The Assassin Ch. 02

Chapter TWO: Annälisa meets Salma ... and the games begin

"Okay, baby. See you later. Be careful."

Annälisa smiled to herself as Yoko ended their call.

Her young Japanese lover always told her to be careful when she had a contract to carry out. Tonight's was the third since they'd met. It looked like being the most straightforward of all three.

That meant she could think of other things, for now. And sex was on her mind. She hadn't been with Yoko for a couple of days and that was way too long. Just talking to her had stirred the heat between her thighs again. Yoko's sexy oriental accent invariably gave her goosebumps and the way she elongated the word 'baby' into 'babeee' was just adorable.

In the few months since they'd met, the young girl had taken over seamlessly from Ginger as the go-between between the Swedish assassin and her would-be employers.

She had also established herself as the blonde's regular lover.

She had explained to Annälisa that many Japanese girls like her were educated in the art of sensual lovemaking from an early age. Even better, when she wasn't providing verbal details of her training back in her country, she was eager to demonstrate her considerable capabilities to the blonde.

The assassin's sex life had never been so good, except maybe for the pleasure that only a man's warm, hard dick could provide.

"Ya should be careful, Missy..."

The deep, youthful voice brought her out of her thoughts. She knew who it was. The young cashier had been closely watching her while she'd chatted to Yoko in the supermarket—even a hit woman had to eat—and his gaze was all over her now she'd moved to his checkout aisle. He was cute, with a warm smile and dark the colour of midnight. So why shouldn't she flirt a little?

"Careful?" she asked, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

He nodded, his gaze still alternating between her face and the hard nipples poking through her top.

"Some of the boys around here talk about ya when ya come shopping," he said, his eyes deep with meaning. "It ain't right what them boys think. Ya best be careful, I'm tellin' ya."

Annälisa gave him her sexiest smile. She'd seen the way his young friends looked at her as they hung around the supermarket car park, but then she was used to guys paying attention to her wherever she went.

"And what d'you think those boys have on their minds," she asked, deliberately leaning forward to collect the final piece of her shopping from the counter.

His dark eyes instantly dipped into her heavy cleavage.

"Well?" she asked.

A knowing look covered his face as she provocatively held the pose and he shot her a crooked grin when his eyes eventually made their way back up to meet hers.

"Same thing as I'm thinkin'," he said.

His tone was a little thicker, more guttural. It made her smile. There was a certain arrogance to black teenagers that she'd always found a turn-on, ever since she'd been his age. Barely eighteen or nineteen, they thought they knew everything there was to know about life, sex ... and white women in particular.

Annälisa playfully twirled a loose strand of blonde hair around her index finger as she straightened. In some ways, this was ridiculous. She could pick up any guy she wanted, whenever she wanted, so why a teenager working on a supermarket checkout? Was it because of his youthful cockiness, or was it the growing bulge in his groin? If it was possible for her nipples to harden further, they did when she imagined what was waiting there.

She checked her watch. She had a couple of hours to kill before it was time to prepare for her contract. And she'd never had a black guy before. So why not?

"Well, if that's what you're thinking," she eventually said. "Tell me one thing. Can you take your coffee break now?"

----------

She parked her car close to the back entrance, where the teenager was waiting for her, and hurried inside the green door before anyone could notice. She wasn't sure what she expected to find inside, maybe a corridor through to the coffee area, but instead he led her to a very small storage room.

She turned to speak as soon as he closed the door behind them, but he was all over her like a whirlwind. His mouth found hers, one hand cupped her right breast and the other tried to slide underneath the short hem of her skirt.

Annälisa smiled to herself at his eagerness.

"Easy tiger," she chuckled, pushing him away.

For a moment he stared at her puzzled. The look on his face made her chuckle out loud. He just needed to understand they were going to do this on her terms, not his. Reaching out, she stroked the thick outline of his dick through his trousers.

"Take it out," she instructed, adding more emphasis to the request by slowly running her wet tongue along her bottom lip. "I have a feeling I'm not going to be disappointed."

