From literata@cyberramp.net Mon Mar 17 13:16:53 1997
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From: Mad Dog Literata <literata@cyberramp.net>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Subject: FW: STORY:  KillJoy (FF, Violence, Extreme)
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Date: 17 Mar 1997 18:16:53 GMT
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   PROLOGUE:

   In the summer of 1978, the Central Intelligence Agency worked 
in conjunction with the U.S. Army's Advanced BioChem Warfare Unit
at Fort Detrick to develop a highly specialized drug, which it
code named 'Alpha Blade.'  

   The first -- and only -- test on human subjects occurred in
April, 1979.  Microdosages of Alpha Blade were administered to 
eight US Army Medical Corps nursing students.  

   Within three hours, all eight subjects were dead.  A partial
transcript of the after-incident report reads as follows:

   "Subject 1 found dead from self-asphyxiation...

   "Subject 2 [had] apparently crashed her head into a plate
glass window, with the deliberate intention of severing her 
carotid artery...[her] hands were found inserted into her own
vagina and anus...

   "Subject 9 found hanging in her room...extreme sexual 
excitement detected during autopsy...

   "Subjects 4 and 11 found in bed; each subject's hands were 
stuffed into the other's throat, and into the other's vagina..."

   The medical staff at Fort Detrick developed a serum that it 
hoped would counteract the effects of Alpha Blade.  Its code name
was "KillJoy," and was tested on only one human subject.  This 
subject, another nursing student, was subsequently committed to 
the ultra-high-security detention center at Fort Detrick after 
committing seven murders.  She resides there today, in solitary
isolation and under a 24-hour armed guard.  All psychological
tests on her show no abnormalities; there is, in fact, nothing 
wrong with her except an uncontrollable impulse to kill. Unlike 
the code name for "Alpha Blade," "KillJoy" turned out to be 
especially prophetic.

   In July, 1995, a survey of the Military Toxic Control Unit at
Fort Detrick determined that three vials each of Alpha Blade and
KillJoy were missing...

----------
   
   Elizabeth Eileen Ross paused in the broad entryway of her 
apartment, a rubber band in her mouth, her arms raised to the back 
of her head where she was gathering her blonde hair in a ponytail. 
She was wearing a shimmering blue lycra bodysuit beneath a silver 
jumper with dancer's knee warmers and Nike tennis shoes. When she 
had her hair pulled tight, clasped in one small, lavender-nailed 
hand, she took the rubber band from her mouth and wound it several 
times around the shank of hair. As she did this, pulling at the 
loose hair of the ponytail to tighten the band, she listened to 
the television in the living room where two of her roommates, 
Patricia and Jennifer, were eating spanokopita and souvlaki.

   Elizabeth Ross was a vivacious, charming woman. At 27, she was 
the youngest securities broker in the company (Lewis Taggart and 
Associates), and one of the best. She was, in her employer's 
opinion, a rising star.

   Elizabeth stood a little over 5'3" and at 120 pounds, felt that 
she was a tad plump -- not that any of the men in her office would 
have agreed, not with her hourglass figure and pert, rounded 
breasts. She was rosy-cheeked, fresh, plump and tempting -- a 
vividly beautiful woman. She wore her blonde hair in a modern 
page-boy style. Everyone who knew her was struck by her kindness, 
intelligence and femininity.

   On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Elizabeth taught a computer class 
for adult students at the local high school.  On Mondays, she 
tried to make time to tutor her young niece in algebra. Thursdays 
were reserved for catching up on work and reading for pleasure. 
The weekends, however, were something else...

   Grabbing her monogrammed athletic bag from the closet near the 
front door, she noticed Virginia's umbrella hanging against the 
closet wall. Virginia refused to take it with her.  It just 
cluttered up the car, she argued, always getting in her way. 
Besides, she simply never needed it.  She parked in a covered 
garage and walked to her office through the tunnels. She would 
remind Virginia of the times she had been drenched --  it had 
happened three times in the last three months -- but she would 
shrug off her cautionary examples as 'unusual.' Virginia did not 
entertain the unusual. At this, Elizabeth smiled, then left the 
apartment.

   A fresh spring rain had moved through the city only half an 
hour earlier, making the woods fragrant and washing the city clean 
in the dusk. Elizabeth inhaled deeply of the damp evening smells 
as she tossed her bag into her dark blue Land Rover and climbed 
behind the steering wheel, flipping on the headlights.  It was 
just now getting dark enough to use them. She started the rover, 
fastened her seat belt, wheeled it around the island of magnolias 
in front of the condominium, and drove quickly along the drive 
bordered by a white fence covered with brambles of pyracantha. 
When she reached the street, she waited for a car to pass as she 
checked her watch. It was seven-forty. Her aerobics class began at 
eight o'clock.

   Hurrying along the winding street she came to the major north- 
south artery of Voss and turned left. Within a mile or so she 
would come to Woodway where she would need to turn left again to 
go to Sabrina's, an athletic club that catered to the already 
sleek bodies of the woman of the Villages. But Elizabeth Ross did 
not turn left at Woodway.  Instead she breezed past the 
intersection and turned left at the next street, San Felipe, and 
pushed the Land Rover east through the high-dollar neighborhoods 
of Briargrove and Post Oak Estates and Tanglewood until she made 
her first right turn onto the fashionably post Post Oak Boulevard. 
Now known as Uptown Houston, the Galleria area was the largest 
suburban business district in the nation.  Its newest pearl was 
the Pavilion, Saks Fifth Avenue, a multimillion-dollar complex of 
elegant shops separated from the boulevard by a phalanx of sixty- 
foot palms that glistened in the light mist that was now moving in 
on heavy air from the coast fifty miles to the southeast.

   With the lights of  the office  towers and  high-rise 
condominiums reflecting back at her from the wet, black boulevard, 
Elizabeth Ross whipped the Land Rover into a medium turn lane and 
quickly cut across traffic to the Doubletree Hotel, a flat-faced 
structure with an inset glass curtain wall in its center section 
that fell to two overlapping half-barrel arches that were also 
made of glass and formed the hotel's porte-cochere.  She did not 
stop for the uniformed doorman who stepped to the curb to open her 
door, but contrinued past him and drove around to the parking 
garage gate. She took a ticket from the buzzing dispenser, which 
opened the gate, and entered the garage, driving up to the third 
level before finding an available parking space. She snatched her 
bag out of the Land Rover, locked it, and walked to the elevator 
which took her back down to the lobby.

   At the registration desk she presented a counterfeit driver's 
license and told the concierge she wanted to pay in cash. The 
license was a document that had cost her a significant amount of 
money as well as considerable trouble. Those among them who were 
in sensitive positions -- married, in important positions -- had 
to worry about those kinds of things; their wire was stretched 
tighter, their balancing act a little more delicate than the 
others. But it had been worth it. It had served her well for over 
two years now. She asked for a room facing the boulevard on the 
highest floor available. After signing the registration forms and 
paying, she declined the help of a bellboy and walked straight 
across the cavernous lobby to the elevator, her high-cut bodysuit 
and stylish figure turning heads, female as well as male. 
Elizabeth Ross was a beautiful woman.

   She found her room on the eighth floor not far from the 
elevator and slipped the rectangular magnetic card into the slot 
above the handle, heard it click, and shoved it open. She did not 
turn on the lights, but tossed her bag and the card on the bed and 
walked straight to the curtains and opened them. A little to her 
left a sweep of buildings rose up above her, their lights 
glittering in the mists like a rainy sky of winking eyes peering 
at her in the opened window, their vantage points the envy of even 
the most demanding voyeur savant. And across the shiny boulevard 
the palm trees of the Pavilion stood dripping in a surreal desert 
of green sand.

