There is a song by the Jamaican artist Bugle called ‘Nuh Compatible‘ (Not Compatible). I am really fond of this song. Especially the line which goes: ‘Baby mi woulda deh with you but guess what? It nuh healthy.’ (Baby I’d date you but guess what? It isn’t healthy). In the song Bugle goes on to explain to the person it is directed at just why they aren’t compatible. He lists things like differences in ideologies about food, money and the like. So I thought what would be the ultimate reason to not date someone you are interested in? This is what I came up with. I hope you like it! Would also love your feedback.
Kiss of Death
She was so beautiful spread across the bed with the moonlight glistening off her naked skin. They could’ve been great together but it wasn’t meant to be. He needed to kill her.
His mission was easy. There was a rouge spy in the international organization he worked for since leaving the military six years ago. He was to find them and eliminate them.
Then, he saw her. She was a man’s dream come true with a lithe, athletic body, expressive eyes and a mouth that made you wonder how it would feel with them wrapped around you. She was poured into a dress that left no curve to the imagination and she had more curves than the D.N.A that programmed her to be so sexy.
“You’re staring at me like you want to eat me,” she’d said when she caught him staring. “You’re welcome to.”
She looked up at him from behind long eyelashes and he knew he wasn’t mistaken about the flash of heat he saw in her eyes. She held his tie and pulled him closer and captured his mouth with hers. She kissed with a fire that burned hotter than lava. And, like a volcano, he thought she would explode right then. Not that Jay wouldn’t welcome such an explosion but he’d prefer to have her under him, skin against skin so that he could explode right along with her.
“You’re room or mine?” she asked when she released him. Her husky voice did things to him. Jay thought of the gun strapped to his thigh and syringes in his room filled with enough heroin to take out an elephant.
He led her to the room feeling grim about her fate. She seemed like the kind of girl he’d like to wine and dine. Jay pushed the ill feelings from his mind. He’d give her the sex of her life, he decided. Then he would kill her.
Mona kept her breaths long and slow. She could hear Jay move around the room. She risked opening one of her eyes. He fiddled with a briefcase on the other side of the room. She smiled. She wondered how he planned to kill her. Would he use the Glock he stashed in the room under the pretence of clearing up while she waited outside? Or would he use the syringes she knew he had?
If she were really going to die she would’ve died a happy woman. They should package Jay’s sexual skill and use him as an interrogation technique. Some women would more easily spill secrets after a session with a well-wielded dick than water boarding. She eyed Jay’s taut ass. She sighed. He was an amazing specimen of a man. Too bad he would die tonight.
She knew she’d left breadcrumbs that eventually led him straight to her but Mona was a bit insulted that Jay seemed to think she was an idiot. He hadn’t even swept his room when he returned. Mona swung her feet over the side of the bed. She guessed there was something to be said about pussy power.
“I can’t feel my legs,” she said.
Jay tensed but only slightly. He turned around his lips curving into a smile.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Mona said. “Then it’s my turn to wear you out.”
Her heart thudded in her chest as she walked towards him. He might try to kill her now. After all, what good was an empty bladder to the dead? Mona hoped the promise of more sex would hold him off. She saw him close the briefcase and exhaled the breath she was holding.
Mona fished the revolver from the toilet tank where she’d stashed in hours earlier when she canvassed Jay’s room. She wiped it in a towel before she stepped out the bathroom and leveled the gun at him. He was so damned gorgeous there sitting on the bed.
“We’d be so good together,” she said. “But I have to kill you…”
© Rilzy Adams, 2013