TALES
OF
THE
EXTREME
***
WHEN KILLING’S
NOT ENOUGH
A
MEN’S EROTIC
THRILLER
BY
ROBIN GREENE
***
A
DARK SENSATIONS
PRODUCTION
Tales of the Extreme: When Killing’s Not Enough
Copyright © 2012 by Robin Greene
Cover design by
Published on Smashwords by Dark Sensations
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental.
The material found in this eBook contains sexually explicit situations and is intended for a mature audience only.
All persons portrayed in this eBook are 18 years of age or older.
Table of Contents
General Martino Palmero looked at the buxom brunette beauty sitting beside him in the nightclub’s booth, and wondered just how far she would go. All the way? It was a tempting thought. He might even be satisfied just finding out if those tits of hers were real, or if a doctor had worked his professional magic on her. Either way, Palmero didn’t much care. The woman was a turn-on from head to toe. Her magnificent breasts were only part of what excited the general. She also had an ass that was to die for. And her full-lipped mouth, shimmering with lipstick, conjured up lusty images of seeing her on her knees giving a blowjob.
She was no naive teenager, this one. Gen. Palmero wondered how close to thirty she was. The years hadn’t been cruel to her. In fact, the years had been more than kind; they’d been generous, nearly to a fault. Gen. Palmero had known the pleasures of enough beautiful women in his day to realize that this one—Bianca, she called herself, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was the truth—was more beautiful now, in her late twenties or early thirties, than she had been a decade earlier. The time had put a sophistication to her looks, her moves, her gestures, that most assuredly hadn’t been there when she was just a teenager. She touched his erotic sensibilities in ways that no mere girl ever could.
The trouble was that Bianca had not come to the nightclub with him. Colonel Alonzo Mendoza had brought her. The colonel had met her that afternoon at the outdoor market, and had apparently wowed her with his charm.
“What’s wrong, General?” Bianca asked, turning her sultry, jade green gaze upon Palmero as she leaned toward him in the booth. “Something seems to be bothering you.”
“It’s nothing.”
Bianca placed her hand upon the general’s knee beneath the table. She leaned toward him, and when she did, one supple breast pressed against his biceps. She whispered, “Have I done something to upset you?”
Palmero shook his head. “I was thinking of something else entirely.”
“You were wishing it had been you who brought me here and not Colonel Mendoza, weren’t you?”
Not even the years of military life he’d spent in the Solarian army could prevent the shock from showing in Palmero’s expression. The woman named Bianca had shocked him by accurately reading his thoughts, and though he was pleased with her awareness of the situation, a small part of his brain warned that he had let his defenses down. It wouldn’t kill him to have a half-inebriated, big-bosomed tourist reading his thoughts, but it could be fatal to have a vengeance-driven counterpart from, say, England or the United States, or Venezuela, deduce what he was thinking.
“Now I’ve made you angry again.” Bianca leaned even closer so that she could whisper into Palmero’s ear. Her full breasts pressed more firmly against his arm. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong, and I’ll stop doing it. I’ll do anything you say.”
“You’re doing nothing wrong,” Palmero replied, patting the back of Bianca’s hand that was on his knee. “In fact, you seem to be doing everything right.” He looked into her eyes that, he noted with a connoisseur’s sense of detail, were the color of priceless jewels, and as lovely as any he’d ever seen. His cock, without any tactile stimulation from Bianca, was already beginning to respond, to grow under the influence of her feminine allure. It had been a long time since any woman had affected his masculine sensibilities so powerfully. “Perhaps more right than you could ever imagine.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Palmero saw Col. Mendoza returning from the restroom. Palmero had learned to respect and trust Mendoza’s ability, and because of this, had never pulled rank on Mendoza. But he thought now of bullying his aide for the first time. If it meant getting fucked, this Bianca woman was someone worth annoying a junior officer.
“And how is my lady?” Col. Mendoza asked as he slid into the booth to sandwich Bianca between himself and Palmero.
“What took you so long?” Bianca demanded, her brow furrowed, her narrow, full-lipped mouth turned downward slightly at the edges in annoyance. “I started to worry that you’d never come back.”
“Not come back to you?” Mendoza exclaimed, leaning away from her in mock horror. “How could you even think such a thing?”
Bianca placed her right hand upon Mendoza’s thigh, midway between his knee and groin. Now that Mendoza had returned, she no longer had her hand on Palmero’s leg.
She said petulantly, just loud enough for both men to hear, “It’s happened before. I’m always afraid that it’ll happen again.”
The brunette crossed her legs delicately at the knee. She was wearing a dark green, knee-length silk dress, the bodice of which only partially hid the fullness of her bosom. Completely hiding the woman’s extraordinary breasts was an impossibility, but it was clear from the tailoring of the garment that she was doing what she could to de-emphasize her more than ample charms.
The smile was gone now from her lips, and when she picked up her cocktail—a gin and tonic—she finished it in two swallows.
“You need another,” Mendoza said. It was a statement, not a question, and he was already raising his arm in an attempt to get the waitress’ attention.
“Yes, I need another,” Bianca replied, her mood suddenly seeming dour. “But darling, won’t you please go get it yourself? The waitress here is so overworked it takes her forever to serve the drinks.”
Mendoza looked at Bianca. He clearly didn’t like the idea of leaving her with Gen. Palmero, but he also didn’t like her in this sad mood. Better to hurry off and return with more liquor than let her sober up, which might make her come to the conclusion that maybe the smart move to make was to go back to her hotel alone, instead of to his hotel.
The colonel slipped out of the booth and pushed himself forcefully through the mass of bodies, heading toward the bar.
As soon as she was alone again with the general, Bianca twisted in the padded bench seat toward Palmero. Her smile was electric, and the glow in her shimmering green eyes was intoxicating.
“You’re staying at the First Imperial Hotel?” she asked.
Palmero nodded. “We’ve got most of the ninth floor.”
“How far away is your room from Colonel Mendoza’s?”
“Right next door.”
Bianca looked away from Palmero toward the crowd, as though frightened that Mendoza might return and somehow hear the conversation she was having, even though the recorded music blaring from the innumerable speakers made such an event impossible.
“He’s a strong man,” Bianca explained in an almost apologetic tone. “But he’s only the beta male. You’re the alpha male, aren’t you?”
Palmero frowned. He had a solid grasp of the English language, but he didn’t have a clue as to what Bianca was speaking of now. When he let his confusion show in his expression, she quickly explained what she meant by alpha and beta. Only then did awareness shine in Palmero’s eyes, and this time, when he looked down into Bianca’s cleavage, he didn’t make any effort to hide the direction of his gaze.
“I don’t want to leave Mendoza,” Bianca said. “Not…not just yet. Not like this. It wouldn’t be fair to him.”
Palmero could hardly believe his good fortune. He knew that many of his sexual conquests had wanted something from him other than just sex. Quite often they were young female soldiers looking for an easy assignment in the military. Other times they were hoping to get a promotion or a transfer to a better military outfit. But whatever it was, whenever a beautiful woman threw herself at Gen. Palmero, it was because they wanted something. They were just using his sex drive to get to his good graces. He didn’t have a problem with that.
“What do you suggest?” Palmero asked after several seconds of silence. For one of the few times in his adult life, he felt out of his element, confused and disoriented.
“Go back to your hotel. I’ll meet you there.” Bianca put her hand over Palmero’s crotch. She squeezed his cock through the fabric of his trousers. “I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I’ll meet you there. And Colonel Mendoza won’t know anything about it.”
Palmero’s eyes widened as he felt Bianca’s slender fingers caressing him intimately. How long had it been since he’d had a beautiful woman touching him like that? He couldn’t remember the last time any woman—ugly or gorgeous, it didn’t matter—had put a hand between his legs and grabbed his cock without being coerced or forced into doing it.
“You’re teasing me now,” Palmero said quietly. The words shocked him because he hadn’t thought of actually speaking them. Bianca seemed so sophisticated, so unobtainable, that he couldn’t entirely believe that she wasn’t just toying with his emotions for some bizarre, sadistic reason that he did not yet understand. “You’re not actually going to come to my room.”
“Promise me you’ll wait in your room for me?”
“Come with me now. I’m a general. He’s just a colonel,” Palmero explained. “I don’t know how much you know about the military, but a general far outranks a colonel.”
“I know enough to realize that I want you, that your power turns me on. How’s that? But I don’t want to make the colonel angry, don’t you see? Mendoza brought me here. Please”—she squeezed his cock again, then reached deeper between his legs to give his testicles a firm squeeze—“go back to your hotel and wait there for me. I’ll be there. I promise I will.”
Palmero felt the firm, enticing fingers toying with him, and he just knew that no woman fondling his prick like that could be a liar. He cast a quick glance in the direction of the bar, worried that Mendoza would return too quickly. He said, “Give me something…just a little something to know that you’ll be by later. Do that for me and I’ll wait for you until eternity freezes over.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Bianca saw Mendoza push his way through the crowd, moving toward the booth in the back of the nightclub. He had a vodka martini in one hand and a gin and tonic in the other. Much of the vodka martini had been spilled, apparently as he was pushing his way through the crowd of men. He was protecting the gin and tonic—Bianca’s drink—like his life depended upon it. There could be no doubt that he was more interested in getting alcohol into Bianca’s blood stream than into his own.
Mendoza set the gin and tonic down in front of Bianca, and then slid into the booth. He gave the brunette and Palmero a careful look. It was obvious that he didn’t trust Palmero with women. At least not with women that he was hoping to keep for himself.
“My good colonel,” Palmero said, smiling broadly. “This has been a fine evening, but I think it is time I leave you alone with this young lady. I’ve stayed in this noisy nightclub too long as it is.” He pushed himself out of the booth, and raised a hand when Mendoza began to put up a half-hearted protest at his departure. “I’ve overstayed my welcome as it is. You two stay here.” He leaned over the table so that his face was close to Mendoza’s. “I’ll leave the car and driver here for you, and take a taxi back to the hotel.”
Mendoza replied, in a hushed voice that Bianca was not to hear, “I owe you one, sir. And I won’t forget it.”
Palmero nodded to Mendoza, then straightened, looked at Bianca, and smiled appreciatively. “Perhaps we shall meet again.”
Bianca replied, “Perhaps we shall.”
Palmero turned and walked through the crowd. Unlike Mendoza, when Palmero walked, other men got out of the way, even though he had close-cropped, gray hair, and clearly was a man of advancing years.
“At last, I’ve got you all to myself,” Mendoza said.
He put his hand on Bianca’s thigh, midway between her knee and the juncture of her thighs. When Bianca made no move to push his hand off her leg, he slipped his hand beneath the hem of her dress, touching her leg through her silk stocking. The feel of the silk beneath his fingers made his cock twitch and start to get hard.
“Yes, all to yourself,” Bianca purred. She leaned forward, and for the first time kissed the colonel on the lips. When he tried to slip his tongue into her mouth, she pulled back quickly. “Wait,” she whispered, “there’s something important I must do first.”
“There’s nothing more important than this,” Mendoza declared. His own pleasure was always uppermost in his concerns.
“You don’t understand.” Her hand slid up his thigh, almost to his groin, caressing him through his trousers. “General Palmero was kind and understanding enough to know that we wanted to be alone together. He even let you and I have the car and driver. The least I can do is wait with him while he gets a cab.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, please. Let me thank him myself, talk to him without you being there. I’m sure he’s feeling a little old right now. He’s not a young man. He’s not virile like you are.”
Mendoza reacted to the last comment with a smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. Bianca’s words were caressing his ego.
“Just let me wait with him until he gets a taxi back to the hotel. That way he won’t feel so alone…and old. Do you see what I mean?”
“Yes. You’re a very kind-hearted woman, Bianca. One of the kindest I’ve ever known.”
“Wait here for me. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
Bianca leaned over to kiss Mendoza, and this time, when she did, it was she who initiated the French kissing, boldly thrusting her tongue between the colonel’s lips to explore his mouth. And then, just as quickly as she had started, she ended the kiss and slipped out of the booth, appearing a bit breathless and thoroughly aroused. She seemed to be a woman literally aching to be back in the booth with the colonel, hungry for his caresses.
Gen. Palmero had hardly made his way through the front doors before Bianca grabbed his arm from behind. He turned gruffly to see who had shown the temerity to touch him, but when he saw Bianca, his face lighted up.
“You’ve left him behind after all!” Palmero said, clearly proud that he had won the battle for Bianca’s attention.
“No.” She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, as though afraid that Mendoza had followed her. When she turned back to Palmero, there was a quality of quiet desperation in her green eyes that bordered on idolatry. “I was afraid that you’d find someone else before I saw you tonight.”
“What?” Palmero was confused. The desperation in Bianca’s voice, in her mannerisms, was extraordinary. Almost too much to believe. Almost, but for a man like Palmero, not quite.
A taxicab pulled up and Bianca rushed toward it, pulling Gen. Palmero along behind her. There was a young couple in line to receive the taxi in front of her, but Bianca pulled several bills from her purse and shoved them into the young man’s palm.
“I’ve got to have this taxi,” she said to the surprised young man. He smiled broadly when he looked at the bills in his hand.
She opened the door and practically leaped into the back seat of the taxi, apparently unmindful of her dress, which rode high enough up her legs to show the tops of her stocking and a thin strip of tanned thigh above the embroidered and elasticized upper edge of the silk but below her bikini panties. Palmero got into the taxi behind her, though not nearly as nimbly.
Bianca once again dug into her purse, extracting another fistful of bills. She tossed them into the front seat and said, “Drive around the block. Keep driving around the block, and don’t look in your rear view mirror until I say you can.”
The driver protested in Spanish, then switched to badly spoken English. “Hey, lady, I don’t—“
“Just do it!” Bianca shouted.
Gen. Palmero was stunned. Never in his life had he felt so thoroughly and completely wanted by a woman. No, it wasn’t simply ‘wanted.’ That was too casual a word. The way that Bianca made him feel the phrase ‘ravenous for’ seemed more appropriate. And because she made him feel this way, he also felt more dynamic and virile than he had in fifteen or twenty years. The lady named Bianca was Palmero’s personal Fountain of Youth.
Turning to Gen. Palmero, Bianca said, “We don’t have much time. Mendoza isn’t going to be patient for long. I don’t want to make him angry.”
Palmero didn’t know what to say or how to respond. The words, Who cares if he gets angry! nearly slipped out of his mouth. But when the green-eyed brunette with the luscious tits grabbed his zipper and jerked it down, his mouth went dry as a desert so quickly he wasn’t even certain he could speak, and he most definitely couldn’t think logically.
Bianca looked into the front seat and said, “I’m sure you’re going to watch, but at least don’t be obvious about it.”
Then, as she thrust her hand inside Palmero’s trousers, she leaned over in the seat and kissed the general on the lips, pushing her tongue deeply into his mouth. The brunette’s fingers curled around the shaft of Palmero’s cock. She tugged his rapidly growing prick out through the fly of his trousers and began stroking him. As she did this, she continued kissing him. He began responding immediately to her caresses and kisses, his cock growing and hardening in her fist, stretching out, filling her hand.
“This is just sampler of something better that’ll happen later on,” Bianca said a bit breathlessly.
Before Palmero could reply, Bianca slipped down off the seat until she was kneeling on the floor of the rather spacious though decades-old Chevrolet sedan taxicab.
“What the—”
Palmero’s words died upon his lips when Bianca’s lips encircled the head of his cock. Years ago he had thought that he was done being surprised in life, but he was surprised now. Thoroughly and completely surprised right out of his mind. The warmth and wetness of the beautiful woman’s mouth surrounding his cockhead was almost too much to believe. And he was responding with extraordinary swiftness, his cock becoming longer and thicker and harder than he had been in years.
“That’s it,” Palmero groaned. “Suck me.”
He said other things, in Spanish mostly, but Bianca couldn’t make out the words, and she wasn’t really listening very closely. She was sucking lustily, with as much skill as she possessed, her butter-soft lips sliding up and down over a hard cock that literally throbbed with lusty tension.
The general leaned back in the taxi, kicking his feet out to get more comfortable. He looked into the rear view mirror and wasn’t surprised to see that the driver was watching everything that was happening. The driver, though, from his vantage point, couldn’t actually see Bianca’s bobbing face in the neon-lit shadows. Palmero gave the driver a condescending smile as though to say, Take a real good look and watch your betters living large. It’s the closest you’ll ever get to having a woman like this wanting you like this, you stupid, taxi-driving, limp-dicked buffoon!
Palmero watched Bianca as she bobbed, taking his cock in and out of her mouth. Her lips were moist and soft upon his shaft. He smoothed her silken auburn hair away from her cheek so that he could see her face in profile as his cock filled her mouth. She was gorgeous with his meat in her mouth, he decided in a moment of surreal lucidity. Several seconds passed as Palmero, almost in a trance, studied the beautiful woman’s features as she nodded slowly up and down, her lips nibbling softly on his hard meat.
Palmero swore in his native language. He was certain that never before had anyone perform a blowjob with the skill that was now being bestowed upon him. The fact that she was sucking him willingly added to Palmero’s escalating passion.
Bianca released Palmero’s cock from her oral embrace. She sat upright in the back seat of the Colombian taxicab and put her forefinger to Palmero’s lips. She didn’t say a word. She simply looked into his eyes and smiled, then bent over at the waist once again, opened her mouth wide, and took his cock into her mouth. She resumed sucking his prick with even greater enthusiasm than before.
Palmero swore again, spewing words that would have shocked his portly wife back at home. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, the nightclub he had been in earlier. Only then did he realize that the taxi had managed to make just a single circuit of the block surrounding the nightclub where he had, only an hour earlier, met this beautiful nympho who had blowjob skills sufficient to make him shiver. Had any woman ever sucked his cock with such spine-melting skill?
