The End of Me

I took a breath and stepped in.

The fat man was listening to Frank Sinatra, as if he couldn't be more cliché with his white suit.

He looked up and grinned at me, shaking his jowls. His face was sweaty, even though he wasn’t actually doing anything. He was sweating from existing, like that took work.

He looked me up and down, "You're hot. I'm gonna have to get the name of your company." He smiled like he was being sexy as he undid his dress shirt.

I almost gagged. Instead, I grinned like I was about to backcomb my hair and tell him about saving whales and orphans. In my best Miss America country accent, I smiled and twirled my long, dark hair, "Why, thank you."

I always had a thing for accents. Whenever I read aloud, it was with a British accent.

I reached into my clutch and chatted like it was small talk, "I heard you like it kinda rough, so I was thinking maybe we could do a little spanking first."

He chuckled, "Oh my God. You're a gift from God. I gotta remember to thank Vince tomorrow. The last girl complained." My stomach dropped at those words. At least it would make killing him easier. I was only guessing about the spanking.

I smirked and nodded, "Yeah, Vince said to say hi. I think that was his name." I tilted my head and made a confused face as I pulled my lipstick out, "My name is Wanda. It's short for Wanda Lynn."

I wrote my new name on the mirror in the foyer, like I was one of those waiters in the restaurants with the paper tablecloths and the upside-down writing.

"Wanda huh, I like that name." He shot back his drink. The sound of the ice made me want some too, but I didn’t need that clouding my brain, not yet. I would need it later, when I wanted to drink away the memory of his naked body anywhere near mine. He poured more and walked towards me.

I stuck the lipstick in the clutch and walked to him as I fished the two pills out. I held them in my fingers and dragged my hands up his sweaty fat chest, pinching the pills between two fingers.

I giggled, "You wanna spank me first or me spank you?" As the words left my lips, I contemplated just taking the poison myself and ending it there.

He laughed and grabbed my breast in my thousand-dollar halter-top. "I think I'll spank you first."

I tilted my head and smiled sweetly, "Okay." I looked around, "Where do you want me?"

He pursed his lips, "Bed, ass in the air."

"Skirt on or off?" I dragged my empty fingers along the waistband of my skirt.

He nodded, "Skirt on and pulled up."

I blushed and walked to the bed. I looked at him, as sexy as I could and lifted the skirt slightly, letting my ass cheeks peek out the bottom. He smiled like he got a new toy, or let’s be honest, a sundae. He licked his lips and I decided it was a sundae for sure.

I bent over the bed and placed my hands on the bed, still gripping the pills.

He walked over and rubbed his hands over my nearly bare cheeks. The French underwear rode a fair amount. He rubbed in a circular motion and then gave me a hard smack. I made a sexy face and moaned.

"You like that, huh?"

I nodded, "I do."

He smacked again and then rubbed more. His fingers were brushing my underwear. I wanted to bury my face and cry, but I smiled. I gave him my sexy bedroom face. He smacked again. The vibration was actually not bad, considering I had never been spanked before. Not that the feel could take away from the fact, I was being spanked by a three hundred pound sweating beast. He rubbed my cheeks, "You work out, Wanda"

I nodded, "I do. I run sometimes."

He gripped my ass and nodded, I could see the filthy thoughts burning through his mind. He spanked once more and then pulled my underwear to the side. I stood up fast and planted a kiss on his squishy lips. I could smell cigar and paint chips, I swear it.

"Lie back," I whispered into his lips. He lay back on the bed. I crawled towards him and unzipped his pants. I coughed. It was part fake and part smell. He smelled like sweat, old booze, and smoke.

"I need a drink."

He pointed, almost panting. I got up and pranced over to the table. I took his drink he had before and drank a sip.

"You want the rest?" I asked.

He nodded.

I took it in my hand and slipped the pills in, as I walked to the bucket of ice. I clinked in one more and stirred it with my finger.

He licked his lips again. The capsules were fast dissolving I guessed, because they were gone by the time I got to the bed.

He shot it back and reached for me, but I grabbed the glass and pulled away, "I still have a tickle."

He chuckled, "I'm gonna tickle you."

I laughed, "You are a bad man."

He nodded, "I am."

I narrowed my eyes, "You want me to punish you for a minute?"

He nodded. I poured the scotch into the glass and carried it to him. I drank a sip and passed him the rest. He gulped it back and scrambled off the bed.

