Frances had her hand in her panties. Her eyes were locked on the Barrett M82 in its case. Forget men, forget cock; this was the source of her imminent orgasm. The power, the danger; these were the mainstays of her arousal. She didn’t really need to look at it, so fixed was its image in her mind.

The first time she had held it in the privacy of her own flat she had run the cold, slender barrel between her legs and she’d cum. No, that wasn’t right. Oh, sure, she’d had an orgasm but it was like none that had gone before it. For a start it happened in seconds. It had begun as she picked it from the case and ran her fingers along the dull, grey metal. She’d felt it immediately and as soon as she pushed her trousers down far enough she ran it lovingly inside her panties and the climax had hit her like a train. Her head had gone back, her eyes closed and there it was, flooding her mind figuratively and her thighs literally.

Reverently she had wiped it clean and replaced it back in its case as a mother might lay her baby in its crib.

The only other orgasm like that had been with Angie. It had taken longer but Angie understood her, shared her aims, her goals. All the years she’d worked for that cow, Lauren and bought her clothes and fucked her secretary, Jenny; they were all to this end.

Frances didn’t let herself cum. She held it back, savouring every stroke, now keeping her finger still, now moving it back to penetrate her rear, now curling it deep into her cunt until she felt the moment had arrived and she allowed the first wave to start. Once the dam broke she lost control, falling back on the bed, lifting her knees and wailing, screaming as it flowed like molten steel from a crucible; hot, burning. She screamed into the empty room.

After, she lay recovering, panting, wishing Angie had been there to share the moment. God, but Angie would fuck her so hard later. She might even tie her up as she had a few times before and use that vicious little tawse she sometimes tucked into her strappy’s harness at her hip. The memory of the kiss of that nasty, gorgeous, hideous, adorable whip sent an aftershock running through her. Oh, yes, Angie understood. She reveled in Frances’s masochism, fed it and recognised it for what it was.

Frances stripped off and went to the shower. In the mirror she examined the welts on her thigh where Angie’s friend had bitten into her flesh, running her finger across them, cherishing their memory for they were proof of Angie’s love.

The hot stream caressed her skin as she showered and she couldn’t resist soaping deep inside herself. Angie had said she was insatiable and she was. The sex wasn’t just sex between them; the pain was not mere pain. They were sacraments.

She dressed for her mission. She wore her best panties, the ones Angie liked so much, black lace and so, so fragile. She could not be Angie’s lipstick les for this appointment but she could wear the things that nobody could see and which Angie would appreciate. She had seen the sense of Angie saying they should not meet immediately after the event. But when she finally got home, successful, she would strip off the outer image, the dark rousers, sweater, boots, jacket and there would be her lover’s lover, waiting for her; waiting for her inevitable reward.

And now, now she could focus. She ran through her mental checklist; their checklist. Angie had schooled her. She was startled by the doorbell. Hastily she pushed the incriminating case under her bed. Making her way to her front door she peeped through the spy hole, most of her body to one side in case it was the law; in case they saw the darkening of the lens and fired through the door. But it wasn’t the law, it was her lover.

*

It was Jenny who supplied the answer, not directly but it was her idea that led to the plan, such as it was. Frank didn’t like the idea at all but eventually he saw the sense of it. So did Lauren although she still doubted Jenny. I did too in fact but somehow I knew I was wrong to. I could feel her anxiety, her horror at how she had been drawn, unwitting into her former lover’s plans. This was her courageous way of showing her remorse; of demonstrating her loyalty.

We made our final arrangements, went through the plan again and again even when we were in the car, committed now and nerves jangling. Frank drove, tension showing in the way he gripped the wheel with Lauren sat beside him. Jenny and I sat in the back and she held my hand vice-like in her, nails digging but that pain was necessary, welcome. All my training was about to be tested if my charge, my colleague and my lover were to survive. It wasn’t until later that I considered that my own survival depended on this plan too.

*

‘I decided I’d come with you. I know it’s a change from what we’d decided but I want to know you get away safely. So; I’ll deliver you and wait at the back in the car with the engine warm, ready to take you away.’

‘I have to meet the controller after.’

‘I know and I’ll take you to her.’

‘You’re not supposed to meet her.’

‘I wont, but I’ll get you there, safely. It matters.’

Frances threw her arms around Angie and kissed her fervently, overwhelmed by this demonstration of Angie’s love and commitment.

‘When it’s done, over, we’ll go somewhere and you can be my girl, just the way I like you. You’ll hurt a lot.’

‘You promise?’

Angie smiled and slapped her arse, hard.

Together they left Frances’s apartment and made their way to the black, 5 series BMW in the basement car park. The Barrett went onto the back seat and they sat side by side as Angie manoeuvred the powerful car up the ramp and into the streets of the city.

*

It had taken a while to prepare for leaving the house. Frank drove the Mercedes hard and we arrived at the hotel with minutes to spare.

‘Are we all clear?’

Frank got out of the car first and I followed on his nod. The weapon was in my hand, held across my chest under my long, black coat. I cursed the scarlet dress she wore, knowing it would show clearly to a shooter, like a beacon. Why couldn’t she have chosen black? The two women left the car and we fell into formation. I was as alert as I have ever been. I could hear the heels clicking, the growing clamour of the crowd.

*

Angie kissed Frances brutally on the mouth. ‘Don’t forget, you have to meet the controller so get it done and get back to me. Don’t wait to make sure. If you miss, which you wont, there will be another time.’ She handed her a small transmitter. ‘Tell me just before you shoot. I’ll get ready to leave.’

‘It gets harder each time. Their security tightens.’

‘We only have to succeed once, now go, whore.

And tell me when you’re set to fire.’

