Matilda In The Sand 1
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Matilda And The AssassinChapter 7 free porn video
Matilda's elbow wobbled on the kitchen table as she cradled the side of her face in her upturned palm. She doodled on the side of a brown paper grocery bag, pausing momentarily to yawn. Her mouth froze in the open position when her sleepy eyes spotted a rare unused space. She moved the tip of the pencil to its center and made a circle -- and then kept making more circles, each larger than the previous.
The front door swung open and Leon stormed into the apartment. Matilda jumped, almost falling from the chair. The pencil flew from her hand and rolled off the table unnoticed as it clattered on the linoleum floor.
"We have a job," Leon said, slamming the door behind him and whisking by her.
Matilda leapt from her seat and hurried after him. When she entered the bedroom, Leon was about to stoop in front of the large suitcase next to the dresser. But he stopped. Matilda's hand slapped over her mouth to suppress the giggle. Leon turned Bobby's bear right side up and then dropped to a knee to open the suitcase.
"Is it a hit?" Matilda asked.
"Get ready."
"But is--?!" she began with excitement but shut up when Leon turned towards her with a penetrating glare. Then, more subdued, she asked, "What's the plan?"
Leon screwed silencers onto two pistols and shoved them into his waistband. He turned back to Matilda and studied her. Then he said, "You don't need to know."
"What do you mean? You always tell me to have a plan ... to work out every detail. Otherwise it's not safe. I have to know the plan."
"It is best if you do not. This is different. If you know you will give it away."
"Give what away?"
"Enough! We have to go."
"What should I wear?"
"It does not matter. Hurry up, we have to go."
Something's not right, Matilda thought. Leon is always methodical and calm. Right now he's neither. And what was that look he gave me? He taught me to always have a plan ... always! No exceptions! Without a plan you're an amateur. That's what he always said. Over and over again! You're just a lunatic killer. Without a plan you'll screw up and get caught.
Then her mind wandered to Detective Grafton's lifeless body lying on the floor in her old apartment. She killed him on impulse. What did I overlook? With all of Leon's training, I did it like an amateur. I didn't have a plan. Shit, did I leave anything for the police? Am I going to get caught?
"Get moving!" Leon barked.
That brought Matilda out of her thoughts. After removing the long tee-shirt she wore around the apartment, she hesitated and then let it drop from her fingers. Standing in front of the dresser in only panties, she waited. The glint in her eyes was the only sign of the laughter she held back as she watched Leon. He scooped the tee-shirt up and folded it, placing it on the bed. It was a game she never tired of. She opened the third drawer and grabbed a pair of jeans. Leon snatched them, stuffing them back inside.
"Wear a skirt," he said.
So it does matter what I wear. He said it doesn't, but it does. This is so unlike Leon. It worried her but she put on a skirt. Then she hesitated after opening the drawer containing her few bras. She decided not to wear one. She chose a pink tee-shirt. It was bright and contrasted with the black skirt.
"Is this okay?" she asked, twirling 360 degrees which flared out the skirt.
"Fine. Let's go."
Matilda followed Leon to his car. They drove in silence -- for a one block.
"What am I supposed to do?" Matilda asked.
"Whatever they tell you."
They? she wondered staring at Leon's profile. "How many?"
He glanced at her and then his eyes returned to the road. "Two."
"Who are they?"
"Not important."
"What are they going to ask me to do?"
"Does it matter?"
Matilda thought about that for a while and then said, "Are they going to have sex with me?"
Leon looked at her longer this time before turning back. "Yes."
"Both?"
"You'll see."
Matilda knew she was not going to get any more information from Leon.
The ride was short. Leon parked the car alongside the curb and motioned for Matilda to get out. They walked side by side, she in a short skirt and tee-shirt and him in his customary knee-length trench coat. The street was littered with broken glass and papers. In her old life, Matilda had watched a lot of television. When cartoons were not on, she would watch other shows, always fascinated with the nice houses, lawns, and clean neighborhoods. She had wondered if they were make-believe Hollywood sets. Could there really be neighborhoods so different from hers?
Matilda recoiled into Leon with a shriek. A man had emerged from the alley on her right. She gasped and clutched Leon's lower body. The man pointed a gun at them.
"Don't move," he said in a scratchy voice.
A thick, black beard covered the man's face. His oily hair was tied back with a rubber band, a few loose strands hanging over one twitching eye. His clothes were filthy and tattered. His teeth were yellow. And he smelled like stale sweat and piss.
Matilda looked up at Leon when she felt his hand nudging her to move behind him. She took small steps, all the while staring at the gunman's face. His eyes darted to her a few times, but his attention was on Leon.
"Give me your wallet," the man said.
Matilda noticed how agitated the man was. He was not like Leon. He was not a professional.
"And then what?" Leon asked calmly.
"Huh?"
"After I give you my wallet, what then?"
The man glanced at Matilda who was peeking around Leon's side. "Maybe I'll fuck the girl."
"Then why don't we make a deal. You can have her."
Matilda gasped. She pressed her forehead into Leon's lower back with her eyes closed. Her fingers dug into his hips.
The man looked confused and the gun lowered slightly. Leon moved like lightning. His left arm shot up and slapped the man's hand to the side. A loud bang filled the empty streets. Matilda flinched, clamping her eyes tighter, but the bullet smashed into the brick wall of an apartment building across the street. Leon's right hand grabbed the man's forearm and held it steady while he wrenched the gun free with his other hand. Switching the gun to his right hand, he slammed it into the man's head. The man crumbled to the floor.