   Elizabeth Ross walked to the telephone and placed a call. She 
spoke only a few words and hung up, then walked back to the 
window. Standing in front of it, she reached up and began taking 
the rubber band from her ponytail.  But her hands were shaking, 
the rubber band was to tight.  It snapped, startling her.  She 
raked her fingers through her hair, tossed the rubber band aside, 
and shook out her hair. She took a deep breath. The room was new 
and clean.

   From this moment on it would be different from all the times 
before. Until now she had been learning. It had been a long 
apprenticeship, hampered by her own anxieties and psychological 
impediments. She might never have come to this point at all if she 
had not had help, if she had not been coached and coaxed and 
brought along with patience and understanding.  She had reached 
that stage where she would have to give herself up completely or 
never know what it might have been like to understand something 
few people would ever know. It was that simple. It had been 
explained to her, but she had known anyway, instinctively. The 
body was the gateway to the mind. She almost had done it before, 
almost had crossed the threshold, risking her identity until she 
had grown intoxicated on nothing more than the other's breath, 
that feather of one's essence that no one could ever alter or 
destroy.

   Her hands were trembling even more now as they slid up her 
body, caressing her thighs, stomach and breasts. Her skin felt 
tingly, pulsing beneath the sheer blue fabric, alive with millions 
of tiny sensitive fingers, and she began to grow intensely, 
powerfully aroused. Standing in front of the plate-glass window, 
she let them look at her, let them glitter and wink at her. It was 
electrifying to have finally made the decision to acquiesce, and 
for a full week she had been distracted with anticipation. The 
curtain was about to rise on her repression.

   Her pulse began to race as she placed her bag on the bed and 
opened it. She took out a pack of Virginia Slims 100's cigarettes 
and a gold Dunhill lighter. She lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply, 
her breasts rising, then expelled a thin stream of blue smoke 
toward the ceiling.

   She set the lit cigarette in a large crystal ashtray and 
reached into the bag, beneath the athletic gear, and took out a 
flat black leather box.  She undid the snaps on the cover and 
raised it. Inside, sitting in a cushion of dark blue velvet, was a 
Glock 9-mm pistol. She pried it out of its cushion, feeling its 
weight. Elizabeth wrapped her slim fingers around the grip and 
lifted it. The weapon was lighter than she had remembered, but the 
odor was the same, that faint petroleum smell. The gun was a 
polished, dark blue that reflected the light. Elizabeth removed a 
loaded clip from the box and deftly ran it into the stock.  The 
gun was now almost at its familiar weight -- she was surprised to 
find that she would be sensitive to that!  There was just one 
final item.

   The silencer sat in its own recess in the box, a long, narrow 
black tube.  It had been procured at considerable risk by her 
mentor, from sources unnamed.  Elizabeth suspected it had been 
bought in Europe, so careful was her mentor in such matters. She 
picked it up and screwed it onto the barrel of the Glock.  There, 
she thought, it was now exactly as it had felt before. Her thumb 
pushed the safety off, and with her left hand she pulled back on 
the cocking arm and released it.  There was a tiny click as a 
bullet slid into the chamber, and with it she felt a silent 
blossom of warmth between her legs, felt it rising slowly to her 
soft breasts, to her supple arms and flushed face...

   She picked up her cigarette and took a long, luxurious drag. 
Now there was just the wait. It would not be long. She slid the 
weapon beneath the seat cushion and sat silently, smoking.

   As the sun set behind the Houston skyline, the room grew 
darker, and Elizabeth could make out some kind of movement on the 
outside of the door. Her heart racing with anticipation, she rose 
and went to the door. Kneeling, she slid the magnetic card beneath 
it, then returned coolly to her seat.

   The door opened. A figure entered, closing the door silently 
behind it, standing in the shadow. There were no words spoken.

   Elizabeth curled her legs beneath her, conscious at all times 
of the gun on which she sat, and beckoned to the figure. It moved 
forward, out of the shadow, and Elizabeth sighed involuntarily. It 
was a young woman --  tall, brunette and breathtakingly beautiful.  
She had on a long burgundy raincoat, and as she stepped forward, 
her hands deftly undid the belt and let it fall to the floor. 
Elizabeth gasped audibly. It was just as she had requested: The 
girl wore a shimmering white lycra playsuit, cut high above the 
thighs and daringly decollete. Her skin was supple and smooth, and 
Elizabeth could easily make out the girl's bush of pubic hair and 
erect nipples. Her only other accoutrements were a pair of shiny 
black stiletto pumps and a set of opal stones that dangled from 
her earrings.  Elizabeth was  immediately and profoundly aroused.  
The girl must have noticed; she  gave Elizabeth an enigmatic 
smile, her eyes gazing deeply  into Elizabeth's.

   Elizabeth picked up the pack of Virginia Slims 100s and took 
out a cigarette, and the amazonian girl came to her, almost 
gliding, and knelt down in front of her in an obeisant manner. She 
took the lighter from the table and, holding it with both hands, 
ignited it. Elizabeth held the cigarette to her lips as the girl 
lit it for her, their eyes still locked.  Elizabeth became aware 
that her own nipples had grown granite-hard and were clearly 
outlined in her outfit.

   The girl took the cigarette from Elizabeth, and took a long 
drag on it, then set it down in the ashtray.  She expelled the 
smoke from her nostrils and brought her hands up to Elizabeth's 
breasts, cupping them from below. Her thumbs drew lazy circles 
around the aureoles, and when Elizabeth's lips parted to a large, 
inviting O, she brought her mouth down on Elizabeth's, and they 
kissed. Elizabeth's body responded hungrily; she slid her fingers 
into the other woman's hair and pulled her closer, savoring the 
taste, the smell, the touch of her lover.  Their tongues met, 
parrying and thrusting, and as the other girl rose their bodies 
merged, their breasts squeezing together tightly.  Elizabeth felt 
faint from the heat.

   The girl, Elizabeth noted, was following her orders to the last 
detail. She knew what the next action was to be -- the girl was to 
stand and disrobe by the door -- but she held the embrace, feeling 
a slight twinge of regret and at the same time an anticipatory, 
hypersexual pulse shuddering through her body.

   The girl felt it too; she pulled away tenderly, still wearing 
the same mysterious smile, her eyes wide and unblinking. She put 
her hands on Elizabeth's thighs and rose, then backed off several 
feet.

   With Elizabeth looking on, she slid her hands along her legs, 
up her slender waist, along the supple curve of her breasts. She 
clearly enjoyed the attention she was receiving from her mistress, 
and Elizabeth wondered idly where her mentor had been able to find 
such a willing, pliable woman. Elizabeth realized that her left 
hand had slipped between her legs, and was rubbing the taut 
material above her clitoris in ever harder movements.  She looked 
up at the woman and smiled, almost as if in embarrassment, but did 
not stop; being watched would be half the fun. The woman stood 
motionless, watching her effect on Elizabeth, watching as her 
client slipped her right hand beneath the seat cushion and brought 
out a gun.

   The woman's eyes grew wide, and before she could register what 
was happening, Elizabeth lifted it up with one hand, lining the 
sight with her left eye, and squeezed the trigger.  There was a 
slight, subsonic pffft! that cut through the silence, and the 
woman slammed up against the wall. Her arms flailed out and her 
knees buckled momentarily. She looked down dumbly at the small 
hole in her right breast, at the rapidly growing red stain over 
her white playsuit, then back up at Elizabeth.

