to his room Bill reluctantly slipped his finger from within her hot wet crotch to search for the slim credit card key. She turned to face him as further down the corridor a young woman stepped out of another elevator car and glanced in their direction. In the back of her head a small voice gave a warning cry as she unzipped Bill’s trousers and unfolded his thick cock. A lustful smile spread across the stranger’s lips and the voice quietened as Bill eventually got the door open and she dragged him inside by his manhood.

The door slammed shut and Bill fell back against it as she dropped to her knees and stroked his length slowly in her slim fingers. “Nice cock, Bill!” she commented.

“Why thank you, Ma’am!” he answered followed by a deep groan as she wrapped her lips about the bulbous end. His hands slid into her hair and pulled it free from the clasp at the back of her head which fell to the floor unheeded. She dropped her clutch bag to the floor and unbuckled his belt, pulling his trousers down around his ankles. Briefly she relinquished her lips’ hold of his glans as she pulled his Jockey shorts down too. Bill thrust his cock deep into her mouth when it returned. “Oh god…” he murmured as he slowly fucked her mouth hands grasping her scalp through her hair.

She cupped his heavy balls in one hand as the other slipped behind him, pulling his ass towards her open mouth and filling it with his hot trembling cock. It had probably been at least two years since she’d had a fuck and she had never felt so wanton before as she did right now. Ever!

She slid her mouth up and down his length meeting his thrusts, the heavy glans bumping against the back of her throat as she struggled to get as much of his seven or so inches inside her mouth. Her hand dropped from his ass and slipped between her own legs slipping two fingers beneath her soaking panties and slipping easily into her dripping quim. She groaned heavily around his thrusting cock as she finger-fucked herself rapidly. “Ohh…ohhh…god, I’m gonna cum!” grunted Bill.

She pulled her mouth away from his cock and moved her hand from his scrotum, wrapping it tightly around his shaft. She looked up at his face, his eyes tight shut, “You got any other place you wanna be Bill?”

He looked down and opened his eyes, “No, Valerie, I don’t!” he gasped.

“Good!” she said with finality and began to pump his cock rapidly feeling the vein along the underside throb heavily. “Then be a good ole’ boy and give me your cum!” she watched fascinated as his balls drew up within his sac and she pumped his cock harder and faster. Her pussy clenched around her invading fingers as Bill threw his head back, banging it off the door and his cock swelled even more within her small hand. She’d never been a fan of cum spraying over her face but tonight she was a ‘slut’ and a ‘whore’. She opened her mouth wide as she felt his seed rise and as the first spurt landed squarely on her tongue her cunt clamped hard around her fingers and as an orgasm ripped through her.

Bill’s thighs quivered as jet after jet of white seed shot out of his cock and splattered Valerie’s tongue, lips, face and neck. He was a long time coming down as he watched the woman between his feet tremble and groan. When he had recovered and his heart and lungs were nearer to normality he lifted her up beneath the arms and kissed her hard tasting his own saltiness on her tongue. Her legs wrapped around his hips and she ground her crotch, with her fingers still inside her slit, against him. He waddled, struggling with his trousers and Jockeys still wrapped around his ankles, towards the large bed in the centre of the room.

He broke the kiss and said “My turn!” Pulling her free from his torso he twisted her around easily and placed her face down on the bed, pulling her hips up so she was on her knees. Her head twisted and she looked back up at him as he pulled her skirt up over her hips to reveal her sheer stocking and suspenders. Her fingers were still beneath her soaking knickers, clenching rhythmically within her pussy. “Definitely my turn!” he repeated as he pulled the wet underwear down her leg ripping them in the process.

She watched as his face disappeared from view and buried her face once again into the soft bedspread as she felt his hot tongue drag down along between her ass cheeks. Her pussy tightened once again as his tongue pressed into her tight rear hole. “Oh fuck…” she moaned into the bed and felt one of his thick fingers join her own inside her slit stretching her sizzling lips. Another wave radiated through her as his tongue wormed deeper into her anus and his thumb pushed hers aside to roll her clit from side to side. As the first wave subsided another took its place, hotter and more intense than the one before. She pulled her fingers from within her and Bill happily inserted two more thick ones of his own as his tongue dipped and pushed deeper into her ass.

She pushed her ass back hard against his face as she gripped her breasts painfully through her smart, now crumpled, blouse. She pinched her rock hard nipples tightly as the waves built up one after another till the dam within her broke completely and she screamed into the bed covers. Bill didn’t let up as he twisted his fingers back and forth within her, the rough skin of his thumb electrifying her sensitive clit and his tongue fucking her asshole. After what seemed like an age she collapsed in a heap beneath this random ‘mark’ she had chosen trying to pull away from his invading fingers and tongue.