He stared at her for a few seconds more and then his hands dropped to his waist. Only the heavy sound of their breathing filled the room as he eagerly unbuckled his thin black belt. When he pulled down his zipper and yanked out his teenage prize, Annälisa stared happily at his exposed manhood.

It was thick, long, and already semi erect.

He felt nice and warm when she took the throbbing shaft in her palm and began to stroke him. His young dick was mouth watering, and it wasn't going to be long before she had the monster in her mouth. If she'd known black teenagers looked as good as this, she'd have indulged a long time ago.

She could smell the boy-sweat on him as she sank to her knees and stretched her fingers as far around the base of his dick as they would go. He gave a throaty growl.

"That's it, Missy..." he mumbled. "Suck it..."

"You got that right," she promised, nuzzling her right cheek up and down the length of his impressive shaft. "And believe me, lover-boy, this'll be the best blow job you've ever had."

Her cool blue eyes stayed on his as she dipped her head forward and took just his mushroom head between her lips. The shudder of arousal that passed through his body was only the start. He was in for the treat of his life.

His fingers tightened in her blonde hair, holding here there as if he was the one in control. That made Annälisa smile. She had no doubt that lots of girls had gone down on this beautiful monster.

But none would have been as good as this...

The blonde took her time, indulging herself to begin with, and then delivering on her promise. She went through every trick in her repertoire, even rolling his balls around her mouth to ease the tension when she felt him getting close.

She took him to the very edge several times, holding him on the brink of his pulsating climax until he was practically begging for release, before easing off and starting the whole process again.

But eventually, when it was all becoming too much for him and he wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer, she changed her approach. The upturned carton to their left would do.

Rising to her feet, she practically yanked him towards the box and pushed him down into a sitting position. It took a nano-second to drag her panties down her thighs and then she was straddling him, her fingers brushing through his wiry hair as she slowly worked his thick dick inside her. He was so big that it took several passes before she had him sheathed completely.

Placing her arms on his shoulder, she curled her hands around his neck and interlaced her fingers as she settled on him.

"If you cum before me, I'll cut your fucking balls off," she rasped.

She was only half joking.

He didn't speak. He just nodded. Annälisa returned the nod as she began to move on him, slowly and gently at first. She closed her blue eyes, savouring the feeling of her wet tightness gliding up and down his hard black dick, loving the way her warmth spread over him. It had been a while since she'd enjoyed a slow fuck—feeling every breath, every heart beat.

"Don't cum," she reminded him, moving faster.

The groan that left his throat didn't give her any confidence and so she suddenly dragged her blouse and bra upwards in one sharp yank, exposing her pendulous tits to his gaze.

Pulling his head towards them, she sighed happily as his thick lips found her left nipple. That would give him something else to concentrate other than the feeling of her tight cunt wrapped around his throbbing flesh.

When she returned her hands to his neck and built up the pace, his hands slid down and gripped her hips, trying to control her movements. It was a lost cause. He wasn't going to last long and the only way to reach her own climax was to pound him in the hope they would come together.

"Don't cum," she rasped again, bucking her hips.

That was better. She could feel the familiar sensations closing in as his thickness filled her. It wasn't going to take long.

"Don't cum," she repeated, pivoting one way and then the other before grinding down harder on his cock.

Her brow furrowed harder as the sensations spread through her. She was close. So was he. He was biting down on his bottom lip. Nearly there. His hands clawed at her thighs and hers went to her tits, pulling on her nipples as she let out a cry, threw her head back, and went for broke.

Then she was there ... or at least on the brink ... and Annälisa held herself there as she frantically increased the pace of her downward thrusts, wanting him to cum with her.

His response was perfect.

His breaths became hectic, a growl slipped past his thick lips, and then his orgasm erupted with frantic bursts in time with the tidal wave that swept through the blonde assassin.

It felt like he spurted forever as her tight pussy squeezed and milked out every single drop he had. Her arms held him close, loving the way his body shuddered with each burst, and it was only when he eventually started to relax that she pushed up to her feet and bent down to tenderly kiss his forehead.

"Coffee break over, I guess," she chuckled, stroking his wiry hair. "What's your name, lover-boy?"