   Elizabeth returned the gaze coolly; her eyes, looking along the 
barrel of the gun, took in the scene --  the beautiful girl, her 
fingers clawing uselessly against the wall, the noiseless pulsing 
of blood that ran down her chest.  For a moment, both women were 
motionless, one in pain, the other in strange ecstasy. Then the 
moment was gone, Elizabeth had returned from her distant reverie, 
and she became aware of her own deep, sensual breathing.

   The girl still held Elizabeth with her eyes. "Please, no..." 
she moaned.

   Elizabeth took aim and fired again. The second bullet struck 
the woman in the forehead. The bullet tore through her brain and 
blew out a large piece of her skull, along with blood, grey matter 
and hair. She died instantly. The force of the impact threw her 
head backwards against the wall; she jerked once, then slid down 
to the floor, her legs splayed out in front of her, her lifeless 
eyes staring up at Elizabeth, and a small line of blood trickling 
from the left corner of her parted lips.

   Elizabeth Eileen Ross felt the familiar thrill build up within 
her, only much greater this time, and she shuddered visibly as a 
massive orgasm wracked her body, lasting over five minutes and 
leaving her feeling wasted.

   She lowered the weapon slowly, cursing herself for her own 
haste. It was supposed to have lasted much longer! That, of 
course, had been her own fault; her mentor had warned her of it, 
had told her that the first time was always the most difficult.

   She gathered her things quickly, then left the room, glancing 
back one final time at the girl who she had killed, the girl who 
stared unseeing toward the ceiling, a surprised expression still 
on her lips.

----------

   Ann Fitzpatrick stood jauntily in the entrance to the 
crowded nightclub, her right hand on her hip --  a tall, 
stunningly attractive woman. She wore a black, daringly decollete
velvet evening dress with a high fan collar that accentuated her 
ample cleavage and slim, hour-glass figure. Her full lips matched 
the color of her long, curved red fingernails, and she had on 
black silk stockings and gold-tipped high-heeled stiletto opera 
pumps. For jewelry, Ann wore a set of gold hoop earrings and a 
pearl choker. Ann looked at her image in the foyer mirror and 
smiled confidently. She was dressed to kill, and she knew it.

   After waiting a few minutes, Ann saw an empty seat at the main 
bar and took it. The bartender, a young curly-haired girl, saw her 
and came up. "What can I get you, miss?"

   Ann thought for a moment. "I'd like a martini."

   After she ordered, Ann took out a pack of Max 120's from her 
purse and pulled out a long white cigarette.

   The bartender brought her drink over, set it down, and held up 
a lighter with two petite hands. "Here, I'll get that."

   Ann held the cigarette to her lips as the other woman lit it 
for her. Ann inhaled deeply, her breasts rising. She expelled a 
thin stream of blue smoke toward the ceiling and smiled at the 
girl. "Thank you," she said, crooking her elbow and holding the 
cigarette in the air.

   The bartender smiled back. "You're welcome."

   Ann crossed her legs, sipped her drink and took a long, 
luxurious drag on her cigarette. Her left hand slipped subtly 
beneath the folds of her dress, and her fingers felt along her 
thigh. Halfway up, connected to a thick elastic strap, was a 
clamshell case containing four grams of Peruvian flake cocaine and 
various accoutrements. Satisfied that it was secure, Ann removed 
her hand and took out a photograph from her purse. It was a shot 
of two women, a blonde and a brunette.  The brunette was her 
employer; it was the blonde that Ann sought tonight, a sloe-eyed, 
large-breasted girl named Patricia Ortiz.

   Ann took another drag on her cigarette and scanned the mirror 
in front of her, looking at the crowd. Almost all of the people 
were women, which wasn't surprising for a lesbian nightclub. There 
were several gorgeous women out on the dance floor.  As Ann 
watched, she felt a familiar warmth swelling up within her.  As 
she strained over to get a better look, she noticed a young girl 
sitting at the opposite end of the bar, wearing a tight blue 
leotard top and white faille wraparound skirt. It was Patricia.

   She had already decided her strategy. She finished her drink 
and cigarette, and the bartender, who kept giving Ann discrete 
glances, came over immediately. "Can I get you another one?" she 
asked.

   "Yes, please," Ann said, "and do me a favor."

   The bartender smiled. "I'd love to."

   "Do you see that woman over there?", Ann pointed to Patricia.

   "Give her another drink with my compliments."

   The girl nodded. "You mean Trish? Sure."

   Ann took out another cigarette, along with a long ebony 
cigarette holder. She carefully inserted the cigarette into the 
holder and lit it. "Tell her it's from me."

   Ann put the photograph back in her purse and watched as the 
bartender took a scotch on the rocks over to Patricia and set it 
down in front of her, discreetly pointing over to Ann.  Patricia 
looked over, smiling. Ann returned the smile and took a long, 
luxurious drag on her cigarette holder. She was beginning to get a 
kick out of this, and her heart began to race when Patricia stood 
up, drink in hand, and sidle through the crowd.

   She arrived finally, smiling brightly, her eyes looking Ann 
over at close distance. "Thanks for the drink," she said.  "Mind 
if I join you?"

   "That," Ann replied, "was my intention.  My name's Ann. What's 
yours?"

   "Patricia, but everyone calls me Trish...say, why don't we grab 
a table?"

   Ann rose.  She stood several inches taller than the other girl. 
She held out a lavender-nailed hand. "Lead the way."

   Trish smiled again, took Ann's hand, and maneuvered her through 
the crowd to a table on the dais, overlooking the dance floor.

   They sat down and placed their drinks on the table.  Trish 
looked up at Ann, her eyes still sparkling.  "You've never been 
here before." It was said as a statement, not a question.

   "How are you so sure?" Ann asked, taking a long drag on her 
cigarette holder.

   "I would have remembered seeing you," Trish replied. "God, I 
love your cigarette holder. Where did you get it?"

   "My mother gave it to me," Ann said. "She thinks I look very 
...vampish with it."

   "Very sexy," Trish purred.  "Your mother has interesting 
tastes. What brand of cigarette do you smoke?"

   "Max 120s. Would you like one?"

   "I'd love one."

   Ann gave her a cigarette, and as Trish held it to her soft red 
lips, Ann lit it for her with her lighter.  Trish inhaled deeply, 
her breasts rising, and expelled a thin stream of blue smoke 
toward the ceiling. "I like these," she told Ann.

   "Me too. A long white cigarette in a black holder is a turn on 
for me."

   "Well," Trish said, letting her hand slip beneath the table, 
"it's doing wonders for me too."  Her hand found Ann's thigh, 
rested on it slightly with gossamer pressure. Ann smiled to 
herself; this was going to be almost too easy. She covered Trish's 
hand with her own, felt the warmth of it.

   She looked up at Trish, her eyebrows arched.  "Are you this 
forward with everyone?"

   "Only with mysterious, beautiful women." She paused. "Would you 
care to dance?"

   Ann guided Trish's hand along her inner thigh, felt the other 
woman tingle with excitement. "Not particularly."

   Trish stroked Ann's thighs, her long-nailed fingers pulling 
playfully at the silk hosiery. "Well," she said, "we'd better do 
something, Ann. I think I'm about to wet myself." She said this in 
a soft, throaty purr. Then her fingers reached the edge of the 
clamshell case. "Oh, what's this?"

   Ann's eyes met Trish's. "About four grams of pure cocaine. Why 
don't we go to your place and have some?"

