Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[Gilmalover]

Super update bro

[S Darko]

Prakash holds his breath as he hits the end button. 

He is fucked. 

Nakul Bhai is here well before time and has caught him flat-footed. He looks instinctively at his watch. He might have five minutes before the Russian takes things into his own hands. 

Damn, he should have paid more attention to the time.


Prakash enters into a flurry of activity, trying to get the room in some semblance of order. He hustles the men other than Nawaz and Mahender out of the room. Paro has to go too. 

The three chawl men take one last hungry look at the incredible whore tied and suspended from the ceiling, her legs widely spread, both her nether holes easily accessible for penetration. 

They have been fucking her holes one by one and all together for more than two hours, mangling her boobs, using her body like a plaything, and she looks a little worn out. Her mouth is widely stretched over a ball gag and her head lolls to one side, saliva dripping down her chin and body. 

The chawl men last saw this whore the night of the glory hole as it came to be known, but not in those specific terms. 

“Take her down and clean her up. Nakul Bhai is here! I thought he wouldn’t be here for at least an hour. Quickly, quickly!” 

Mahender and Nawaz hop to it. It wouldn’t do for the merchandise to be shown in such poor light even though it was likely that Nakul Bhai too would be using her for the same purposes. 

Earlier, on the way to the chawl, Prakash had stopped the auto and told Swati to go buy him a pack of beedies. The driver had started to offer him his own bodies, but stopped when he realized what Prakash was doing.

He told Swati to take off her yoga pants in public in the middle of the day, and that too a couple of streets away from his house. Here there could be big differences from street to street. People tended to congregate along ethnic, religious, caste, and other lines, and what was true of one street was not necessarily true of the next one over. 

She hesitated, perhaps too long and ultimately it was Prakash’s steely look that decided her. Slowly, and not necessarily in a sexy way, she started taking off her tights. They clung to her crotch, her thighs, so she had to do a fair bit of wiggling in order to get the garment off. Prakash ogled her all the time, and the driver watched open-mouthed in the mirror, a string of drool hanging from his mouth. 

The crotch of the thin nylon pants had soaked through with her juices and appeared darker than the rest of the fabric. The excitement was making her breathe hard and the effort pulled her shirt further up where her full breasts strained. 

In the end, she gave up and accepted her situation. 

It helped though that Prakash shot her a venomous look and made raised a threatening hand. She didn’t mind the spanking and other corporal punishments he meted out, but she wasn’t so sure here out in public. 

But the situation was getting to her, there was no denying it. She was incredibly turned on and leaking from her cunt and her pussy juice was running down her thighs. Her nipples were hard as diamonds. All thoughts of abstaining from sex, staying away from Prakash and his perverted sex games had fled. 

Once the pants were off, she tried to pull her tee shirt down to cover her crotch. It was a futile effort. The tee shirt was loose and tented out with her large tits, the points of her nipples clearly visible to anyone who looked. The shirt only reached the level of her navel. There was no way it could stretch to cover her crotch. She gave up, her pussy bare for all to see, and her ass out there, proudly in the open.

Through the honking and beeping traffic, red with the embarrassment, she dodged the cars and motorcycles, and crossed the road to the shop, a small hole in the wall where the middle-aged man wearing a skull cap sold his wares. 

She hoped that at least at first glance people would think she was wearing skin-colored tights. She was almost clean shaven, but there was the thin strip of trimmed pubic hair in the front. 

That didn't happen. From the moment he laid eyes on her, the shopkeeper couldn’t take his eyes off her body. She had to repeat herself three times before he would look at her face. 

“Bhaiya, a pack of beedies please.”

Without taking his eyes off her naked lower body, he reached blindly behind him, pulled out a packet of beedies and handed it to her. 

She thanked him and turned to go, feeling his eyes on her naked ass. 

It was only when she had almost reached the road that he suddenly found his voice. “Paisa? Madamji, what about the money?”

She sighed. Her whole body deflated. She had rather hoped he would not ask, that her near-naked body might be distraction enough, but apparently it wasn’t enough of one. The problem, of course, being she had no money. No place to keep money either.

She pointed at the auto rickshaw to where Prakash sat watching and grinning. 

“It’s for him. Don’t you have a khata or something? Where you write down your regular customers’ accounts?”

“I don’t know him,” the man said. “Not a regular customer.”

Swati sighed again and turned back. 

All she had was her body to give. If she returned without the beedies, Prakash might do worse than he was already doing. There was only one thing she had she could bargain with. “I can give you a blow job for this," she said.

Without a word, he took her by the hand into the narrow lane between two buildings and pulled off her tee shirt before he pulled his pants down for the blowjob. She was in no position to protest but kept a careful eye on her only remaining garment that lay a few feet from her on the dusty, garbage-strewn ground.

