Matilda and the Assassin - Chapter 7
© 2010 Switch Blayde. All Rights Reserved. Copying, Duplicating, Downloading, Reposting, or use in any way other than for the reader's personal enjoyment is STRICTLY prohibited without the written consent of the author.
Hetero, MF, Mf, 1st Time, Violence (not sexual violence)
Previous parts to this story - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6
Matilda's elbow wobbled on the kitchen table as she cradled the side of her face in her upturned palm. She doodled on the side of a brown paper grocery bag, pausing momentarily to yawn. Her mouth froze in the open position when her sleepy eyes spotted a rare unused space. She moved the tip of the pencil to its center and made a circle -- and then kept making more circles, each larger than the previous.
The front door swung open and Leon stormed into the apartment. Matilda jumped, almost falling from the chair. The pencil flew from her hand and rolled off the table unnoticed as it clattered on the linoleum floor.
"We have a job," Leon said, slamming the door behind him and whisking by her.
Matilda leapt from her seat and hurried after him. When she entered the bedroom, Leon was about to stoop in front of the large suitcase next to the dresser. But he stopped. Matilda's hand slapped over her mouth to suppress the giggle. Leon turned Bobby's bear right side up and then dropped to a knee to open the suitcase.
"Is it a hit?" Matilda asked.
"Get ready."
"But is--?!" she began with excitement but shut up when Leon turned towards her with a penetrating glare. Then, more subdued, she asked, "What's the plan?"
Leon screwed silencers onto two pistols and shoved them into his waistband. He turned back to Matilda and studied her. Then he said, "You don't need to know."
"What do you mean? You always tell me to have a plan ... to work out every detail. Otherwise it's not safe. I have to know the plan."
"It is best if you do not. This is different. If you know you will give it away."
"Give what away?"
"Enough! We have to go."
"What should I wear?"
"It does not matter. Hurry up, we have to go."
Something's not right, Matilda thought. Leon is always methodical and calm. Right now he's neither. And what was that look he gave me? He taught me to always have a plan ... always! No exceptions! Without a plan you're an amateur. That's what he always said. Over and over again! You're just a lunatic killer. Without a plan you'll screw up and get caught.
Then her mind wandered to Detective Grafton's lifeless body lying on the floor in her old apartment. She killed him on impulse. What did I overlook? With all of Leon's training, I did it like an amateur. I didn't have a plan. Shit, did I leave anything for the police? Am I going to get caught?
"Get moving!" Leon barked.
That brought Matilda out of her thoughts. After removing the long tee-shirt she wore around the apartment, she hesitated and then let it drop from her fingers. Standing in front of the dresser in only panties, she waited. The glint in her eyes was the only sign of the laughter she held back as she watched Leon. He scooped the tee-shirt up and folded it, placing it on the bed. It was a game she never tired of. She opened the third drawer and grabbed a pair of jeans. Leon snatched them, stuffing them back inside.
"Wear a skirt," he said.
So it does matter what I wear. He said it doesn't, but it does. This is so unlike Leon. It worried her but she put on a skirt. Then she hesitated after opening the drawer containing her few bras. She decided not to wear one. She chose a pink tee-shirt. It was bright and contrasted with the black skirt.
"Is this okay?" she asked, twirling 360 degrees which flared out the skirt.
"Fine. Let's go."
Matilda followed Leon to his car. They drove in silence -- for a one block.
"What am I supposed to do?" Matilda asked.
"Whatever they tell you."
They? she wondered staring at Leon's profile. "How many?"
He glanced at her and then his eyes returned to the road. "Two."
"Who are they?"
"Not important."
"What are they going to ask me to do?"
"Does it matter?"
Matilda thought about that for a while and then said, "Are they going to have sex with me?"
Leon looked at her longer this time before turning back. "Yes."
"Both?"
"You'll see."
Matilda knew she was not going to get any more information from Leon.
The ride was short. Leon parked the car alongside the curb and motioned for Matilda to get out. They walked side by side, she in a short skirt and tee-shirt and him in his customary knee-length trench coat. The street was littered with broken glass and papers. In her old life, Matilda had watched a lot of television. When cartoons were not on, she would watch other shows, always fascinated with the nice houses, lawns, and clean neighborhoods. She had wondered if they were make-believe Hollywood sets. Could there really be neighborhoods so different from hers?