   Trish's eyes sparkled. "I'm yours, darling!"

   The two women left the bar, hand in hand.

   Trish lived in an uptown penthouse with her own private pool. 
Ann guessed that Trish was looked after very well.

   Trish had suggested a midnight dip, had selected a jet-black 
one-piece swimsuit for Ann and a white bikini for herself.

   Ann was already in the pool, hanging lazily on the side when 
Trish arrived, carrying a large mirrored tray. She set it down 
beside Ann, then wordlessly slid into the warm water. Her long 
blonde hair fell across her shoulders, and even though the only 
light came from a full moon, Ann noticed that Trish's nipples were 
fully erect, like miniature penises, clearly outlined in the thin 
material of her bikini. At the sight of them, Ann could feel her 
own nipples grow granite-hard. This is going to be wonderful, she 
thought to herself.

   Trish handed Ann a cigarette and lit it for her. Ann took a 
long drag, then passed it back to Trish, who did the same.  She 
blew a cloud of smoke into the air, then set it down in an onyx 
ashtray on the poolside and turned her attention to Ann.

   "God," Trish purred, "you are so gorgeous!" She slid her hand 
beneath Ann's waist, pulled close, and opened her lips to a wide 
O. Ann's mouth covered hers, and they kissed, delicately at first, 
then with increasing passion, Trish's legs wrapping around Ann's 
torso. Their breasts met, squeezed together, and Trish let out an 
involuntary moan.

   My God, Ann thought to herself, this woman is a bull! She found 
herself responding with equal force, and for a long moment, 
nothing else existed except the woman in her arms.

   She finally pushed Trish away, a sensual smile on her lips. 
"There's time for that later," she told Trish, turning to the pool 
side. "I want you to try some of this." She carefully laid out 
several lines of powder on the the mirrored tray and handed Trish 
a small gold straw. "Here."

   Trish eagerly took the straw and held it to her nose as she 
slowly inhaled a line of coke. She closed her eyes, let her head 
fall back, and murmured sweetly, "Oh God, yes!"

   Ann smiled as she took the straw from Trish's shaky hand. She 
floated Trish to the side, then took a line of powder and laid it 
within the other woman's deep cleavage. As she buried her nose 
between Trish's breasts, she snorted the powder as Trish's hands 
dug into her hair, pulling her closer.

   Ann rose up.  "God, that's great."  She looked up into Trish's 
eyes.

   "Fuck me, Ann," Trish said.

   They each tenderly removed the swimsuit from the other, until 
they both stood in the water, totally nude.  Trish froze.  Ann's 
fingers had softly, gently covered hers, bringing them upward, 
over the other woman's fluttering belly, higher past her ribs, to 
the heated undersides of her heavy breasts.

   Trish lay back, her eyes closed, breathing deeply, the swelling 
tops of her breasts just visible above the slight suds of the 
water's surface.

   For the first time Ann felt Trish's nipples. They were hard and 
soft at the same time, slightly rubbery and long, reminding her of 
a man's erect penis.  Involuntarily, she stroked at the breasts, 
up from their wide base, out to the ends of the cones where she 
pulled at the nipples with harder and harder tugs, using only 
thumb and forefingers, milking them.

   Trish opened her eyes to see Ann staring at her from out of her 
huge slightly almond eyes, their brown as soft as doeskin. "Help 
me, Ann," she whispered. Her mind was whirling.

   "Yes." Ann's wide sensual mouth curved in a tender smile. "My 
sweet Trish. I know what you want." She leaned forward, her lips 
opening like a flower against Trish's neck.

   With eyes stoned with lust, she watched Ann's hands slide up 
her rib cage toward the lower slopes of her breasts.  Light 
filtered over the pool in cool, pale bars.

   Trish gasped as she felt Ann's warm hands lifting her breasts 
up and away, cradling them. Then the fingertips began to move, 
around and around the sensitive flesh, circling closer and closer 
to Trish's areolas. Sparks of pleasure rippled through her chest, 
pooled up between her thighs. Her legs began to tremble and rise 
up but Ann calmly flattened them back down.  She had trouble 
breathing.

   At last the fingertips reached the areolas, caressing them with 
a feathery touch. Trish groaned. Her nipples were so stiff they 
seemed painful. She felt Ann's lips against the shell of her ear. 
"Does it feel good?"

   She nodded drunkenly.

   "Then tell me, darling. Tell me."

   Ann's head dipped into shadow, her opened lips swooping down to 
envelop Trish's nipples. Trish cried out and her thighs opened 
involuntarily. She arched her pelvis upward. "Oh, God."

   "Tell me. Tell me." Those lips pulling, sucking, twisting the 
nipples.

   "It feels -- ohhh! -- like heaven."

   "Yes...yes!" It was an animal's cry.

   Trish moved her hands down, frantically trying to rub herself, 
but Ann's fingers encircled her wrists. "No, darling. Let me do 
that."  And she lifted up and Trish saw the hanging weight of her 
dusky breasts above her, lifted them into her hands. The feel of 
them, hot and hanging full, was like no other she could imagine. 
Her thumbs probed at the hard nipples until Ann groaned and moved 
downward.

   Immediately, Trish's mons was enveloped in wet heat.  She felt 
Ann's palms against her buttocks, the fingertips in the crack, one 
long nail probing...

   At that instant, Ann's tongue stabbed out, directly into 
Trish's core. Trish arched up. It sounded as if there were an 
engine in the pool, working at peak capacity. Her fingers locked 
in Ann's hair, pulling the face hard into her as she bucked up 
uncontrollably, crying out until she was hoarse.

   After a time, her eyes opened and she pulled Ann's lush body 
over hers.

   "Tell me," she whispered hoarsely, "what to do."

   Ann reached up behind her and, not seen by Trish, picked up her 
bikini top. She slid her arms around Trish's neck and kissed her 
hard on the mouth, her body pressing down on Trish's. Trish 
responded in kind, totally possessed and never once aware that Ann 
was deftly wrapping the top around her neck.  Her fingers found 
Ann's stiff nipples and pinched them, causing Ann to gasp with joy 
and bear down even harder. "Oh, yes," she purred, "harder!"

   Trish obeyed her, nearly faint from the kiss, the heat from 
Ann, the warm water...

   Suddenly Ann pulled the ends of the bikini top as tight as she 
could and drove Trish down into the water, swinging her body so 
that she was now in the deeper part of the pool, unable to stand 
above the surface.

   Trish began immediately to thrash about, her arms flailing at 
Ann, trying to grab ahold of her. But Ann deftly avoided her grip 
and held the pressure on the bikini top.  She maneuvered Trish 
against the side of the pool, raised her leg, and pushed firmly 
against Trish's stomach, the effect of which was to cause her to 
expel her remaining air.

   When she felt Trish's strength start to fade, she released the 
pressure on the bikini top, inhaled deeply and sunk beneath the 
surface. She planted her mouth firmly on Trish's, squeezed the 
other woman's nose shut, and wrapped her arms and legs around her. 
Together, they sank to the bottom of the pool. Ann was now in a 
perpetual orgasm, her eyes locked on Trish's, who stared dumbly 
back at her, dimly aware that she was dying.

   Trish made one final, feeble attempt to fight her assassin; Ann 
redoubled her strength, continuing to hold her breath until she 
felt Trish's body arch abruptly and go limp.

   Ann could stand it no longer; she released her hold on Trish 
and kicked up to the surface, gasping for air. She looked down 
into the pool, watching Trish's body float lazily down to the 
bottom, into the shadows, her eyes staring up accusingly at Ann, 
her arms and legs outstretched. Even in death she was beautiful.