A sudden thought entered Palmero’s brain, and when it did, he was angry with himself for even thinking it. But once the thought was there, he couldn’t simply banish it, as though it had never existed.
Palmero asked, “Why are you doing this?”
Bianca raised her face, lewdly letting his cock slip out of her mouth with a slurping sound. When she looked into Palmero’s dark eyes, she was completely serious as she answered, “Because I want you to go back to your hotel room and wait for me. If you leave here unsatisfied, you’ll just find another woman to give you pleasure, and then you won’t be waiting for me. I want you hot to see me again.” Bianca grinned then. “Even if I suck you off now, I know you’ll be excited again later on tonight. Don’t think that you’re too old to go twice in one night. I know better. You’re the stallion I’ve been waiting to find, so don’t tell me otherwise.”
Before Palmero could say a single word in reply, Bianca again ducked down in the back of the taxi and resumed giving the blowjob that was steadily driving a battle-hardened war-criminal thoroughly and completely out of his mind.
He reached beneath her arm, groping for her breasts. The feminine mound filled his hand. He squeezed firmly. Even though the caress was through her dress and brassiere, it turned him on enormously to be feeling Bianca’s D-cup bosom.
“Suck me,” Palmero groaned, feeling the tingling anticipation of release beginning to build. “Keep sucking. Don’t stop. Just don’t stop!”
Bianca bobbed up and down over the cock faster, noisily dragging her lips over the military man’s throbbing flesh. As she pleasured him with her lips and tongue, she stroked her fist up and down on his prick’s shaft. The intent here was not to prolong the experience. Bianca wanted to get the general to completion as quickly as possible, and to that end she used all her skills. She was certain his cum would be squirting against her tongue in seconds.
Only seconds later, Bianca felt the general’s thighs begin to quiver. She knew he couldn’t withstand much more of the pleasure she was giving him. She bobbed even faster, sucking hard on his cock, her hair flying around her cheeks as she salivated freely.
The harsh words the general spoke were indecipherable as the general straightened out, his muscular body angled sideways in the back seat of the American-made taxicab. A moment later, his face red with strain, he erupted, cum jetting from his balls with greater fury than in years.
The hot-blooded brunette with the D-cup breasts that caught every man’s eye continued bobbing over the cock even as the general climaxed, releasing his sperm against her frisking tongue. She nursed his cock until she had drained the general’s balls completely, swallowing every drop of his ejaculation. Only then did she release him from her mouth with a moist, smacking sound. When she sat up in the back seat of the taxicab, there was a smile of confident carnality on her lips, as well as a light coating of cum. She swallowed theatrically, letting him know she liked drinking his salty seed.
“Your room is next to Mendoza’s, right?” she asked.
Palmero nodded. He was breathing so deeply it would have been extremely difficult for him to talk.
“Good. I’ll be seeing you later on tonight.” Bianca ran the tip of her tongue around her lips, as though savoring the pungent taste of the general’s cum. “Like I said, this blowjob was just a sampler. You’re in for an amazing evening later on. I’m going to blow your mind.”
***
Bianca ordered the taxicab to pull over to the curb in front of the nightclub again. She slipped out into the street and hurried inside, ignoring the looks she received from other patrons. The bouncer, who was the final vote on whether someone was allowed to enter or was kept outside waiting, remembered Bianca from the first time she had entered. He also remembered the powerful men she had been with. He opened the door wide, a faintly knowing smile on his lips as she slipped past him and entered the carnival chaos of the nightclub’s interior.
Bianca found Col. Mendoza in the booth where she had left him. He smiled initially when he saw her, then immediately forced himself to frown. He didn’t want her thinking that she could leave him like that—for a full ten minutes!—and imagine that he’d be happy about it.
“What took you so long?” he demanded when Bianca slipped into the booth beside him.
“It was difficult finding a taxi.” She smiled apologetically. “Don’t be angry with me now. I want us to have a good time.”
Mendoza put his arm around Bianca’s shoulders and pulled her in close to his side. He looked into Bianca’s eyes for several seconds, then dipped his face down and tasted her lips. When he touched her lips with the tip of his tongue, Bianca increased the intimacy by opening her mouth, leaning into him, inviting his deeper exploration.
Swirling her tongue against Mendoza’s, Bianca boldly reached for his crotch beneath the table. She found him, and when she gave his cock a firm squeeze, she heard his sharp inhalation.
“Enough of this,” Mendoza said when the deep, probing kiss finally ended. “I’ve waited long enough to have you. Why should I have to wait any longer?”
“But where can we…?” Bianca asked, a pink hue now darkening her cheeks.
“In the car.”
He grabbed Bianca’s hand and nearly yanked her out of the booth. As she protested ineffectually, he pulled her through the crowd. Feeling her hand on his cock had set ablaze emotions within Mendoza that wouldn’t be quenched easily—not until he’d buried his cock to the hilt inside her cunt and she was begging for more!
“Not in the car,” Bianca said feebly when they had made it outside and Mendoza raised his hand to hail his driver.
Very quickly a dark sedan pulled up to the curb. Inside was the soldier Bianca had seen earlier. The young, neatly-groomed man wasn’t wearing a uniform, but one look at him told Bianca that he was a soldier through and through. He opened the door for his superior officer. Mendoza pushed Bianca into the sedan’s back seat. He followed her into the sedan, immediately reaching for her, groping her voluptuous curves.
“Back to the hotel,” Mendoza growled to the young driver, reverting to his native language. “And be quick about it!”
When he turned his attention to Bianca, he liked what he saw. Her cheeks had turned pink with what he hoped was rising passion. But in the depths of her shimmering green eyes, he thought he saw a trace of fear. That was fine by Mendoza. He rather liked women to be a little frightened of him. That way they wouldn’t do foolish things, like talking back to him, or thinking that they had the right to voice their own opinions. He especially didn’t like it whenever women said “no” to him.