“Plea…please…” she begged, “I … I need… a-” a further orgasm tore through her before Bill finally released her. She lay twisted and crumpled on the bed as she looked up at Bill. She could see some of her juices coating his chin as he slowly stripped off his remaining clothes. Her eyes dropped to his cock as he wrapped his large hand about it and stroked it to full hardness. “Water… please…” she gasped. She heard his shoes kicked off out of sight beneath the line of the bed and he stepped out of his trousers and Jockeys. He reached down and presumably removed his socks before walking around the bed grinning broadly as he stooped forward and opened the fridge beside the bed.

Later still

They fucked twice that evening. She was happy that Bill had worn condoms and didn’t care that this married man came prepared for infidelity. The sort of infidelity she realised that had led to the death, the murder, of her own husband. She had definitely become a ‘wanton slut’ probably from the freedom of running away from her old life and the continual adrenalin high since the shit had hit the fan. Bill had fucked her ass with two juice coated fingers as he had filled her greedy cunt with his sheathed cock. She had never been into any form of anal play previously and the coarse words that had erupted from her mouth as he did were also out of character for her.

Straddling his face and ordering him to “Eat my fucking cunt, you bastard!” had been incredibly liberating. It‘s a shame she thought to herself as his chest slowly rose and fell behind her, his strong arms wrapped about her making her feel safe, as she allowed herself to be carried off to sleep. It’s a shame that I can’t take you with me…

The next morning

She lay naked on the bed, her body glowing from the long hot shower they had shared. Bill had been so gentle and after eating her out once again and bringing her to another orgasm, (she wondered exactly how many she’d had in the last few hours) he had gently and carefully washed her. Sleep was calling her once again as the bright sun caressed her naked form through the open curtains. “I wonder if he’s free today?” she murmured to herself thinking that another twenty four hours lying low before escaping the country was a good idea…maybe even forty eight if her pussy, her cunt could stand the abuse. Maybe she’d even let him fuck her ass though that cock of his was quite thick!

“Alas, ‘tis not meant to be” said a soft voice. For a moment she thought she was dreaming and then she felt a small pinch in the pit of her elbow.

She opened her eyes and Bill was sitting naked beside her. Her mouth didn’t seem to work as she looked down and saw the empty hypodermic sticking out from the crook of her elbow. A flood of warmth spread through her slowly and insistently. It wasn’t that she couldn’t move, it was simply that she suddenly didn’t want to. The soft voice spoke once again with an all too familiar accent, “Shhh… my darling Vanessa… don’t fight it, it’s all too late…”

He… knows my name the thought struggled to form. My Irishman…

“May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind….” that soft Irish lilt seemed to fall away.


Sean worked quickly and methodically wiping all trace of him from the room casting an occasional glance as the now dead figure of his former ‘agent’. “A shame” he muttered to himself. He reckoned he had at least another hour or so before the unfortunate Bill or ‘Steve’ got back from the hospital after his unforeseen case of poisoning. He wondered how he’d explain the overdosed dead ‘hooker’ in his hotel room to his wife and kids.

He whistled an old melody as he worked.

The End


So my friends (and I hope somewhat stimulated friends) did you enjoy? You may now realise that this was a sequel to ‘Waiting’ and that is what the ‘What if…’ thought originated from. Of course those that know me know that one of my favourite adages is ‘Everybody dies’ and it’s been quite a while since I killed anyone and for all his unsocialble tendencies I do quite like my ‘hero’ and now he has a name.

Who knows he may yet return… or maybe not if I can’t think of a suitable McGuffin for him!!!


~ by ftfagos on December 13, 2011.

4 Responses to “Killing Time”

  1. You killed her!!!!!! You killed her!!!!

    Your twisty mind is a perfect story teller darling!!! And yes. I do want to hear more about Sean- The Irishman. He’s a mystery and needs more screen time!!!!!!! I’ve many questions!!! And I want answers!!! If I ask nicely, will I get them????

  2. This was a surprise to me. I do like surprises…. of all sorts.

  3. Thanks for the visits to my family’s sites. Interesting little home you have here…
    Powerful prose you’ve crafted.

  4. The story had a brilliant twist, in fact, all of Daphne du Marier s stories have a twist at the ending, which made the story much more than just a murder mystery.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: