The Safe House. 3 The Bullet

The night didn't even seem to register his feet on the railings and he breathed a sigh of excitement.

Lucky tonight. He chuckled in silence. And then like a black cat leapt softly off the apartment's awnings and stalked inside its balcony railing. She didn't hear anything at all. Or even know he was here. Or knew that he was the tenant above this safe house. This would make everything so much easier.

Crouched under the balcony's shadows, he took the metal piece out of his pocket, the tritium aim- assist sight glowed in a perfect angry red for a moment, then he deposited it back in his leg holster. It would be an easy job, despite however he feels about it. Suddenly his alert ears picked up a gentle hustling, like that of a flowing stream.

The sound of water sent an unmistakable shiver down his already itching and scabbed cock. Entranced and very unprofessionally, he raised his sweating head and looked into the balcony's bathroom window.

He didn't catch all of it, but he did see her tall, fleshy shadow stroll across the florescent lit mosaics. A nude in leisure. And the barest sound of her large soft feet slapping the wet tiles in their step. 

A familiar nude. Which his horny cock recognized. And in an instant, the itching organ pitched into an unwanted diamond log inside his black fatigue pants, prickling smelly excitement all inside his underwear. He ought to be annoyed, really annoyed, in a time like this. But cocks don't really have a mind of its own. He learned this well enough when he was not yet a man when it pitched at pretty women's gory death scenes on TV even before he fully accepted that he lived for it.

Plus...it's almost sweet. Like it's just happy remembering a friend. It remembered her without having an intelligence to know his own deadly pursuit. Without knowing its own master's tall bullshit and his lies. Like a stupid happy dog or something.

So stupid...

He exhaled, grunting.

I mean...no one can see him now. The balcony's shadows hid him well, and there's barely a lit window in the nearby blocks. No one, not even her would suspect a thing. It will be quick, a pop, and he doesn't even have to see it. Just a champagne pop, a crack on the mosiac glass behind her shadow head. That's it. But somehow it felt wrong. Sick. Not in killing women, nor naked women. That was never an issue before. Hell no. Just...somehow wrong this time.

Instead he pressed his face close to the warm balcony's glass which looked into the steamy bathroom. And he traced his hand over his urgent groin. Longingly, his ears made out the sound of that pretty body shuffling inside, and his nose drank full the steamy perfume of its soapy bodywash. His thing prickled in excitement and he gave it several savoring strokes. And feeling particularly wild, he let a thin jet of burning precum into the balcony's flower pots, which fanned out and doused over their clay edges and rose in a wisp of steam.

He was huffing, and his excited strokes soon reached a crest of itching pleasure, but then he stopped.

“Don't worry, Mitsu. We are going to climb out of this shithole one day.” He remembered. And also that fuzzy wink of his.  

With a slosh of soapy water on the tiles, her long steaming legs huddled out of the shower.

Avoiding the wintry cold, her nakedness struggled out, desperately trying to cloak herself in a swirl of soapy warmth and raced to find her few cloths in the bathroom's closet.

Her long fingers hastily flipped through the hangers until she realized all of them had been unwashed with her sweat and had been worn for weeks. Instead, there was only a set of bra and underwear, which was not enough to protect her from shit.

Exasperated, she slipped them on with 2 economical movements and shrugged them into place. Then, wincing at the cold of the unheated apartment safe-house. His place, which never saw the need to pay heater and gas bills. Shivering, the cold chased her back to the bathroom for that sweet swirl of protective balmy air. The immortal smell of immortal soap, which smelled like childhood, and Sprout, and her late mother's laundry.

Sighing, she slunk to the tiles, letting the warm tiles warm her frail body. Gathering her hips then her legs upon each other to give herself precious warmth.

Then, as she shifted, she noticed the wet crusted thing that a smoke break ago had been her cum on the floor tiles.

Such a klutz. 

Then. Something else. A presence which she did not remember was there before when she was in that room. Maybe it was the soapy air or the warmth of the currents, most of all, his familiar smell.

And then, for the fraction of a second, she saw him. But instead of a scream, or a yelp. She merely stared at his familiar face.

He's here! He's actually here! She thought, and a half formed smile came to her lips. That he's here to take her away like he promised. Then she noticed his piece, which rested between his black gloved hands.

Though she never considered herself smart, she instantly knew, why her pimp never returned her frantic calls after dropped her here. Instead, she said all she could have said.

“It's yours.” She spat.  

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then his gloved hand gathered itself again, and his hard eyes refocused between the tritium sights and the familiar woman's eyes staring back.

And between them, an iron sound of train was heard, screaming right outside the apartment flat's windows as they so often do in a day.

The bullet tore through her brains in a fraction of a second, and those wide, waiting eyes blacked out. Considering the violence which her pierced skull hit on the walls it was perhaps fortunate that she did not feel much of it.

