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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
WATERMELON MOON
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Chapter Eighteen
They were all gathered in the living room the next evening when Lori
picked up the machine gun they had stolen from New World Order. Willette
gazed at the gun. It seemed so odd now. So out of place. She shivered.
She hoped soon she would never have to see another gun ever again.
"It's been fun," Lori said aloud. She looked at the gun and stroked it
as she spoke. Willette wondered if the woman might be contemplating
sticking the gun barrel up her pussy. Willette had done that once, at a
party, with a long-nosed squirtgun filled with champagne. "I have enjoyed
being here with all of you. It's been quite a vacation," Lori continued.
"You sound like you're going someplace," Bob said.
"I am," Lori said. "I am. Far, far away from here." She looked at the
others gathered around her by the fire. Her eyes were bright. Willette
felt a sudden unexpected chill. Did the others feel it? It seemed as if she
were suddenly gazing at someone very evil. Lori levelled the gun at Bob.
"Without you," Lori said. At that instant Lori let loose a fusillade of
gunfire. The bullets ripped Bob apart, splattering everything around him
with blood. Lori fired leisurely, without haste, as if she were enjoying
blowing her husband to bits very much.
"And without you," Lori said to a stunned Steven. The boy sat stock
still, as if about to be eaten by his own mother. His face still showed
utter disbelief even as a rain of bullets tore open his abdomen.
"And you," Lori said to Dick. She turned the gun on him even as
Steven wretched blood and gasped for air. Before Dick could react he was
being shredded by gunfire. Another moment and he might have responded.
His eyes clung to Lori's glorious breasts even as the light in them dimmed.
Dick screamed but his cry was cut short by the hail of bullets. Beside him
Cindy kept on screaming, until Lori turned the gun on her too.
Willette sat stock still, watching Lori as the woman blew away poor
Cindy, who sat right next to her, her very bones threatening to pierce
Willette. The blonde was too scared to scream. Suddenly she was back in
the library again, with the high school ruffian who had never had a
girlfriend. Who hated everyone. Who aspired to play God. Willette's hand
felt something hard and cold and metallic under the lacy skirt of the
overstuffed chair beside her. It was the tommygun!
"Please, Lori," Willette said. Tears began streaming down her
cheeks. Her Dickie was dead. Willette dared not look over at him.
Somehow, some way, despite her confusion, she knew she must live! "Lori,
please kill me," Willette said.
"Of course," Lori said. She trained the gun on Willette.
"But before you do, Lori, before you do, would you please tell me
what is happening? Is this some crazy dream?" Willette pleaded. She
wanted to pinch herself. Lori laughed.
"I love it," Lori said. "Who cares whether or not you're having a
dream? You'll dream forever in just...one...second..." Lori drew out her last
words for effect.
"Lori," Willette said. "Tell me why." Even as she spoke her hand felt
the tommygun beneath the chair. Felt its barrel, its handle, its trigger.
"I'm not telling you anything," Lori snarled. "You wouldn't believe it
anyway if I did."
"Lori," Willette said. "I'll trade you gold for your identity."
"Gold?" Lori asked. Her eyes widened.
"There's gold buried near here, Lori, but you'd never guess where.
Tell me why you just killed my Dickie, why you're about to kill me, so I
can go to my death in peace. And I'll tell you where you can find gold."
"I don't need gold," Lori snarled. "I'm well funded."
"It's not real gold, Lori," Willette said. "It's documents. I was
reading them. And now, even now, oh God! Now I understand what you
were whispering in my ear as you slept beside me!"
"I was whispering in my sleep?" Lori asked. Her eyes narrowed. "You
know, I might have been persuaded to take you with me, as a little
loveslave. It would have been so fun to make a headstrong girl like you
submit to my will. Really submit. Not like anything I could have gotten
you to do here, with these others." Lori waved her gun over the corpses
lying in a circle around them. Willette nearly yanked out her tommygun,
but Lori's gun was back on her before she could. "If you've been hearing me
talking in my sleep though, Willette, I'm afraid I'll have to kill you."
"Yes," Willette said slowly. "Kill me and never find those documents.
Pull the trigger now, for I no longer am confused about anything. You're
Hatam!" Willette screamed the last words. She felt sure Lori would pull
the trigger. She saw Lori's finger squeeze it, but, somehow, at the last
minute the young woman held back.
"You are clever," Lori said.
"This isn't your grandfather's cabin," Willette said. "Your people,
your New World Order people, who wouldn't even recognize you if they
passed you on the street, they came here recently and took away whoever
lived here. And you knew that. And you brought us here because you knew
this cabin had just recently been 'abandoned,' so to speak, abandoned by
the owners when New World Order took them away."
