Law or Justice...

Any fictitious sex in this fictitious story is between fictitious consenting adults.

"This is a court of law young man, not a court of justice." Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.

My associate and I had been working on this project for just over a month and we were now ready to conclude our business. Everything in place, no detail left unattended, we were ready to pull the proverbial trigger.

As we walked into the hotel bar for a nightcap, we perused the setting. There were a handful of business travelers at a variety of levels of inebriation. Nothing unusual in that. I was looking for conversation, my compatriot chose solitude as we seated ourselves at different ends of the bar. He chose a seat closer to the door, and I went to the corner at the far end, dropping down on a stool next to a 30ish looking guy.

He was well dressed, tall and had good looking features. I've always been an excellent judge of character even when casually sizing someone up. This guy was full of himself and confident he was the smartest guy in the room.

After receiving my glass of Michter's 10 Year Single Barrel Straight Rye, I stuck up a conversation. "In town for business?"

"Yeah, two-day quick turnaround sales meeting... you?"

"Yep, just one day for me though. Headed home in the morning."

"Where you in from?"

"Miami... you?"

"Dallas. I don't mind coming to Minneapolis this time of year. It's so fucking hot in Texas in July. My name's Nick." He held out his hand.

"Nice to meet you Nick, I'm Brody."

"Interesting name. Don't think I know any Brody's."

"Jaws came out the summer of 75, my dad was a huge fan. I was born that fall and he named me for the Roy Scheider character, Sheriff Brody."

This led to several minutes on favorite movies, sports, drinks etc. It was clear after a few minutes that my original observation was correct. Young Mr. Nick was mostly enamored with himself. Whatever movie I mentioned he had a better one. Great Scotch? Nope, his was better. Being a curious guy by nature I just let him talk and brag about himself for the better part of an hour. When it was clear his tongue was loose, and his brain was still telling him he was on top I switched subjects.

"So, Nick, how about women? I don't see a ring, so I assume you're not tied down. You a one girl kind of guy or do you just go with the flow?"

"Fuck man, let me tell you about the greatest gig in the world Brody."

I leaned in letting him know I was genuinely interested.

"Married women. That's where the action is. Single gals are either so uptight they won't even look at you, or so full of themselves they wouldn't know a good fuck if it was standing right in front of them."

"Really? But how are married women different? I assumed if somebody was married, they'd at least try to be faithful."

"Ha! Are you kidding me? This isn't the 1950's and you're not on 'Leave it to Beaver' pal. Most of the married women I've met when traveling for business or back at home in Dallas, love the thrill of the mystery man. The idea of getting some dick behind loving hubby's back is such a turn on, even the sweetest soccer mom's I've met have screwed my brains out."

"What about the husbands?"

"What about them? Hell, if they can't keep the wife satisfied, she's going to find someone who can. Maybe they're a good lover but she just wants to spice up her life. The older ones, in their 40's just want to know they're not over the hill. As long as you know what line to feed them and which way is up when fucking them, they just melt in your hands. As for the husband's why should I give a fuck?"

"This is intriguing, let me buy you a drink, I want to hear more."

"Sure Brody, you drink a fine whiskey which tells me you're a man of the world and can appreciate what I'm saying."

I motioned the bartender over and he refilled Nick's glass. I was enjoying sipping my Michter's slowly. Nick was hitting it a little harder. Instead of savoring my $50 a shot whiskey he was gulping it down. "Young punk" I thought as I continued my inquiry.

"So do any of these conquests of yours end up in divorce court?"

"I'm not keeping score, but I'm sure some of them do. I've only been caught a couple of times and I don't stick around for the outcome. I'm in it for the pussy, not looking to steal a guy's wife. My only interest is fucking some hot, ready to trot slut and getting my rocks off. If she gets kicked to the curb, what the fuck to I care?"

"Even if there are kids who get caught in the middle?"

"What the fuck, Brody, are you my priest or my drinking buddy for the night? I'm not out to hurt any kids, but if some mommy wants to jump my bones and roll around for a couple hours, I'm in. Like I said, these married whores are some of the wildest bitches on the planet."

