Ruth, Roses, and Revolvers

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 Ruth, Roses, and Revolvers

shade darker than that which was still artfully arranged on Ruth’s head.

Lina leaned into her lover, placing her knee against Ruth’s groin. “I know all about you, don’t I?” She whispered, putting a hand in Ruth’s hair and pulling her head back. Ruth moaned, rubbing her crotch against Lina’s knee.

Lina swiftly replaced her knee with a hand, plunging inside Ruth’s ready cunt. She fucked Ruth hard and swift, all the time talking in her ear, wrapping her hand in her hair, speaking between clenched teeth.

“Your husbands all loved you; you were so dutiful, so devoted, so beautiful, such a good lay. A good fuck.” Lina punctuated her words with a jerk of her hand. “So pretty, so demure. They never noticed that funny taste in their morning coffee. The erratic beat of their hearts was the result of lust’s flush, not the poison you’d been slipping them for months.”

Under Lina’s insistent ministrations, Ruth began to make low, rough sounds of passion, of assent.

“You’re a black widow, a professional mourner. Sweet like the sugar you used to hide the bitter taste of your calculated plots. Your husbands were old, in poor health; nobody would suspect. Am I right? Am I?”

Ruth’s voice began to rise into one long, orgasmic wail.

“You can tell me. You can tell me anything. I don’t mind. There’s nothing for me to be afraid of. I’m not some rich sucker, I’m not in any danger.” Lina bent her head to whisper right in Ruth’s ear; her hand left Ruth’s hair, now in utter disarray, and slipped to her white, unblemished neck, stroking it slowly. “I admire you, in fact. You’re smart, and you’re set for life. That’s sexy. That turns me on.” And Lina buried her hand in Ruth’s eager cunt, braced her other hand against her shoulder, and pumped with all her might. Ruth was shaking her head, her cry broken into a series of full-throated pants as her cunt clutched at Lina’s expert hand, dousing it with her juices.

“That’s right,” Lina cooed. “I know all your secrets. I know how you got your money, and I know how to make you come like none of those rich bastards ever could. Am I right?”

Ruth gasped out “Yes,” and collapsed to the bed, pulling Lina on top of her, her hand still between them, lodged in Ruth’s flush pussy.

“God,” Ruth said after a moment.

“God’s got nothing to do with it,” Lina said. “You’re not Catholic, remember?” She slipped her hand from between Ruth’s thighs and wiped it on the pillowcase.

Ruth smiled sleepily. “But you are.”

Lina shrugged and rolled off Ruth’s back. Ruth, in response, turned over on her side and faced her lover. Lina kissed her on the forehead. “You’re absolved,” was all she said. Ruth’s eyes were already drooping; she reached to Lina for one long, final kiss before slipping into a blissful post-coital doze.

Lina propped herself up on one elbow and watched her lover’s breathing slow, until she was sure that Ruth was asleep. Carefully, she rolled off the bed and approached the nightstand.

She picked up her Beretta, hefted it once in her hand before wrapping both hands around the grip. She pointed the barrel at Ruth’s sternum.

She turned her head before she fired.

Then she located her belt and re-holstered her weapon. Before leaving the bedroom, she reached into her back pants pocket and pulled out a small gift card. A dark red rose was embossed on its cover.

Lina read it out loud to Ruth’s corpse.

“To Ruth,” she said. “From your former husband’s family business associates. Best wishes in the afterlife.” She threw the card onto her lover’s body. Ruth’s blood began to seep onto the heavy paper. “I made sure the funeral could be open-casket, baby. I hope you appreciate the effort.”

On her way out of the apartment, Lina tossed the bouquet of roses into the trash.