He grabbed Bianca’s wrist and once again brought her hand to his crotch. She didn’t fondle his cock quite so boldly this time, and continued casting frightened glances into the front seat at the young driver.
“Forget about him,” Mendoza said. “He knows enough to keep his mouth shut.”
Bianca leaned closer to Mendoza, though she still was not smiling. She whispered, “I’m not worried about him talking, I’m worried about his watching. Can’t we just wait until we get back to your hotel?”
“What’s wrong? You suddenly getting shy?”
Bianca shook her head and caught her lower lip between even white teeth. She gave the colonel an impish look before turning away. She shook her head as though a thought had just entered her brain which she mustn’t ever be put to words.
“What is it?” Mendoza demanded.
“I can’t tell you.” Bianca voice was small. When she looked at Mendoza again, there was a thoroughly naughty twinkle in her beautiful green eyes. “You might not like the same things I do.”
“Like what?”
“I have a fantasy.” She glanced toward the driver, and then leaned against Mendoza again, this time pressing her breasts against his arm. She put her lips close to his ear. “I’ve had this fantasy, but I’ve never dared to act it out. What I dream about is being tied up in bed and ravished by a strong man. A commanding man. Someone who will take charge and make every decision. ”
“A man like me,” Mendoza said. It was a statement, not a question.
“A man exactly like you.”
Mendoza looked Bianca up and down in the uneven light that came from the Colombian businesses outside the taxi. The grin on his face was a mixture of fascination and marginally-controlled sadism. After several long seconds, he turned away from Bianca and said to his young aide, “Can’t you drive any faster?”
Bianca noticed the sly, knowing smiles on the faces of the young men. They all figured she would be Mendoza’s latest sexual conquest, and she knew that they were right. But the young men were also envious, and hoped that they might be able to slide between her shapely thighs as soon as the colonel tired of her. To that extent, they were completely wrong. Bianca would never share her body with the young, handsome enlisted men. They didn’t have enough clout, enough power, to make it worth her time and effort.
Mendoza opened the door to his hotel suite, and Bianca stepped in. It was a two-room affair, with a bedroom off to the right, and a spacious sitting area to the left. Along the back was the balcony. Bianca walked straight to it, stepping outside.
“You say that the general’s room is right next to yours?”
“Forget about him.” Mendoza stepped up behind Bianca and slipped his arms around her. He cupped her breasts in his hands and squeezed too firmly, causing her discomfort. “Nice big tits!” he growled in English.
Bianca moaned as Mendoza crudely fondled her breasts. She rested her head back against his shoulder and whispered, “You’re sure we won’t be disturbed?”
“Security checks at midnight, three, and six,” Mendoza answered. “They come and go without making a sound. You’ll never know they were here.”
Mendoza’s voice sounded tight, hoarse with the lust racing in his veins. A savage little voice inside his head whispered that he should throw Bianca to the floor, rip off her clothes, and kick her around some before he penetrated her luscious body with his precious prick. She’d probably enjoy being treated that way, he figured. But for now he kept that little voice in check. Perhaps later he’d show the beautiful bitch with the glorious rack just exactly the way a man is supposed to treat a woman.
“Bed-bedroom,” Bianca stammered. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
Once again, Mendoza grabbed Bianca’s wrist and pulled her along behind him as he hurried. Once in the bedroom, he pushed Bianca toward the bed, but she resisted.
“Wait a second,” she said, sounding breathless. “Let me tell you how I want it.”
“You’ll get it the way I give it to you!”
“Please, let me act out my fantasy with you. Please?”
“What is it?”
“I want you to stay here in the bedroom. Get it all set up properly.” Bianca walked to the closet. As she had expected, she found an assortment of neckties, all of them silk. They’d be perfect for what she had in mind. “Use these. I’ll come walking in here, not suspecting a thing. You attack me from behind. I’ll struggle, but you’ll tie me up and ravish me.”
“I get it,” Mendoza said, his eyes glittering demonically. “I see what you’ve got in mind.”
“I want to be tied up, but I don’t want to be hurt. Right? You understand the difference?”
“Sure. I understand.” Mendoza was thoroughly amazed that such a sophisticated woman got her juices flowing with the notion of bondage. He decided this night might well be the most memorable one of his life.
“I’ll give you ten minutes to get ready, and then I’ll walk in.”
“I won’t need that long.”
“I will,” Bianca said. She said it firmly.
She took Mendoza’s hand and placed it on her breast. As his fingers buried into the tender mound, she rolled her head back on her shoulders as though lost in the sea of sensuality that Mendoza’s caresses could create.
“Ten minutes…stay here for ten minutes and be very quiet…then you’ve got to tie me to the bed and ravish me. But you must wait until I walk into the bedroom. That’s the way the fantasy works. Promise?”
“I’ll be everything you’ve ever hoped for.”
Bianca took her purse and stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. For several seconds she stood near the closed door, listening carefully. She heard Mendoza chuckling softly to himself, then heard furniture moving as he pushed aside the bedside table. He was working on ways to tie the neckties to the heavy wooden corner posts of the bed. Bianca smiled. Mendoza was doing everything she had told him to.
She glanced at her watch. It was two-fifty. So far, her timing had been perfect and everything had gone according to plan.
Moving quickly and working efficiently, Bianca went to the sofa, tossed her purse onto it, and then kicked off her high-heeled shoes. She unbuttoned her dress and squirmed out of it, tossing the garment onto the sofa beside her purse. Her brassiere went next onto her dress. Finally, she shimmied out of her bikini panties, then unhooked her garter belt and pulled it down, stripping out of her thigh-high silk stockings at the same time.
Naked from head to toe, Bianca picked up her purse. She pulled out the folded wad of paper money she had inside—it was mostly in Colombian currency, though there was also Australian and Mexican money in with the mix—and set it on the sofa. Also inside the purse were her passport and an Australian driver’s license, two different tubes of lipstick, a small bottle of perfume, and a comb.
