Brad leaned against the wall, like he was about to faint. His face was pasty pale, ghoulish. He let out a long sigh.
“Good,” she said.
“Good?” Kevin relaxed, shoulders looser.
Gertrude dumped the gun in her handbag. “I’m glad you don’t know. That would’ve implied what I was afraid of.”
“Which is?”
“That you’re a hit-man. Clearly I was mistaken.” She straightened the purse, tugging at the strap. “I’m sorry.”
“Is Elsie in danger?”
Gertrude wrinkled her nose. “Take a shower. Be quick. We need to hurry.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t have answers. That’s why I over-reacted. Again, sorry.”
“Stop apologizing and tell me what’s going on.”
“Biggins is after me, too.” Gertrude bit her bottom lip. “And I don’t owe money.”
Chapter Five
Molly was a tall woman, easily had six inches on Elsie, and the blond woman wore flat patent leather loafers. She had on a tailored white pantsuit with an open-collar pink sateen blouse. Her breasts were big as ripe cantaloupes, pushed up together so they spilled out a little more than a hint. The button on her suit jacket barely held the ensemble together.
A man came into the kitchen behind Molly. He was plain looking, crew cut, big shoulders, gigantic hands wrapped around a pistol as if it were a toy. The suit he wore didn’t quite fit right, the pants too baggy, the jacket sleeves too long.
He had a sexy scar on one cheek. Otherwise, he could blend into a crowd.
“What kind of Russian name is Molly?” said Elsie, hands in the air, heart pounding. She’d been held up before on the losing side of gunfights. Some things never really got easier, just blander each time. She took a deep breath, to calm her pulse and clear her head.
Molly lowered her gun, eyes flicking up and down Elsie’s body. Assessed her with a cold stare and a tight curled grin. Elsie resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest, to cover her breasts. Better to play along, play nice, and not get shot while being too cocky.
“Is this the latest American fashion?” said Molly. Her accent was thick, but more relaxed now, more bland and less Russian. The bitch sneered, upper lip raised stiff, crinkling the otherwise perfectly smooth skin. “Au natural?”
The big man with the scar shrugged, gun focused on Elsie, but pretending not to stare directly at her rack. She pegged him as a goon, but not a cold blooded one. Just a guy who liked to look, but knew how to use a gun.
“I like to surprise my house guests,” Elsie shrugged.
“Surprise?” said Molly, choking on a laugh. “You’re house guests? You entertain often, da?”
“I’m kind of a homebody, actually.”
“Elsie, you I like.” Molly lowered her gun and released the thumb trigger. “But I’m not here for you. I suggest you leave, now.”
“And how do you know my name?” Elsie couldn’t just leave. Not when her mother’s house was broken into by Russians. Where was her mother? Apparently Molly didn’t know either. Or she was bluffing, but Elsie didn’t think so. Molly was too cool and too calm, in control.
“You ask entirely too many questions,” said Molly.
“One of my many faults, you think?”
The blond woman opened her jacket, revealing a shiny leather shoulder holster, and put away the gun. The tight suit didn’t do much to conceal the weapon. She crossed her hands in front.
“You have two options,” she said.
“Only two?” said Elsie.
“You can turn and go back the way you came, and forget we ever met.”
“Shucks. What’s option two?”
“Nikolai and I can take you hostage until we get what we came for.”
“And if I run, what stops you from putting a bullet in my back?”
“You’ll just have to trust me, darling.”
“And you trust me not to go to the authorities?”
Molly smiled like a reptile about to swallow a still live mouse. She stepped closer to Elsie, so that Molly’s boobs were right in Elsie’s face. The Russian woman had on a strong perfume that smelled of lilacs, which made Elsie want to sneeze.
Elsie resisted the urge to back away. Getting killed now wouldn’t help her mother. Worse, Kevin wouldn’t understand why Elsie got shot. Better to play it safe, rescue Mom, and stay in one piece to keep Kevin in the dark.
“Option two,” said Elsie. She couldn’t say I’m your hostage, please handcuff me to the bathroom radiator. Too much pride.
