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Contract Hit Man

Paul Lovingood falls in love with his mark's wife.
I, Paul Lovingood, am a contract hit man whose skills are for sale to anyone who has the money and a project I believe can be completed without leaving a trace of my existence. I work through a consortium ZZZ that only knows me by reputation. I’m sending the detailed report below that explains my last mission and retirement.

It was a November winter in Chicago when I stopped at the entrance of the Essex Hotel on Michigan Avenue. I shook the wet snow from my overcoat and hair. Shivering I stepped through the door and into the elegant foyer decorated in contrasting red and white. I warmed my hands weaving through a throng of partiers. I wondered how she’ll be dressed as I thought of her tall, slender, voluptuous figure, and beautiful Adridna Lima-like face. The fact her husband, Jordan Rosenfeld, the president of Fidelity Entertainment, was my mark had connections with the mafia bothered me, but not enough to reject her invitation.

I checked my coat at with a hat check girl appreciating the cleavage revealing uniform. My dark blue suit, with a white shirt, and red stripped tie fit my body and personality to a T. In the bar, I searched but didn’t see her. The bar was crowded on a Friday night at nine o’clock, and the dimness made seeing difficult. The long, mahogany bar, surrounded by red-topped stools, and yellow canopy didn’t have an empty seat. As I pushed my way through the mob of drinkers, I spotted her at a booth at the rear of the large room.

Sex wore white. It was a white wool dress that contrasted with her black hair, and evoked a sexual image. One hand held a drink and the other waved discretely.

God what an icon! She’s more stunning than when I first met her. It was the previous Sunday in the anteroom of the Bennington Theater, on Wacker. One of her husband’s productions was performed. My bedmate for the night introduced us, and I knew immediately we connected, because she held my hand a little too long. Her alto voice, warm hand, gracious smile, and the body in a form fitting red dress intrigued me. At the intermission we passed at the bar. She took my arm and invited me to come to the Essex. We were squeezing between people, but she intentionally went out of her way to speak to me. I didn’t respond verbally but rather nodded my head.

“I wasn’t sure you would come?” She offered her hand.

“Does that greeting have a double meaning? I took her hand and wondered about the reaction she would have to my question.

“Won’t you have a seat first?” She laughed and shifted her position closer to me a round booth.

A waiter stopped. He wore a white apron and carried a silver tray. “Would you care to order sir?”

“Dewars on the rocks.” Ignoring the waiter I stared at Cynthia.

“Scotch is a man’s drink.” She sipped her wine

“Some say that.” I didn’t take my eyes from hers.

“Are you this intense all the time? She placed her glass on the table moving closer to me.

“Yes especially when I with a beautiful woman married to a famous man. My question is why me?”

“You were with Joyce. I know she only dates the best. Are you the best?” She picked up her glass and ran it back and forth over her lips.

“I can’t be the judge. You’ll have to ask Joyce or find out for yourself.”

“Handsome and modest and confident, I like that in a man.” She tipped the glass emptying the contents.

The waiter returned with my drink.

“I’d like another Chardonnay.” She returned my stare.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“Are you in a hurry?

“No just wondering? I like your ensemble. White does you greater justice than the red dress you wore Sunday.” I focused on her breasts.

“You remember the color of my dress, that’s amazing for a man” She placed her hand on mine.

I turned my hand palm up. “I never forget a dress on a body as fine as yours.”

She pulled her hand back, “I’m sorry but we’re being watched. Don’t turn around. I have a place not too far away. Would you meet me?” She gazed at me licking her lips.

“Give me the time and place.” I leaned back in the booth.

“The Hampton Inn on Illinois, room 327. It’ll take some time for me to lose my tail, if you’ll pardon the expression.” She laughed.

I laughed with her.

“Act as though we’ve completed our business, finish your drink, and leave. I’ll see you later.” She licked her lips again.

I drained his glass, nodded, got up and retrieved and put on my coat.

A big burly guy took me by the arm. “I want your name.”

“No!” I turned toward the door.

The man pulled my arm. I followed his yank, buI turned, ducked, and struck him in the solar plexus.

He groaned and went to his knees.

“Someone help this man. I think he’s had a heart attack.” I straightened as a crowd gathered. I searched for a backup, seeing none hurried into Chicago’s falling snow.


Collar up, hands in pockets, I walked across Michigan Avenue dodging traffic. I wisely didn’t take a taxi anywhere near the hotel, it would be too easy to trace. Was that the Mafia or her husband’s snoop, I wondered going through a long hallway and back into the snow. I flagged a taxi and gave directions to the corner of Illinois and LaSalle. After paying the cabbie I walked east, with the wind behind me, toward the hotel several blocks away. The snow clung to my coat like Velcro.

I went to the hotel and waited at a back door until a drunk staggered out. I edged in and took the stairs of the fire escape to the third floor. I peeked into the hall. Damn 327 was at the other end of the corridor. I waited thinking about the serendipitous invitation to have a one-night stand with my mark’s wife. I was jubilant. I was going to get laid and probably gather some useful information. After thirty minutes I casually walked the length of the passageway, and knocked on the door. It opened immediately. I rushed in closing it behind me.

Cynthia had changed into a long white fluffy robe. Her black hair hanging over the gown was a dazzling contrast of colors and textures.

In a frenzy of lust, I kissed her, removed her robe, and discarded my clothes.

She kissed back with her tongue.

Without thought, acting only on instinct, we were in bed.

She spread her legs.

I slipped my long hard cock into her.

She dug her fingers into my back.

I pounded her pussy.

She wrapped her legs around me opening herself to my passion, to her need.

My desire to have her, to use her, to ravage her surpassed conscious thought. I moved like an animal with no though of her wants and needs, but only of my selfish craving to satisfy myself. Lying heavily on her body, squishing her breasts flat against her chest, my hands under her shoulders, my feet on the footboard, I rammed her.

She wanted to be dominated. She held me tight against her tits. She dug her fingers into my flesh. She rocked in sync with my movements. She needed my cock to stimulate her sexual desire. She wanted to be used. She was in her glory waiting for the moment when her craving matched mine. The growing sensations emanating from her core to her extremities was caused by my cock swelling, hardening, and plunging into her with abandon. My last stroke caused her to climax. Her orgasm stormed over her like the snow outside.

The sensations of my flesh in and against her flesh took me to a wall of ecstasy. The unexpected perfection of the fit of our organs drove me to furor. I rose on my hands to plunged myself into her. The dam holding back my desire burst, and I shot spurts of semen into the depths of her tunnel.

She took all I had to give and physically milked me dry by flexing her muscles around my cock until my spasms ceased.

Two sweaty bodies, breathing heavily, shuddering involuntary, separated in the afterglow of sexual satisfaction.


We lay silent for a long time.

I wondered why I was so driven by this woman. Why did I fuck her with such lack of control?

Why didn’t we talk? Why didn’t she protest? “Did I hurt you?” I whispered.

“No, no, it…you fulfilled my every fantasy. I’ve been told about such ecstasy, but this was the first time I’ve experienced it.”

“I was so turned on; I lost command of myself. I couldn’t help but fuck you selfishly.”

“You gave me exactly what I wanted, I needed. It was wonderful.”

We showered washing each other bodies. Back in bed we cuddled under the blankets.

She wiggled her ass into his crotch and pulled my hand to a breast. “You were what I desired. I craved someone excited about fucking me.”

“Excited is an understatement.” I kissed her neck and fondled her tit.

“I’ve considered myself to be worthless, unneeded, unwanted. Jordan is too busy with his work, his shows, and his girls to have much time for me.”

I ran my lips along her shoulder. She shivered. “If that’s your feeling why do you stay with him?”