"Antony," he gasped.

His breath was still heavy from the intensity of the fucking and he was staring up at her almost in disbelief as he tucked his diminishing manhood back into his trousers.

"Antony," Annälisa repeated, smiling at him as she picked up her white panties from the floor.

She stuffed them into the pocket on the front of his shirt.

"That's a souvenir for you, Antony," she husked, emphasizing his name. "Make sure you get your girlfriend to wash them after you've had a good wank in them later."

---

Annälisa's eyes adjusted slowly to the gloom around her. Everything had gone smoothly so far and yet there was something about the night air that disturbed her. Call it a sixth sense, but it rarely failed her. Something was wrong.

But what?

Her position on the next to top floor in the abandoned building gave her a clear view of the entrance and exit to the office block below. Her target was still in there, despite the lateness of the hour. Just as she'd been told he would be. She'd have the perfect shot when he left the building, and that would be that.

Contract fulfilled.

Her escape route was up the stairs, across the rooftop to the building opposite, utilizing the fire escape to reach the ground and then drive away in the stolen car she'd parked in a back alley. It was that simple.

And yet, there was something that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Her instincts never failed her.

She drew her knees to her chest and began to breathe deeply, trying to let the feeling pass. That was better. Close her eyes and let her body relax. Maybe it was the waiting that was getting to her? That was always the boring part of her profession. The act itself was over quickly, in a heartbeat, but the waiting could be interminable.

Still, it gave her time to think—about Antony, and that thick cock of his; about Yoko and her amazing lovemaking skills; about...

A noise close by alerted her. It was just a faint sound, but it was there all the same. And it came from a direction where there should only have been silence. A light step, treading on a creaking board? The movement of someone sneaking up on her?

Fuck! She'd known it.

Her feminine intuition was rarely wrong.

Placing her high-velocity rifle on the gravelled ground beside her, Annälisa pulled her gun out of its shoulder holster, twisted on a silencer in an instant, and clicked off the safety.

She had no intention of taking any chances.

Moving stealthily, she headed across towards the stairs to her left. If she could get to the top floor, she should have the drop on whoever it was. She took the steps slowly, carefully, one at a time, travelling up the side closest to the wall to minimise the chance of the staircase creaking. But as soon as she reached the top and stepped out in the open, she realised her mistake.

"We meet at last," a female voice greeted her.

Even in the semi-dark, Annälisa recognised her adversary immediately. Not that they had met, but the Latin-American woman's signature two piece cat suit was unmistakeable.

The Swedish hit woman believed in practicality on the job whereas this woman—known as 'Salma' because of her strong resemblance to Salma Hayek—believed in flamboyance.

Her tight black trousers, casually held together by two snaps across her crotch, sat very low on her waist, revealing her flat stomach with its diamond belly button piercing. The bodice consisted of nothing more than a web of black leather straps, covering only just enough of her thrusting breasts to maintain a semblance of respectability.

Her long wavy black-hair flowed down the back of her shoulders and perfectly complimented the matching black cowl. The thigh-high black leather boots completed the outfit, with what Annälisa reasoned must be at least four inch heels.

She looked like she'd just stepped off a movie production.

Perhaps that was her secret? Who would believe someone dressed like that could have any part in a murder that had just taken place? Even if she were stopped, she would no doubt innocently explain she was on her way to one party or another.

Yet her guile and expertise were revered throughout her profession and, right now, she stood facing Annälisa with a Makarov handgun aiming directly her fabulous chest. The gun was deadly—true stopping power in a small package.

"On the ground. Or it ends here," Salma said, motioning with her free hand for Annälisa to drop her own gun.

Her voice was thick and husky. Sexy, even.

When her finger tightened on the Makarov's trigger, the blonde had no choice. Her gaze didn't leave Salma's as she crouched to place the gun on the gravel before straightening again.

"It ends here anyway, doesn't it?" she asked.

Her brain was whirring as she rapidly considered her escape options. There weren't many.

The Latin-American assassin simply raised a confirmatory eyebrow.