“Smart girl, da,” said Molly. “I knew you’d make the right choice.”
“Now what?” said Elsie.
“Now, you help me find what I’m looking for.” Molly put her arm around Elsie’s shoulders, like a big sister being affectionate, except Elsie wanted to scream inside.
“The diamonds are in the safe,” she said. “Downstairs. I know the combination.”
“Darling,” said Molly. “I’m not here for the family jewels. I’m here for something of your mother’s. A black book.”
Damn it! Elsie knew Mom had gotten into something, even though she had “retired” from the spy business long ago. But she hadn’t been overseas in a long time, to the best of Elsie’s knowledge. What trouble had she stirred up?
Molly leaned close to Elsie, the Russian’s hot breath smelled of chamomile tea and chocolate. She had lovely, thick lips and full eyelashes. Her eyes softened, full and round, less cold and more… concerned? No, more like distraught.
Elsie had bedded a woman once, when she was in her early twenties during college, and never regretted it. Sonya had been a blond, sweet as a summer’s day and sassy to boot. The young woman Elsie knew so well in college had seduced her with flowers and candy. Later Elsie found out Sonya worked for MI6 and only used Elsie to get access to the university’s science labs.
The experience forever changed Elsie’s attitude on relationships and sex, and afterward she herself got recruited into the spy world. Only Kevin had chipped through the ice to reach Elsie’s heart.
Elsie tried to untangle herself from Molly’s grip, but the Russian had a strong arm. The more she struggled, the more Molly held her tight. Elsie felt helpless in the woman’s arm, and her stomach tightened at the thought of how dangerous her captor must be.
“Where is my mother?” Elsie asked.
Molly pressed the tip of her index finger to Elsie’s lower lip. Without turning her gaze away, she said, “Nikolai. Watch the front window for more visitors.”
The big shrugged, lowering his gun, and turned away.
Elsie was alone in the kitchen with Molly.
“I will tell you about your mother,” said Molly, tracing her finger down Elsie’s jaw and throat. “But first you must do something for me.”
“You are a sick lady.”
“Da, this is true. Some might call me passionate.”
“Well the answer is nyet,” said Elsie
“But darling, you haven’t heard my proposal yet.” Molly drew in even closer, and brushed her lips on Elsie’s.
It had been too long since the last time she’d been intimate. Elsie had sex with Kevin before they started planning their wedding, and she had convinced him to wait for it again until after. The separation would make their hearts fonder, was Elsie’s reasoning.
She hadn’t planned on her heart being fond for a foreign spy who might be a threat to her mother. Molly’s kiss grew more passionate, deeper, with tongue. Elsie felt weak at the knees. Her stomach quivered in anticipation of what Molly had mind.
Elsie, despite her better judgment, leaned into the kiss and returned it with her tongue. She tasted the tea on Molly’s breath, tongues slippery and thick with saliva. Breathing through her nose, shoulders relaxing to the other woman’s touch, Elsie squirmed her hips.
This wasn’t right. She was supposed to be the predator, not this floozy. Elsie had used the same kissing technique on count
less corporate fat-cats to get them to spill their secrets. She grabbed Molly by the waist, pinched hard, and pushed her away.
The separation was breathless. And hot. The kitchen seemed like a hundred degrees with a hundred percent humidity all of a sudden. Elsie pulled her hair back, away from her face and neck, trying to cool off as fast as she could. So much of the heat came from between her legs, and she was already bare down there.
“Now, now,” said Molly. “Was it really so bad?”
“Back off bitch!”
Molly smiled, the reptile grin softer and gentle. She tilted her head to one side and made one tentative step to Elsie. “We both have something the other wants.”
“You have nothing I want.” Elsie put venom into her voice.
Molly recoiled. The smile peeled away to reveal hurt and pain. “You want your mother. I just want us to be friends.”
“Yeah? Define friends.”
“I meant it when I said I liked you,” Molly said, regaining her composure. She held out her hands, palms out. “You remind me so much of Gertie.”
Molly sighed, closing her eyes.