   Ann climbed out of the pool, her body still shaking from the 
massive orgasm, and put her swimsuit back on. The entire roof was 
quiet, save for the distant sounds of the street far below.

   Suddenly Ann heard the roof door open; she crossed the distance 
and went into the open apartment door. Luckily for her, the lights 
were out, or she would have been noticed by the two bikini-clad 
women now strolling around the side of the pool.  She grabbed her 
purse from the living room table and returned to the side of the 
open door and watched the women.

   One of called out. "Patricia?"

   "Look, Jenny," the other one said, pointing to Trish's 
discarded swimming attire by the pool.  "She must have gotten 
lucky at Sfuzzi's tonight." They both giggled.

   Ann fished into her purse, brought out the Beretta, quickly 
attached the silencer to the end of its long, black barrel and 
flicked the safety off.

   "Should we bother her?" the one called Jenny asked.

   The other girl walked over to the mirrored tray. "Not if you 
want to share this with her."  She dipped a long, curled 
fingernail into the cocaine, brought it up to her nose and inhaled 
sharply. "God, where did she find this -- this is great! Becky, 
come over here!"

   Ann's heart began to race again. My God, she thought, this is 
perfect!

   The two women eagerly inhaled the remaining cocaine, moaning 
and tossing their heads back. Enjoy it, Ann thought, because it's 
going to be your last.

   When they had gone through all of the coke, Jenny stood up, 
unsteady on her feet, and called out. "Trish...Trish!  Come on 
out, darling -- we want to party!" Meanwhile, Becky had slid into 
the pool and was lazily circling out to the deep end...

   Ann stood out from behind the wall, raised her weapon and 
pulled gently on the trigger. There was a quiet pffft and the 
bullet struck Jenny directly in her abdomen. It knocked her to the 
ground, where she landed on her ass, her legs splayed out in front 
of her.

   Becky looked over at her, still giggling, when Ann came out, 
still holding the gun at Jenny. Jenny looked up, barely feeling 
the pain, and said, "Shit...what have you done." She looked down 
at her chest, then over at Becky. "Becky, I'm bleeding."  Her eyes 
and mouth were agape with surprise.

   "What..." Becky began to say.

   Amazingly, Jenny stood up, clutching the fiery pain in her 
stomach. Ann smiled coolly and fired again. The second bullet hit 
the woman in the right tit, just below the nipple. Jenny spun 
around and fell back on the deck, clattering against the patio 
furniture. Her legs and arms flailed wildly, and she had just 
enough strength to look up at Ann.

   Ann fired one last time. The third bullet struck Jenny in the 
mouth, blowing out pieces of flesh and brain from the exit wound 
in the back of her skull. Her body slammed back down against the 
ground. She voided a large gush of blood from her lips and she 
died, her limbs twitching in a growing red pool of blood.

   Becky looked over at her dead friend, then up at Ann, her eyes 
wide with terror.  "God, please don't," she begged. She tried to 
turn around, but was frozen by her fear.

   Ann aimed the gun at her head, once again caught in the throes 
of her strange ecstasy, and squeezed the trigger.

   Nothing. A misfire!

   Becky must have heard the click, because she began heading 
immediately for the far side of the pool, away from Ann. Her legs 
kicked with a strength she had never realized, and she gave out an 
almost audible sigh of relief when her hands touched the side of 
the pool.

   She looked around. Ann had disappeared.

   "Fuck!" Becky cried. She looked out to the roof entry door; it 
was closed. That bitch would be waiting for her there; she dared 
not to risk it. She looked back to Trish's apartment, saw the 
sliding door, the soft curtains blowing in the cool breeze.

   "Lady," she sobbed, "please...!"

   No answer.

   She bolted back around to Trish's apartment, hurriedly closing 
the door behind her and panting heavily. Her eyes roamed wildly 
around the room. Where's the fucking phone?

   Finally she saw it on a table by the foyer. She dove for it, 
grabbed the receiver, and swung around the wall into the foyer.

   She listened to it. Thank God -- a dial tone!

   Her fingers slipped twice while trying to dial 911, but by a 
miracle, she managed to complete the number. She sniffled, looking 
out on the carnage by the pool, waiting for a response.

   She finally heard a man's voice. "What is the nature of your 
emergency?"

   Becky never saw it coming. All she felt was a sudden, sharp 
blossom of pain in her back, driving through her like a white-hot 
beam piercing her body. Looking down, she saw the gleaming tip of 
the stiletto sticking out of her right breast, right above the 
nipple, blood dribbling down in a warm, red wash.

   Ann turned her around gently and took the phone from her hand. 
She spoke into it. "I'm sorry, officer," she explained. "My 
daughter's been playing with the phone again."  Ann listened 
intently, still holding Becky up. Becky tried to say something, 
but the only thing from her lips was a thin trickle of blood.

   "I...yes, I understand," Ann said into the phone.  "Thank you." 
She hung it up, then turned her full attention to Becky.

   "Why...?" Becky whispered, looking into Ann's soft eyes.

   "Because I love it, dear," Ann replied, holding the gaze. She 
propped Becky up against the wall -- Becky screamed when the wall 
hit the knife handle in her back -- and took something from her 
purse that Becky could not make out.

   "Please...help me..." Becky begged.

   Ann smiled.  "Of course," she purred, raising the second 
stiletto.

   Becky's eyes could barely register what it was before Ann 
shoved the deadly little blade directly into Becky's neck. A jet 
of blood spilled out from Becky's gaping, gurgling mouth and her 
hands went up the hilt of the blade embedded in her neck, but by 
the time her fingers had found it, she died. Her eyes still open, 
she jerked and slid to the floor burbling, assisted by Ann.

   An hour later, there was no sign that Ann had ever been there.

----------

   Later that week, Ann met Elizabeth at La Mansion, near Clear 
Lake. It was a cool, sunny afternoon. Ann wore a billowy white 
blouse set of by a black skirt and matching vest and a pair of 
old-fashioned victorian boots that went up to her knees, her hair 
done up in an elegant bun.  Elizabeth had on a soft blue silk 
skirt.

   They chose a table on the balcony outside.  At this time of 
day, the bistro was nearly deserted.

   After ordering drinks -- a martini for Ann, a scotch and soda 
for Liz -- Ann took out a pack of Max 120s cigarettes and handed 
one to Liz.

   "Well?" Ann asked, taking out her lighter.

   Elizabeth gave her a secretive smile.  "It was...wonderful!" 
She held the cigarette to her lips as Ann lit it for her, then 
leaned back and blew out a cloud of smoke.

   Ann lit her own cigarette. "I remember my first time," she 
said. "I was shaking so much, I thought I was going to faint." She 
took a long drag on her cigarette. "Did that happen to you?"

   Elizabeth smiled wider. "Not at all...I wanted to savor every 
single moment."

   The waitress brought them their drinks, then left them alone 
again.

   "It happened faster than I'd wanted it to," Elizabeth told Ann. 
"That was my only mistake."

   "That's natural," Ann replied, sipping her martini. "With 
experience, you can learn how to make it last much, much longer." 
Ann held her cigarette in the air, her elbow bent.  "I once had 
one that went for two hours."

   Elizabeth's eyes grew wide with envy. "How?"

   Ann crossed her long, slim legs. "We'd gone to a cottage in the 
country, not a soul around for miles." She paused, deliciously 
savoring the memory. "She loved to mix cocaine and ecstasy -- the 
drug, that is -- and was past feeling anything when I went to work 
on her."

