Béla Book 1: Target Girl
Chapter 6

Copyright 2004 Revised 2013

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 6 - Author's note: Before you read further, be advised that this story contains brutal, violent and graphically detailed savagery committed against women.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   NonConsensual   Rape   Slavery   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Science Fiction   Superhero   Extra Sensory Perception   Paranormal   Vampires   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   FemaleDom   Rough   Light Bond   Sadistic   Torture   Snuff   Gang Bang   Orgy   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Sex Toys   Water Sports   Necrophilia   Exhibitionism   Body Modification   Public Sex   Violence   Transformation  

It was Tuesday afternoon – Jake's 'light' day, so he and Béla drove to Bozeman after meeting for lunch, Béla giving him directions on the route to take. A sign on the wall where Béla instructed Jake to pull up said, "B.B.'s Guns & Arrows".

They walked in through the shop door. A balding, fat man in a dirty undershirt slid down off a stool behind the counter at the back of the store. He could have been anywhere between sixty and eighty years old. Each move he made was slow and deliberate, as though he was afraid of breaking something.

'Maybe there's something wrong with his back, ' Jake thought to himself. 'He's kind've rheumy-eyed, too.'

"Hey! Bee-Bee! Where you been?" the old man said, taking a cigar out of his mouth and opening his big arms in greeting.

"Hello, Joseph," Béla said, lightly giving him a peck on the cheek and breaking away from his embrace. "It's been a long time."

Then getting right down to business, she said, "We're here so that Jake," she indicated Jake still standing by the front door deciding which wall of artifacts to peruse first, "can pick out a hand gun."

Jake's mind was still processing 'Béla is Bee-Bee, i.e. 'B.B.' and she has a gun shop', when he noticed they were both waiting for him.

"Sorry, I missed my queue," he said, looking confused. "Is this your shop?" He indicated the surrounding area.

The walls were lined with an assortment of odd-looking guns, knives and a few swords. Many of them seemed to be hand-made, one-of-a-kind originals. Some of them were very old; perhaps centuries old. This was not a typical gun store.

"Well, I used to own it, partially," Béla said. "Joseph and I set this business up a few years back, and eventually I let him 'buy me out' as a reward for his help."

"Yeah!" the fat man said, laughing. "She let me 'buy her out' for a dollar. And that was just to keep the paperwork legal."

"What would you like?" Béla asked, looking at Jake. "A gun, I mean?"

"Oh. Well, I've always fancied a automatic pistol," mused Jake," maybe something with an extended clip for extra ammo?"

Joseph scratched the whiskers on his unshaven jaw, thinking. There was a special gun he was thinking about. The irony of presenting it to this man was irresistible.

"Umm, let's see. Lemme show you what I got," the old man said, his gruff voice sounding as though he didn't use it very much.

Joseph moved his rotund body sideways behind a small, glass counter and bent down with great difficulty, almost disappearing below the countertop like a great moon setting over a glass sea.

"I've got ... ah, here it is."

He stood back up, breathing heavily, his face red and sweaty from the effort of bending over.

"This here's a little hand-made job. Thirty caliber. The clip holds twenty rounds; twenty-three if you press the spring all the way down. But I wouldn't, 'cause that's why automatics jam on you. Spring gets too weak to push a round into the chamber before it closes."

Reaching under the counter again, he brought up a small cylindrical object and presented it.

"It even has a silencer. I think it was made for some gangster back in the Roaring Twenties," he said, chuckling as he carefully placed the heavy, round cylinder down next to the gun so it wouldn't roll away.

Jake picked up the little weapon and examined it, admiringly.

"Gas operated?" he asked, still examining it.

"Yep!" Joseph grunted. "Fully automatic."

"Yeah, I can see that." Jake said, sighting down the short barrel.

He was surprised at the quality of the tooling on such an old weapon. This was not a cheap gun. Jake looked at Joseph, then glanced around the room for a second.

"Oh," Joseph said, surmising what Jake was looking for, "there's a soundproof room in the back for customers to try out potential purchases," indicating a door behind the other counter.

'Is there anyplace she goes that doesn't have a soundproofed room?' Jake mused.

"He had a wooden target to shoot at," Béla said, suspecting she knew what was going through Jake's mind.

She folded her arms under her breasts and glared at Joseph while trying to look stern, but she couldn't help the slight smile on her face. She was on the inside of his little joke with that particular gun.

Jake went back and satisfied himself that the gun was in good working order. It was easy to handle and had very little kick, even with the silencer on it. When he held the trigger down, it would dispense all twenty rounds in about three seconds, and, if he used both hands, it was easy to hold on the target as it fired. It was an exquisitely crafted weapon.

"How much?" Jake asked.

"Take it out of my percentage," Béla interrupted. "Will you, Joseph?"

"Sure, Bee-Bee," Joseph said, then added, "Gonna miss ya', babe. Come back more often."

Béla blew him a kiss as she started to leave, then turned and hurried back to him.

"Here!" she said, hurriedly. "Now you can come and see me!" She looked into his eyes for a moment, her expression becoming somber, then turned and fled.

Joseph watched her leave, then looked down at the small, blue card the little brunette had given him. It said,

"Target Club, 3710 South Fremont, Gallatin Heights, MT

"Exclusive Invitation Only! Owner: Béla B Wilson"

'So, ' he thought, wistfully gazing at the card, 'you finally got that club you wanted. "Béla Wilson", huh? You've changed your name again, but you're always you.'

He tossed the card into the trash and sighed. To see her again, like that, would be the same as losing her all over again.

'After all this time, she still looks exactly the same. She said she would... '

For the next few hours, Joseph sat, unmoving, remembering earlier times, many years (and many pounds) ago, his eyes misting over.


 
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