"OK man, I'm not judging. Have any recent examples of ones that turned out shaky?"

He grinned from ear to ear.

"Yeah, about four months ago, I'm back home in Dallas at a local watering hole. Several women come in together. Looks like one of those girls' nights out. Everyone is wearing a wedding ring and at first, they hung together, just drinking and laughing. But I can spot the horny ones a mile away. If you know what to look for, it's easy."

"Anyway, I'm checking them all out, but I keep coming back to a brunette who has beautiful auburn hair and these big brown eyes. She looks to be one of the older ones in the group. Turns out she was 42 and, as I said before, beginning to wonder if she was still sexy. She was hot as fuck, tall with long gorgeous legs that stopped at one of the sweetest asses I've ever seen. Nice tits to boot. I mean she was the whole package, and I was getting some flirtatious smiles back when we made eye contact."

"So, I wait until one or two of the other women were asked to dance before I made my move. You don't ask first. You want a woman who may not be desperate, but one that is looking for someone to tell her she's beautiful. You want the one who is nervous that she hasn't been picked yet. They are the easiest to fuck."

"Anyway, she says yes to a drink and then a dance. Before too long, she's in my arms, grinding on my cock and panting in my ear. I take it slow, lowering my hands, but not going too far too quick. But after a song or two she's moaning as I squeeze and caress her ass. Now I know she's mine."

"We leave quickly and head to a hotel across the street where I proceed to give her the fucking of her life. I mean she's wild for it. Blow job and me eating her, the missionary, followed by her on top riding me. Then in the shower, before me bending her over the desk pounding her from behind while spanking that unbelievable ass. All the while she's groaning, or talking dirty to me, 'fuck yes, fuck me harder, fuck my married pussy you big cocked bastard.' If you like vocal, and I do, you are in heaven."

At this point, Nick takes a breath and collects himself, perhaps realizing he's getting a bit too worked up. He pushes up from the bar stool, "Let me take a leak and then I'll finish the story. You're not going to believe what happened next."

While Nick is gone, I order us two more shots. My associate approaches looking bored. "Anything exciting or unusual?" he asks nonchalantly.

"Nope, different day, same song." I reply.

"Think you'll be ready to call it a night pretty soon?"

"Yeah, I think ol Nick and I are on our last drink."

Without any further conversation he returns to his spot at the end of the bar, orders a Michelob Ultra and begins scanning his phone. Nick returns. He picks up the glass and drains it without thanking me. He's getting too drunk to think of such cultural niceties like manners.

"So, you were saying..."

"Oh yeah, so suddenly there is pounding on the door and a guy shouting, "Open up Mandy, I know you're in there, open this door immediately." He must have had some kind of tracking device on his phone. Mandy was hot, but certainly not the sharpest pencil in the box."

"She just looks at me and whispers, 'Oh no, oh no, it can't be... it's my husband Carl!' She begins to sob and hyperventilate and all I'm thinking is, I've got to get the fuck out of here. He's pounding, she's wailing and I'm dressing as fast I can."

"I'm ready to scram in under a minute so I fling the door open and try to push my way past hubby Carl. He grabs at me, but he wasn't a big guy, and I can handle myself OK. I push him up against the wall and hold him there for just a second. There is a blinding rage in his eyes. 'Settle down Carl, I don't want to hurt you. I don't know you; I just met your wife and I'm leaving right now.'"

"I give him a strong push and he falls to the floor. I'm out the door and down the hallway before he can do anything stupid that would lead to me kicking his ass. The last thing I hear heading out the exit is her crying, "It's not what it looks like."

"Now I'm laughing my ass off as I run. Not what it looks like? What a stupid bitch. It was exactly what it looked like. Mommy out for the night getting her brains fucked out, cheating on her husband because she wanted a thrill."

Nick smirked as he finished his story. "Don't know what happened, and as I said, I don't care. I got the pussy I wanted. Sweet little Mandy got the hard fucking she needed, and Carl got the short end of the stick. But that's the way the cookie crumbles, right Brody old pal?"

