In the hands of a femme fatale

Marilyn adopted her sexiest persona as she played flirtatious games with Tony, her aim to persuade him to accompany her back to her apartment. Tony recognised all the tricks she pulled, all the signs as she manoeuvred and manipulated him to bend to her will. He knew that the mystery man and Melissa were waiting for him and that if he walked into the flat it was unlikely that he would get out alive.

He decided that he had to play it as naturally as he could and if that meant he could enjoy the lusty dancing girl once more then he wasn’t going to complain. In fact he could have fun with the situation and push her sexual boundaries perhaps? A fun thought but he couldn’t risk it. The less time they had to figure out he knew what they were up to the better. And Marilyn hadn’t asked for the gun back... yet. He had pretended that he had locked the gun away in his in-house safe and she seemed convinced. In fact it was in his jacket pocket and he had checked, it was fully loaded. 

As Marilyn’s silky tongue played with his ear once more and she whispered “come over to mine, I have a bag under the bed full of the sexiest toys, bondage gear, massage oils, the works and you can choose what we play with if you like...” It was the sexiest proposition he had received in his life and her warm and wet tongue was making him weak at the knees, but he knew it was a sham. Are all women capable of such believable deceit, he asked himself, and then wondered how many of his sexual partners had faked an orgasm without him knowing it? Given that he had never thought a woman was faking he was either an excellent lover or he was a fool. Perhaps he’d never given a woman an orgasm... A miserable thought.

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He had held out long enough and figured if she didn’t believe him now she never would. He agreed to go to her apartment; in fact he did the full puppy dog. She looked pleased. As they exited the flat he pulled his jacket from the coat stand and pulled it on. He patted the side pocket and was relieved to feel the distinctive shape of a revolver. He breathed deeply and stiffened his sinews: it was time to go to war.

Another Silk Stocking Story tomorrow.