Bullet Through Your Face (improved format) (41 page)

“HAYS! GET THE HAIL OUT’A HERE’N THAT’S AN
ORDER!” the Chief flipped’n just blew his lid.
Majora walked back in to say goodbye now that the case was
concluded. Chief asked her out but she said, “No, I’m sorry”
“But . . . I kind’a thought you know . . . I mean, I could tell by the
way you been lookin’ at me that you were . . .”
“Attracted to you. It was all in the line of duty, Chief. I’m sure
you understand.”
“Huh?”
“For the same reason I faked Army credentials, I faked sexual
interest in you, Chief, to make you more disposed to render
information, and more likely to cooperate. This was a matter of
National Security.”
So the PFC shrugged’n did as he was tolt by his supervisin’
officer.
Fine, he don’t wanna hear the rest’a the story, then I’se won’t
tell him.
Seemed kind’a unfair ta Hays’though, ‘cos not tellin’a fella
the end of a story were almost as bad as readin’, like, a novella with
the end chopped off, and Hays
knowed
he wouldn’t like that but—
fuck it! He guessed he’d just have ta save the rest’a that story fer
another time, he would.
Right?
So’s Hays walked on out’a the station inta the middle’a the
fine night. A’corse, the federal fellas had up’n took the shiny-red
Mercedes along with the still-nekit’n unconscious Mrs. Willis, as
well as the hyperdermic full’a alien libidinal stimurlent, and Hays
imagined they done scooted Mrs. Willis’fine her bare ass off ta some
government “debriefin’” facility, but, hey, that’s the way it goes.
And what adjoined this here situation was that as Hays were
leavin’, he did take one last look back into the station through the front winder, and what he saw was a sad sight indeed.
Aw, that ain’t right . . .
He saw the Chief still sittin’at
his desk with his big kisser hangin’ over that cup’a cold coffee’n just
lookin’ so dejected’n depressed,
and it weren’t no surprise considerin’ how the Chief had such fierce
hots fer Agent Majora but now he didn’t have nothin’ta look forward
to ‘cept that beached whale of a wife snorin’ like ta wake the dead
back at the Chief’s double-wide . . .

So that set Hays ta thinkin’.
The Chief were a good man at heart, and he shorely deserved
better’n what life had dealt him so far, and when Hays glanced down
to the other end’a the parkin’ lot, what he saw was this:
Agent Majora fixin’ ta git inta her government sedan.
And that’s when Hays got his idea . . .
“Agent Majora!” he shouted out. “Hold up a sec if ya would!”
Hays trotted on over, wavin’.
“Yes, PFC Hays?” she queried, looking at him over the top of
the car.
“Just one sec!” And then Hays finished trottin’ over.
See, there were one thang he fergot ta hand over to them feds,
and it weren’t like he kept it from ‘em on purpose, he just plumb
fergot.
“What is it, PFC Hays? she asked, gettin’ a bit testy.
Hays reached inta his pocket, then held up that neat purple
marble ‘tween his thumb’n forefinger, and when he pressed against
it hard enough . . .
It began ta glow with that same dark-purple-weird-mindcontrolin’-hypnertizin’ light, and it were shinin’ right inta Agent
Majora’s purdy green eyes.
“You ain’t got no choice but ta do what I’se tell ya,” Hays tolt her.
“Do ya understand?”
Now Majora stood in a trance. “Yes,” she droned back. “I
understand.”

“Good, ya red-hairt cum-dump,” Hays said. “And you gots
yerself a serious problem, see? See, Chief Kinion is the sexiest man
in the world, right?”

“And you’re so hot fer him, yer little red-hairt pussy’s on
fire,
right?”
“That is correct.”
Hays chuckled. “So git on back in there and
do
somethin’ ‘bout
it, ya prissy bitch!”
Agent Majora nodded blankly, turned away from her car...and
headed back toward the police station.

Well, shee-it. The case were closed, all right, all the commotion’a
the day finished and everything set back ta rights, which were a good
thang, indeed, but Chief Kinion still felt a mite glum, he did. Golly,
he shore had hisself a giant crush on Agent Majora, but now she were
gone and he’d more’n likely never see her again.