“I enjoy the limelight as the wife of a famous producer and director, and I love him and want to have children. It’s almost too late for me to have them now.” She cried quietly. Tears meandered down her cheeks.

“From what you’ve said I gather he’s cheating on you? If you have evidence of your husband’s adultery you can get a divorce and be financially set.” I moved one of her legs over mine and placed my hand on her mons.

She shuddered as my fingers kneaded her labia lips. “I don’t want a divorce. I love him although I know he’s cheating on me.”

“How do you know?” I curled my finger between her lips and probed her wetness searching for her G-spot.

She gasped and whimpered, “I hired a detective agency to follow him.”

“What did they find?” My finger pressed into her.

“Oh God that’s so good!” She gasped. “They’ve gathered names, dates, places, and collected credit card receipts, and pictures.”

“Then why don’t you divorce him? But if you love him why are you with me?”

“I decided if he was playing around it was possible for me too, but I didn’t know any men who interested me. I saw you with Joyce at the Bennington Theater. I knew right away you were the one. Oh please keep that up.”

“Are you okay?” I bit her softly on the shoulder.

“I’m marvelous. You’re exciting me. It won’t take too much longer and I’m going to climax.” She leaned her head back and turned the front of her throat to me.

She lifted her snatch to my hand, and rubbed her other breast.

My amazement at the frantic pace of minutes ago, my need to have her again, and my puzzlement about her staying married motivated me to give her the kind of loving she deserved. I moved my hand to her clit and circled it over and over.

“Oh, oh God,” Cynthia’s body went rigid as waves of pleasure washed over her. She quivered and quaked and groaned as climaxed and went limp in my arms. We lay side by side in the glow of her sexual release.

I pushed her until she was on her stomach. I placed a pillow under her hips, spread her legs with my knees, and guided my cock into her cunt.

She moaned as I settled deep within her. “You’re filling me like a stallion.”

“I’ve never been called a horse before,” I said placing my hands on her hips, rose on my knees and thrust into her. I wasn’t in a hurry as my immediate desire had been satisfied, and I wanted to enjoy her tight pussy for as long as I could because this might by my last chance. I took her by the hair and rode her like a jockey. I started slow and spurred her with my free hand as I increased my pace rolling my hips to the right, to the left, and directly into her.

She grunted with each stroke and her hands clutched the bed sheets as though she was hanging on to a bucking bronco. Her black hair sprayed over her pinkish white skin contrasting with the white sheets.

As I rammed in and out of her she bounced in time with my strokes. I noticed a mole on her right shoulder, the impression line of her panties around her narrow waist, and the rounded curves of her derriere. The sensations of her uplifted channel on my slightly concave cock were stimulating and moving me closer and closer to coming.

“Paul, oh Paul come, please come. I’m so close I want to feel you come.” She turned her head to glance at me.

I took her by the hips, lifted her off the pillow, and stroked her with pent up frenzy.

Her grunts turned to moans and then to groans.

The sound of my flesh banging into her flesh preceded the growing feeling of anticipation before I flooded her with my fluids. My spasms persisted for a several minutes before I became flaccid and slipped from her.

We showered and I dressed

“Are we going to see each other again?” she asked.

“Do you want too?”

“Yes my God yes. I’ve never been fucked so well.”

“You’re going to have to make a decision about your husband. If you love him then aside from the pleasure of fucking me there’s no reason for you to see me. “It’s been an incredible evening I’ll never forget.” I kissed her, left the room, the hotel, and stepped back into the falling snow. I thought about her beauty, her incredible body, her needy pussy, and his two awesome orgasms. That’s a lady I could retire for, but not if I’m going to off her husband.


Monday night I received a call from her.

“Paul, its Cynthia. Can you come over?”

“How’d you get my number?”

“I called Joyce.”

“Why did you call me?”

“Jordan and I had a fight this morning and he left. I don’t know what to do now.”

“I can get away in about half an hour. What’s your address?”

“It’s 3500 North Indian Road in Forest Glen.”

