Friday, July 10, 2009

Double Shot, Double Trouble

Double Shot, Double Trouble
By Scott Wilson
Word Count: 482

“Jeepers. Can’t you hold still? How am I gonna get you in my sights for a clear shot if you keep moving around like that?” Bruce said.

“Well that’s the point isn’t it?” Tracey said to her husband. “Why make it easy when I can make you work for your money?”

Bruce walked slowly sidewards in a circle, mimicking the action of his wife, who was also holding a revolver. The stalemate had gone on for ten minutes with neither husband nor wife wanting to shot first.

“Okay. What if we both back off at the same time? You go back to your H.Q, I’ll go back to my H.Q, and we’ll report our mission a failure,” Bruce said.

“Why do you believe that I’d be a double agent?” Tracey said, moving so her towel dropped to the floor. It was not the first time she’d used her natural beauty and naked body as a diversion. “We’ve been married for a decade; do you really believe I’d sell our country out?”

Bruce tried not to lose his concentration, but the sight of his naked wife was too much, especially since they had not made love for weeks. He looked at the water dripping from her breasts and the trickle running down her toned belly into her pubic hair. He felt an erection rise in his trousers and was glad that the light was dim and his wife would not notice it unless she got closer.

“Why would you think I was a double agent?” Bruce replied. “When have I ever given off the impression that I like the Japs more than us?”

“It might have been that skanky little china doll you been pumping for the last few weeks that made me believe the report.”

“What about the photos in my file of you giving that Iraq a lap dance in our dining room? Maybe that, and the fact we haven’t had a root in a month might have given me the impression it was not just your loyalty to our marriage, but also the country that was in doubt. The mission I was given has some pretty damning info.”

“Come off it. You know how I feel after assignments where I have to sleep with the enemy. I can’t feel romantic when I just slept with someone I know is and evil enemy of the country.”

Bruce lowered his pistol and said, “I’m sorry honey.”

“So am I, dear,” Tracey said pumping two rounds into her husband’s chest. “It’s one think sleeping with someone for the job; it’s another thing doing it because of your libido.”

Bruce dropped to his knees, not believing his wife shot him, but then again, she knew he always wore a bulletproof vest so she didn’t mean to kill him.

“We’ll talk about this when you come around,” Bruce heard Tracey say as he passed out.


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