Disclaimer:
these girls are mine, they may look familiar and act familiar but they are all
mine. Cause we know the world is chock full o’ fine looking chicks like these,
right?
Language: Plenty of it and it’s not all good.
Sex: Of course there is sex, the hot and nasty kind. Depictions of consenting
adults participating in same sex unions and bdsm scenarios, so if you are
vanilla, be warned that this is dark chocolate, both bitter and sweet. If it
ain’t your thang, then do not pass go. Do not collect $200, just hit the road
now!
Violence:
Oh yeah, there is!
CHAPTER
SIX
Droppin'
Plates On Your Ass, Bitch
“Here’s one here…cover
me!”
Monica could hear the voices
around her, but she couldn’t find the strength to move. She opened her eyes,
she was laying on her back, faces were all around her. She tried to speak,
barely a whisper came out.
“What’s that?” asked the
voice of a man.
“Help Torrid…please?” a
weak plea she managed to squeak out, “my –girlfriend is up there, help
her?”
The officer spoke into his
radio:
“There’s someone still up
there—shots fired and some activity going on upstairs. The girl says her
girlfriend is still up there with the assailant. There’s a gun in the room.
Yeah. Copy that.” <CLICK>
The Officer leaned over Monica
as the EMTs put her on a stretcher, he whispered to her, “Try not to
worry—we’ll do all we can.” Monica squeezed his hand.
Upstairs the pounding at the
door became so loud it finally distracted Elektra from her work.
“Godammit! If it’s those
Goddamned Jehovah's witnesses again!” she sniped, then turned to Torrid who
was tied to the chair bleeding and cut up pretty badly.
“Don’t move lover,” she
said, loading her clip and inserting it into her stock, “I’ll only be a
moment!”
“Don’t rush on my
account,” Torrid mocked.
Elektra blew her a kiss, then
crept to the front door and emptied her clip through it, scattering the police
like marbles who were standing on the other side of it. “Who is it?” She
asked in a cartoon granny voice.
“Fuck!” yelled a downed
officer, holding his leg, “Kick it down—get that bitch!”
More cops moved in and busted
the door off it’s hinges, they moved in to find Elektra standing there
reloading.
“Bad—bad, Mama spank!”
she said as she popped her clip in and raised her arm to fire.
“Don’t you fuckin move
bitch!” the officer yelled.
“Oh fuck you—I have two
hostages, pigs!” Elektra countered, “So back the fuck on out of here, or
you’ll be needing more body bags!”
Meanwhile, Torrid worked her
way out of the restraints and limped to the bathroom door. She kicked the chair
out from under the knob and entered to find the room empty, and the window open.
Tears of relief ran down her face, “Monica—I love you!” she whispered to
herself.
She went to the pile of
crumpled up clothes that she had left in the floor when she and Monica got
naked, and found her 9m. Fuck me for not putting it under the pillow, that
bitch’d be worm’s meat by now!
She put a round in the
chamber, she crept to the bedroom door and slowly opened it….
Elektra was taunting the
police, telling them how she was torturing one hostage and the other was
probably bleeding to death on the bathroom floor, but they’d just have to wait
and see, wouldn’t they?
“Hey Elektra,” Torrid said
from behind her. She spun around and before she could raise her arm, Torrid
fired. Two shots to the head.
“I can see right through
you, bitch!” Torrid quipped as Elektra fell to the floor lifeless, her brains
oozing out the baseball sized hole in her face.
Torrid dropped her gun to the
floor, and said, “Yo cops…come help now! Put your fuckin’ donuts down!”
She collapsed.
It was over.
Epilogue:
Put the lime in the coconut
Torrid Duncan dreamed while the gentle ocean breeze brushed
her hair back and forth across her face. She fell asleep in the hammock that
hung from the palm tree outside the beach house. Her feet crusted with white
sand, and her linen trousers and shirt wrinkled comfortably with wear. She was
for the first time in a long time, content.
She relaxed into slumber while losing herself in the beauty
of the island. All her life she had dreamed of coming to the Caribbean, and
now…at long last she was here; on her honeymoon.