"Yes, such a brain, such a shame to blow it away," Lori said, and
squeezed her trigger again, and relented once more. "Now tell me about
the documents."
"I don't want to help you," Willette glared. She found herself give a
little laugh. "Why don't you make me submit?"
Willette found herself walking across the field of daisies with
Lori's gun at her back. The wind blew in her hair. Above them the moon
had risen. It was waning after all. Waning as her own life ebbed. She
thought of the child she was carrying in her womb. Was it a boy? It was
her last living memory of Dick. Yet it would never see the light of day.
Willette was still in her spiked heels. She wore only a pair of the skimpy
panties. She was still dressed for a party that had long since ended. "Why
did you kill the family that lived here?" Willette breathed to the woman at
her back. She had had to leave the tommygun under the chair. Somehow
she hoped she could return to the cabin, get the gun, kill Lori...somehow.
"They didn't live here. It was just their vacation home," Lori said.
"Obviously, one of them knew too much about me...about our operations. It
was a woman!" Lori snarled.
"She work for the CIA or something?" Willette asked
conversationally.
"Yes," Lori said. "And she was getting hot on my trail. She was doing
better than any man ever had." Lori laughed. "Way better than your dead
Dickie. Or that stupid cop husband of mine, Bob."
They walked in between trees at the edge of the woods. Shadows
shafted on either side of them, created by the moon. Willette heard leaves
rustle above her head. "So you were married to Bob?" Willette asked.
"Of course," Lori said. "I met him in the middle east, in Turkey,
actually. He was on a trip to the Holy Land. I got him to marry me on the
spot and take me with him. We did some nice surveillance of Israeli army
activities. Or, at least, I did. He never knew a thing. Neither did the
Jews. Deep cover," Lori said. "Like your husband said, I'm under very deep
cover. You should consider yourself very lucky to have met Hatam. Few
people will ever meet me in life and ever know it."
"Well, Hatam," Willette savored the name. She felt the gun flinch at
her back. "You didn't know there were any documents buried here, did
you?"
"I wouldn't have thought there were," Hatam/Lori said. "The woman
CIA agent just bought this place for her family about a month earlier. My
surveillance teams never even reported her coming up here before the day
she arrived...and we grabbed her."
"There aren't!" Willette cried, and yanked hard on the branch of a
tree that snaked out over the leaf strewn forest floor. The branch had
just enough give in it to jab outward at Hatam. Outward, like a spear. The
sharp little branches at its farthest extremity poked Hatam in her eyes.
Its leaves jostled in her face. Willette spun underneath the branch as
Hatam's gun fired. Then she kicked up her long leg and stabbed Hatam right
in her tummy.
Hatam bowled over, screaming anger and remorse. Her gun burst
forth another useless fusillade. Before Hatam knew it Willette was on her
back. Hatam lifted her gun, firing more, the stream drawing dangerously
close to Willette's head. Willette grasped the gun and began wrestling
with Hatam for it. The two females fell to the ground. They sprawled in
the dirt, wrestling over the gun. It fired again, dropping a hail of bark and
leaves and twigs right on top of them. And then Willette grabbed the gun
away. She leapt to her feet.
"I'm the one who won our little wrestling match, remember?"
Willette smiled at Hatam. The woman stared back at her, one had over her
eye, the other clasping her stomach. Both females were breathing hard.
Their breasts jostled prettily with each breath. Hatam didn't even have
panties on. Her lovely pussy lips stared up at Willette, as if to tempt her.
Willette thanked God that she wasn't born a man. "And now I'm going to
win again," Willette said. The gun was poised and ready. One pull of the
trigger and Hatam would be history. No more dead corpses like Dick, and
Bob, and Cindy, and Steve. No more attacks on agents or innocent people.
No more faxed orders to to the minions of New World Order. "You're going
to go into really deep cover now, baby," Willette said hotly. "Six feet
under."
"You're as evil as I am," Hatam smiled. She let her hand drop from
her eye. There was a film of blood on it, exuding from a deep puncture. A
dark red patch was forming on her tummy, sure to turn to an ugly black
bruise.
"This is Justice," Willette said, jabbing the gun at her. "Talk and
give yourself a few more minutes of life."
"Of course," Hatam said. "Anything you want to hear."
"I want to hear about your life, about your operations, about New
World Order," Willette said. "And if I smell the slightest bit of falsehood
the trigger gets pulled."
"I feel like I'm sitting in an electric chair," Hatam said.
"Talk!" Willette barked.
