The Night Manager Redux

His mind strayed to another woman, asking him about his betrayal, his bold faced lie to her. One of his recent kills. With Jeb's body writhing against him, and her lips capturing his, Sophie whispered out of the great calm, "Do it, darling. For me, and for her too."

Which is how he found himself grounding the skiff on a sandbar near enough to a great manor house, with a breathless Jeb in tow, wondering at his foolishness, yet feeling the surge of pleasure to be at war once more. She had insisted on learning fighting skills with the knife she carried tucked in a sheath on her calf. "I mean, come now Jonathon, I'm not letting you go alone, and you don't expect me to go into battle without some weapons, surely. I already know how to kick a man in the balls, actually, so a knife is logical. An ideal thing for a woman, don't you think, kitchen utensils and all that?" She developed a surprising proficiency with the large jungle knife he gave her.

He carried the sharpshooter's rifle and telescopic site Rooke had dropped off two weeks before, "Cache it at sea, old boy, it will be very hot." His Hockler pistol was in its holster on his hip. The close observer was on the alert, searching the woods for signs of life, watching the woman for signs of fear, and both amazed and, despicably, pleased to find only anticipation. He slipped into the woods, not bothering with the night vision glasses Rooke thought necessary, the map in his mind, and the instructions always at the ready. "He'll appear around twelve, in his robe at the balcony. It's when he drinks his last brandy. You do want to be absolutely certain it's him, let Jeb confirm if she insists on going."

It turned out to be a rather easy shot. There was no wind, the woman who came out with him stayed well away, and Jeb whispered "That's the bastard, Jonathon. Mmmm, right between the eyes would be so poetic." They both watched, she through the binoculars and he through the sight, as the bullet exploded the regal visage, forever wiping the self satisfied grin away, along with most of the back of the noble head.

The guard who came running up as they trotted down the path toward the skiff threw him into jungle mode, as he tried to push Jeb aside and drew his pistol, but she instead walked toward the hired gun, and in her most arch, gentile, upper class voice, demanded of the man "What was that shot? Has something happened? Answer me, fool, what in hell is going on?" With that she reached him, grabbed his head and pressed her mouth to his as she struck into his chest with the knife, and Jonathon saw her shoulder strain as she tilted the blade upwards to sever the heart's connections. He had taught her this tactic in a frontal assault, but her enthusiastic quick thinking again, despicably, caused a surge of admiration for her pluck, and affection. As she let the man collapse, her hips were wiggling, and when she turned and came toward him, her smile contained triumph, excitement, and passion. Jonathon thought what a truly dangerous woman she had become, even as she embraced him desperately, to give him the kiss of life that only moments before had been the kiss of death. Yet he clutched her wildly, his heart again full of her indecent, savage pleasure.

On the sail back, as soon as he let her rise from hiding and they tacked into a speedy quartering for the point, she ripped his cock from his pants, pushed down her own, and sank onto him backwards. In the warm evening, salt spray causing a tingling touch of chill, and the motion of the boat somehow aiding her hips movements, she came within moments of his insertion, and then leaned back whispering "Oh Jonathon, I have never been so happy, fuck me darling, I'll wait, but don't be too long about it." He supposed, at the end of the day, he had never had so many thrills concentrated in one evening. Uncharacteristically, as he came into her amazingly wet pussy, they both screamed into the wind, though only the sea gods could hear their song.

Three

They were aboard the "Iron Pasha", headed for the Mediterranean Sea. "Eh" said Roper, "the fuck you talking, Sandy? Shot with a rifle on his own balcony? Did he have enemies we don't know about? Screwing some randy wife?" Even as he said it, he knew Lord Langbourne was right, it must have something to do with his search for the girl. Burr was imprisoned in a tiny set of rooms at Eton, Bradshaw was in exile, convicted and shunned by his former friends, and Roper's empire still hung by its toes. The lawlessness of the middle asian nations where he had planned to flog the dope was scandalous, and substantially reduced his profit. He'd often wondered whether Burr had somehow caused some of those troubles too, but Darker assured him it was all under control, even though Darker himself was less secure under his new masters.