“It’ll take me at least an hour to reach you.”

“That’s okay. What kind of car will you be driving?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m having the house watched and I’ll tell the guard to let you in.”

“It’ll be a 2000 Ford SUV.”


She opened the door as soon as the bell rang.

I went in shaking snow off my coat and hair.

“I’d like a drink?”

“I’m not sure I have Dewars.”

We went to the den and poured her a Chardonnay and a Scotch for me.

“Do you have a clue as to who I am?” I sat in a chair and took a sip of my drink.

“No, I only know your name and that you have a mysterious background.”

“I’m a contract hit man.” I crossed my legs at the knee.

She stared at me for a long moment. “You mean you kill people for money?”

“That’s a good way to put it.”

“I’m afraid I’ve made a big mistake.”

“You probably have.”

“I don’t want anyone killed.” She flopped in a chair and cried.

“I assume the detective agency you hired is reliable. I can set you up with an honest divorce lawyer. Do you need money in case your husband gets to the bank before you do?” “I hadn’t thought about the money, but I have an account of my own, so I should be all right financially.”

“To change the subject, what did you think about Friday night?” I drank some Scotch.


“Cynthia, I wanted a one-night stand with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but what happened between us affected me.” I uncrossed my legs, leaned forward, and stared at her.

“I…I thought the same thing; I’m attracted to you. I can’t explain it, but when I saw you I could tell you were the man I wanted. It was what you said about loving Jordan and divorce that

enabled me to ask him to leave. After Friday night I know I made the right decision.” She moved to the edge of her chair.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked walking to her.

“Yes, but it’s impossible…impossible with your background.”

“I’m clean. I have no record. No one knows where to find me. None of my contacts have ever seen me. I can walk away from the life I have. I have a college education. I could settle down.” I kissed her.

She kissed back. “Before this goes any further and I want it too, we have to determine how I should handle my situation with Jordan.” She held me close.

I hesitated thinking what about what to do. She doesn’t want him killed, but I have a contract on him. This might not work if she ever finds out. She won’t find out.

“You’re going to go through a messy divorce. However, from what you’ve told me you have the goods on him and the divorce may be simple. We won’t know until it happens.”

I like the way you said we.” She gazed deep into my eyes.

“I did say that didn’t I? You know this is crazy. We may not like each other out of bed.” I held her at arm’s length.

“I had a feeling about you when I first saw you, and a woman’s instincts are usually right. We’ve talked enough.” She took his hand.

“I’ve got to call my driver and tell him to leave.” I grabbed my cell and made the call.


“Follow me.” She pulled her sweater over her head.

I undressed following her.

We came together kissing. We fell to the bed arms, legs, and tongues intertwined.

“Do you want to tell me what happened between you and Jordan?” I fondled her breasts.

She ran her hand up and down my cock and told me about the confrontation. “I threatened to expose his adultery or divorce him, but he didn’t believe me. Although he left upset and told me ‘don’t do anything rash’ that’s when I called for someone to watch the house, before I called you.”

“I think you acted intelligently. You’ve had the crisis with Jordan. A divorce will be a struggle, but we can be happy together.” I laughed kissing her with passion.

She kissed back stroking me faster. “I want to suck you cock?”

“Are you sure?” I rolled onto my back.

She licked pre-cum, kissed my crown, and took part of my shaft into her mouth. “I love your cock, but it’s too big for me to suck all of it.”

“It’s okay. I’m interested in having it in another place. I pulled her on top of me.

She straddled me and guided my staff into her. “Is this where you want to be?”

I enjoyed her slow push onto my shaft until she could go no further.

She groaned. “I love that feeling.”

“Come,” I said opening my arms to her.

The feeling of my hands and mouth on her breasts and nipples thrilled and excited her almost as much as my cock filling her cunt. She let me nurse on one and the other. At the same time she loosened and tightened her muscles around my erection.

“Are you ready for some action?” I asked releasing her teat and pushing her upright.