   "That must have been exquisite," Elizabeth purred. She took a 
thoughtful drag on her cigarette and exhaled twin plumes of smoke 
from her nostrils. "God, just thinking about it turns me on!"

   Ann nodded. "It was...sublime. But look at this."  She put her 
cigarette down and reached into her purse. She brought out a small 
amber vial and handed it across the table to Elizabeth.

   Elizabeth turned the small vial over; there was no label. "What 
is it?" she asked.

   Ann picked her cigarette up and took a drag. "My mentor gave 
two of those to me. I forget the chemical name, but it induces an 
extreme psychological state in the user: A combination of ecstasy 
and death wish."

   Elizabeth's lips curled in a smile. "May I have this?"

   "Certainly. Be very careful, Liz. Even just a drop of this is 
dangerous." She paused.  "Let me know how it works out for you."

   Elizabeth's eyelids fluttered. "I will."

              *  *  *

   The mall was crowded at this time of day: People enjoying their 
lunchtime, mothers pushing their carriages.  Elizabeth sat on a 
bench near the center of the mall, her legs crossed, smoking a 
cigarette and watching the people passing by -- especially the 
women. She wore a brightly colored western-style skirt with a blue 
denim shirt and cowboy boots.

   A young blonde-haired girl walked by briskly and happened to 
look over at Elizabeth.  Their eyes met, then she averted hers 
away shyly and continued on.

   Elizabeth's attention went back to a magazine she held in her 
lap. She read the first page of her article and was turning to the 
next when she noticed that the girl was now seated on the bench 
across from her, trying not to be too obvious with her own 
sideward glances.  Elizabeth smiled to herself and decided to 
forfeit the first move.

   The girl wore a skintight black leather skirt that barely 
reached down to her thighs. Black silk stockings went up her long, 
shapely legs into the darkness of her skirt. Her outfit was 
complemented by a fetching white blouse and a black velvet choker 
worn high on her soft throat. Elizabeth noted that the girl wore a 
name badge, meaning that she probably worked in the mall, and was 
on a break. Judging by her long, sculptured nails and double 
earrings, she most likely worked in one of the bohemian clothing 
stores scattered throughout the mall.

   Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth watched as the girl dug 
in her purse and brought out a pack of Virginia Slims 100s. She 
continued to dig again, and Elizabeth suppressed a smile, reaching 
into her own handbag for her cigarettes and lighter. She lit a 
cigarette, blowing smoke toward the ceiling.

   The girl got up and came over to her. "Excuse me," she said, a 
slight tremble in her voice, "but can I get a light from you?"

   Elizabeth smiled kindly. "Of course. She opened the lighter and 
ignited it.  The girl held her cigarette to her lips as Elizabeth 
lit it for her. As she did so, the girl touched her hand to steady 
the lighter and looked over her cigarette into Elizabeth's eyes. 
Elizabeth returned the glance unblinking.

   The girl -- whose name, Elizabeth saw from her tag, was 
Deborah -- inhaled deeply, her breasts rising, and nodded. "Thank 
you," she said.

   "My pleasure," Elizabeth purred.  "By the way, I love your 
outfit."

   The girl smiled shyly. "I was thinking the same thing about 
yours." She took a drag on her cigarette, her eyes on Elizabeth.

   "My name is Elizabeth. Won't you sit down?"

   "Thanks." Deborah sat beside her.

   "Do you work here in the mall?" Elizabeth asked her.

   Deborah nodded and pointed down the east corridor.  "Over at Le 
Chatelaine."

   Elizabeth took a drag on her cigarette and nodded. "I've been 
there before. You must be new; I would have noticed you in there 
before."

   Deborah smiled.  "That's right; I just started there last 
Tuesday." She paused. "I would have noticed you, too."

   Elizabeth held her eyes on Deborah's for just a beat extra. 
Then she reached into her purse and took out a card. She handed it 
to Deborah.

   "I have to go now," she told Deborah, "but here's my number. 
Call me, Deborah. I'd like to get to know you better." She smiled 
and pressed the card into the other woman's hand, then leaned over 
and whispered in her ear. "I think you're gorgeous. Call me 
tonight!"

   Then she stood up and walked away, leaving Deborah thinking 
silently to herself.

               * * *

   That evening, around seven, the telephone rang. Elizabeth 
picked it up. "Hello?"

   "Elizabeth? This is Deborah; we met today at the mall."

   "Of course! I'm so glad you called. How are you?"

   "Fine. I was wondering if you might like to meet me over at 
Sfuzzi's."

   Sfuzzi's was a nightclub downtown catering predominantly to 
lesbians, although Elizabeth had heard of a strong S&M thread 
there as well.

   "Actually," Elizabeth said, "I'm not too up on going out 
tonight. I thought I'd spend a quiet evening home this evening." 
She paused. "Would you like to come over and join me?"

   "If you're sure..." Deborah said, hesitatingly.

   "Absolutely," Elizabeth said. "Tell you what -- I've got the 
penthouse pool all by myself tonight.  Why don't you bring your 
swimsuit and we can go for a dip?"

   Deborah's voice brightened. "That sounds great. Can I bring 
anything over?"

   "How about your overnighter?" Elizabeth purred coolly.

   "How do I get there?"

               * * *
  Deborah arrived an hour later. She was met at the door by 
Elizabeth, who had put on a deliciously daring black swimsuit, 
high on the thighs and low-cut in front.

  Elizabeth ushered her in. "Deborah! I'm so glad you came over." 
She noticed that Deborah was carrying a rather large handbag with 
her. Good, she thought.

  Elizabeth went to the bar. "The bedroom's over to the right," 
she motioned. "Why don't you go change while I make us a drink -- 
are martinis okay?"

  Deborah nodded, looking over the sumptious apartment. "I love 
your place," she said. "So nice...and private."

  Elizabeth nodded. "It is that. Now go in; I'll meet you outside 
by the pool."

  After Deborah had closed the door behind her, Elizabeth 
carefully made a pitcher of martinis and poured two glasses. In 
the one on the left (the glass with the chipped stem), she quickly 
emptied the vial Ann had given her and stirred it into the drink. 
She sniffed at it; the potion was odorless.

  She put the martinis on a tray along with her cigarettes and 
lighter and took it outside by the pool. Evening was beginning to 
approach.  Her heart began to race. She sat the tray down beside 
the pool as Deborah came out.  Elizabeth looked up and smiled. "My 
God," she said, "you look fantastic!"

  Deborah wore a tight red string bikini, beneath which her 
breasts and pubic muscles bulged. She was much more shapely than 
Elizabeth had suspected, and very nicely built. The muscles in her 
legs rippled as she walked, and her breasts were firm.

  Elizabeth took her hand and moved close. "Would you mind," she 
said throatily, "if I kissed you?"

  "Kiss me," Deborah said. Elizabeth leaned over and put her lips 
on Deborah's and kissed her, feeling the other woman roil against 
the light pressure.  She held the kiss for several moments, 
relishing the taste of her, the musky smell, the heat coming off 
of her in waves.

  Elizabeth broke off lightly, smiling. "I think I could use a 
drink."  She picked up the two martinis, carefully handed the 
correct one to Deborah, and raised her glass. "To newfound 
friends," she said.

  Deborah must have been very thirsty; she finished her martini in 
one long sip. "Delicious," she said.

  Elizabeth poured her another from the pitcher, then picked up 
her cigarettes. "Would you like one?" she asked.

