lacedleather

dammit, I must have missed the kinky story day. =(

I couldn't believe she was standing there in nothing but a smile, holding a smoking chrome-plated revolver. Jake lay, no longer moaning, leaking steaming darkness into the slush and snow. The moonlight set off sparkles in the platinum wig she was wearing.

There were no sirens, just the crumple of the falling snow and far-off traffic. It had been so easy. The game was over, now, though. We'd best get digging. She'd best get dressed. But not before ... yes, she stepped over his body and rubbed the barrel of the .457 suggestively along her thigh. Jesus it must have been cold.

"Shouldn't you be wearing something? You'll catch your death out here," I remember saying, breath forming clouds in the cold air.

"Shouldn't you," she said, raising an eyebrow, "Be wearing nothing?"