Chinaman's Chance - Sex Stories

Chinaman's Chance

... Bond villain type monologue before executing her. Fuck it! I fired two shots at the door. It was a solid oak door and I don't even think the rounds penetrated. Still, it stopped the pounding. I fired high because I didn't know who was on the other side. Even if it was the guard, I knew he was just doing his job. It couldn't have taken more than a second, but the brothel madame was already out of her chair and dashing through a doorway hidden by a curtain. I fired as the door closed. The bullet ricocheted. The door must have been made out of steel. "Bullet proof," the bitch called out. "I'm not coming out until you're dead. For sure this time." She cackled like the witch she was. There was no way I was going to get through that door short of using dynamite and I didn't have any. I was fucked. Or maybe not. Someone started firing on the lock on the office door, but I wasn't worried yet. It was a sturdy lock and a sturdy door. I knocked away the glass chimney from a gas lamp and touched the wall curtain to the open flame. It ignited nicely. I pulled the curtain down around the door, protecting my prey, and then shoved the desk against the door so it would act as kindling and prevent the bitch from escaping. I was trying to turn her safe room into a death oven. The office door started to give and I fired a couple more rounds to discourage them and using the safe as cover. I was feeling the heat and Sally must have been feeling it, too. "What are you doing?" she cried. "Roasting ...

... some pig," I called back. "Let me out of here!" "I'm not stopping you." "The door is stuck and it's hot." "Tough shit, bitch!" "I can't breathe!" She started screaming and I stopped paying attention. My revenge would be complete in a matter of moments. I wouldn't survive to see it, but that didn't matter to me now. If there were such a thing as an afterlife, perhaps I would be reunited with Chen. I could hear men yelling and women screaming. I hoped everyone was getting out okay. I was having trouble breathing, too. The fire-weakened floor combined with the weight of the safe collapsed the floor beneath me and I felt myself falling to my death. At least I thought it was my death. I certainly never expected to survive. I heard voices. Was this the afterlife? I opened my eyes. "She's conscious," someone said. I found myself surrounded by paramedics, firefighters and my crew-members. I was strapped to a gurney with my head immobilized. There was a needle in my arm with a tube leading to an I.V. bag. "How long have I been out?" "Not long. Fifteen minutes or so," was the answer. It had all been a vivid dream. I chalked it up to something I ate the night before. I was taken to the hospital for observation and treated for concussion and various bumps and bruises. Things got weird after that. Looking in the mirror while washing up, I found I had a scar on my left cheek. It was the scar I suffered when Madame Bordeaux cut me. How could that have happened? It was just a dream. Then I ...