"Sit down, man, and calm down. Lets think this through. Wait, lets get Corks in here. " Shortly, Major Corkoran, former army officer, former intelligence officer, full time fag, entered breezily. "Has Pine written all over it, though he's getting logistical support somewhere, Burr I don't doubt. Really old man, we ought to get Darker to find them, wherever they are, and just put an end to it. Nothing Burr can really do. Use professionals, off shore types. Next thing you know that creep will come at us."

Roper let his mind drift back to the pair, missing Jeb's sexy elegance, and even Pine's casual competence at everything. His mistake had been trying to use an empty headed noble, no matter how venal. "You're right, Corks. Let me get on to Darker, cut off his account until he finds them. Can't be that hard." Yet he felt a pang of regret for the two lonely lovers, sure they were at each other's throats by now. That woman could never manage without excitement, he thought.

The woman in question, at that moment, was standing nude in the hatch of the skiff's cabin, her arms gripping the overhead deck, her heavy breasts quivering with the skiff's slight roll. Her newly shaved pussy ("They'll shave it for the baby anyway, dear") was pushed forward by her stance, and she was leering at Jonathon. "I really think last night did it, darling. It just felt right, women know these things. But just to be sure, love, why not put the auto on and come down here for a quick nooner?" Jonathon found himself constantly surprised by her ability to seduce him even in circumstances that were dangerous, and his inability to resist her casual carnality. But they were well out to sea, and it was a gentle wind, so she was right, the auto would do for a few minutes.

She had demanded he teach her to shoot the rifle, which could only be done at sea. Otherwise, the noise would be heard up and down the Cornwall coast. She was getting rather good, he thought as he stumbled down the stairs, seeing her lewdly on display atop the table. He left his shirt on while he pushed off his shorts, and buried himself inside her, surprising her with his haste, yet bringing that erotic, burbling smile to her face as she took his weight. He muttered "What a horny, selfish bitch you are. You really have earned a spanking". Her face lit with anticipation, even as he felt her hips match his. "Just fuck me, Jonathon. You can torture me tonight. Actually, I may insist."

But Jonathon had taken some new precautions, little traps spread around at a distance from the cottage, trip wires that would both call an alarm and injure. Several shallow pits concealed by brush could easily seen by day, but were invisible by night. It seemed obvious to him that Roper and Darker would not take an assassination lightly, and he was not convinced of Burr's ability to keep their location secret. Shortly after their return from their adventure, once the glow had eased in Jeb's mind, he had sat her down and, sitting opposite her, spelled out the increased danger he was sure they were now exposed to, and also his reasons for wanting to stay here, rather than flee once again.

"When they come, they will be sloppy, thinking we'll not be ready. If we can somehow expose this octopus, perhaps Burr can finally bring them before some law. At least, we may be able to trace Roper. You see this 39 foot sloop advertised in at Fallons? With that boat we could sail into the Med and perhaps come upon the Iron Pasha. I've asked Rooke for some C-4, we could blow him out of the water." Her face had assumed a grave mien, matching his serious expression, but with her lover's plan to take the offensive, her excited leer returned.

"Just remember, darling, we go together. I shan't be denied my place at your side. If you die, I shall die with you, and either way we will know. Its not knowing I couldn't stand, Jonathon." So she was only momentarily surprised the night weeks later when he woke her with a hand covering her mouth. "They're here. Let's go." They slipped into the night, the world glowing green in their night goggles, she to the south, and he to the north. There were five and they were spread out, but as Jonathon had predicted, rather sloppy in their approach.

Jeb slit the throat of a bearded occidental who trapped himself in one of the pits, and Jonathon silenced two, one of whom he guessed to be the leader, bound and gagged at their rear. The other he dispatched with a garotte, a length of wire secured to two pegs, wrapping it around his throat. He had no pity for these paid cuthroats.

The remaining two, wondering where their mates were but anxious for the kill and its reward, ("You can play with the woman before you kill her, all we want is her finger"), charged in the house, causing the lights to blaze automatically, and presenting themselves as easy targets for Jonathon's silenced Hockler. He carefully let one flee the house, shooting him dead on the stone veranda, while Jeb tripped the other, and once again plunged the knife through the rib cage and into the cold heart hiding there. Jonathon smiled, accustomed now to the enthusiastic savagery of her actions.