Matilda recoiled into Leon with a shriek. A man had emerged from the alley on her right. She gasped and clutched Leon's lower body. The man pointed a gun at them.
"Don't move," he said in a scratchy voice.
A thick, black beard covered the man's face. His oily hair was tied back with a rubber band, a few loose strands hanging over one twitching eye. His clothes were filthy and tattered. His teeth were yellow. And he smelled like stale sweat and piss.
Matilda looked up at Leon when she felt his hand nudging her to move behind him. She took small steps, all the while staring at the gunman's face. His eyes darted to her a few times, but his attention was on Leon.
"Give me your wallet," the man said.
Matilda noticed how agitated the man was. He was not like Leon. He was not a professional.
"And then what?" Leon asked calmly.
"Huh?"
"After I give you my wallet, what then?"
The man glanced at Matilda who was peeking around Leon's side. "Maybe I'll fuck the girl."
"Then why don't we make a deal. You can have her."
Matilda gasped. She pressed her forehead into Leon's lower back with her eyes closed. Her fingers dug into his hips.
The man looked confused and the gun lowered slightly. Leon moved like lightning. His left arm shot up and slapped the man's hand to the side. A loud bang filled the empty streets. Matilda flinched, clamping her eyes tighter, but the bullet smashed into the brick wall of an apartment building across the street. Leon's right hand grabbed the man's forearm and held it steady while he wrenched the gun free with his other hand. Switching the gun to his right hand, he slammed it into the man's head. The man crumbled to the floor.
Leon scanned the empty street with his all-seeing eyes as he stooped. He grabbed the unconscious man by the collar and dragged him deep into the alley. Matilda followed without uttering a word, still trembling. She stopped only to pick up the man's right shoe which fell off his foot. Leon flung the man against the wall and Matilda tossed the shoe next to his lifeless body. Leon flipped his long coat open and pulled a pistol out of his waistband. He turned the safety off and handed the gun to Matilda.
"Finish him off."
Leon walked to where the alley opened onto the street. Leaning on the wall with his arms folded and the man's gun tucked under his armpit, he peered up and down the street, never once looking back at Matilda.
Matilda stared at Leon and then at the slumped over man propped against the wall. She lifted the familiar gun. Holding it in both hands, she pointed it at the top of the man's head. Looking down the long silencer, she squeezed the trigger and heard the muffled sound. The man crumbled to his side and rolled onto his belly. Blood gushed from his head. Matilda flipped the safety on and sprinted to where Leon stood.
Leon looked over his shoulder, nodded, and took the pistol from her. After checking the safety, he stuck the gun into his pants, covering it with his coat. Then he wiped the man's gun with a handkerchief and dropped to a knee. He flicked the gun towards the man. It bounced and skidded on the concrete until coming to rest about three feet from the dead man's foot.
Leon stood up and stepped onto the sidewalk. He looked both ways and then continued in the direction they had been walking. Matilda watched him, stunned. She stood as still as Lot's wife after being turned into a pillar of salt. Leon stopped in front of an apartment building and, with one foot on the first step, glared at Matilda. She snapped out of her stupor and ran up to him. Her heart pounded and it was hard to breathe. Not because of the sprint, but because of what had just transpired. She was almost mugged and raped. She killed someone. His body lay in the alley not far away.
Leon, on the other hand, looked like someone leaving a boring movie.
They climbed the front stoop and then four flights of stairs. Some day I'm gonna find out what an elevator feels like, Matilda thought on the way up. It was obvious Leon had been there before. He went directly to apartment 4G where he knocked on the door. Matilda waited at his side and a little behind him wondering what was going to happen.
When the door opened, Matilda shifted further behind Leon. She stared at the man from around him. The stranger's head was shaved and he had a tattoo of a dragon spitting fire on the left side of his thick neck. Faded tattoos with dark blue, green, and red ink covered both massive forearms. But what she could not stop looking at was the jagged scar from his earlobe to the middle of his chin. It looked like something the point of a beer can opener would make.
"Leon, come in, my friend," the man said in a thick Russian accent.
Matilda held Leon's hips, shuffling her feet as she followed him into the apartment like a vaudeville actor whose role was the back half of a fake horse. When he stopped, she bumped into him. He reached behind himself and grabbed her arm, dragging her out. She looked around the room.
Another man sat in a big leather chair. She recognized him. He had done business with her father and had been in their apartment numerous times. Leon acknowledged him with a simple, "Freddie." The man nodded in return, but his eyes were locked on Matilda.
