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Picture Credits:
His breath caught in his throat while his heart accelerated. A vision. She stood haughtily in the half-gloom of the filthy street lamp, smoking causally and looking delectable in her obvious blonde wig. She was very tall and slim with high, opulent breasts that drew his raptor eyes. Her silk, canary halter-top barely concealed the nipples and left her rich chocolate and exquisitely sculpted midriff and stomach bare and tempting. Her belly-button pierced and petulant. A red leather mini-wrap embraced her regal hips, accenting the long, coltish legs and delicious, dimpled knees below. Her Barbie-doll feet were sheathed in white, open-toed sandles. She’d the face of an ebon Madonna.
He pulled the cream Mercedes along side her and lowered the passenger window. “Looking for something, mon petite chou?” she crooned.
“Some loving,” he managed to croak through his constricting throat.
“Aaah, monsieur, I see by your fine car that perhaps you can afford me,” she smiled as she approached the 230SL. “What shall it be then? How can I please you?”
“G-g-get in,” he stammered.
“Enchante, chou-chou,” she smiled.
She climbed in and arranged herself on the tan leather upholstery, exposing more naked thigh and white, bikini panties and tossed her large plaited bag on the floormat. His eyes roamed her flesh, mouth half open.
“Where shall we go then?” she inquired, as her long red nails teased his thigh. “Shall I do you here, or shall you take me someplace nice?”
“We’ll go to my place, where we can have privacy,” he muttered.
He drove out of the red-light district where he’d sought her and wound in zigzag fashion past the tango bars and along the Rio de Plata out of town, as though trying to shake someone tailing him, although no headlights followed close behind. He took the first exit south from Buenos Aires, heading towards the rural countryside. She chain smoked and prattled and played with the Bose stereo while he drove in silence and glanced furtively at her . In twenty minutes, he turned into the palm-lined drive and parked in the circular drive in front of the pillared façade.
“Mon Dieux!” she exclaimed. “You must be a very rich one!”
“My family has done well in Argentina,” he offered. “Come with me.”
He opened the huge mahogany door and she stepped somewhat gingerly into the marble-floored foyer, crystal chandeliers bathing her in intense, jeweled brilliance. He proceeded up the circular staircase beckoning her to follow.
A banked fire glowed in a gigantic fireplace and cast long shadows in the otherwise unlit room. A red Chinese vase of exotic jungle flowers on a circular brass table filled the air with a heady collage of fragrances. He gestured towards an ornate bar to the left and suggested she pour them a drink and get comfortable while he used the bathroom. “Cognac – neat,” he whispered as he proceeded across the oriental rug clad floor.
She retrieved a large balloon glass from the shelf above the bar and emptied the contents of her ring into its depths. Then she poured Remy Martin into the powders and swirled carefully, dissolving the drug completely. She held the snifter towards the fire to look for telltale flecks and detected no turbidity in the translucent liquor. “Manifique!” she thought. She poured herself a generous dollop of Absolute into a low profile glass added a few cubes from a silver ice bucket and tossed back a couple of ounces.
Untying the bow behind her, she released her lush breasts, moist with perspiration and swinging provocatively as she walked towards the circular bed. She unsnapped her skirt and stepped out of it, folding it neatly and carefully, placing it on the arm of a high-backed Louis XVI chair. She was standing there clad in her sandals and silk bikinis when he approached her suddenly and silently from behind and squeezed her breasts in clammy hands. She started and turned to face him.
He was naked now, his lean torso covered in curly dark hair, almost monkey-like in appearance, smiling with that knowing, disgusting way of his. She gasped slightly at the size of his erection, flashbacks to that time when she was an innocent eleven-year old and he had brutally and repeatedly violated her virgin body and stolen her childhood. Her mother had been housekeeper then for this monster.
“Let us have our drink first,” she whispered. “Then I shall give you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams, monsieur.” She strolled to the bar, taut buttocks clenching and swaying suggestively while he followed closely. She handed him the snifter, which he practically snatched from her cupped hands and quaffed in a few angry swallows. The Absolute she sipped contemplatively, while he glared with obvious impatience. “Are we going to fuck, or what?” he said, clearly anxious.
“Such a stallion you are monsieur!” she quipped, “Let us make love in front of the fire – it will be more romantic.” She waggled a finger at him and moved her hips in a little bump and grind as she lead him to the furs that covered the floor before the hearth. “Lie down and let me ride you,” she incited. He lay back on the thick animal furs and gestured in slow motion for her to mount him as the paralytic effect of the neurotoxin took hold. He was immobilized. She bent over him and slapped him with a hard, bitter, resounding blow.
“You do not remember me, do you pig?! “ she spit at him. “You do not recall the poor little girl you raped and sodomized ten years ago, in front of this very fire? The little girl whose mother you threatened to murder and cannibalize, if she did not cooperate in your perverted acts!” Though paralyzed, the fear was obvious in his face. “But, life comes full circle, I shall have my revenge at last!” she hissed in his terrified face.
From her voluminous rattan purse she withdrew a somewhat smaller sack with a rope drawstring. As she loosened the tie, the burlap undulated with internal movement. The reptile was aroused by the heat of the flames and quickly slithered to the furs as it was released. He was a large specimen, not the nine feet his species is capable of achieving, but a good six feet of Bothrops Atrox, commonly known as Fer-de-lance - the South American pit viper. The heat sensitive organs in the triangular head were a little confused by the warmth of the fire. Nevertheless, the snake was able to locate the warm-blooded prey and sink his unfolded fangs into the (now flaccid) phallous. As the twin hypodermic needles injected their venom into the large vein, there was only one sweet scream for the woman to savor – the one in the man’s eyes.
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