Digressions Into Erotica

smiled softly and waited for him to catch up to her on the landing. She gained a new level of enthusiasm with each flight of stairs, until they finally reached her floor. “Oh, I am so sorry! I never got your name! I can hardly let someone into my home before I even know his name, now can I? My name’s Gail, by the way.”

Resting her back against the door jam, she extended a small hand towards him.

Jason gave the hand a limp pump. “I’m Derrick. Nice to meet you, Gail.” He shuddered inside as his palm slipped against hers. She already felt like a corpse-greasy, sagging skin, no muscle tone, and cool to the touch. He resisted the urge to rub his hand on his shirt.

Gail beamed at him and turned toward the door. “Pardon the mess, Derrick. I wasn’t expecting company, of course.” The door opened immediately into a tired, mud-toned living room, all long and narrow. Thirty-year-old furniture in various stages of collapse lined the walls. Jason watched Gail shove a pile of semi-folded laundry to the side of the couch. “Have a seat, I’ll go grab the phone from the kitchen. You want me to get you something to drink while I’m in there?”

Jason scanned the room, his gaze landing on the window. He stepped to it and peered out at the rapidly dwindling chaos below. This’ll do nicely.

He heard Gail fumbling in the sink and imagined her hastily washing a couple of

‘decent’ glasses, even though he’d never answered her question. He pulled the pistol from its nesting place and padded towards the kitchen.

***

Pen propped the detail list on the steering wheel and figured out what time she’d arrive, where he would be, and where she should wait. Each location on the itinerary sparked a flashback. When they’d met, when they’d fought, and when that rage had transitioned into passion… She shook her head and smiled in spite of the situation.

The drive only took a couple of hours, and she was a little amazed that he’d been so near, for however long he’d been there. She pulled into his apartment complex, found a nice, quiet spot, and double-checked her notes and supplies. After a quick scan of the parking lot, she slipped out and walked towards the back of the building. She took the stairs and let herself into a dim hallway.

Four doors down on the left waited an empty apartment. Four doors down on the right sat the target’s place. Pen listened for a minute, then let herself into the empty residence.

She stashed her tools back in her bag and took a quick look around. The bathroom was a hollow shell with a hole in the floor. Great! She checked her watch-no time to make a run. Luckily, she’d made a pit stop in town, because hide-and-seek always made her feel like she had to pee.

She settled in to wait, sitting and leaning against the wall, and pulled out the contents of the envelope. She hadn’t given the photos any more than a cursory glance, so she took a minute to study them in detail now. Not much had changed in three years. He looked a little closer to dead, but that was about it.

She ignored the pang, but couldn’t stop the memories from flooding back. Resigned to getting them over with, she tipped her head back against the crinkled wallpaper and closed her eyes.

There he was-all smoldering eyes and slack-jawed concentration, the electricity between them so thick that she could easily picture his sighs coming out in rushes of colored vapor. He’d always known just where to touch her, just which buttons to push.

They’d been in it together, the two of them, completely open, no false names or histories. No one else had ever given her that.

Glancing at her watch, Pen idly traced the fingers of her other hand across the inseam of her cargo pants. The hard knob of material, where all four seams met, was positioned just so, and she rocked against her hand, pushing against the shape.

“No time for weakness, Pen!” she admonished herself.

She sprang to her feet and began pacing the cramped entryway, checking the parking lot on each pass of the window. Get it together, Pen. It’s a job. Just a job. After several rotations, wiping her sweaty palms on the seat of her pants, she glanced again and saw his vehicle pulling up to its assigned spot.

Pen scrambled to her bag and withdrew her weapons, hastily fastening and stashing them into the pouches and pockets of her clothing. Gotta be ready. One quick shot. She screwed the silencer onto the muzzle and slid a round into the chamber.

She rested her gloved fingertips lightly against the doorknob and peered through the peephole. Within seconds, she heard footsteps on the carpeted stairs to her right.

***

One shot to the temple, slightly angled to the back, was all it had taken to leave the shrew in a heap on the kitchen floor. Jason returned to the window and watched the activity below for a while. Matching cops to vehicles assured him that he had accounted for almost everyone on the scene. There was a small gathering of blue off to the side of the hook and ladder. They’d be canvassing soon, he imagined.

Jason grabbed Gail’s keys off the small table next to the door, let her cat out, and exited through the rear of the complex. He weaved through a few alleys, and meandered down a sidewalk or two until he came to his car. As he pulled away, his first genuine-if sardonic-smile curled his mouth.

That was slick. Bonus points awarded for securing a safe spot in which to watch the bar over the next couple of days, and see if the target showed up to assess the damage in person. All bets said he would-Hector kept a tight reign on his business holdings. But Jason knew Hector better than any of the morons who paid his bills. Hector was no fool.

He’d be there, just not quite yet.

Swinging his car up behind an old warehouse, he checked his mirrors one last time, then stepped out and stuffed his hand behind the puckered metal sign to the left of the loading dock. It took a bit of finger wiggling, but he soon had his package in hand. He briefly flipped the flap to check the contents, returned to his car and headed home.

As the streetlights slid across his windshield, he couldn’t help feeling smug. This would put him in a new tax bracket. And well deserved, he figured. He’d paid his dues and worked for every penny he’d earned. In the ten years he’d been an independent contractor, he’d graduated from Molotov cocktails to pipe bombs, to the very latest in plastique. Better toys were more expensive, especially when you only used them once, but the pay scale evened it out.

He’d spent a couple thousand in his head by the time he turned into his complex.

That would be the first thing to change. Time for new digs. Maybe he’d go further west, as in ‘all the way west’.

He pulled in, yanked his keys and jumped out of the car. The calculations put a spring in his step: how much money to throw into his retirement account, how much he could spare to start fresh in another scene. Well, not completely fresh-he’d need his contacts and references, of course.

He made what was, hopefully, one of his last trips up the stained, carpeted stairs.

and jangled his keys into position in the lock. He heard a click from inside, just seconds before the latch of his door disengaged.

He threw his door open, spun inside and back against the wall. What the fuck wasthat? He reached out to swing his door shut, and caught a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision. He threw his hand in that direction and felt the heavy contact of his fist against metal. A gun clattered to the floor and spun across the hall. He turned to face his would-be attacker.

“You’re shittin’ me!” He drew a slow breath, forced his body to relax and exhaled. He raised himself to the balls of his feet, resting his weight lightly.

“Hey, Pen.” He backed into the room, drawing her inside with the challenge in his gaze.

A knife, balanced loosely in her right hand. “Jay.” They eyed each other warily.

“Well, ain’t this special. It’s been a while, huh? Did you find me to satisfy your own curiosity, or is this a business call?”

“All we know is business, Jason.”