A smile crossed her face as she dreamed about her new
bride. Monica Truman. She was so beautiful, so smart, and so naked. Her smile
grew wicked and she chuckled a little in her sleep.
“Oh Torrid, you are thinking naughty thoughts even in
your sleep,” said Monica as she approached to see her wife smiling wickedly in
her sleep. “Maybe I can wake you up, the fun way!”
Monica sat the fruity rum drinks on the table and removed
her cotton sarong. She was wearing a two-piece bathing suit that was made of
lace and very sheer. She was a vision,
She was a painted woman in a lace bikini. Patch-working her
body, here and there were intricate, colorful ink-works, courtesy of Torrid’s
skill. Glistening in the sun were her piercing, accenting the beauty of her face
and form. She loved the way she looked, and smiled thinking back to the time
when she called Torrid her, “exterior decorator”.
She leaned over and gently blew into Torrid’s ear. Torrid
shifted in her sleep and licked her lips.
Monica smiled. She was the one in control now. She lived
for moments like this, when her leather clad Amazon was helpless and all hers.
Yes, you are indeed mine, Torrid. All mine.
She thought to herself as she lowered her lips to press against Torrid’s.
This kiss was soft, inviting and sweet. It held the weight
of butterfly wings and the passion of creation.
Torrid felt it through the fog of dreams, and knew it was
her lover summoning her from repose. She felt her heart swell; it was the
sweetest call home this warrior had ever known. There was only one thing to
do…play opossum!
Monica was more persistent, she wanted her lover and she
wanted her now. She wanted to feel Torrid’s strong arms around her, taking
her.
She reached over for the drink she sat on the table and
stuck her finger into its chilly froth. She then traced her sweet digit over
Torrid’s lips. Torrid instinctively licked her lips, and as they parted,
Monica inserted her finger, and Torrid sucked it in. Torrid opened her
eyes….she smiled as she sucked and teased Monica’s finger….playing with
her tongue ring against her soft skin and painted nail.
Monica began to feel a chill, her body shivered and her
nipples hardened. Torrid had turned it around on her…just like she planned!
“Come here!” said Torrid,
pulling Monica into the hammock with her. She kissed her hard and passionately,
and groped her. “You’re mine…”
Suddenly, she felt searing pain
in her side! She screamed!
“Torrid Can you hear me?
Torrid! It’s me….
Oh please…Torrid…
WAKE UP!
TORRID DUNCAN, WAKE THE FUCK
UP!!”
Torrid jerked up,
awake…”What the fuck?” she said, feeling excruciating pain, unable to
move. She was cold, shivering.
“Where am I?” she asked,
her voice was weak.
“Torrid, Torrid I am right
here…over here!”
Torrid tried to raise her
head, she looked over to see Monica strapped to a stretcher next to her. She
realized they were in an ambulance. “Monica? What happened, are you okay?”
“It’s okay,” said the
EMT, “you’re both going to make it. You lost a lot of blood, we thought
we’d lost you there for a second.”
“Where’s that bitch?”
“Don’t you remember? You
shot her. She’s gone.”
Torrid sighed with relief. The
nightmare really was over. Monica was okay, save a few bumps and bruises, and a
light concussion.
A few days later, Torrid woke
up to find Monica in her hospital room. She had watched over Torrid while she
slept the past few days.
“I’m f-fucking
f-freezing,” Torrid whispered. She looked over at Monica, “Babe it’s too
cold here, let’s go to the Caribbean.”
“Anything you want, honey.
But does this mean you want to see me again?”
Torrid laughed, “Monica, I
never want to be without you. There’s something I realized in all of this—I
think, I mean—I..”
“Yes?” Monica asked,
hopefully
“Fuck, I don’t know what
tomorrow will bring and I don’t
know how to say I love you in any romantic or cool way—but—“
Monica kissed Torrid’s lips
quieting her. She looked into Torrid’s pale blue eyes and squinted as she
smiled.
“Oh baby, you just did.”
THE END