THE BLONDE IN THE CLOSET


Here's a story I wrote a long time ago, but now that Deadskirts is offline, I suppose I'll post it here so it's somewhere.

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Dear Andrea,

Thanks again for writing. I can’t tell you how much these letters mean to a guy in my position, and I especially like the kinds of questions you’re asking. Best orgasm? Well, that’s a complicated subject for a guy like me, but I might as well tell you. What are they going to do, electrocute me twice? I don’t know if you were expecting this type of story, but from your letters, I figure you’re the kind of woman who can appreciate it.

It was my first job after a four-year turn in county. The new kid on the block had heard of me and hired me the minute I stepped out of the gate. When I picked the lock of the target’s house and slipped inside, I’d been a free man for less than four hours. The house seemed empty, as expected. I planned to wait there for about an hour until a couple of gangsters showed up, then ambush them and shoot them all. When I heard voices coming down a hallway, I knew that plan was shot. I sidled up to a partially open door and peeked inside. A big-screen television showed a British man insulting some kid holding a microphone. Watching the television, with her back to me, was a beautiful young woman with platinum blond hair.

My heart sank a little. I knew that I couldn’t let this girl live, but I didn’t want my first experience with a woman in four years to involve her death. She wore a tight, white cocktail dress and looked stunning. Maybe I can stall. She might be about to leave for a night on the town. No, she was barefoot, and obviously waiting for the gangsters. I swallowed my regret and thought about how to kill her. Shooting her in the back of the head would have been simple, but I couldn’t risk making a mess that would alert my targets when they arrived. I undid my tie. It was a nice silk one, the one I’d worn to court. Coiling it around my fists, I advanced across the plush carpeting. The British man cracked wise, and the blond girl gave a soft, melodious laugh. I wrapped the tie around her neck and pulled.

Yes, that’s right. I strangled an innocent girl, someone I hadn’t even been paid to kill. I’d never throttled anyone before, and I was completely unprepared for how hard she would fight. When the tie first tightened around her throat, the girl gave a powerful jerk and a horrified gasp. I pulled harder, cinching the silk around her neck and shutting off her air. The girl struggled passionately. It took all my strength to overpower her as she twisted and punched at me. I could see her face in the dim light of the television. There was horror in her expression as her mouth gaped for breath. I felt sick inside, but I resolved to finish this. I could not let go until this poor girl was dead.

I’ll never know just what the girl had to live for, but she wanted very much to stay alive. Every muscle in her slender body strained to escape my clutches. She gathered her legs beneath her and pushed out against the back of the sofa. I lost my balance and tumbled with her over the sofa and onto the ground. In the confusion of tangled limbs, I lost my grip on the tie. She gasped in short, staccato breaths. I crawled over her body and sat on her stomach, mounting her. She looked up at me with huge brown eyes, and the animal terror in them was stunning. For a moment I just stared down at her, watching her breasts heave as she gasped. Almost apologetically, I began to pull on the tie. She whimpered as she clutched my wrists, but she could not stop me. I tightened the silk around her neck and closed off her air once again.

Pinned under me, there was nowhere for her to go. Her body writhed, desperately struggling to somehow escape and breathe. It was useless. As time dragged on, the asphyxiation began to set in. Her movements became weak and erratic. I could feel the agony wrack her body as she starved for air. Her hands clutched at my wrists, but lacked the strength to pull them away. It was no longer an effort to contain her struggles. I kept the pressure firm and watched the life fade from her face. After several minutes she had all but stopped moving. Every so often her legs would jerk mindlessly. Her hands lost all grip and slipped down to the carpet. Her tongue lolled from her slack mouth. Her eyes stared into space. This girl’s life was drawing to a close.

She faded away so smoothly that it took a while to realize that she had stopped moving. She lay still and lifeless beneath me. I couldn’t let go, though. I kept the silk garrote tight around her neck. Not one speck of life could remain within her. I had to kill her utterly. As I continued to squeeze, her body started twitching. I could feel her muscles clenching randomly. It was the strangest thing I had ever felt. When the spasms passed, and she relaxed beneath me, I knew that I was strangling a corpse.

Very slowly I loosed my grip on the tie, until I let both ends drop. She made no reaction. I lifted a wrist. It was warm and limp, her fingers long and delicate. I could not find a pulse. I laid it across her chest. The girl was dead. Jesus. My whole body ached from the effort of the struggle. I rolled off the corpse and stood up, stretching mightily. The whole ordeal had taken less than ten minutes, but it felt like ages. I still had the better part of an hour to wait for my targets to arrive. I sat down on the sofa and thought things through.

Whoever my targets were, they must know that a beautiful young woman was waiting for them to arrive. They’d look for her, and if I left the television on, they’d certainly look in here. I glanced around the room and saw a closet. It had those angled slots, like Venetian blinds, on the door. I’d be able to see out, but they couldn’t see in. A perfect hiding place. Then I looked at the girl, still splayed across the plush carpet. I needed to do something with her. Maybe if I laid her on the sofa, they would think she was asleep.