“How do you know her?” Elsie softened her tone. A change in approach was all. Gain the woman’s trust, use that to her advantage. It’s what she did for a living. Elsie stepped forward, put a hand on Molly’s shoulder, and squeezed. “Please, tell me about her. My mother. You know her?”
“Da. Very well, but in another life.” Molly’s eyes came alive, wide and watery. She clutched Elsie by the face with both hands.
And pulled her in for another kiss.
This time quick. Just a pressing of lips.
And then pushed Elsie into the island counter. Molly grabbed Elsie’s breasts, a light fingered touch followed by another slower kiss.
And then Molly went down on her knees.
Elsie grunted at the surprise attack. Her breath caught in her throat as the Russian woman lifted the hem of Elsie’s sundress.
Face pressed mere inches from Elsie’s pussy, Molly grinned from ear to ear, teeth white and shiny.
“My,” Molly said, “you are beautiful.”
The heat returned to Elsie’s body. This time, she didn’t know if she could stop Molly.
Chapter Six
Kevin took a three minute shower and put on jeans, a white polo shirt, and a brown sports jacket. He told Brad to go back to his room, and be on call.
Then he got Gertrude into his rented Buick LaSabre, and raced off to her house.
“What’s going on?” he said when he pulled out of the Kumonalaya parking lot.
“Biggins found me,” Gertrude said. “And she came for a black book. Better you don’t ask any more questions.”
Questions got people killed. But something nagged at Kevin. What the hell was Elsie’s mother into? Why was Biggins in Wenakaga? What was this mysterious black book.
At Gertrude’s house, he parked across the street. Elsie’s blue Honda was parked nearby, as was an ominous black Towncar.
Kevin loaded his pistol and went around the side of the house, to the service entrance. The lawn smelled of fresh cut grass and fertilizer, a very domestic odor of hard work. Gertrude tugged on his shirt.
She had her gold revolver out, ready for action, probably ready to shoot anybody who dared a lay a finger on her daughter. That made two of them, Kevin couldn’t stand the thought of Elsie being tied up in a spy conspiracy.
“The side’s been unlocked,” Gertrude whispered, pointing to the service entrance.
“Do you always keep it locked?” said Kevin.
“Without fail.”
“Any other ways in?”
“The walkout, below the deck. Come on.”
“Okay, follow my lead.”
But Gertrude was already in front, leading Kevin around service berry bushes and buckthorns. The yard made a steep decline around the house. Gertrude jumped over a red stone retaining wall to the downstairs patio under the blue painted deck. A wooden, disused swing-set with yellow rubber seats sat in the backyard lawn.
A set of glass sliding doors led to the basement of Gertrude’s house. Kevin peeped inside while Gertrude knelt down and dug around in a tin bucket full of dirt. She produced a house key.
The tinted glass didn’t allow him to see much. Looked like a gathering room, with a pool table on one side and a minibar on the other. A pink fluffy love-seat sat in between, and a big screen TV took up one wall. The walls were covered in wood paneling, giving the room a dark, dusky appearance.
Kevin nodded, and pointed to the door. Gertrude pushed the key in and slowly slid the door open without any noise.
He expected the basement to smell moldy, but it turned out to have a clean, lemon smell. The room was even more cozy than his initial outside glance. This was a place he’d like to relax, the kind of basement room where’d he’d retreat with a special lady to have a drink and shoot pool. And then make love on the sofa.
The kind of place he envisioned sharing with Elsie.
But the dream still seemed far off, especially now. Elsie deserved better. She needed somebody she could count on, and not have to stay up at night worrying if he were safe.
Noise came from upstairs. A moan. And… a giggle?
This time, Kevin held back Gertrude with an arm. He took the lead, gun in hand and ready to shoot the first bad guy to get in his way. Adrenaline pumped through his system.
He crept up the stairs one step at a time, trying to keep cool. Long training and too much practice at high stakes action had prepared him for this. Kevin was hyper-aware of every noise and scent.
Lucky, the stairs didn’t creak, and were covered in soft cream colored carpet.