She didn’t hesitate. With her hands on my chest she lifted and dropped herself on me. “Do you like that?”

I grinned and tweaked her nipples.

Moving up and down she grunted each time she hit bottom. “Massage my clit, I’m getting close.”

I placed my right thumb on her love button.

She shuddered as she continued to move. She stopped and wiggled her hips in circles until her head rolled back, her body stiffened, and she moaned long and loud.

I smiled with satisfaction, holding her by the hips and enjoying her orgasm. My sexual release is the most pleasurable part of fucking, but having the ability to bring a woman to a climax adds to my pleasure. I didn’t soften and when she calmed; I took her hands in mine as a brace and said, “Again.”

Holding my hands, she rocked back and forth. Her actions were vigorous as she thrust as hard as she could on my extended staff. It didn’t take long before the stimulation of hard flesh against soft flesh brought her to another groaning orgasm.

I rolled us over, without disengaging, as soon as she returned to near normal. Holding my weight off her, I plunged my cock in and out over and over.

She pulled me close, placed her arms around my neck, and opened herself to my throbbing whip. The sensation of my dick banging against her tunnel walls stimulated her, and she went ballistic moving under me in all directions at the same time moaning “Yes, yes, yes!”

I delighted in her reactions and orgasms. I rose onto my hands so I could watch her head and breasts move forward and backward at each thrust.

“Give it to me. I want you to come.”

I moved harder and faster until my body stiffened and shot strings of semen into her pussy. As soon as my secondary spasms ceased I rolled to her side.

We laid together in sexual satisfaction.


I heard something; I pulled her off the bed, and turned off the lights.

“What’s the matter?”

“Be still, don’t talk.”

The door burst open, the lights came on. Two men stood in the doorway with guns drawn. “Where is she?” One of them asked.

Two shots rang out. The men dropped where they stood.

I was in the nude with gun in hand searching the two bodies. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, who are they?”

“Hit men, probably Mafia. I’m afraid they’ve killed the detective guarding the house. He probably tried to stop them. The sound is likely what alerted me.”

“Who would send someone to kill me?” She asked shivering in my arms.

“My guess would be your husband.”

She gasped. “Why would you think that?”

“You threatened to expose or divorce him. He would fear publicity and the money he would lose in a divorce.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“This is going to get messy, when the police arrive. My gun is registered, but the two of us in bed is going to be fodder for the media. Remain calm and simply answer police questions with as few words as possible."

We each called our lawyers, and she phoned the police.


We agreed to say she had invited me to her apartment, as a friend of a mutual friend, we made love. Aside from that fact everything else we would say would be the truth to the best of our knowledge, but we would both refuse to talk at length until our lawyers were present.

Catherine and I were interrogated by the police separately and repeatedly. The police were especially rough with me because of my lack of a work background, a permanent residence, a bank account, or credit cards. I held up to the questioning without providing any meaningful information.

We were held until early Tuesday afternoon. No charges were filed because the two victims were obviously hired killers, and they were shot in self defense. Due to the gathered media we were ushered out of police headquarters in separate unmarked vans.

Two thugs killed in the bedroom of Mrs. Cynthia Rosenfeld,

wife of Jordan Rosenfeld the entertainment mogul, screamed the newspaper

headlines and the scrolling screens of all TV stations. Stories went on to say the hoodlums were shot and killed by Paul Lovingood at the time the intruders appeared in the bedroom. The home invasion of the unidentified men, who were carrying automatic pistols and no identification, appeared to be a contract job. The details of why Mrs. Rosenfeld’s and Mr. Lovingood were together in the bedroom at midnight have not been released by the police. Also, Mr. Lovingood had a limited amount of identification and background information, although he did have a permit to carry the weapon, a Colt M1911, he used to shoot the intruders.