There was a particular division of Scotland Yard which handled gang violence, and it conducted its queries with care. They took Burr's gentle guidance seriously, and soon were able to trace the source and means the villains had benefited from. Burr was brimming with enthusiasm several days later when he came to see them, and surprised to see a new boat moored on the beach below. "Well done, old man, keeping that bloke alive was a masterstroke. Things are aboil in Whitehall, and there are several rats deserting the ship. I think it shan't be long before we can clear your names, and find a more suitable home for you and your horses. Ummm, but what is that boat down there, Pine? It's a big'un. I hope this has nothing to do with that package Rooke brought down. What's that you say? Going to sea? Well of course I understand you feel safer there, but really old man, I'm sure we could arrange something. Yes, just off Gibraltar, and headed for Sicily. Just don't do anything silly, old man."

Four

Jeb huddled to his side as the boat slid smoothly through the sea, on the starboard tack she knew, feeling the incredible sense of belonging she always had when he embraced her. Not really that good looking, she thought, especially after those beatings, but the face of a good english bulldog. Strong, competent, without fear. She really did feel sexual heat anytime he was near, and thought she was finally getting him out of the shell he had built around his affections. He had told her about Sophie, Yvonne, and she tried to silently help him vent his guilty feelings.

But more than anything, she wanted to bind him to her. She wanted to believe he would always be there, his huge fat cock always ready to thrill her, his sarcastic wit always ready to bring her down from some new flight of fancy. She had moments when they were making love, and she was soaring in that unique way he caused, when she wanted to scream "I love you Jonathon, and you love me too you boob. Get over all that garbage, keep fucking me, and admit to me and to yourself, we are meant for each other." She had missed her last period, and when he heard the news, his smile, it seemed to her, came a little more quickly, with a little less reserve. Yet he reacted the way he always did, thinking first of practical things. "Then we'd best get a move on, eh old girl?"

The big boat moved silently yet speedily, ten knots he had said, and the special outfitting he had had done in Plymouth was paying off. They had intercepted radio signals from the Iron Pasha which gave her position off the tip of Sicily, moving East at only a knot or two, as Roper entertained potential customers. "There was one Italian who snuck a feel of my tit every time I got near him, darling. Roper just smirked. You have my permission in advance to kill anyone who henceforth takes such grimy liberties. Failing that, I shall insist that you maim him."

The long range radar had not yet picked up a signal, but Jeb snuggled closer to him, the cool night making his warmth and strength an almost palpable stimulation for her. "Darling, I know we're close, and you have things on your mind, but you really must fuck me tonight. We pregnant women have hormones which are completely out of control, I mean, I have to have a steady hand with the rifle one of these days, and you can't expect a horny woman to shoot straight." He looked down at her, and lowered his mouth for a gentle kiss. She thought his smile was happier than usual. I suppose he's anticipating battle, she thought, but at least some of it is for me. She hugged him even harder, but of course he didn't flinch.

He always amazed her at sea, seeming to know when the wind would change, walking without touching the safety lines even though the boat could swing wildly. His expression was always that relaxed yet vigilant look he got under duress, and it moved her in strange ways. It was as though his masculinity reached out and burrowed under her panties, tickling her clit, making her wild with need. And lately, even when she knew she was pushing him away from something nominally more important, he would accommodate her, so she knew he would tonight. He would heel the boat over, set the rudder so they still made progress, then silently take her in his arms, staring down at her with those penetrating eyes. Often he would pick her up with that amazing strength, lead her to the forward cabin, and gently satisfy her.

But other times he would grab her hair, bend her backwards on the after beam and push his hand down under her pants, fucking her with first two, and finally three fingers until she screamed in violent pleasure. Then he would pick her up, manhandle her to the small couch, and nearly rape her, satisfying himself, trusting her to accommodate him, which she always did with explosive results. These were often the times they would cum frantically together, which she thought rather extraordinary, and scream out their passion. She thought he only felt really free to express his rapture when they were totally isolated there in the heaving cabin, at sea.