She was a beautiful woman, probably in her late thirties, but she looked younger. Her breasts were well-rounded and curved under the costume. Her stomach was well-defined, and her hips were voluptuous. She looked every inch a Salma Hayek.

And that husky Latin-American accent!! That sound sent ripples of heat all the way down to her sex. Too many women with sexy accents in her life, she thought.

"Tell me this," she asked, playing for time. "Who set me up?"

A faint smile touched the edges of Salma's pouting lips.

"Think back to your last hit," she softly said. "He was tipped-off. He knew you were coming after him, but didn't know when, that's why he had someone covering the alley. He had all the bases covered outside of the hotel and didn't expect you to get through any of them. Moron. That was why it was so easy for you in the end. But guess what, he had connections. They found out who had carried out the hit and decided to send out a message. So they employed the very best to take you out ... and here I am."

Annälisa chuckled, despite the perilous situation.

"From what I've heard, you're very good," she conceded. "If a little over-the-top in the way you dress. But no-one is better than me."

Salma threw her head back and laughed heartily.

"I'd say the fact that your gun is on the ground at your feet and mine is pointing at those oversized tits is a clear indication of our respective merits, wouldn't you? And how do you think I knew you'd be here? This hit is a set-up. There isn't one. It was just a way of bringing you out into the open."

Annälisa shrugged. She was fully focused on finding a way to escape and knew that if she didn't come up with something instantaneously, her life was about to end...

It came in the form of a memory. The file she'd been given with details of her last target had some inconsistencies, enough for her to want them checked out. She'd tested Yoko by asking her to dig deep and her new employee-lover had unearthed some interesting information.

"Alexander Mishin," she suddenly said.

Bingo! Salma tried to disguise her surprise, but then inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement.

"I'm impressed. Now how could you have known that?"

"Let's just call it an assassin's instinct," Annälisa answered. "And I'm willing to wager that you're already aware of the way he operates. He hires you to take me out, and then one of his own men takes you out. No loose ends that way."

Salma's chuckle was delightfully sexy. The trouble was her finger was tightening on the trigger of her gun.

"You think that sort of talk will deflect me from—"

Annälisa's foot lashed out and kicked a hail of gravel at her opponent. It was a desperate gesture, but some of the pebbles caught Salma in the face, enough to throw her off guard. She fired two shots as the blonde charged at her, but the first bullet flew past Annälisa's ear and the second brushed her hair.

Salma cursed as their bodies collided, and then the Swedish woman grabbed her wrist. The Makarov clattered onto the ground and their bodies followed, each woman clawing at the other in an effort to gain some sort of control.

At first it was brutal—knees, legs, elbows and fingernails all in use, and even a couple of attempted head-butts. But eventually, with their legs scissored around each other's body as they struggled and their hands locked on the other's wrists, it became a stalemate, neither of them able to take control.

Their eyes met—Annälisa's blue and cool, Salma's brown and fiery, but in that one look, something passed between them.

It was impossible to tell who kissed who first. It was a brief kiss, full of hate, anger and lust, and then another, more urgent and more passionate. Their bodies were no longer squirming in an attempt at superiority, but instead they moved against each another as the heat built up between them.

"Truce," Salma suddenly asked, in that husky tone.

Annälisa nodded. Her heart was thudding against her chest so loudly that she could hear the beat in her ears.

"Truce," she agreed.

"For tonight," Salma grunted. "One night only."

And then her hand was around the blonde's neck, drawing her closer, and they were kissing again.

"You're one seriously sexy bitch," Salma gasped.

Both sets of hands were already at work yanking off the other's clothes. It wasn't concealed weapons they were looking for.

"Look who's talking," Annälisa grunted, dipping her head so that she could find those wonderful Latin-American tits.

She took a rigid nipple between her teeth and flicked at it with her tongue, bringing a moan from the woman who had just tried to kill her. No hard feelings. She was fulfilling a contract, just like Annälisa did. There was no emotion attached. It was just business.

She pushed the thought away as she covered the nipple with her mouth, saliva dripping from her lips as she began to suckle on it. But Salma was in no mood for niceties. Her hands curled in the blonde's hair and yanked her head back.