Bianca emptied the contents onto the sofa, then reached to the bottom of the purse and found the small leather tab that was neatly hidden. She pulled the tab to open the hidden compartment at the bottom of the purse. Inside were two latex surgical gloves, which Bianca put on quickly, stretching the latex tightly over her hands and fingers to make sure her grip would not be hindered.
Lastly, she pulled the final two items from the secret compartment. There was a small Makarov pistol, chambered for the internationally popular .380 round, and a silencer that was even longer that the pistol. With a deftness that displayed experience in such things, Bianca removed the Russian-made pistol and quickly fitted the silencer onto the finely threaded muzzle of the Makarov.
She placed her cache of money inside the hidden compartment, then closed the trap door before putting the purse beneath all her clothing, as though it was the first thing she had put on the sofa and not the last.
Taking the Makarov with her, she crossed the room to the balcony, her bare feet soundless against the thick carpeting, her heavy breasts swaying tautly with each step. She eased the sliding door open. An evening breeze washed over Bianca when she stepped outside. Her nipples, the color of light milk chocolate, instantly tightened.
The balcony wasn’t large, perhaps only four feet deep and twelve feet wide. Bianca leaned over the balcony railing and forced herself to look down. It was nine stories to the ground. If she fell, she’d have plenty of time to think about the reality that she would soon be dead.
A shiver worked its way up Bianca’s spine. She looked to her right. There was another balcony for the suite next to Mendoza’s. Six feet separated the balconies. Bianca looked at her watch. It was two fifty-three. She was running out of time.
While holding the silenced Makarov in her left hand, she put a foot up on the top of the railing. With a little hop, she jumped onto the railing, balancing there precariously for a second. There was nothing to grasp onto for support, but her fingers clawed into the brick siding of the hotel anyway.
Do it now! the voice of courage, discipline, and duty said inside Bianca’s brain.
She jumped.
Though she was in the air only an instant, to Bianca it had seemed hours. Her bare foot slipped neatly between the artistically-curved iron bars that surrounded the balcony, and with her right hand she caught the top horizontal bar. Several seconds passed as she caught her balance, dangling outside the balcony, kept in place by one hand and one foot. To lose her grip now meant tumbling nine floors to her death.
A moment later, Bianca was over the railing and onto the balcony attached to the rented suite of Gen. Palmero.
Bianca pulled back the Makarov’s slide to ease a .380 round into the chamber. She thumbed off the safety, gave the silencer one last little twist to make sure that it was attached tightly and properly, then eased open the glass door separating the balcony from the suite’s interior.
Naked from head to toe, Bianca stepped into the room. There was a single lamp aglow. It provided enough light for Bianca to enter the strange room and see where she was going. She went straight to the bedroom door, which was open. Looking inside the room, she saw that the bed was messy, but empty.
Bianca’s heart skipped a beat. What if the general had decided to go out for something to eat? The messy blankets indicated that he’d been there since returning to the hotel from the nightclub. A thousand half-formed fears exploded within Bianca’s heart.
It was the sound of the toilet flushing that clued her in. Bianca wheeled around, turning and crouching as she raised the pistol with both hands to shoulder level in a move rehearsed a thousand times in training camp. Completely naked, holding the Makarov in both hands, Bianca waited, hardly breathing.
Gen. Palmero stepped out of the bathroom. He was wearing silk pajamas. His hair was ruffled and he walked heavily.
He looked up, blinking his eyes. At first he looked at Bianca’s big breasts, naked beneath her outstretched arms. Their fullness clearly amazed him. But she held something in her hands, and there wasn’t a smile on her lips.
“You’ve come for me,” Gen. Palmero said with a self-satisfied, somewhat sleepy smile on his lips.
“Just like I promised.”
A few ounces of pressure on the trigger and the Makarov jumped in her hand. The weapon coughed. The noise was enough to be heard in the suite, but not enough to be heard out in the hallway. The hollow-point slug hit the general in the chest. He staggered a single step backward. A hideous reality pushed into his brain. He looked down at the small, seemingly insignificant red circle on his chest.
Bianca quickly fired twice more. Rounds two and three also hit the general in the chest, both hollow-point bullets mushrooming on impact, driving through his heart. Gen. Palmero fell backward, his legs straight, landing heavily.
As Bianca advanced she continued firing, sending more rounds through the prone corpse. She fired six times quickly, aiming for the broad, silk-covered chest. With the seventh and final round in the magazine, when she was standing nearly directly over Palmero, she put a bullet into his forehead and through his brain.
She placed the now-empty Russian-made assassin’s weapon upon the corpse’s bloody chest. There was no need for her to check for a pulse. No man could live with six bullets in his chest, and one bullet going through his brain. Gen. Palmero’s long and bloody life had come to a short and bloody end.
Bianca looked at her wristwatch. It was two fifty-eight. She hurried out to the balcony. Once again, she had to make the leap, and just as before, she had to tamp down the rising fear that pooled up inside her before she could jump. She made the leap, nearly lost her balance when her foot didn’t ease between the iron railing just right, and then was once more back inside Col. Galiano’s suite.
Pulling off her latex gloves, Bianca rushed to the bathroom. She flushed the gloves down the toilet. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her nipples were hard as little pebbles and her heart was racing madly. She unfastened the clasp of her wristwatch, set it on the bathroom counter, and then walked into the bedroom.
Sgt. Stefan Vasquez checked his watch. It was two minutes after three, so he was a little behind schedule in making his rounds. He didn’t much care. Gen. Palmero had returned to the hotel earlier, and would be fast asleep. And Col. Mendoza had returned with a woman, so though Stefan intended to open the door to the colonel’s room, he certainly wasn’t going to venture very far inside it. Besides, everyone agreed that having this much security—multiple bed checks and everything else that went along with it—was taking a good idea too far.
It was paranoia, the young sergeant figured. Nothing less than paranoia. Sure, foreign governments were still angry with Solaria for human rights violations and for the wink-and-nod approach to enforcement of drug laws, but that didn’t mean the British or the Americans, or anyone else for that matter, were going to take active measures in retaliation.
