Of Sinners & Saints

HANS (EDITED)

Myrich was en-route to Zecosia on a lavish private jet that left just over an hour ago from Lijkzig International. He was in bed with one of the air stewardesses. This air stewardess was called Lara Lindbergh. She was of age, but she looked quite young, illegally young. This was why he was so attracted to her. Lara was a leggy blonde with blue eyes, perky tits, and a nice arse to match. Lara being on this specific flight was pleasantly ideal for him for he felt like a shag.

Myrich and Lara were naked. After a lot of intense foreplay, which mostly consisted of Lara sitting on Myrich's face and sucking his manhood as he got a taste of ass, Lara had bent over at his request and they started fucking. It was rather slow at first. "Fuck me harder," Lara begged, her request was granted as Myrich slapped her arse, squeezed her hips and fucked her as hard as he could.

"Lift your head slut," Myrich ordered her and she did as she was told. The sexual experience didn't last long. Myrich had blown his load prematurely all over Lara's arse. They both lied back on the bed and she laid across his hairy chest. "How long until we touch down?" He asked.

Lara looked at the time and replied, "half an hour, tops." He felt better now and looked forward to the auction that was to commence in a few hours. Myrich was a well-off man but compared to those who would be attending the auction he would be considered relatively poor, a pauper, but he always got what he wanted in the end. The exorbitant sums of money spent at Miss. Singrave's private auction had bled his wallet and then some. Last time Hans Myrich went he bought two items of the Time Travelers Pocket Watch. These parts of the coveted watch were locked away in his safe. Myrich knew there would be a bidding war, he was prepared for one. He hoped to avail of his secret weapon.

"Are you listening?" Lara sweetly asked him.

Myrich had zoned out for a second then replied, "ja, you were, just what I needed." He thoughtfully admitted.

"Likewise," Lara replied sweetly. "Want a cup of coffee?"

"Sure," Myrich responded with a smile. "Sure." He could do with a nice mug of coffee something to perk him up that didn't get him any higher. Myrich didn't want to be too high when he met Sultan Ramzeez.

Lara put on the kettle and looked for her clothing that was scattered around Myrich's private room. Myrich quietly admired her as she put on her black lacy panties. "Have you a girlfriend?" Lara put the question to him.

To which Myrich simply replied, "no."

Lara had now put on her royal blue skirt and bra just as the kettle boiled. "Is there a vacancy for your girlfriend?" Lara seductively asked.

"What a terribly off-putting way of putting it," Myrich answered.

"Well do you?" Lara persisted as she put on her royal blue jacket. She had her back to Myrich and was making him a cup of coffee. "Sugar?" She asked.

"Ja. . . just one."

When she was done, she walked back over to him and eagerly gave the cup to him as he slipped his hand under the pillow. Myrich was just about to take a sip, but just as the cup touched his lips Myrich stopped. He sensed something was awry, it was just the sweat of Lara's brow, her timorous look, but this made him suspicious. "Here," Myrich said passing the cup back to her.

"Oh. . . I'm not thirsty," she admitted as she waved her hand and shook her head to say no. I must be getting back to my duty - "

"Drink," Myrich insisted. He would not take no for an answer. The fact she refused to drink heightened his suspicion that the coffee she had given him was laced with something toxic, possibly poison.

Lara took the mug and hesitated then from under the pillow he pulled out a colt. "Either a bullet in the head," he said, "or... take a sip." He gave Lara a simple choice, death. She gulped nervously, as the gun was pointed at her. She held the mug and seemed to understand her predicament. Then faster than a blink of an eye Lara chucked the contents of the mug into his direction it partially scolded his face, but he had raised his arms when filching and his hands felt the brunt of the burn. He hollered loudly, as you would. Lara went to grab the gun from him, but just as she tried to wrestle the weapon form his grasp, he fiercely struck her on the head with the butt of the colt and she fell to the floor semi-unconscious. Myrich was still holding his face but the searing pain was bearable now, just. He cursed several times, "Fuck," was a repetitive word. "Fucking bitch."