They shared a sense of nearing resolution, a chance to grapple with the obscenities in both their pasts, and, finally, granted with new violation of the conventions of civilized living, bring their devils to heel. They had stated their intentions to each other clearly from the beginning: kill the bastard, and destroy his entourage. The plan was simple, and they talked, as co-conspirators, of the possible variations which chance might bring. But they both knew that a small misstep, a chance false step, or simple bad luck threatened the whole enterprise. Still, they shared a sense of needing this final inning, to climb to a clean slate, no matter the new ghost that might haunt them.

"You will be sure the boy isn't aboard, darling?" He would. "You shouldn't take too much of a chance at Roper, blasting him to small bits is just as sweet." He wouldn't. "You feel you can manage the rifle, even with a bit of a sea?" She could.

But tonight she had vowed she would show him her love by debasing her body for him in a new way. He had acquired a taste for the dildo, the buzzing and the nastiness of it piercing his restraint. She fed him a meal while he steered, keeping to what he called a bowline, and rubbed against him as he ate. Then she strutted with her most hip swinging walk to the door of the hatch, loosening the string of her bikini bra, and flashed her tits at him. "Darling, I really can't wait. Now come along like a good boy, I have a surprise for you." In the dark it was hard to see, but she thought she caught a hint of a grin from him, as she pranced into the cabin. She had taken down the table and pulled the cushions off the couch to form a bed, and pushed down her thong.

He came down to her after she felt the boat change course slightly, and stripped out of his shorts. She stood, arching her nude, voluptuous body for him, and whispered "We're going to do this right, darling, naked as Adam and Eve, maybe our last fuck." She minced up to him and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the muscular, scarred torso that made her gasp every time she saw it, thinking of the pain that he had endured, some of it for her. Then she guided his taut body to his back, that lovely thick cock sticking back toward his stomach, and engulfed it as she swung her hips over his head. They both loved to sixty nine, she because she always orgasmed, he because he loved her heady, tart pussy.

Jeb thought it particularly memorable tonight, she could feel herself gushing into his sucking mouth. His penis twitched and leaked in her mouth, and she savored the little drops of juice he oozed. But then, as always, she lost control of her body, and soared into a wild climax that left her shaking with relief and pleasure. She knew she filled his mouth with her own fluids, and that he liked her taste, but he never said so. She took it for granted that he would be willing to now use her body. She loved to feel like his sex toy.

She twisted around to lie on top of him, their stomachs wet from the juices of their mouthes and her cunt. Their lips met and tongues dueled, the wildness she loved matched by his here at sea. She reached back and slipped his cock into her wet hole, sliding down so his entire length filled her. As always, the first entry stretched her, then became a sense of wonder that their bodies fit so well, Her hips began to writhe, she held his eyes, saw the passion there, and reached to the drawer right beside them. She pulled out the smooth plastic tube, slightly greasy from the soaked cloth she had wrapped it in, and inserted it gently into her rectal passage. He grinned up at her, as she wormed around on his body,

Then she plunged the thing deeper than it had ever been, causing her some pain. "Jonathon, you take it. Plunder me with it darling. Hurt me, use me, whatever you want Jonathon, I'm yours, you know that, don't you? Yours to use, abuse, to humiliate, to violate. It's what we are, darling. Our bodies. Ummph." He had taken her at her word, as though testing her, and she smiled through the pain as he pushed the buzzing toy deeper and deeper. He began to fuck her ass as his cock stroked viciously into her cunt, and she lost herself in a miasma of pain, love, erotic pleasure, and finally, minutes later, a completion during which they both groaned in joy.

She fell asleep, and awoke what seemed like moments later to find herself covered with a light blanket, and Jonathon, still nude, with his face glued into the hood of the radar. She felt a shiver. It's time, she thought.

She held the rudder on a port tack around noon, as Jonathon, high up the mast, watched the Iron Pasha through binoculars. Then, with his wave, she spun the wheel left, and the mainsail snapped as they came around before the wind. As she was spinning it back to steady on, she felt his arms around her, gently keeping the rudder a little over, briefly. In her ear, she heard "You're learning, love. Soon you'll be arguing with me about sailing too." She spun about and wrapped her arms around his head. She put her soul into their kiss, humping her hips to him. She felt his hand dip into her black pants and begin fucking her wet pussy, and she arched to his hand to help him, humped twice, and drove herself into a snapping, crushing cum.