He slipped the plastic key card into the electronic lock, waited for the little green light to glow, and then opened the door to Gen. Palmero’s suite. Sgt. Stefan stepped inside and saw the body on the floor. At first he wasn’t sure what it was. But the closer he got, the clearer he saw what was on the floor…and though his life did not literally flash before his eyes, it seemed to him that it might just as well have.
The murder weapon had been left upon the general’s chest. Stefan recognized the weapon as being Russian-made. Did the Russians have their finger in on this? It was an unsettling thought for the young soldier. All Sgt. Stefan was absolutely certain of, as he looked down at the bloody corpse that earlier in the evening had been a high-ranking war hero to almost every member of the military, and to almost all civilians back home, was that there would be hell to pay.
Stefan was nearly in a daze as he left the room, stepping back into the hallway. He walked only a few yards down the hall and inserted the proper magnetic key card into the slot of Col. Mendoza’s door, waited for the green light, then entered. There was no expression on his face at all, and he seemed to be following his feet rather than guiding them.
He stood at the bedroom doorway. The door was open, and a bedside lamp was lighted. If the young sergeant had been given an enormous shock to the system when he found Gen. Palmero’s corpse on the floor, Stefan was given another powerful shock when he saw the next highest ranking officer assigned to this Colombian mission.
Col. Mendoza was naked and in bed. Stefan Vasquez knew that he wouldn’t be alone, but he didn’t figure he’d find this kind of scene. Beneath Mendoza was a beautiful brunette, her arms and legs outstretched. Colorful neckties were tied around her wrists and ankles, attached to the four corner posts of the bed. Another necktie was around her head, over her eyes so that she could not see. Col. Mendoza was thrashing above her, mauling her big tanned breasts as he speared his hard cock into her.
“Colonel…Colonel…something terrible has happened,” the young sergeant said quietly.
There was murder in Col. Mendoza’s eyes when he suddenly realized that he was no longer alone with Bianca. Had they been back home instead of in Bogata he might likely had drawn his service automatic and killed the young soldier for his temerity.
“Get the hell out of here!” Mendoza spat. “Whatever it is can wait!”
“Colonel, you don’t understand,” Stefan continued. “General Palmero has been murdered.”
It took several seconds for the reality of what the sergeant had just said to sink in. Mendoza climbed off Bianca, his still hard as stone and glistening with the cream from her pussy. Another minute of pumping and he would had released his cum inside her.
Gen. Palmero was dead. Murdered. It was disorienting news to receive while having sex a beautiful woman who liked being tied up with silk neckties and then fucked.
“Do we know who did it?” Mendoza asked, getting off the bed.
“No, sir.”
Col. Mendoza paused a moment, standing naked, his cock still hard and glistening with the slick evidence of Bianca’s excitement. He looked at her in bed, completely naked, arms and legs spread-eagled and those spectacular breasts rising and falling with her breathing, the succulent mounds spread out now because of gravity. She had the most amazing body he’d ever had the pleasure to feel beneath his own—and she was into bondage. What more could a sadist like Col. Mendoza hope for?
“Wait for me in the other room,” the colonel said, his senses returning as his ardor cooled. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
When the young soldier exited, Mendoza went to his closet and withdrew a housecoat. He slipped his arms into the sleeves. Standing at the foot of the bed, he looked at the pink lips of Bianca’s pussy and thought briefly of getting back on top of her. A few more plunges was all it would take for him to come.
“What’s happened?” the bosomy brunette asked. “Please, Mendoza, untie me. Take off my blindfold.”
“Later. Something bad has happened. As soon as I’m sure you’re not behind it, I’ll untie you…maybe.”
“Wait! Don’t leave me like this!”
“Keep quiet. If you raise your voice like that again, I’ll take a belt to you.” The notion of whipping Bianca with his belt was altogether enticing to Col. Mendoza’s twisted sense of eroticism. He liked hurting people, especially women.
Mendoza inspected the crime scene first. It was never a good thing when a soldier’s commanding officer was killed, but there could well be an up-side to this murder. With the general gone, Col. Mendoza was the logical successor in the power vacuum within the military that would be created.
“Don’t touch anything,” Mendoza said, turning away from the bloody corpse. A dozen young men, some dressed in civilian clothes and others still wearing what they’d worn to bed, had gathered. “Ask around. Find out if anyone saw anything.”
Mendoza returned to his own room. In the suite he looked at Bianca’s clothes. Slowly, one article at a time, he lifted her clothes off the sofa and inspected them. When he found her purse, he opened it and casually dumped the contents onto the floor. With a bare toe he pushed the items around, looking for anything that might put a suspicious light on her. Nothing drew his eye.
He turned his attention back to the purse. He quickly discovered a small, leather flap in the bottom of the purse. When he pulled the flap, a trap door in the bottom of the purse opened. Mendoza’s heart accelerated. He had found a secret compartment!
Inside the secret compartment was nothing but cash. It was a smart move to make for a woman traveling alone to hide her money. Col. Mendoza looked at the cash, thought for a moment of stealing it, decided it was worth taking, then closed the trap door and dropped the purse, now empty of all its belongings, back onto the sofa.
The colonel shoved the bills into the pocket of his robe, ignoring the looks from the young soldiers nearby.
He decided there was enough time to get another erection, have his pleasure with Bianca, then throw her out of the hotel. She could find her own way to whatever hotel she was staying at. Feeling the stolen money in his robe pocket, Col. Mendoza decided that Bianca owed him at least that much for the good time he’d given her. After all, hadn’t he made it possible for Bianca to live out her secret, forbidden fantasy?
***
Washington D.C.
Omega Force was born out of necessity. After it had become abundantly clear that allies within the United Nations were taking top secret information and selling the information to America’s enemies, or simply giving it away. Men and women at the highest levels of the American government realized that changes in the standard operating procedures of the intelligence community had to be made. And if an ally acting like an enemy wasn’t bad enough, elected officials from both the House and Senate had also leaked intelligence and top secret information to the news media, knowing that when the news reached the streets it would shine an unflattering light on politicians of the opposing party. Members of the armed forces had lost faith in their elected—and therefore transient—leaders. Career military officers soon understood that personal and ideological advancement in the political arena, for many politicians, was more important than what was right or wrong for the country.