TV talk shows had a field day and night. Jay Leno wanted to know if Mrs. Rosenfeld got a good loven from her companion. He also said if he wouldn’t like to have a name like Lovingood because women would crawl out of the woodwork to discover the truth. David Letterman asked if all of Mr. Lovingood’s aim was as accurate as his pistol shots. He continued by saying this so called professional hit job is interesting in light of her companion’s lack of a paper trail.


Cynthia and her attorney went to his office and worked on divorce papers. They had to assume Jordan would file for a divorce too, but they had the upper hand because of the existence of her detective agency’s evidence. They worked into the night. A trusted detective took her to a location near the Hampton Inn. She walked the remainder of the way in the cold and entered through a back door.

The smell of coffee greeted her as she entered and she called, “Whose here?”

I came out of the kitchen smiling and held my arms open.

She rushed to me. “How did you get in?”

I kissed her before answering, “I picked the lock. I figured you’d come to your hide out to stay away from the media. You must have done a good job with the police since neither you nor I have been charged with anything.”

“You’re handsome, intelligent and street smart. I like that in a man, but you’ve got to tell me who you are?

She questioned me until satisfied. She believed, finally, she understood the man who had the ability to send her to the stars.

We went to the bedroom with Cynthia throwing clothes as she went. She pulled the spread back removing her bra and panties. She smiled watching as I slowly undressed until my rigid cock appeared.

We made love: giving, taking, and sharing.

I encouraged her to be assertive, and to take control of the love making process.

She opened herself to my directions and actively participated in the sex act. She sucked my cock.

I ate her to a climax.

We fucked in numerous positions.

“This is the first time in my life I haven’t felt like a depository for a man’s sperm.”

The frequency and power of her orgasms made her ecstatic. Unknowingly, she became pregnant.

We slept.

The next morning we had breakfast in the room and talked over coffee.

“I hate to tell you this but I have to disappear.” I held her hands.

Her mouth dropped, “Why?”

“My life is in jeopardy. I killed two Mafia thugs and Jordan has a connection with them. Thus, they have three reasons to off me.”

“Where will you go? How will we stay in contact? How long will we have to be apart?”

“I can’t tell you where. I’ll use a calling card from various locations, and I’ll devise a code system to communicate through the newspaper. We’ll have to be separated until your divorce is final, which could take over a year.”

She wept.

We made love.


She wore a black dress to her attorney’s office for a meeting with Jordan and his lawyers.

His attorney confidently presented the evidence of her adultery through newspaper accounts.

“Is that all you have?” Her lawyer asked.

“Yes, what else do we need?” He asked with assurance.

Cynthia’s consul shoved a copy of names, dates, places, credit card receipts, and a few pictures of Jordan’s adulterous affairs across the table.

Jordan’s expression changed when he saw the material. “I thought you were kidding.”

“I may be a dumb broad, but I’m not that dumb. I told you I had you by the balls and now my attorney and I are going to twist. Your attempt to have me killed is going to cost you a bundle, and if I die for any reason other than natural causes you’ll be the most important person of interest.” She returned to her seat and smiled.

Jordan slumped in his chair staring at the table.

The attorneys agreed to meet within a month to disclose assets and to consider an agreeable distribution.

The divorce was filed and adjudicated within six months of their confrontation. Cynthia’s pregnancy had become obvious by that time.

Again, the media went wild, with lots of speculation about the identity of the father and the disappearance of Paul Lovingood.

During this period Cynthia and I were in constant contact. I was happy about the baby and being the father. Three months after Paul, Jrs. birth, the two of them left Chicago for an unknown destination.

Within months they disappeared from the headlines and could not be located.


That’s the end of my report.


A year later, Jordan lost his life mysteriously with a gunshot blast to the chest. All the husbands of the women with whom he’d had affairs were suspects, but no charges were ever filed. Today, it remains a cold case.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © © 2013 to the present by Mitchawwa
All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Mitchawa.

All of Mitchawa's stories are fiction and all plots, characters, and settings are created by the author for the entertainment of audiences in a wide variety of formats.

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