Short Lived

She could see in her mind’s eye how sassy she looked.  Standing there with one hip jutting out, perpendicular to her toes, and one arm placed securely on her hips.  Yes, she was not only sassy but she oozed sex appeal.  It wasn’t hard to see that all the men’s eyes were on her.  She had wanted to drag a hand through her shoulder length hair.  It was the same layered cut that she had always worn.  Her hair was always in place, though she couldn’t remember the natural colour now, blonde perhaps, but it was hard to tell under this black mop.

Some things were so hard to remember, like hair colour.  Without a mirror,  she relied mostly on the shadow her beguiling figure cast on the ground.  Her legs were long and taut; her hips were curvaceous and wide; her breasts were big and full, and she had the amazing hair that seemed stuck in place.  Beyond that, she had an incredible thigh gap that she was proud of.  She knew she was sexy.

And then it happened.

She should have known he was going to do something foolish. He had caught her attention the minute he walked up and kept his distance 11 yards in front of her.  He had licked his lips nervously, running his tongue back and forth over the bottom lip and then curling both lips up to smell them.  He seemed to sweat profusely and would wipe his shiny forehead with the back of his sleeve. Behind him, a man who could have been his twin if he was not at least 20 years older and 50 pounds heavier, had put a thick hand on the young man’s shoulder.  The older man had then quickly squeezed his shoulder before stepping back a few paces.

With a determined look in his eyes, she watched as the young man swiftly lifted his hand and pointed at her.  She had had no time to react, but she could see his finger on the trigger as he trained the rifle on her.  Where was her flight or fight response?  Her traitorous body did nothing more than stand there like a sitting duck, and her shadow indicated that she was even more sensuous than ever.

Her vision was sharp and before she even heard the gun go off, she could see the metal coming directly at her, each glistening edge refracting the late afternoon sun.  What should she do now?  He had aimed for her head, but this bullet had caught her just by the edge of her elbow, barely nicking her.  She wanted to shout out; to cry out in pain, but it was too late.  The trigger-happy kid had already unleashed his pent up anger and the bullets were flying, though none had touched her.  Fear had kept her quiet.  The last bullet had gone straight through her thigh gap and that unexpected movement of air and the explosive sound, had tickled her, and she almost laughed.

And then it hit.

She hadn’t seen it coming, so caught up had she been with that last bullet and the rippling excitement that coursed through her body.  It had been a long time since she had had any activity _down there_ and she had quite liked feeling that hard object between her legs. But this bullet was on its way, and it appeared to be headed directly between her eyes.

And then it caught her.

“Bull’s eye,” he shouted, “that’s how you kill a ni***.”  She hadn’t noticed when the older man had roughly pushed aside the younger man and had pulled a revolver from his hip.  He had looked like a bad-boy cowboy from an old western, but what did she know about Westerns anyway.

Wait what? Her thoughts were coming back to her.  Did he call her a ni**?  She wasn’t even black, was she? Sure she must look black with the sun against her back, but she knew she was a blonde.  The older man pulled his glasses off and she could still hear him laughing. The sound seemed to reverberate through the hole that now split her head in two.

“Don’t worry son, one day you gonna be a good shot just like your Pa. I am a bad ass motherf** aint I tho? Listen let’s get you another target, something a little bit..bigger… perhaps a big mama….” he said to his sulking son. His raucous laugh rang louder than the sounds of the other guns around her.

Out of nowhere, another young man came and yanked her off her pedestal, roughly grabbing her by the hair.  He carried her with one thick hand tucked between her thighs.  She smiled; it felt good.

She could still hear his raucous laugh as somebody yanked her off her pedestal, roughly grabbing her by the hair. He carried her with one hand tucked between her thighs. She smiled. It felt good.

-The End-

Copyright © 2015 Susan M. Wolfe~All Rights Reserved
Short-Lived 15-05-2015