Oh, well,
he commisserated.
Least I’se can always think back
fondly’n remember her . . .
He turnt on the radio, hopin’ fer somethin’ nice’n soothin’, like
maybe “Blue Moon,” by the King, but what he heard instead nearly
jotled him out’a his chair . . .
Evil, devilish, heavy-metal gee-tars crushed noise from the radio,
along with’a voice like someone garglin’ with rusty razor blades.
“You shit at the moment of death!” the voice screamed, “and I feast
on what is left!”
Dag hippie satanic codswallop!
the Chief thought’n switched
that radio off a mite quick. It was a dag sorry state’a world, when a
southern fella could turn on the radio and hear
that
instead’a Elvis!
Then the station house door clicked open, and in walked—
“Agent Majora!” the Chief celebrated and damn near tipped
over his desk gittin’ up.
“Please,” she said. “Call me Dana.”

“Uh-uh-er, well, yeah, a’corse . . . Dana,” Kinion babbled on.
“So what brings ya back? Did’ja fergit somethin’?”
“Oh, yes, Chief, I most certainly did. You see, I forgot to make
love with the sexiest man I’ve ever met.”
Kinion cocked a smirk. “Hays already left—”
“Not Hays,” she purred. “
You.
”
Well, the Chief about keeled over right then’n there when she
up’n said that, but then he thought it must be some kind’a joke, ‘least
until she, well, started gittin’ out’a her duds a mite fast.
And just as fast, the Chief was pitchin’ a circus tent . . .
She sauntered over, just as nekit now as she was when he’d seen
her in the motel room but somehow even more beautiful: her flawless
white skin just a’glowin’ in the office light, her red hair shinin’ like
new-spun silk, and her gorgeous, dumplin’-like tits pushin’ out like
they’se
wanted
ta be squeezed.
“Ooooooooh, Chief,” she moaned, and then her soft hands set
on his shoulders’n pushed him back down in his chair, and then she
sat her cute l’il tush down on the desk, and she was lookin’ right at
him with a look in her wide green eyes that seemed to say, well . . .
FUCK ME TILL I CAN’T SEE STRAIGHT!
Her voice issued from her lips like hot, thick honey. “Chief, all
day long I’ve been trying to control myself but-but, the more I find
myself in your proximity, the weaker I become. I feel so ashamed
being so weak in front of you—”
Be weak! Be weak!
the Chief’s thoughts bellowed.
“—but I just can’t help it! You are without a doubt the most
sexually stimulating man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and pardon me if
this sounds concupiscent, but-but-but . . . I need you to fuck me till I
can’t see straight . . .”
Well, the Chief didn’t mind one speck ‘bout her soundin’
concupiscent, no sir. And he just sat there with his dick thumpin’
in his trousers’n lookin’ up at her, and then she moved one’a her
purdy l’il feet up his leg’n let it set right smack-dab in his crotch,
and Chief Kinion thought he might just blow a gusher’a peckersnot right
then’n there. That cute l’il foot kinda fiddled down there fer a tad,
as
her breath gusted and her bosom heaved, and her nipples stuck out
so hard he thought they might pop open’n start sprayin’ blood in his
face, he did!

“My sex yearns for your hot, pulsing manhood, Chief,” her words
oozed, and then
both
her purdy l’il feet rose up’n hooked around his
ears, which gave the Chief more than a eyefull’a her plush, perfectly
formed, well . . . majora, them full soft-pink lips gettin’wet just as he
looked, and that fine light-red hair tracin’ over it.

Then her feet kinda hooked behind his head and . . . started ta
pull forward.
“But first, Chief, please, please—I beg of you—
please!
Lave
my hot, pink honeyhole with your big manly tongue!”
Chief Kinion sighed. Yeah, he could do that, yes sir, he could
do it just as purdy as ya please, he could. Problee tasted like a l’il
sugar cookie, so cute’n squeaky clean it was! Yeah, after all these
years, finally—
finally—
the Chief were gettin’ some’a the reward he
deserved fer a life’a hard work . . . He were gettin’ ta hobknob with
the gal’a his dreams—oh, yeah!—with the most perfect woman ta
ever cross his path!
And goin’ down on her snatch were just the appetizer! Purdy
soon after, he’d git ta the main course: his John Thursday sunk deep
inta her joyhole!
So the Chief stuck his big tongue right out’n—yes sir!—he
buried it inta her poon like a weasel stickin’its head into a snakehole,
he did, and he got ta lappin’ away like a regler muff-diver, fer shore,
and Agent Majora were startin’ ta come right off, she were, and the
Chief hisself, he were diggin’ it too, pleasurin’ so fine-lookin’ a gal,
and he just got ta lickin’ up fierce on the adorable l’il clit, givin’ her
the velvet buzzsaw, yes sir, when—
The hail!