"I took over New World Order five years ago," Hatam said. "But I'm
modest. I have no need for glory like the other egotistical fuck heads who
run terrorist organizations. As a woman, I prefer to work quietly. Quietly
and effectively. To bring about the New World Order."
"Yeah, yeah," Willette said, motioning with her gun. Hatam stood and
she stepped back. "I didn't tell you to get up, bitch!" Willette cried.
"Frightened of me, are you?" Hatam asked.
"Just talk," Willette said. "Tell me how I can kill New World Order
after I kill you."
"Oh, you'll do much damage to them if you get rid of me, I assure
you," Hatam said. "They were nothing before I came along. Just one more
misguided group with guns and big ambitions in Beirut. Now we're the
largest terrorist organization in the world. And I plot their every move. I
order, they obey. All in secret, of course. And I'm so deep, like you said,
they'd foolishly kill me without even knowing who I am."
"Like they almost did when we were in their grip," Willette said. "At
the compound."
"Yes, a slight slip up on my part placed me there. But I wasn't too
worried. I considered it an excellent opportunity to see how well they
knew their job. Considering I killed any number of them, I'd say not too
well. The rest will die when you and I finish our business here. They are
incompetent!"
"You're an idiot," Willette said. "If they'd been competent they'd have
killed you." Hatam laughed.
"I'm protected by Allah," Hatam said. She looked at Willette with
shining eyes. "Can you say as much?"
"All I'm getting from you is bullshit," Willette snapped. She pulled
the trigger of the gun. Nothing happened. "Holy shit!" Willette gasped.
Hatam lunged at her.
Willette was running, running, racing through the forest. Hatam
panted at her heels, swinging the empty gun at her. It was all out of
ammunition but it could still be used as a club. Willette felt air graze
angrily over her head as the gun just missed it.
Up the field of daisies Willette ran. She stumbled in her high heels,
pressed on. Fortunately Hatam was equally hobbled by heels. Neither of
them wanted to spare the moment it would take to be free of the shoes.
But Willette knew she had a secret advantage. The tommygun under the
chair.
Willette burst into the cabin. In a heat of rage and fury she kicked
past the corpses of her former friends and lunged for the gun under the
chair. She grabbed it and leapt up. Hatam was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly she heard the engine of the limo, hidden amongst the trees, roar
to life in the distance.
Willette burst from the cabin. She was just in time to see the black
limo speed through the trees and hit the dirt road beyond. Willette fired
the tommygun at it. The limo was out of range. She watched a plume of
smoke rise through the trees as the limo raced away. Willette looked over
at the old jalopy. It would never catch Hatam. Willette swore. An oath.
It was 1:00 in the morning, but Mick didn't care. He pumped the horn
of his car, creating a bleating noise that reverberated through the
neighborhood. The car's horn would have been annoying enough on any
street lined with homes, but this neighborhood consisted of closely packed
apartment buildings which lined an alley like so many sardine cans
waiting for cats to pry them open.
A figure opened the blind of her window. She peered out at the
silver-grey sports car with the well endowed horn, a baby cradled in her
arms. As the girl stared Mick defiantly gave several more bleats with his
horn. This was, after all, Friday night or, technically speaking, Saturday
morning. Who was this girl to be holed up in her apartment on Party Night
anyway? Her body looked shapely enough, silhouetted against the blinds.
What was she doing, babysitting?
Mick jumped out of his car and ran up to the bank of apartments. If
he couldn't get his guests to come to him, he would, after all, have to go to
them. Impatiently he rang the doorbell of his friends' apartment. Finally
two young girls tumbled out, and Mick directed them to the back seat of
his car. As he slipped back into the drivers' seat of his sports car he saw
that the female was still staring out her window. Still staring, when his
horn hadn't gone off now for several minutes? For a moment he sat
staring back at the girl, while his two girlfriends in back busied
themselves unwrapping joints. This female may have opened her blind in
anger at the horn, but now her anger wasn't motivated anymore by the
noise. It was motivated by loneliness. She really had no interest in being
in her apartment at all. She wanted to be in the car with the loud horn.
With the boy who was making the noise with the loud horn.
Mick stuck his hand out the window of his car and, with a smirk,
waved at the girl. He hit the accelerator on his car. With a loud squeal of
his tires he sped off, leaving the lonely girl behind to while away Friday
night in her little apartment. "Goodbye, lonely girl," Mick called.
The moon rose over the tenements. Willette gazed up at it.
Watermelon moon. Filling or receding in size, she didn't care. For her
Watermelon Moon would always be half empty. The baby in her arms began
to cry.
THE END
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