Instead, her tall frame slung back, steepled on the wall for a moment, then her bareback kneaded the stuccoes, falling as a scarlet blossom of gore streak raced behind the spot where her sable hair had struck the walls. Unlike some other women he had killed, her carcass did not convulse, or struggle upon their own desperate erotic initiative instead, it drew back, resigned, as if it only wanted to give as little trouble as possible, as in life.

She merely sunk, lower and lower, and then lower, until the weight of her proud and famous head slowly pitched forward like a humble bow, disgorging a thin volume of her scrambled red brain from that tiny hole he made upon that forehead. Then, as the volume of her slinking back shifted, and her legs gave out, the whole of her leaking head swung back again, this time rolling onto the floor with a thud of finality. Letting more of her red destroyed brain puddle out on the side of her grounded face.

The iron sound of grating trains rolled on near the windows. 

Already she was gone. As her hips had already demonstrated. Though shootings were messy, unlike strangulation, there's usually much lesser frog movements, and fading out.

Then, as if with the turning of a switch, the iron grating of those speeding trains were gone. Plunging the apartment, and the entire neighborhood in such silence you would hear a pin drop. The Shinkansen now heading to Okayama right at 10 P.M. As he well learned.

He should feel lucky. A thought came to him.

She didn't even know he was here until the very last. Even though if she paid attention she would have noted that the top floor don't have tenants. But it does this night, for an appointment with this train's iron sounds.

But he was thinking unprofessional thoughts. Instead, he found himself looking at the corpse he just made. At her misty, opened eyes, which- he noted, had well reopened after his bullet struck. At the smell of her gore, and her words, which he still heard as he looked.

The cleaners would be here soon. Dressed like carpet movers, with barrels of acid inside their truck. The pimp would be happy. Instead, his eyes found a thing on that bathroom floor. Which laid not far from her extended toes.

He knelt beside it, as if it was a babe. And marveled at the dark thing for a spell.

Her leopard spotted thong, which she so often wore. Utterly marinated in her beige crusted slime.

With a vague pointing of his fingers, he directed them to the bathroom.

“Have a good trip good sir!” The 2 “movers” greeted him effusively as he left the door open for them to come in.

And soon, the 2 men unrolled the carpet inside the room. Brushing aside the bowl of her half eaten soup and her PC tablet. Which they would destroy later. Cussing, they confessed to each other that tomorrow, the house decorator team would have a harder time plastering over the bullet hole on the bathroom walls. And that, if they don't clean up every errant wedge of blood on the tiles, one day, one of those broads will start figuring things out. Why didn't he just strangle her? One grumbled. It was always much easier to clean afterwards. If you don't mind the copious melon balls of frightened shit they rabbited out. 

I mean it's a perfectly good corpse

Regardless, they loomed over the fair corpse of their new job. Noting its weird that he closed those eyes before he left. No, this one's a proper looker. Not just an unfaithful mafia wife or something like that. The usual types for this place. This? A real working gal. Despite wearing wall painter's masks, they grinned at each other. Despite being busy men, they were still men with things in their pants after all. And they took off their cleaner's masks, one knelt beside her anus and smiled, making sure to probe deep into it, and her sex with his 2 fingers. Instead, he fished out a long strand of trembling love.

“Holy shit!”  

He didn't take a car here but he was fine walking to the club alone.

The pay will cover for some months but it won't be long before he will need another home run again. His scabby cock itched, itched with the same itch that he had, which she had first given him. And he wondered how it was crazy that thing still united them both in that pleasurable, undying itch.

He took out the crusted- leopard spotted thong and greedily drank in her smell. Then cradled it gingerly back into his pocket. Brushing aside his thoughts, he thought about how to forget this night. Maybe he would drown his itching cock in the mouths of several willing girls tonight. 

MESSAGE HISTORY

_Kyo,

_OMG you have no idea how much I needed to hear from you, you will never believe what I h_

_Text Deleted 7:00 PM

_Kyo, I_

_Text Deleted 7:04 PM

_Hi Kyoko! :)

_Goodness, It's been so long before I heard from you. I'm doing great and just keeping up with the latest. It's so crazy to hear from you, but in a good way :) . I can't believe you are now a mother! Being a mother must b_

_Text Deleted 7:20 PM

_Sprout

_You don't know how much hearing from you means. You are the first who called me Mitsu in so long. Oh God I missed you. I missed you whenever I realized I miss someone. And when I thought I couldn't go on, so many times, it was your voice in my head that kept it goi _

_Text Deleted 8:10 PM

_File Attachment Uploaded

_Hi Kyoko.

_Goodness, It's been so long before I heard from you. I missed you so much that you might not even believe it. But I'm game. I would love to see you again and know about your new life. What an honor.

Our old Adobo place it is! It will be like our old adventures. I can't wait to hear from you in person. And would love to meet your lovely, lovely daughter. Well, she must be lovely.

Don't be surprised, but this is me. Haha.

Thinking of you fondly.

Mitsuko :)

_Text Unsent 9:10 PM

Bonus in Part 4