Juror Ch. 03

Igor Kotzlov's bodyguards could be in pursuit. The oligarch had been brought to H's attention when his ostensibly legit San Francisco business extorted the wrong person. It evidently was fine for him to cheat widows and orphans, but not a retired US Senator. Even if that former solon was as crooked as Lombard Street. Some faceless, nameless powerful pooh bah somewhere decided Kotzloz had crossed the line, and decreed that his visa be cancelled. Permanently.

H was given the assignment and became the judge.

Teo and I were the jury, now the executioners.

It hadn't been easy. Kotzlov was paranoid, very well protected, and San Francisco is densely populated, making long range sniping too likely to result in collateral damage. After days of surveillance it became obvious that the only place we had any chance of getting close to him was to take advantage of his weakness for the Cioppino at the Western Waves Fish House, on Pier 39 of Fisherman's Wharf. Everyone on the pedestrian walkway had to be on foot, and, though he would be surrounded by his four bodyguards, we would have a small window of opportunity.

H's operative was our eyes in the restaurant. Which we needed, as we couldn't see a thing. While Igor supped, we rode with the bike when it was fork-lifted onto the pedestrian way inside the huge traditional brick pizza oven crate.

The first text told us Kotzlov had finished eating dinner and was preparing to leave. Teo got on the bike, I slid in behind her and drew the Sig P320. The second text meant he was out of the restaurant and on the walkway. I pulled the rope, the end of the crate fell open, and Teo fired up the Ninja. Our darkened bubble face shields kept us from being blinded by the sudden influx of ambient light, and I saw everything clearly. Every aspect of the disaster as it unfolded, all in under 5 seconds.

At the first sound of the cycle, the bulky head bodyguard immediately tackled Kotzlov. That was bad. Evidently, he hadn't read my plan, which was to shoot the still-standing oligarch as we raced by. While the big man fell on top of Kotzlov, the other three guards encircled them and drew their guns. They were good, fast, but since mine was already out, I was faster, and I shot each one just once to save time before moving to the next. They fell, but as they probably were wearing vests, I knew they'd be back in action soon.

Bad got worse. Even as we drew close, to within several feet, I had no shot at all. Kotzlov was hidden completely underneath his protector. Having no better option, I double tapped the guard on top of him, hoping he'd roll away, but though he jerked, maybe died, he stayed in place. I still had no glimpse of my target.

Worse became disaster as time ran out. Teo was keeping our speed steady so I could shoot accurately, and we were now rapidly pulling away from the scene. There was no option to stop or go back. We couldn't have a gun battle which would be certain to create collateral damage. And give time for police to shut off the entrance to Pier 39. Our only escape route.

Just as disaster threatened to morph into catastrophe, Providence smiled. I have no idea if there is a parallel saying in Russian, but in English, since Elizabethan days, curiosity has been killing the cat. Or kot in this case. Why else would Kotzlov choose to raise his head and look around?

Though one would probably have sufficed, I shot him twice in the forehead, then started over with the guards. Two were already struggling up, their Makarovs swinging to us as my followups knocked them back down. Then I quit shooting, needing to hang on with both arms as Teo demonstrated the Ninja's incredible acceleration - it can go 0 to 60 in 2.6 seconds - and her weaving path among the started pedestrians made us an impossible target.

As Theodora drove our pre-planned escape route, snaking from street to street, never staying on any one for more than a block, I stowed the Sig and began to breathe again.

Teo hardly slowed until we were on the ramp, and we screeched to a stop inside the Mercedes Sprinter cargo van. I was off, pulling up the ramp by the time she cut the engine, and had the doors shut by the time she was in the driver's seat. Many people had seen the Ninja. A few might have seen it swallowed up by the Mercedes. They both had to vanish.

While anxiously checking the mirror for pursuit, I disassembled the Sig by feel and swapped out the barrel. The P320 only has the serial number on the FCU, the Fire Control Unit, not also on the barrel like many other pistols. Test-fired bullets from my Sig now would not match the rifling grooves in the bullets taken from Kotzloz's head, and once the old barrel had burrowed down into the mud of a random river bottom, I would be clear. I cradled the reassembled gun in my lap, scanned the outside mirror and side streets for signs of trouble, and remembered everything that led to this point.

After my intense encounter with Sofia, I realized that even if I spent an hour cleaning, a thorough forensic investigation would inevitably find my DNA in the pantry. So Tony Galliano's body couldn't be found there. I improvised Plan A.4, carried Galliano to the secret elevator, and left him outside the building, hidden in the nook by the door.

The body was discovered the next morning, and the guards were as stumped as the cops as to how he had found his way outside. And fallen, breaking his neck. Maybe thinking that someone had performed a public service, the authorities didn't investigate too hard and concluded that accidents do happen.