  "God, yes," Deborah said and took a cigarette from the pack. 
"Max 120s," she said. "I don't think I've ever tried these 
before."

  "They're really good," Elizabeth said, taking a cigarette. She 
lit Deborah's cigarette, then her own, and leaned back in the 
advancing shadows. "So, tell me a little about yourself."

  Deborah took a long, luxurious drag on her cigarette, aware of 
the other woman's eyes on her and aroused because of it. Her 
nipples grew erect and painful. She leaned back beside Elizabeth.

  "I noticed the ball gag in your bedroom," she said simply. "Are 
you into bondage?"

  "Yes," Elizabeth replied. "What about you?"

  "God, yes," Deborah breathed. "I've always been into it." She 
took another long drag on her cigarette; Elizabeth detected a 
small tremor in Deborah's hands.

  "As a top, or as a bottom?"

  Deborah smiled. "Oh, definitely bottom. I --" She paused, put 
her hand to her forehead. "Oh, dear," she said, "I must have drank 
that martini too fast." Then she looked back up at Elizabeth. "Did 
you plan on picking me up in the mall today?"

  Elizabeth smiled. "After you asked for a light, I did."

  "Really? I've never been seduced by a strange woman before -- at 
least, not outside Sfuzzi's."

  Suddenly, Deborah leaned over and kissed Elizabeth again, a hot, 
passionate kiss, full of hunger. Elizabeth's teeth bit down 
lightly on Deborah's lower lip. Deborah pulled away playfully, her 
hand unconsciously sliding up and down along her chest. "God, I 
feel so...light," Deborah said. She looked down and giggled. 
"Elizabeth," she said, "I think I just came."

  "Tell me what you were thinking of," Elizabeth said.

  "I was...I was thinking what it'd be like if I were tied up, 
with your lovely body over me."

  Elizabeth took the cigarette from Deborah's hand and set it down 
in the ashtray. She turned Deborah around, put her hands on her 
tan shoulders.  "I bet your fantasies were a little more involved 
than that, darling." She faced Deborah and drew her in; their 
breasts touched together. "I think they were more...brutal than 
that." Elizabeth's hands slowly slid up to the base of Deborah's 
neck, then on up, her long-nailed fingers closing seductively 
around Deborah's throat.

  Deborah gasped. "God -- God, yes," she whispered.  Her blue eyes 
widened, stared into Elizabeth's. "Help me," she begged, "I can't 
stop coming."

  Elizabeth looked down, saw tiny rivulets of moisture rolling 
down Deborah's legs, saw the pelvis jutting out with its soft 
cover of hair outlined in Deborah's bikini.

  Deborah's hands went up to Elizabeth's hard nipples, her fingers 
gingerly tugging at them. Her legs parted slightly, and she felt 
very unsteady.

  Elizabeth smiled tenderly. "You want me to..."

  "Yes," Deborah pleaded. "You know what I want."

  Elizabeth tightened her grip  suddenly, and  Deborah began  to 
pant. "Yes...yes," she said in a strangled voice, "harder..."

  Elizabeth let go suddenly.

  "What's...what's wrong?" Deborah said plaintively. "I thought 
you wanted me!"

  "I do," Elizabeth said, "but there are better ways than this -- 
much better. She reached down and took Deborah's hand.

  Deborah's eyes were wild with anticipation.

  Elizabeth led her into the pool. The water was warm, and her 
flesh felt tingly. She pushed Deborah up against the side of the 
pool, pressed her body against hers, opened her lips against 
Deborah's earlobe.

  "Oh, God," Deborah moaned.  Her hands encircled Elizabeth's 
svelte waist, drew her closer, slid up the side of her swimsuit 
and tugged at the straps. Elizabeth drew back and allowed Deborah 
to remove her swimsuit; it peeled off like a second skin, and she 
stepped out of it.  Her breasts floated in the water, firm and 
round, like soft melons.

  Deborah looked down, smiling, and leaned back as Elizabeth ran 
her fingers along her sides, her nails catching and pulling at the 
string bows on Deborah's bikini. Elizabeth undid the top and 
bottom and drew them out of the water, setting them on the side.

  Deborah's mouth opened in a soft, inviting O, and Elizabeth 
pressed down on her again and kissed her. Elizabeth's tongue slid 
into Deborah like a serpent, and Deborah's hands went back up to 
the other woman's breasts, cupping them and then kneading the 
nipples with her thumb and forefinger.

  Deborah's hands now slid down, past Elizabeth's taut belly, past 
the mons with its silky hair. Her fingers found Elizabeth's 
clitoris and pressed.

  Elizabeth gasped. "Oh, yes, darling!"

  Now the fingers slid even further, past the vaginal lips, and 
Elizabeth nearly cried out. She bore down on Deborah even harder, 
her heart racing like an engine, and she parted her legs slightly, 
accomodating a deeper foray which Deborah gladly provided. With 
her other hand, she cupped Elizabeth's ass and squeezed the soft, 
warm tissue.

  Deborah grunted and arched her back. She tore away from the 
kiss. "Now, darling," she begged, her eyes fixed on Elizabeth's.

  Elizabeth reached up behind Deborah and picked up the bikini 
top, wrapped it lovingly around Deborah's throat...

  Deborah smiled in anticipation, worked her hands even faster, 
moaned, "God, I can feel it..."

  Elizabeth pulled the top tighter. Deborah's body jerked, and her 
long-nailed fingers dug into Elizabeth's ass. Her eyes grew wide, 
and her mouth opened again, a satisfied look on her face.

  Elizabeth pulled with all her might and planted her mouth on 
Deborah's. She could feel the other woman's lips growing cool, but 
her hands still worked on Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth came in a tremendous sexual explosion; she could not 
stop, just kept blossoming, one orgasm right after the other. She 
wrapped the bikini top tightly around Deborah's throat, reached up 
to the side again, picked up one of several long stiletto knives 
from the tray. She brought it down, and when Deborah saw it, she 
opened her mouth as if to say something.

  Deborah could no longer speak; in some rational part of her 
brain, she had calmly accepted the fact that she was dying. Part 
of her also accepted the fact that she wanted it -- needed it for 
this incredible sexual release -- and that is why she took 
Elizabeth's hand, guided the tip of the blade down to her left 
breast, and pulled it into her. The smile on her lips wavered 
slightly as the blade slid into her breast, and her hand went up 
to the knife. Deborah shuddered, and suddenly began to buck 
wildly. Her free hand thrashed the surface of the pool, and her 
eyes grew wider, still locked on Elizabeth's. Then she arched 
suddenly. Her mouth opened slightly, and a thin line of blood ran 
down the left corner of her mouth. She looked as though she wanted 
to say something, but her legs buckled, and Elizabeth put her lips 
over Deborah's and gently pushed her beneath the pink-tinged 
water. Her long blonde hair floated above her head, a few bubbles 
escaped from her mouth and nose, and her arms lifted up silently. 
She stared lifelessly at Elizabeth; she was dead.

-----------

   The apartment was quiet, except for muffled noises coming from 
a room  in the corner.  The apartment belonged to Elizabeth; the 
room was her  bedroom, and  on the bed were two women, both 
completely nude.

   "They're  beautiful,  Elizabeth."  Ann  sighed.  "Have  I ever  
told you  how beautiful your breasts are?"

   "No." Her voice, sharp and strangled, seemed to come from some 
other throat.

   "Uhm, well, I should have." She twisted around so that she was  
on her  side. "Your  whole  body"  --  her  voice  was  like  a  
bolt  of  silk,  caressing -- "beautiful."