Frances grinned, nodded, grabbed the case from the rear seat and left. She made her way through the entrance and took the steps two at a time to the flat that had been rented anonymously. The heat of the city made her sweat as she pounded up the stairs but she felt cool, collected and alive. The key slipped easily into the lock and she closed the door behind her, moving swiftly to the chosen window. She eased the glass up and the noise from the hotel became tangible. On a previous visit she had moved a table and a couch to be where she could stand the gun and lie, prone to aim and kill. Deftly, Frances assembled the gun, inserted the box magazine with a comforting click. The weapon stood on its bipod and she pulled the stock lovingly to her shoulder, easing the end of the barrel through the window like Angie sometimes eased into her. A minute adjustment of the sight and the red carpet came clearly into view. Her breathing calmed, settled and she felt at peace.

*

This was the moment I dreaded. No amount of talking could replace practice and there had been no time for that. I had to rely on everyone, everyone including the shooter doing what we expected.

I slipped my arm through hers, felt the tension in her.

‘We’ll be fine. Remember just do exactly what I tell you.’

Her coat came off, handed to her aide. That fucking red dress seemed to glow in the light as we stepped forward, through the crowd and stood, side by side on the red carpet, me slightly behind her.

*

The red dress was there. Frances almost forgot to transmit but calming her excitement she pressed the button and said, ‘Now.’

Her finger tightened on the trigger, took up the minimal slack and she squeezed.

*

I heard only the word ‘Now’ in my earpiece. I threw myself forward, pushing her forward and down. Screams rose from the crowd. I lay on top of her, heart pounding waiting for the next shot, the pain or the blood or whatever else might happen.

*

Frances saw the bodies on the ground and felt a surge of elation. The gun disassembled as easily as it had gone together. She packed it, closed the window and left the flat taking only one backward glance to see the confusion on the hotel’s forecourt. She checked outside the door through the spy hole, opened the door and pulled it quietly shut behind her. She gained the stairwell and raced headlong down and down, bursting out of the rear entrance where the black BMW sat, engine ready. Throwing the case onto the rear seat, she clambered in beside Angie who gunned the car away from the kerb and into the city’s traffic. Frances leaned across to kiss her.

‘I got the fucking bitch.’

Her hand went to Angie’s crotch and was swatted away. ‘Wait. Let me concentrate.’

Frances’s hand went to her own crotch and she rubbed herself.

*

‘Are you okay?’

Jen moved under me. I lifted myself warily, searching around for more danger, then stood and pulled Jen to her feet and swiftly into the shelter of the hotel. Lauren stood waiting for us with Frank and hugged Jenny to her.

‘I don’t know how I could have doubted you,’ she sobbed into Jen’s hair.

Frank asked me if we were okay and I told him I thought I’d heard the bullet hit nearby but had heard no shot. He’d seen what he thought was a muzzle flash from the point Angie/Lisa had told us the shooter would be but he wasn’t certain.

‘Now it’s all down to Angie.’

Jen and Lauren went to a room and swapped clothes again as they had at the house before we left. Frank and I stood outside and waited, weapons drawn but concealed. I checked the radio to make sure I was still receiving in case Angie needed to tell me anything.

She did.

*

Angie pulled the car to a halt outside the house Frances indicated. ‘I’ll deal with the weapon, you go and see the controller. When you’re done I’ll be at the place we agreed to meet. Go.’

Frances kissed her hard then got out and walked quickly to the door of the house which opened as she arrived and closed behind her. Angie went around a corner and pressed the transmit button.

‘She’s in. We’re done and I have the weapon.’ She gave the address. It wasn’t too important. The police had fitted a tracker to the BMW and were already assembled near the house, waiting only for her to get clear before raiding the place.

*

‘She’s in.’ The words crackled in my ear and I tapped the door. Jen and Lauren emerged in their own clothes. I wanted to wrap Jen in my arms but there was still the small matter of Lauren’s award and time was pressing. Despite the mayhem outside the hotel all was calm as we entered the auditorium and went to our allotted places. Once seated I held Jen’s hand tightly in mine and we waited for the ceremony to unfold.

*

Frances and her controller were sitting, drinking the whisky that had been brought to the rendezvous by the tall woman who faced her.

A sudden crash at the front door was followed by the detonation of a stun grenade that emitted a bright, bright light and they were at once blinded, deafened and stunned into inactivity.

What followed was brutal and fast. Armed officers like storm troopers overwhelmed the room, sinister in their black uniforms, ear and eye protectors and with guns raised. There were no shots nor was there resistance.

*

‘It’s done.’ The earpiece spoke these words in my ear and I relaxed and gave Jen’s hand a double squeeze. She turned to me and saw my smile and I observed the tension leaving her. It was only a moment before Lauren was on stage collecting her award.

We left Lauren at the reception that followed the ceremony. There was more than adequate security and I wanted to get Jen away and look after her. She’d volunteered to replace Lauren and although I had hated the idea I understood why she wanted to.

‘I know you’ll look after me,’ she had said before we left for the ceremony and I’d hoped that I’d be able to. In the event I had but my heart had been in my mouth.

Back at the house, we went straight to my bedroom. So often after excitement all I want to do is sleep but this night was different. I was hungry for her. We stripped each other hastily, mouths locked as we tore at each other’s clothes. Jen dropped to her knees to unstrap my holster and, pushing my legs apart devoured me, her tongue pushing up into me, her hands stroking my legs. It was too much and I subsided back onto the bed, legs wide, knees raised. Her hunger was apparent and the urgency overcame us both. She clambered on top of me, rubbing her pussy on my thigh as we kissed, my own grinding on her thigh. It was frenzied, both of us wanting to satisfy the other’s need and we almost fought to get at each other. All the nervous energy of the day erupted between us and our orgasms came quickly and hard.

We slept, sweaty and unshowered, our bodies entwined.