Leon knows the weasel! That's weird, she thought.
Matilda did not like Freddie. She had not liked any of her father's associates, but she disliked this one the most. She called him the weasel because, to her, that's what he was. He was short with thin hair combed straight back. He always wore loud shirts. He had a high-pitched voice and did not look tough like the others. He was quick with a joke and made people laugh, but Matilda never saw the humor in what he said. She always wondered if the others were laughing at him. What she also did not like about him was the way he had leered at her. He even touched her ass or budding tits when her father was not around. One time he pinched her nipple so hard that she stabbed him in the forearm with a pencil. She was sure he intentionally hurt her. Obviously afraid of her father, he never mentioned it.
Freddie's knees parted as he leaned back. His fingers tapped the chair's leather arms. His eyes were locked on Matilda with that familiar leer. This time, however, he seemed more confident.
"Come here," he said.
Matilda did not budge. Leon smacked the side of her head so she looked up, rubbing it. He shoved her. She stumbled a few steps before catching her balance and then looked over her shoulder. Leon's expression said it all -- do what you are told! Her feet scraped the carpet as she took little steps towards the man she despised, stopping two feet in front of him. Her skin tingled as if spiders were crawling all over her. Freddie motioned for her to come closer so she stepped between his spread legs. Her chin dropped to her chest and she stared at her clasped hands hanging in front of her.
Freddie snatched Matilda's arm and yanked her to him. She squealed as she fell forward, smashing into his body. He squashed her cheeks between his hands and pressed his mouth to her open one, thrusting his tongue into it. Matilda struggled to break free, squirming and clawing at his forearms. And then he shoved her so hard she staggered backwards and tumbled to the floor.
"What's with the cunt?!" Freddie said, his high-pitched voice cracking. Matilda was not sure if he was speaking to Leon or the Russian since they stood side by side. "We had a deal."
"Matilda!" Leon shouted.
Matilda turned. Leon's lips were pressed together and the muscles on his face were taut. She pleaded with her eyes but received no sympathy. Sighing, she stood up and walked back to Freddie, standing before him with her head down and her arms at her sides.
"Are you wearing panties?" Freddie asked.
With her eyes boring into the floor, Matilda nodded.
"Take them off!"
Matilda's head shot up. Freddie smirked. She looked over her shoulder at Leon and the Russian, but got no support. Leon was still steaming while the Russian looked on with interest.
Holding the bottom of her short skirt down with one hand, she reached under it with the other and tugged at her panties -- first one side and then the other, alternating back and forth. The panties moved a matter of inches with each pull until they were at mid-thigh, peeking out from the bottom of the skirt. Using two hands, Matilda pushed them straight down and stepped out of them.
Freddie snapped his fingers. Matilda looked up. His hand was in the air, palm up. Without saying a word, she stooped to pick up her panties and laid them on his upturned palm. She blushed when he held them in front of his face and inhaled loudly before stuffing the panties into his pocket. Then he stuck his tongue out and wiggled it.
"Your daddy's not here to protect you no more," he said. His leer made Matilda want to step back but she stood firm. "Now let me see those little titties." Freddie unconsciously rubbed the forearm Matilda had stabbed with a pencil.
Matilda's eyes watered but she lifted the bottom of her shirt and tucked it under her chin. Freddie crooked his index finger and flicked it in the "come here" gesture. Matilda shuffled closer between his legs until the front of the chair touched her knees. Freddie snatched her hair and pulled. She bent at the waist. Then he reached over her and grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled it. Matilda's arms were forced straight as he tugged the shirt over them. When naked from the waist up, she stood up and stepped back. Freddie flicked the pink shirt at her. Her hands flew to catch it, but it bounced off her face and dropped to the floor at her feet.
Freddie once again motioned for her to come closer. She did. He reached for her budding breast and pinched the nipple. Matilda winced and slapped his hand away. He grabbed her arm and pulled her. She fell forward, bracing herself with a hand on his shoulder and her knees digging into the front of the chair's seat.
Pulling her head close to his mouth, he whispered in her ear, "You're mine. That was the deal. I now work for Igor. I gave him your daddy and he gave you to me. If you wanna fight, go ahead. I will enjoy it more. You're gonna pay for the way you treated me."