   With eyes stoned with lust, she  watched Ann's  hands slide  up 
her  rib cage toward the lower slopes of her breasts.  Light 
filtered into  the room  in cool, pale bars, illuminating the 
lower half of the king-size bed with its coral satin comforter, 
the precise shade of intimate flesh. They lay side by side, naked.

   Elizabeth gasped as she  felt Ann's  warm hands  lifting her  
breasts up  and away, cradling them. Then the fingertips began to  
move, around  and around  the sensitive flesh, circling closer and 
closer  to Elizabeth's  areolas. Sparks  of pleasure rippled 
through her chest, pooled up between her thighs. Her legs began to 
tremble and rise up but Ann calmly flattened them  back onto  the 
sheet.  She had trouble breathing.

   At last the fingertips reached the  areolas, caressing  them 
with  a feathery touch.  Elizabeth groaned.  Her nipples were so 
stiff  they seemed  painful. She felt Ann's lips against the shell 
of her ear. "Does it feel good?"

   She nodded drunkenly.

   "Then tell me, darling. Tell me."

   Ann's  head  dipped into  shadow, her  opened lips  swooping 
down  to envelop Elizabeth's nipples.  Elizabeth cried out and  
her thighs  opened involuntarily. She arched her pelvis upward.  
"Oh, God."

   "Tell me. Tell me." Those lips pulling, sucking, twisting the 
nipples.

   "It feels -- ohhh! -- like heaven."

   "Yes...yes!" It was an animal's cry.

   Elizabeth moved her hands down, frantically trying to rub 
herself,  but Ann's fingers encircled her wrists. "No, darling. 
Let me do that."  And she  lifted up and Elizabeth saw the hanging 
weight of her dusky breasts above her, lifted them into her hands. 
The feel of them, hot and hanging  full, was  like no  other she 
could imagine. Her thumbs probed at the hard nipples until Ann 
groaned and moved downward.

   Immediately, Elizabeth's mons was enveloped in wet heat. She 
felt Ann's palms against  her  buttocks,  the  fingertips in  the 
crack,  one long  nail probing, sliding in deeply...

   At that instant, Ann's tongue stabbed  out, directly  into 
Elizabeth's  core. Elizabeth arched up. It sounded as if there 
were an engine in the room,  working at peak capacity. Her fingers 
locked in Ann's hair, pulling  the face  hard into her as she 
bucked up uncontrollably, crying out until she was hoarse.

   After a time, her eyes opened and she pulled Ann's lush body 
over hers.

   "Tell me," she whispered hoarsely, "what to do," not realizing  
that she  had already begun, that the well, now opened, had  made 
her  so insatiable  that two hours later, Ann was begging her to 
stop.

               * * *

   Afterwards, Ann went to the bar and brought  back a  bottle of  
wine and  two glasses.  She poured drinks and handed one to 
Elizabeth, who drank it down.  Ann opened a cigarette case and 
took out two cigarettes, handing  one to  Elizabeth.  She lit both 
with a table lighter near the bed, then leaned back, idly  
stroking Elizabeth's breasts.

   "God, that was wonderful," Elizabeth purred.

   Ann nodded, sipping her wine.  "How did things go with 
Deborah?"

   Elizabeth smiled. "Absolutely incredible.  At the end, she was 
begging  me to kill her."

   Ann's lips curled. "And that was the diluted vial."

   "Really?" Elizabeth looked up at her.  "God, I  wonder what  it 
does  at full strength." She finished her cigarette, then  held up  
the wineglass  and smiled. "You didn't happen to put any of it in 
here, did you?"

   Ann laughed and took a drag on her  cigarette. "No,"  she 
replied.  "But tell me: How do you feel?"

   "I  feel  fine,"  Elizabeth  said. "Stop  playing around."   
She lit  another cigarette. She paused, the  cigarette in  her 
lips.  "Actually, I  feel kind  of strange..."

   "It was in the cigarette," Ann told her.  "The one you just 
smoked."

   Elizabeth looked over at her, a poignant expression  in her  
eyes. "Oh,"  she said quietly. "That's why I feel...so..."

   Ann nodded.

   Elizabeth started to rise up off the bed, then changed  her 
mind.  "I'm going to die tonight," she said simply.

   Ann sipped her wine. "Only if you want to."

   "I -- I don't know."

   Ann sat up, put her hands  on Elizabeth's  shoulders. 
"Darling,"  she purred, "remember your first time -- how good it 
felt?"

   "Oh, yes," Elizabeth said.  "How the  blood washed  over her  
white swimsuit, the look of surprise in her eyes..."

   "And what about Deborah," Ann continued, "how she guided the 
stiletto to  her breast."

   Elizabeth sat thinking for  a moment.   "That's right,"  she 
said  presently. "She was ready -- ready to die. She wanted it."  
A tear  rolled down  her cheek. She looked up at Ann. "That's -- 
that's what I want."

   Ann drew her close.  "I understand, darling," she  cooed. "Wait  
right here." She rose, went to the living room and returned with a 
mirrored tray.  She sat it down on  the bed  in front  of 
Elizabeth  and sat  down beside  her. "This  is a mixture of  
cocaine and  ecstasy," she  explained.  "It  tends to...prolong  
the experience."

   "Is it dangerous?"

   Ann smiled. "Why does it matter?"

   Elizabeth picked up a gold spoon.  "I guess  not," she  said, 
and  dipped the spoon into  a pile  of fine  white dust.  She held  
it to  her nose  and inhaled sharply, snorting the drug.  It hit  
her system  immediately; she  convulsed and leaned her head back. 
"God," she exclaimed. "Fantastic!"

   Ann set up another pile. "Have some more, dear. I'll be right 
back." She rose and left again.

   Hungrily, Elizabeth snorted the dust again. It made  her feel  
so...alive, so tingly. She licked her fingers and began riding out 
the first high.

   Ann  returned  with a  leather case.  She opened  it and  took 
out  a set  of restraints.  "All finished, darling?  Good, then,  
turn around  and lie  on your stomach."

   Elizabeth did as she was told.

   Ann put a restraint on each limb, fastening them to each of the 
four posts on the bed.  Elizabeth had been arranged so that her 
ass was parted and exposed.

   Ann fit a collar around Elizabeth's neck and ran a length of 
chain through  a loop in the back and down to a cross chain 
between her feet. It pulled her  neck and head up; now she could 
only see straight ahead.

   "Is that too tight?" Ann asked.

   "It's perfect," chirped Elizabeth, who was  now lost  in the  
effects of  the drugs.   She  looked into  a full-length  mirror 
directly  in front  of her  and admired her image. She was growing 
intensely aroused.

   Ann moved  within her  frame of  vision and  took out  her gun.  
As Elizabeth watched with anticipation, Ann loaded it and screwed 
on the massive silencer  to the end of the long black barrel.  She 
set it down on  the bed  before Elizabeth and smiled.  "How do you 
feel?"

   "Ready," Elizabeth said. "God, I can't wait!"

   Ann held the gun up to Elizabeth, who  smiled.  "Bring  it 
closer,  darling," she purred.  Ann held it up to Elizabeth's 
lips, and Elizabeth fellated it.

   "Are you sure you want this?" Ann asked.

   Elizabeth nodded, her lips still encircling the barrel and 
silencer.

   Ann pulled the hammer  back; Elizabeth's  body tensed  up, and  
she took  the entire silencer into her mouth.  The look in her 
eyes was wild.

----------

To be continued...



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