I pulled his belt off and wrapped it around his wrists behind his back and bent him over the bed.

"Pull it out, stroke it," he muttered into the bedding.

I gulped and used my mom voice, "I’m in charge. I'll pull it out, when I'm ready. You've been a bad boy." I ripped his pants down and spanked his flabby ass cheek. He moaned into the bed. I spanked again, harder. He moaned into the bed and then he started to twitch. He jerked like he was having a heart attack. I stepped back and put my hands to my mouth. I cried out for help, "Help me."

I look around the room. No one was there to help me. How good was it looking on the camera? I turned and ran for the door. I screamed, "HELP ME!"

A man was walking down the hallway. He looked up at me.

"Help, please!" I shouted and turned, running back into the room. The man followed. When we got inside, fat man was dead on the floor. His pants were down and his hands were bound behind his back.

The man untied the fat man’s wrists and pushed him on his back.

"Call 9-1-1!" he said frantically.

I was having a proper panic attack. I grabbed the phone next to the bed and dialed 9-1-1. The phone made a noise and a person answered, "Front desk?"

I shook my head, "I need 9-1-1. My…uhm…boyfriend. He's had an attack. We were playing around and he got sick. Hurry. Please hurry." I covered my eyes and hung up the phone.

I grabbed the fat man's hand and sobbed fake cries. I didn’t have any tears. I should have had some, but apparently, I couldn’t cry when I was being the person they needed me to be.

My panic attack was authentic by the time the ambulance arrived. I was hugging myself and pacing.

The man from the hallway, who had come to help, wrapped an arm around me as they attached the fat man to the stretcher.

"Had you been dating long?" he asked.

I shook my head, "We just started."

He squeezed, "You wanna come back to my room and I'll get you a drink?"

I glanced up at him and smiled, not that it mattered. His eyes were focused on my chest.

"No thanks. I just want to go home."

The man in a dress shirt and slacks eyed me up. I had already given him my statement. "It's a heart attack they figure, so you're free to go." I nodded and hugged my arms around myself. I picked up my purse and the glass I drank from. I poured one more shot of scotch and drank it back. I carried it from the room.

The dark-red Wanda, with a heart, on the mirror made me sick, as I made my way to the elevator.

I didn’t know the room he was staying in, but I sort assumed it would be the presidential suite. I also sort of assumed, that he would expect me to find him.

I stepped in past the bellhop. I hadn’t recalled there being one before.

"Presidential suite, please," I muttered like I was stricken with trauma.

He tapped the cell phone in his belt, like it was to the beat of a cheesy Celine Dion song. I looked over at him and smiled when I saw it was Luce. She honestly looked like a guy, in a bellhop's uniform.

I glanced at the screen of the cell phone and read the sideways message, making a smirk cross my lips. I hugged myself tighter, as she started to get a head bob to the music. She dropped her hat on the floor. I bent to pick it up, palming the powder she dropped in the tiny packet. She smiled when I passed the hat to her.

I stepped off the elevator, ignoring her completely, and made my way to the door. I knocked, holding my clutch and the packet in the same hand.

Servario answered and smiled bitterly, "That was a show and a half." He stepped back to let me in and shook his head, "I should have guessed you would find a way to ensure that it was a legit kill."

I shook my head, "I don’t know what you mean. It was horrible, the way he had a massive heart attack like that."

I entered the room, opening my clutch and passing him the lipstick back and slipping the packet in.

"This is yours," I said softly.

His eyes were burning, "You disappointed me in so many ways."

I felt fear creeping up inside of me, when I glanced at his twitching hands. I had learned to take a hit in training but I really didn’t want to take one.

He grabbed me and ran his hand up into my hair. He pulled back slightly, tilting my head and exposing my throat, "You let him touch you," he whispered into my cheek and tugged hard on my hair. I sucked a breath in, trying not to wince.

He smiled pleasantly, "I told you, this is mine." He reached down and brushed his fingers along the center of my underwear.

I shook my head slightly, "He didn’t touch that."

His eyes flashed, "You let him have an experience with you, that I have not."

My ass started to hurt, just imagining the things he was going to do to it. I needed the powdered belladonna packet in my purse. I needed him to pass out. He towered over me, almost putting me on my tiptoes in the six-inch heels. My fingers dug into his thick chest.

"I really want a shower," I said softly. It was true. I did.

He looked me over, "You're lucky. You have another job to do in a couple days. I need you rested." ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">