I knelt beside her and looked closely at her face. Her big brown eyes were rolled back partially beneath hooded lids. Her tongue was swollen, sticking out past her full blue lips. I tucked it back behind her teeth and tried to shut her mouth, but her lips would not seem to seal properly. Then I ran my hand gently over her face, shutting her eyes forever. I slid my hands under her and lifted. She was the first woman I’d held in my arms in over four years. The limpness of her body was bizarre. She did not feel asleep. She felt empty and broken. I laid her awkwardly across the sofa and arranged her limbs neatly, then stepped back and observed my handiwork. She looked dead. The moment my targets walked through the door, they would see their pretty blond girlfriend strangled on the sofa and instantly draw their weapons. She would have to hide in the closet with me.

I hoisted her limp body into my arms once again and kicked open the closet, luckily finding it empty. There was hardly room for both of us, however. I sat down in the small nook and laid the dead girl across my lap, then shut the door. It felt like I was sharing the girl’s coffin. In the dark confines of the closet, I could do nothing but feel her tight, graceful form pressing up against my body. It’d been a long, long time, Andrea. After a few minutes I realized that my right hand was absently stroking the smooth skin of her inner thighs. When I’d been strangling her, I hadn’t taken the time to really feel her. Her soft, unresisting flesh, and her smooth, warm skin were utterly intoxicating. My hand strayed further up her skirt until my fingertips brushed her cunt, covered only by a thin pair of panties. I traced her lips beneath the moist fabric as my other hand began to caress her soft, healthy breasts.

It was all too much. I went a bit light-headed when I realized that I was going to fuck this dead girl, here, now, in the closet while I waited for my targets to arrive. I fumbled for my flip knife and dexterously cut the bottom of her panties away. In a matter of moments I had swung one of her legs over my head and positioned her to straddle me. I let her upper body slump against me, resting her chin on my shoulder, as I fumbled my fly down and freed my throbbing member. It had been so long. I lifted her up by the buttocks and impaled her limp, cooling body on my hard, burning cock. I slid inside of her like I was born to be there. Her tight, slippery canal welcomed me like an old friend. I was home.

I gripped her by the armpits and begin to bounce her on my lap, thrusting her up and down on my cock. Her head rolled on her shoulders with every bounce, her slack mouth falling open expressionlessly. After several more thrusts I tilted her back, throwing her head back again, and held her in place with one hand while I pulling her breasts out from her blouse. I started her up again, watching her firm young breasts jiggle in time. I leaned forward and took a mouthful of her, flicking my tongue across her pert nipple. Her head fell forward again and I ran my tongue over her face, tasting her sweet lips and salty skin, still moist with the sweat of her futile struggle. This blond goddess, so pale and beautiful, I loved her. I was so sorry I had killed her, yet nothing had ever given me such joy as fucking her pale, beautiful corpse.

Bouncing her up and down, silently taking my pleasure from her, I exulted in the feel of every part of her. The pressure of four long years of frustration tightened into a knot deep inside me. The knot hardened and grew as I fucked my dead girl. My balls felt like they were boiling. Sweat poured off me. I couldn’t take it anymore. Her soft, pliant body yielded to my every movement. The pressure grew and grew, until at last the knot cracked and rushed forth in rolling waves of ecstasy. Stifling a moan as pleasure blossomed in my skull, I pumped my stale seed deep inside the girl. As the last wave crashed over me, I fell back and let go of her. She flopped sideways, popping off of my satiated cock and hitting her head against the wall with a thump. I was too high to care. For several long minutes I just sat there, enjoying the afterbuzz of the most powerful orgasm of my life.

So there is your answer, Andrea. The best orgasm of my life was when I fucked a dead girl while hiding in a closet during a hit. I hope you’re not horrified. As an epilogue, I had fully recovered my senses by the time the gangsters arrived. It all went down like clockwork: the three of them wandered into the room and I jumped out and shot them all. Simple. As I was about to leave, I took one last look at my postmortem love slave, slumped and disheveled in the closet. I suddenly realized that, having shot my genetic material into her, I couldn’t very well leave her at the scene of the crime. I emptied out the gangsters’ drug bag and stuffed the poor girl inside. Strangled, dumped in a closet, raped, and now crammed into a duffle bag. Whatever she had done with her short life, she certainly didn’t deserve all this. Anyway, I lugged her home and spread her out on my old bed. She was white and cool by then, but I still stripped her naked and went for round two.

After that day, I made it a point to look to keep an eye out for targets of opportunity while on a job. If the mark had a hot girlfriend, or a cute secretary, or if a sexy babe just happened to wander by, I’d strangle her and find some place to fuck her. I’ve killed some very beautiful women, but none of them could quite compare to that first blonde, whoever she was. I’ll always remember her.

I’ve got plenty of these stories, Andrea, so if you want to hear more of the same, just keep writing me. If you want to experience them in more detail, well, I’ve got a conjugal visit coming up…