How Could She Kill Her Black Lover?

I returned home in the evening to find my wife stacking up ammo for her submachine rifle. She was dressed in her sexiest lingerie, make-up done, wearing knee-length boots and looking sexy as fuck. I glanced around, wondering if by chance another man was lurking about, but to my chagrin, she was alone. She was so into her activity that she barely knew I’d entered the house until I shut the door.

“Hi darling,” Monica looked up and smiled. “I’m glad you’re home. You’re just in time.”

“Just in time for what exactly, honey?”

She stopped to sweep her lush brunette hair from her face while wielding her automatic in her other hand. 

“I’m frustrated, Don,” she said. “I’ve been sitting at home all morning and well into the afternoon wondering if I’d done something wrong, and if ever I did, then how come nobody’s told me anything. How come I’m the only thirty-plus bitch in this neighbourhood without someone wanting to come and fuck me.”

I wanted to laugh, but the cold look in her eyes told me that would be a bad idea. Instead I threw my jacket and briefcase on a nearby chair and approached her.

“How could you say that? What happened to your sweet pal, Theo?”

“Theo’s out of town. He won’t be back for another week.”

“Okay. How about Morris. You and him were going fine together last week.”

“Wrong, honey,” she said. “I haven’t heard from Morris since three weeks, come to find out he’s getting married this weekend and won’t be accepting my calls anymore.”

“That’s tough. What about Jeremy? I was on the phone with him last week. You spoken to him too?”

“Sure I have. Jeremy lost his job the day before, and he’s been depressed since; he’s of no use to me, honey. I’m been sitting here thinking what can I do to kill a black lover, and I’ve got the answer I need. Taylor Devlin. Remember him?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“That joker has been dodging me for days now. I’m going to his place right now so I can aim this auto on his cock and ask how come he hasn’t thought about coming to fuck me with it.”

“I see. Well, before you head out, how about I take a shower and change, then drive you to his place. How does that sound?”

Monica checked her watch. “You’re going to have to hurry, honey.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be down in ten.”

I shot up from the chair and ran awkwardly towards the stairs, forgetting my jacket and briefcase. Monica did appear serious about her intentions; the least I could do was ensure she didn’t end up maiming her lover. I nearly ripped my shirt buttons as I hurried into the bathroom, then stopped to clumsily kick aside my shoes and then my pants. I jumped into the shower stall minutes later, realising too late that I still wore my stockings. I took the quickest shower I could and jumped out with soap suds in my hair. Minutes later, I’d dried myself and selected what to wear. 

“All right, babe,” I yelled while hurrying from the top of the stairs, decked in fresh clothes. “Let’s hit the road.”

Monica wore a trench coat over her outfit to hid her rifle inside and then we got into the car and drove off.

We arrived at the red brick apartment housing where her lover Taylor resided. It was past seven in the evening and the sky had turned purple when I drove us into the building’s parking grounds. Monica pointed at Taylor’s parked vehicle, which indicated he was home. 

“You’re not serious about wanting to shoot him with that weapon, are you?”

“Of course not,” she replied. “Well, maybe. I just want to give him a good fright. He’s probably got someone home with him, so maybe this will give them a good scare.”

Monica laughed at the thought of that; I couldn’t tell how serious she was, but decided to follow behind her.

I slammed our doors shut, the approached the building. Monica adjusted her weapon hidden inside her coat as we went up the stairs, then walked the lengthy corridor to stop at his apartment door. She pressed the doorbell and waited. I stood beside her, tense, unsure of what to expect.

“What I’m here about is to ask how come you haven’t come by lately to fuck me?”