Sliding his hand from the back of her head over her neck, it came to rest on her upper back. The fingers of his other hand brushed over her belly up to her tit, which he pinched. Matilda clamped her eyes shut. He squeezed harder and twisted it. She tried to pull away, but he held her firm. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she clenched her teeth. When he released her nipple, Matilda took a few deep breaths.
"Wanna stab me?" Freddie whispered. He chuckled but it was not with merriment.
Matilda shook her head. She was still breathing hard from the pain. And then her breath caught. Freddie's fingertips slid up and down the back of her thigh, bumping into her short skirt. And then they were under the skirt and moving higher. She cringed when he cupped her left buttock and caressed it. But when his hand slid towards her pussy, her body stiffened. She flinched when his fingertip found the entrance. It lingered for a moment, and then she winced when he jammed it inside her.
"Yeah, your tight cunt is mine, bitch," he whispered with malice and swiped his tongue over her ear. "Your tits ... your cunt ... and your little ass. Ever been fucked up the ass?" Matilda shuddered. "Yeah, thought not. Well, I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna ream that little asshole of yours."
He thrust his finger in and out of her pussy a few times and chuckled again when Matilda groaned.
"But first you're gonna suck my fat cock. I know you've done that before. Sluts like you love to suck cock."
Freddie removed his finger and placed both hands on Matilda's shoulders. He nudged her. She straightened up and took a step back. He undid the button on his pants and lowered the zipper. His eyes were locked on Matilda's face as she wiped the tears away with first one forearm and then the other. Lifting his butt off the chair, Freddie pushed his pants and underwear to his knees.
"You do the rest," he said.
Matilda dropped to her knees and removed his shoes. Then she grabbed the bottom of his pants legs and tugged. They slid off. She did the same with his dingy underwear. She tried not to look at his cock but saw it anyway. It was long and hard, standing away from his body but with a curve that caused the tip to touch his hairy belly.
That won't fit in my-- She could not say the word even in her mind. He'll rip me apart. I'm too small back there. He'll kill me. What's Leon planning? Is this a hit? The weasel said they were giving me to him. Why didn't Leon tell me about this? What am I supposed to do?
Matilda glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze lingered. Leon looked worried. That was odd. Leon never showed emotion. But now his eyes were filled with -- compassion? sympathy?
"Let's go, you little slut! Suck my cock," Freddie yelled.
Matilda saw Leon's eyes dart to Freddie. His eyes narrowed in a seething glare. But when he did not say anything, Matilda's shoulders slumped. She turned and stepped up to Freddie, dropping to her knees between his spread legs. Filling her lungs and letting the air out, she reached for his cock and pulled it towards her. She hated the feel against her lips, but she parted them anyway and leaned forward, clamping her mouth around the head of his cock. Holding the shaft in her small fist, she puckered her lips and sucked, flicking her tongue over the spongy flesh.
"Yeah, suck it!" Freddie cried out as his hips jerked up. His fingers dug into the soft leather chair arms. "Suck my cock, slut! I'm gonna fill your mouth with my cream. You better drink it all, you little cock sucking slut."
Is Leon going to kill him? Matilda wondered while sucking the cock and sliding her fist up and down the shaft now coated with her saliva. Is that what this is about ... like that guy in the toy store? Why doesn't he do it already? But what did the weasel mean I was given to him? What the hell's going on? Matilda gagged when Freddie thrust up more powerfully. I hate this guy. I hate having his cock in my mouth. I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!
Freddie leaned forward to reach over Matilda's body. His belly pressed her head down, squishing her mouth against her fist. And then his cock slipped through her fingers. It entered her throat. She gagged and struggled to pull away, but the weight of his body held her head in place. Freddie clawed at the bottom of her skirt and yanked it up. Matilda kept gagging. He leaned a bit more and covered her naked ass with his hand. Without warning, he rammed a finger into her asshole.
Matilda automatically cried out, but it came out as an unrecognizable, muddled noise. Her gagging sounded like someone choking on food. She got weaker until all she could do was wave one arm uselessly to the side. All the while, Freddie reamed her ass with his finger.
Matilda's arm dropped. She felt lightheaded, dizzy. Her thoughts became jumbled nonsense. And then the weight of Freddie's body left her and his finger retreated from her ass. sliding up her back. She pulled away, coughing and sputtering. She heard yelling, but could not comprehend what was being said or happening. All she could do was suck in as much air as she could and as fast as she could. She slid away from where she had been kneeling and ended up on her hands and knees, coughing and spitting -- and trying to breathe. All of a sudden the bile in her stomach churned and she could not breathe again. Vomit spewed from her mouth, splashing onto the carpet in a smelly mess. She heaved again, sending more of the stinking substance onto the carpet. She heard someone else yelling and this time recognized the Russian accent but could not make out what he was saying. And then her facilities began to return.