Leon scanned the empty street with his all-seeing eyes as he stooped. He grabbed the unconscious man by the collar and dragged him deep into the alley. Matilda followed without uttering a word, still trembling. She stopped only to pick up the man's right shoe which fell off his foot. Leon flung the man against the wall and Matilda tossed the shoe next to his lifeless body. Leon flipped his long coat open and pulled a pistol out of his waistband. He turned the safety off and handed the gun to Matilda.
"Finish him off."
Leon walked to where the alley opened onto the street. Leaning on the wall with his arms folded and the man's gun tucked under his armpit, he peered up and down the street, never once looking back at Matilda.
Matilda stared at Leon and then at the slumped over man propped against the wall. She lifted the familiar gun. Holding it in both hands, she pointed it at the top of the man's head. Looking down the long silencer, she squeezed the trigger and heard the muffled sound. The man crumbled to his side and rolled onto his belly. Blood gushed from his head. Matilda flipped the safety on and sprinted to where Leon stood.
Leon looked over his shoulder, nodded, and took the pistol from her. After checking the safety, he stuck the gun into his pants, covering it with his coat. Then he wiped the man's gun with a handkerchief and dropped to a knee. He flicked the gun towards the man. It bounced and skidded on the concrete until coming to rest about three feet from the dead man's foot.
Leon stood up and stepped onto the sidewalk. He looked both ways and then continued in the direction they had been walking. Matilda watched him, stunned. She stood as still as Lot's wife after being turned into a pillar of salt. Leon stopped in front of an apartment building and, with one foot on the first step, glared at Matilda. She snapped out of her stupor and ran up to him. Her heart pounded and it was hard to breathe. Not because of the sprint, but because of what had just transpired. She was almost mugged and raped. She killed someone. His body lay in the alley not far away.
Leon, on the other hand, looked like someone leaving a boring movie.
They climbed the front stoop and then four flights of stairs. Some day I'm gonna find out what an elevator feels like, Matilda thought on the way up. It was obvious Leon had been there before. He went directly to apartment 4G where he knocked on the door. Matilda waited at his side and a little behind him wondering what was going to happen.
When the door opened, Matilda shifted further behind Leon. She stared at the man from around him. The stranger's head was shaved and he had a tattoo of a dragon spitting fire on the left side of his thick neck. Faded tattoos with dark blue, green, and red ink covered both massive forearms. But what she could not stop looking at was the jagged scar from his earlobe to the middle of his chin. It looked like something the point of a beer can opener would make.
"Leon, come in, my friend," the man said in a thick Russian accent.
Matilda held Leon's hips, shuffling her feet as she followed him into the apartment like a vaudeville actor whose role was the back half of a fake horse. When he stopped, she bumped into him. He reached behind himself and grabbed her arm, dragging her out. She looked around the room.
Another man sat in a big leather chair. She recognized him. He had done business with her father and had been in their apartment numerous times. Leon acknowledged him with a simple, "Freddie." The man nodded in return, but his eyes were locked on Matilda.
Leon knows the weasel! That's weird, she thought.
Matilda did not like Freddie. She had not liked any of her father's associates, but she disliked this one the most. She called him the weasel because, to her, that's what he was. He was short with thin hair combed straight back. He always wore loud shirts. He had a high-pitched voice and did not look tough like the others. He was quick with a joke and made people laugh, but Matilda never saw the humor in what he said. She always wondered if the others were laughing at him. What she also did not like about him was the way he had leered at her. He even touched her ass or budding tits when her father was not around. One time he pinched her nipple so hard that she stabbed him in the forearm with a pencil. She was sure he intentionally hurt her. Obviously afraid of her father, he never mentioned it.
Freddie's knees parted as he leaned back. His fingers tapped the chair's leather arms. His eyes were locked on Matilda with that familiar leer. This time, however, he seemed more confident.
"Come here," he said.
Matilda did not budge. Leon smacked the side of her head so she looked up, rubbing it. He shoved her. She stumbled a few steps before catching her balance and then looked over her shoulder. Leon's expression said it all -- do what you are told! Her feet scraped the carpet as she took little steps towards the man she despised, stopping two feet in front of him. Her skin tingled as if spiders were crawling all over her. Freddie motioned for her to come closer so she stepped between his spread legs. Her chin dropped to her chest and she stared at her clasped hands hanging in front of her.
Freddie snatched Matilda's arm and yanked her to him. She squealed as she fell forward, smashing into his body. He squashed her cheeks between his hands and pressed his mouth to her open one, thrusting his tongue into it. Matilda struggled to break free, squirming and clawing at his forearms. And then he shoved her so hard she staggered backwards and tumbled to the floor.
"What's with the cunt?!" Freddie said, his high-pitched voice cracking. Matilda was not sure if he was speaking to Leon or the Russian since they stood side by side. "We had a deal."
"Matilda!" Leon shouted.
Matilda turned. Leon's lips were pressed together and the muscles on his face were taut. She pleaded with her eyes but received no sympathy. Sighing, she stood up and walked back to Freddie, standing before him with her head down and her arms at her sides.
"Are you wearing panties?" Freddie asked.
With her eyes boring into the floor, Matilda nodded.
"Take them off!"
Matilda's head shot up. Freddie smirked. She looked over her shoulder at Leon and the Russian, but got no support. Leon was still steaming while the Russian looked on with interest.
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