The man had an average-sized cock but he rammed it into her throat without mercy. She gagged and choked, and that only added to his delight. He kept up a constant stream of obscenities as he fucked her mouth, one hand braced on the wall for support, the other mangling her tits.

When she thought he was going to come, he pulled out abruptly. He pulled her to her feet, turned her, and kicked her legs apart.

Swati sighed, knowing what was coming. 

She braced herself against the wall and waited for penetration. 

It wasn’t long in coming and when it came, it was very welcome. She’d been lubricating for a while and she needed a stiff cock to scratch that itch. 

She was wet enough that he was able to get all the way in with his first thrust. But that was the end of it. 

She saw a blur of motion from the corner of her eye. 

She turned to see the man slumped on the ground, stunned. Prakash towered over him, and now he drew back a foot and kicked the prostrate man in the ribs with his heavy work boot. The shopkeeper groaned but didn’t move much. 

“Son of a bitch,” Prakash said, “trying to play around with my maal!” 

He spat on the man and pulled her up by the elbow. 

Swati bent in half and succeeded in retrieving her shirt which she tried to put on, but Prakash would have none of it. He dragged her through the dark alley, completely naked, and out into the main road and bundled her into the auto.

By the time she was back in the auto, Swati was thoroughly wet and dying for a fuck. She clutched the crumpled shirt in one hand, and pressed herself into Prakash, rubbing her tits and pussy on his arm. He pushed her away as though in disgust. She begged, whimpered, and even tried to ask permission to fuck the auto driver.

"Please," she said, "give me some relief. You hand?" She grabbed his hand and pushed it between her legs. 


The auto driver's eyes nearly popped out with this wanton display and he forgot to start the engine.

Prakash removed his hand from between her legs and yelled at the driver. He finally got the engine started and took off. 

Prakash stopped half a block from the house and had her walk stark naked the rest of the way. 

Swati was more comfortable with this since most of the people there, men and women, had seen her naked at one time or another. 

She even put some swagger into her walk, an extra sway in her hips. 

She’d been left unfulfilled from the shopkeeper’s aborted fuck session and hoped to entice someone, anyone, to come and take her like a whore in the middle of the road, in broad daylight. 

That was if Prakash would allow it. He was sadistic enough that he might not let her have her release.

But then Prakash stopped in front of his building, in the middle of the dusty footpath, and had her give him a blow job. 

She saw a few of the men rubbing their crotches, hoping for a turn with the high-class whore.

Her excitement was at its peak. Several more people came to see what was going on, and Swati got to work, sucking and linking Prakash’s erect member. 

He beamed at the crowd, enjoying his glorious position as the whoremaster of this luscious piece of ass, and the piece of ass enjoyed it equally. Both participants were almost delirious in their perverted desires.

Prakash turned her around so she was facing away from him, but then he had her bend her neck backward so her throat was in line with his cock. He slapped her boobs with both hands and pinched and pulled them as he rammed his dick into her compliant mouth. She was on her knees, her body curved backward, her tits and pussy sticking out, her throat full of his rampant cock. 

Then he’d taken her upstairs where Mahender, Nawaz, and a few other men were waiting impatiently. All the equipment was ready and Mahender had dressed up the walls with all kinds of sex-related equipment. The beds had been moved to a corner, stacked one on top of the other so there was a lot of empty space in the middle. 

Paro, naked and looking a little put out, was busy sucking one of the men in one corner. 

Prakash could see that this was no more than a diversion. 

They were really waiting for Swati, the star whore of the show.

[prasad_rao16]

super and hot update.....

[xbiilove]

There is no downfall for swati. Downfall is only for the men tasting her. She would have got AIDS by now.

[S Darko]

By the time Prakash goes to fetch Nakul Bhai, it is ten minutes later and the gangster narrows his eyes at him. But he says nothing.


Nakul Bhai grimaces as he climbs the filthy stairs, lined on both sides with betel juice, and looks even more put out when he has to climb through the trap door. 

It takes him a minute to adjust to the darkness, but once he does, his face breaks out into a joyous smile when he finally sees what he has come for.

Swati stands in the middle of the dusty wooden floor, stark naked, her arms tied to opposite sides of the room, a wanton look of pleasure and eroticism on her face. 

There are clamps on her nipples, connected to a chain which then hangs down to her pussy, the lips of which are also similarly clamped. When Nakul Bhai looks carefully, he notices there is a green screen behind her, stretching from floor to ceiling. 

She is beautiful, perfect, her skin creamy white, and there is not a blemish he can see on her. Her nipples are pink, moderately large areolas of a lighter pink, as are her pussy lips, and the inner lips a dusky red. Moisture glistens on her cunt lips, further heightening the eroticism of the scene.