After I left Tony hidden in plain sight, I texted Teo saying mission accomplished and I was heading back. During the drive I pondered long and hard about how I could possibly explain to Theodora what had happened with Sofia Galliano. I wasn't sure what to make of it myself, so how could I tell her? But how could I not? I couldn't lie to her, but what could I say?

I arrived very late. Ana was asleep in the next room, but Teo was up, edgy and wired, wanting to know everything that had happened. As soon as we settled on the couch, she asked, "How did it go, Frank?"

"It's over. Galliano's dead."

"How did it happen? Did you have kill everyone?"

"No, he came downstairs, where I was..." My voice faded. I really wanted to avoid saying, "...eating Sofia Galliano's pussy after we screwed."

Teo looked at me, puzzled, and said, "Frank, go on."

I had decided a straightforward approach - headfirst through the wall - would be best and tried to be as dispassionate as possible. I described how, when I thought Tony was coming, I was surprised to find it was his wife. How she told me that she'd figured everything out. I had seduced Angela to get the codes, and she knew I was there that night - the hair she'd put across the door was the tell - to kill Tony. Then she told me of her plan to send him downstairs after she left.

Theodora was listening intently, nodding as she visualized everything, and when I stopped, wanting to avoid the next part, she said, "Come on, Frank. What happened next?"

Damn. Onward. I allowed as how Sofia had also heard from Angela about our tryst, evidently in explicit detail, and maybe got a little jealous, or curious, so purposely wore only a diaphanous robe, and, knowing I was watching, posed in front of the refrigerator, and...

"Oh my God! You fucked Angela's mother, too!"

As Teo lapsed into stunned silence, I forced myself to go on, to get it all out. I explained how Sofia, in addition to making plans to send Tony to his death, had evidently planned to seduce me, to get even with Angela. Or maybe just have fun? But then Tony interrupted us, and things went crazy. We fought, I killed him, and then it was like some awesome, primitive power came over us and we screwed again, this time like savage animals. I felt possessed and just couldn't help it.

Teo sat still, silently stewing through my explanation, then clinically dissected what I'd said. Dissected me. "So, do you want to see her again? Are you in love?" The sarcasm matched the anger in her words.

"No! I don't even know the woman. It was like some bizarre dream, where impossible things just keep happening. We both knew afterward how strange it was. That it was like some primal, supernatural power overcame us, something that we couldn't control, and that it couldn't be repeated even if we wanted to. Which we didn't."

"Seriously?" Teo's acerbic scoff stung, but having confessed everything, I stayed mum.

After a tense pause, Theodora continued. "Okay, I maybe can understand how, after Tony's untimely arrival, events just spiraled out of control, but do you seriously expect me to believe that you were overtaken by some 'supernatural power.' Really?"

"Theodora, you have to believe me! It was like we were transported back to prehistoric times, and two males savagely fought to the death over one female while she watched. It was so powerful..."

"Shit! Okay, Frank, if you insist!" I felt a little better. At least she seemed to be accepting what I'd found so unfathomable myself.

So wrong.

"But what about the first time, Frank? When Sofia presented herself like a banquet for you to feast on, did you have a choice then? Or was some 'supernatural power' controlling you?"

Rocked back on my heels, I grasped for anything plausible to avoid telling Teo that, at the time, I had just totally wanted to fuck Sofia. "But I needed her complicity, to send Tony to me, to keep quiet afterward. I couldn't reject her or..."

"Bullshit! She'd already told you that helping you kill Tony was HER plan. You just could have said that you had to get down to business, right then. But no, you chose to fuck her. Didn't you?"

Ruing that I'd even tried to dissemble, I opted for the truth. "But you have to understand, Teo. I was really hyped up, ready to kill, full of hormones, and you know how horny that makes me, makes everyone. Plus, she knew I was watching and displayed herself in front of the refrigerator. I could see right through her robe. See everything. It was all she had on..."

"So you were helpless? Maybe SHE possessed supernatural power?"

"She came really close, brushed against me, pushed her breast into me..."

"Jesus..."

"And then she was naked, and was saying really hot, sexy things... Rubbing up against me..."


Teo just shook her head, sadly, in disbelief.

I was a dead man walking, but still trudged onward. "And I could smell her sex, her arousal. She turned her head up to me, licked her parted her lips, just made herself totally available, so tempting. And she pulled down my pants and grabbed my cock. I just couldn't..." My voice faded and I lowered my head, waiting for the guillotine blade to fall.

Theodora's giggle made me look up.

She shook her head, smiling and laughing, and said, "God, Frank, you are SO easy."

Her kiss was wonderful, and I knew that she, too, had remembered our first sexual encounter, when, to seduce me, she had done virtually all the same things. With the same result. Guess I am easy.

The next day we resumed hiding out, heading west and patronizing more sleazy dives. H phoned after a week, and he'd been busy. I surmised he had a few jobs for me that he needed done ASAP - Kotzlov being one of them - so he'd taken the initiative and contacted Salvatore Rossi. He was the New Jersey don who had more or less adopted Teo and Ana after their father had died protecting him. I'm not sure what H promised in the negotiations, but by the time he called me, everything was fixed.