Since politicians get voted into office, and occasionally actually get voted out of office, a surgically-precise fighting unit that remained totally autonomous from the American political realm and was invisible to so-called friends (who were really enemies) of the United States was difficult to create. A small fighting force within the military and yet independent from it had to be created. This became especially true once terrorism became more of a threat to American freedom than standard armies.
General Jefferson Burke and Colonel Zachary Smythe were chosen to head a small fighting unit known unofficially as Omega Force. Their assignment was simple: recruit the best personnel within the Army to act, of a fashion, as snipers behind enemy lines in wartime. Except in the war these soldiers are engaged in was ongoing and without any foreseeable end. It was a war in which there are no uniforms or international boundaries. Instead of a Ghillie suit and hiding in a jungle, Omega Force snipers were more likely to wear a string bikini and be hiding in plain sight on the beaches of Mazatlan. But despite the display of flesh and shapely curves, the end result would be the same: a single, skilled field operative putting a single bullet into an enemy. One shot; one kill.
After the assassination of a drug kingpin who virtually owned a Caribbean island-nation (and the annexation of that kingpin’s personal bank account, which was a bit more than $500 million), Omega Force received its necessary funding. After that, the verbal orders to Gen. Burke and Col. Smythe were simple: Do what was necessary to stop the enemies of the United States. Do it quickly, efficiently, and with as little bloodshed as possible—but do the job. Find the enemies of the United States and neutralize the threat. Don’t bother seeking official approval from the United Nations. Don’t expect countries that are doing business with and making a fortune from a despot to suddenly approve of the removal of that despot from his political position. Get the job done and stay under the radar while doing it.
Gen. Burke and Col. Smythe were also told that should any soldier under their command get caught while acting in an “extra-legal” capacity, the official line from the government would be complete denial. Two renegade Army officers, without sanction from the White House or any political or military leaders, had been taking matters into their own hands. Gen. Burke and Col. Smythe would be thrown to the wolves and devoured by the enemies of the United States.
For Gen. Burke and Col. Smythe, the potential good they could do far outweighed the dangers they faced. They accepted the assignment, created Omega Force, and kept their mouths shut.
With the assassination of Gen. Palmero, Omega Force had destabilized the power structure that held the reins of a largely unskilled and untrained, though well-equipped military which possessed, among other things, two suitcases filled with enough biological warfare chemicals to devastate an urban center the size of New York City.
***
Over the Gulf of Mexico
Captain Bianca Slazenger put her seat back and closed her eyes. It felt good to be in the air again, aboard a Boeing 747 over the Gulf of Mexico, headed back to the United States. Though her military records stated that she had reached the rank of captain in the Army, specializing in procurement auditing, she was more importantly a ranking field agent of an organization unofficially known as Omega Force. She was confident that this last assignment would elevate her standing even more.
The assassination of the mass-murdering war criminal, Gen. Martino Palmero, had gone off exactly as Bianca had planned. When she’d given him sexual gratification in the taxicab, she knew that he would return to his hotel room and go to sleep. With his lust satisfied, there was no longer any reason for him to be crawling from nightclub to nightclub searching for women. And since she had been tied up hand and foot in Col. Mendoza’s bed, she couldn’t possibly be responsible for the general’s murder—or so everyone at the hotel believed.
The world was minus one war criminal, and Bianca felt good about that. She could hardly wait to get back to Washington D.C., where she would be debriefed by Gen. Burke and Col. Smythe. She’d probably get a vacation for this one. Where to? Bianca had always wanted to go to Sydney, Australia. Perhaps now would be a good time to travel there…
***
Washington D.C.
Gen. Burke was looking at the computer monitor. The information he read from the computer screen wasn’t going to make getting a good night’s sleep any time soon an easy accomplishment. Burke’s gaze was locked onto the computer screen as he thought bitterly, I screwed up. I should have checked this out before I assigned the sanction of General Palmero. Palmero was a monster, but as least I knew him and could figure out what his plans were.
Burke was not at all pleased with what he had learned. It seemed that Gen. Palmero’s underlings were driven not so much by political zeal as they were with greed. Any one of a number of senior officers—and there was really no telling who had taken command now that Palmero was dead—would be willing to sell Russian-made chemical weapons to terrorists.
The intelligence officer thought, At least with Palmero, I knew he wanted the power the ZT-550 chemical weapons gave him. With the other men, they want the money.
Gen. Burke realized the greed angle was pure conjecture, but it had to be close enough to verifiable fact to use as a working hypothesis. He was not a military leader who acted rashly, but now he wondered if his personal contempt for the murderous Gen. Palmero had affected his judgment. His next actions and decisions had to correct his previous actions and decision. Did any of the men in line for Palmero’s job have a weakness? And who is the most likely successor to Gen. Palmero? These were the key questions dancing in Burke’s brain.
Col. Mendoza had to be in the running for the job. And Col. Galiano? His fingers had been in a lot of dirty deals in the past, Burke knew. And the man was a man of mystery, though apparently a true-blue fanatic, if field reports were correct. He was different from the other rather loud, charismatic leaders that Palmero surrounded himself with. Col. Galiano’s nickname from his troops was Iceman. He was utterly fearless in battle. He inspired incredible loyalty from his men. Intelligence reports stated that Galiano gave the impression of being devoutly religious and didn’t approve of tobacco or alcohol or women. Burke smiled to himself, thinking that every military commander in the history of warfare has tried to keep his soldiers away from liquor and women.
Alone in his Washington D.C. office, Burke said, “Every man’s got a weakness. So does Colonel Galiano. I’ve just got to find out what it is.”
He tapped keys on his computer. Endless reports scrolled by. He typed in “search” and then refined the search with “weaknesses.”