"I guess so Nick," I replied looking at my drinking partner while perfectly hiding my true feelings. We sat for a minute or so in silence when Nick began to swoon back and forth on his bar stool.

I grabbed him and balanced him in place. "Easy there Nicky boy, I think you may have had one too many. You OK?"

"Man, your whiskey is getting to me I think I better hit the hay." He tried unsuccessfully to stand up. I caught him before he fell and balanced him against the bar.

"You have your room key Nick? I better help you get to bed. I don't think you'll make it on your own."

"Yeah, thanks man," he said fishing out his room key. "419 if you don't mind helping me to the elevator and room."

"Not a problem. Happy to help my new friend."

I nodded to my associate who understood and went to pay the bar tab while I ushered drunk Nick up to his room. When I got him through the door, I dropped him on his bed.

"Thanks brother, I really appreciate the help. I normally handle my liquor better than that, but tonight I guess I'm a lightweight. By the way, Brody, I never asked you what you do and if you ever get any sweet pussy on the side." I almost felt a tiny bit of pity as I looked down at him. He had such a stupid grin on his face. He looked ridiculous.

"Well Nick, I have a unique job. It is a very lucrative and can be a bit dangerous, but I do pretty well for myself and am always careful with my work."

Nick seemed to be struggling to pay attention, but I must have piqued his curiosity because he stayed with me another moment or two. "OK, so what do you do?"

"I kill people Nick."

"Ha! Very funny Brody, come on man, what do you do."

I sighed heavily as I pulled a chair over to the edge of the bed and sat down, knowing Nick would be unable to move much right now and not at all in about three minutes.

"I kill people like you Nick. People who do hateful things to others, often destroying their lives and the lives of the people around them. Tonight, I'm working for a gentlemen named Carl Danvers. I believe you met him several months ago in a hotel in Dallas."

Nick's eyes began to widen with fear. He tried to sit up but couldn't.

"That's right Nick. You fucked his wife, but more importantly you fucked over their lives. They're headed for divorce and three innocent kids ages 7,9 and 12 are about to be part of one more broken home statistic."

"Carl found me through a friend of a friend of a former client. By this mutual contact he asked me to balance the scales of justice. He knows his cheating skank wife will have our joke of a legal system in her favor so there will be no justice in court. However, he has enough resources to ensure justice is served on a piece of shit like you."

"Carl is crushed Nick and you did that to him. His kids are devastated. His wife decided instead of dealing with her guilt, she'd tell him to get over it. She was entitled to her fun. Maybe he can't do much about that whore, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let you off the hook Nick."

"So, as I said, you knocked Carl for a loop and ruined his family, but they will all be alive tomorrow and can try and put some pieces back together. You, on the other hand will be very dead in about ten minutes. You shouldn't drink with strangers Nick, especially if you're going to fuck women who belong to other men and leave your drink unattended when you hit the head. Damn, Nick you were just too fucking easy. I may have to give Carl a small refund."

Nick was gurgling now, trying to speak but he couldn't form the words. There was a soft knock on the door, and I left him briefly to let my associate in.

He took one look at Nick, "We good here?"

"Yep."

Nick was down to just a couple of minutes. I smacked his face to revive him.

"Nick, listen carefully. I'm the last face you'll ever see on this earth, and I want you to know it is the face of a man who loves his work."

Nick's eyes fluttered then closed.

My associate and I took several minutes to wipe everything down. It didn't matter, we weren't in a hurry. The cops would look at the tapes after the body was discovered but they wouldn't find a thing. The two men on the surveillance camera in the bar and on the hallway camera seen entering this room looked nothing like their real identities.

Ninety minutes later, our professionally designed disguises removed and burned to a crisp, we boarded two separate flights. His for Montreal, mine for Bozeman, Montana. The job done, we won't speak again for a month or two, when the next job comes around.

Right before takeoff, I sent a quick text to a man who would text another man to text yet another man to deliver a three-word message to Mr. Carl Danvers in Texas. "Trash taken out."