Upstairs, towards the front of the house, he heard somebody shifting from foot to foot. The person’s shoes creaked the floor and made little tap-tapping noises.
Closer to the top of the stairs came the moaning. A slow, pleasurable sound, feminine and sultry.
And very familiar.
A womanly odor. Like a wet pussy.
Actually, exactly like a wet pussy.
Kevin stopped mid-stride, turned to Gertrude and mouthed, “What’s going on?”
She shrugged and pointed her gun upstairs, mouthing back, “Just go.”
Kevin didn’t argue, and continued climbing the stairs. Heart rising to his throat and threatening to leap out and run away. The front half of his brain didn’t allow him to process what the back half was thinking.
What kind of sick torture is going on here?
But no, that wasn’t really the underlying thought rolling through his head. Kevin was scared as hell of what was upstairs, and he couldn’t pinpoint a reason for his fear. His sweaty palms clenched the pistol tighter.
And he was strangely curious.
Curious to see. To get the fright over with and shed light on the weird emotions running through him.
Kevin took the last six steps two at a time, bounding like a wild animal on a blood scent. He didn’t care if Gertrude couldn’t climb as fast in her high heels.
He needed to know what was going on.
He ran to the source of the moaning. In the kitchen.
Pistol out in both hands, body at an angle to make him less of a target.
An island counter sat between him and…
Elsie and some blond chick kneeling in front of her.
Elsie screeched and pushed the woman away.
Kevin tried to make sense of the scene. Nothing sensical came to mind. Elsie was pulling the hem of her sundress down over her bare pussy. The blond turned to Kevin, a lovely smile on her glistening wet face. Kevin flushed, feeling hot and sweaty all over, and angry.
And oddly aroused.
A big man in a badly tailored suit burst through the other door to the kitchen, a small pistol in his meaty hands. He looked Kevin up and down, but didn’t fire. Or say anything.
“Nikolai,” said the blond woman, “put that away. Where are your manners, whipping it out like that in front of guests?”
He lowered the gun, slowly.
Elsie backed away against the stove range, hand pressed to her chest, face blushing.
Kevin tried to form words. Nothing seemed all that intelligent to say. What do you say when you walk in on your bride receiving oral from a sexy blond woman?
“Kevin,” Elsie said, catching her breath as if she had just run a hundred yard dash. The expression on her face was pinched and blushed. Terrified and ashamed. “I… I…”
He lowered his gun, not sure what to say. Or do. His mouth moved, nothing came out at first. He was about to ask something like what’s going on here?
But then a gold revolver came over his shoulder, in his periphery. The well manicured hand holding it thumbed back the hammer, clicking a bullet into place.
“You,” said Gertrude at the blond woman. “I didn’t expect you to come here personally, Molly.”
Venom dripped in her voice as she spit out the name.
“Gertie!” said the blond, excitement tinging her voice up an octave. Molly had the worst Russian accent Kevin ever heard. “Is this how you greet me? After all these years?”
“Yes.”
“But all those long nights.” Her voice turned sultry, stretching out the word long.
“I’m confused,” said Kevin.
“Shut up,” said Gertrude.
“Mother!” said Elsie.
“Gertie,” Molly cooed.
“Everybody!” Kevin shouted, holding his gun up as if to remind everybody he was still armed. His whole body shook with anger. He looked straight into Elsie’s eyes. “What the fuck?”
His voice echoed in the tidy little kitchen, and everybody fell silent. You could hear a pin drop. Elsie stood up straighter, crossing her arms, and Kevin realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. But his gaze didn’t settle on her bosom for long.
He imagined steam coming out of her ears. Kevin had never seen her so angry in their year long courtship. He shared a long stare with her. They played poker later at night sometimes—with money, chips, and clothes. Both played to win. This stare was a poker stare, and Kevin felt like he’d lost count of the cards.
“You’re going to explain this to me,” Kevin said, pointing his finger at Elsie, and wove his pistol around the kitchen. “Later, when your mother isn’t holding a gun over my shoulder.”
Siren's Garter: Issue One August 2016 Page 4