The contracts on us had been retracted and we were now protected entities, with dire consequences guaranteed to befall anyone who messed with us. It was safe for Ana to return to D.C. and resume her life as a researcher for a US - Russian relations think tank, and Teo and I could move on.

Though he was not initially sanguine about it, H accepted that, along with me, he was going to get Theodora. Though we never talked about it, we both tacitly knew that, whatever we did, we would do it together. When we joined Stur, she had scoffed at the idea that she would be left at home, the little woman, fretting while her man was out working.

I was pulled back to the present when Theodora veered off the highway into the Mission district. She parked the Mercedes under a bright streetlight and we unloaded the Ninja. Both vehicles, idling temptingly, displayed like tasty morsels on a pastry tray, would become parts in a chop shop in short order.

We made it as far as Santa Cruz before Teo insisted we stop. She was anxious. We splurged - this was our second and last "freebie" for H, and he'd have to pay us, and pay us well, for the job next week - and the Ocean Gate Inn had a room with a view. Theodora was naked before I finished locking and wedging the door, and once I'd undressed she shoved me onto the bed, mounted me and adroitly scooped my erection into her, no hands required.

We rode the waves of edgy energy that had been coursing through us since the near disaster on Pier 39, fucking as hard and fast as we ever had. Once the edge had been taken off, we fell into our new pattern. We made love.

I played with her nipples, just the way she'd showed me she liked best, as she mounted my face. Teo is an orgasm machine, an Energizer Bunny who can keep on going, well, coming, forever.

After several more quite satisfactory climaxes, Theodora kissed me sweetly as she lay down beside me and began to destroy me. As only she can. Her fingers just somehow know where my penis is most tender, most susceptible to her touch. Just as she knows that her tongue's flicks on my nipples send sparks shivering throughout my body and pulsing into the head of my cock.

And she senses exactly when to let my cock fall from her mouth and give my balls what they crave. She began by massaging the tube connecting each testis to my body, then kneaded and fondled each ball individually, fingertips penetrating gently into the core. Flirting right up to, but never past, the boundary between pleasure and pain.

When she'd incited my balls to a blistering broil, she again sucked in my erection. She synchronized dragging her prickly tongue across my most sensitive spot with more testicular provocation, and only stopped when my entire apparatus was white-hot, seething, sending scorching waves of fire coursing through me.

The image of the boiling steam when a red-hot carbon-steel sword is quenched, thrust into water, flooded my brain as Teo slid down me and took my burning cock into her. Her hotter-than-hot pussy incongruously felt cool, soothing on my scorched flesh, but once she began to slide her vagina up and down my length, the fire rekindled and flared every higher. I grabbed fistfuls of sheet and held on, trembling, my breath rasping in and out through my clenched teeth.

Theodora worked me right to the edge of the precipice, but just as I saw the summit, the possibility of relief, she stopped. Just as I knew she would. Just as I wanted her to.

She kissed me and rubbed my shoulders as she kept cooling me down. For our sex to last, to achieve ever higher levels of perfection, after our initial explosions, she'd use me for more quick orgasms to deal with her urgency, then bring me up to her plateau. Once on a par, together we would orchestrate the finale.

Of course, just as she had learned how best to do me, I'd learned her. How to feather the tip of my thumb ever-so-gently across the shaft of her clitoris, over and over, waiting for her sign to begin vertical strokes, sliding its hood over its tip. I didn't get that sign until she'd again begun to ride, to fuck me oh-so-very-gently.

We stopped in unison, and our eyes locked as our bodies trembled and quivered at the edge of ecstasy.

When first together our couplings had always been driven, hot, intensely erotic, but over far too soon. Now we were learning the intricacies of how each other's body worked, and our sex was getting ever better, ever hotter.

As we coaxed each other again to the very edge and hovered there, quivering, savoring, delaying, waiting to give that one last stroke that would plunge us into the chasm, my mind flashed back to the first time I'd seen her.

How, when she entered the courtroom at Tony Galliano's trial, everyone, every single person, had gasped, gaping in awe, captivated by her beauty, her grace, her very essence. To think that Theodora Romanova, this goddess, had chosen to be with me was almost too much to bear.

When her eyes left mine and looked up to the ceiling, to the heavens, I knew it was time. My thumb gave the last lingering loving caress along her shaft and nudged the tip, just as her sleeve gave me the finishing squeeze. Our long-delayed orgasm finally arrived, consuming us, rolling over us in glorious waves. It was perfection, the best ever, and would continue to be, at least until tomorrow's topped it. After we'd learned yet more about how best to love each other. As I basked in the golden aura encasing us, merging us into one essence, I had the only possible thought: God! What a woman!