"You said I could have her," Freddie yelled.
"You were too rough," Leon countered.
"Bullshit! You said she was mine. That was the deal."
The Russian screamed, "Leon, that's what we agreed."
"She could not breathe," Leon said.
"Too fuckin' bad."
Leon turned and gave Freddie an enraged look, the corners of his mouth twitching. His face reddened. His teeth clenched. And then without thinking, he whisked his gun from the waistband of his pants and swung his arm in the same motion. The silencer on the gun slammed into the side of Freddie's face. A bloody line appeared across his cheek. Freddie grabbed his face and glared at Leon.
"Fuck you. I betrayed her father. We had--"
Another blow to the head, this time with the bulk of the gun, cut his words short. Matilda, on her hands and knees and finally breathing, watched Freddie's head whip to the side and then his body followed, rolling off the chair. He lay on the floor with his hand flat against his bleeding temple.
"Stop!" the Russian yelled. He leapt at Leon.
Leon lifted the gun. Matilda heard the "ffftt." The Russian's eyes opened wide and one hand flew to his chest. Stunned, he stared at Leon and then opened his mouth to say something. But no sound came forth other than gurgling, and then blood seeped out of the corners of his mouth. He took one step towards Leon. Leon aimed the gun a little higher, but the Russian's legs buckled. He dropped to his knees, staring up at Leon with a confused expression, and then he fell forward, his nose breaking as it crashed into the floor. Leon re-aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. The top of the Russian's head exploded.
Leon turned to where Freddie lay on his side still holding the side of his head. His eyes were big. He trembled.
"I'm sorry," he called out, extending his free arm with his palm out. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean nothing. I thought--"
The gun was at Leon's hip so Matilda did not expect it. Even though the silencer muffled the sound, the slight noise caused her to jump. She was still stunned by what happened to the Russian. She automatically turned to the sound and then her head whipped around to Freddie. His crumpled body lay motionless on the floor. She looked back at Leon in time to see him aim the gun. She flinched when she heard the "ffftt" but did not look at Freddie again. She knew he was dead.
"Are you all right?" Leon asked. His voice was strained.
"My throat hurts and I feel sick," Matilda replied in a soft, raspy voice.
"Get dressed. We must leave."
Matilda struggled to stand but toppled over onto her side. She pushed off the floor until she was on her knees. Taking a few deep breaths, she crawled to where her shirt lay next to the chair. She glanced at Freddie's legs sticking out from the side of the chair and snatched her shirt off the floor. Placing a hand on the chair's seat, she pushed herself to a standing position. With her back to the two bodies, she pulled the shirt over her head and yanked it down. She looked for her panties but remembered they were in Freddie's pocket. She smoothed her skirt.
"Here."
Matilda looked towards Leon. She took the glass of water he held out and gulped it down. She coughed and the water spilled onto her chin so she wiped it with the back of her hand. Another glass of water appeared from behind Leon's back.
"More slowly this time," he said.
Matilda welcomed the drink and did as she was told. The water eased her irritated throat and ridded her mouth somewhat of the foul taste.
"We must go," Leon said.
Matilda looked up at him and nodded. He looked around and then walked to the door with Matilda following.
During the drive back to their apartment, Matilda asked, "Was that the hit? Was that the plan?"
Leon turned towards her and stared. She saw uncertainty in his eyes. "Forget about it. It never happened." Then he turned back to the road.
The two rode in silence. Usually that did not last long. Matilda, being a 13-year-old girl, chatted incessantly. Leon would scold her by calling her "Motor Mouth" but she knew it was in jest. He was introverted and at times allowed Matilda to draw him out of his shell. But she knew it was best to be quiet this time. This was not the Leon she knew. He had not acted like the calm professional he always preached. He had shown rage. He had lost control.
Sitting in the passenger seat facing forward, Matilda gave Leon fleeting sideways glances. Something was not right. If only she knew what the plan had been she would understand. She somehow knew that what transpired was not planned. He did not act like the Leon she knew. Something was amiss.
THE END (not yet) go to Chapter 8
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