There are accoutrements of sex, all kinds that he can see. He doesn’t know it yet, but that is all Mahender’s doing. So that participants in any scene can pick what they want. This must be some kind of sex heaven, Nakul Bhai thinks, when all you have to do is stretch out your hand and it will be available to you. 

There are whips, clamps, chains, floggers, rope, thick rubber bands, leather belts, paddles, cattle prods and dildos. In fact, one entire wall devoted to dildos, from small ones to motorized ones, to one that looks like it could kill you if they tried to use it on a normal person.

That’s when he becomes aware of a low level buzzing sound and traces it back to the thin stem of the pink dildo stuck in Swati’s pussy.

As he watches her, his mouth agape, her hips go into a frenzy of vibrations, there is fresh wetness on her thighs.

Her eyes roll back and her mouth opens in wide. 

She screams out her orgasm for all to hear.

Nakul Bhai is in lust. 

He has no eyes, but for the whore in the middle of the room. 

He barely notices the woman, Ramona, that accompanied him enter the room, followed by one of the bodyguards. 

The room feels crowded all of a sudden.

[Vasanthan]

super

[pro10]

just wow.
finally he has seen her.

[S Darko]

Ramesh is working out at the akhada when his phone buzzes. 

He ignores it and continues swinging the heavy clubs, a set called a jori. They’re large, wooden and cylindrical, with relatively short and narrow handles. 

The rhythm is calming, the motion almost meditative. He will see who it is after he is done.

It is late, and the other wrestlers have finished their workouts and bouts and left. 

Ramesh is alone in the rectangle of sacred soil, which smells of turmeric and spices. The way wrestlers prepare the soil, it is holy and you could eat it without any ill effects. His feet alternately find purchase and he grips the loose earth with his toes. 

When he is finished with his exercises, he bathes in the tube well water at the back of the akhada. He doesn’t mind the coldness of the water that comes up from deep within the earth. He worships all things natural.  

Guruji calls out to him, “Beta Ramesh?”

“Ji Guruji,” he says and appears before the older man as soon as he is decent.

Guruji nods at him and closes his eyes. With his eyes still closed, he speaks. “Today is a day of great moment. A pariksha for you. Are you ready for it?”

Ramesh is confused. 

He has been following the news about the virus and the devastation it is causing but there is nothing particularly special about today. 

He searches Guruji’s face, but half of it is masked. Guruji may be spiritual and religious, but he is no fool. 

Unconsciously, he adjusts his own mask.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about Guruji,” he says with great humility.

Guruji waves his words away. “It is about your Devi. I have had a vision. But, don’t worry. Like Arjun, you will do what is required of you. And when it is done, return home.” 

He spreads his hands, taking in the ashram where he and a few others live. Most of the others have departed for their home towns.

Ramesh is still confused. But he is used to Guruji’s cryptic ways and he just nods.

He eats sattu mixed with water to make a firm dough, a little bit of jaggery, a couple of green chilies.

When he finally picks his phone up, he sees seven missed calls, all from Rashid, the tea stall owner who has become a friend. 

He wonders what it could be. 

It is nearing 10 pm, and he picks up the phone to call Rashid.

[pro10]

The saviour may be ramesh has come.

[S Darko]

Nakul Bhai is distracted. 

He sits on the chair,  watching Swati perform jumping jacks. 

He's trying to get her large tits to hit her in the face. 

The dildo in her pussy is still buzzing away, and he marvels at her ability to focus on the jumps despite the obvious distraction at the core of her body. 

She is one talented whore, and he wants to put her through her paces, make sure she is what he thinks she is; perfect whore material of the best quality.

Physically, she is fit, toned and with large natural tits, something that is rare. But her fitness doesn’t take away from her natural fleshiness. 

Her buttocks are full and perfect half moons, and yet when she stands there is a small thigh gap. The waist is trim, but he thinks he could pinch about half an inch of fat between his finger and thumb if he tried. He will do that later. Right now, he is trying to humiliate her and see how she takes it. 

So far she is doing well. Very well, in fact.

Nakul Bhai is still torn between selling her off to someone, and keeping her to himself. 

And then there is Arvind to consider. 

His story, if Sammy is to be trusted (and Nakul Bhai isn’t completely sure yet), will change dramatically and very soon, and he will cease to be a problem at all.

He watches, fascinated as her large natural titties sway and fall, sway and fall, bounce enticingly over and over, and then finally one of them slaps her full in the face. She gasps and slows down.

“OK, stop,” he says, “Let’s do something else.

He sits on the wooden chair and motions to Ramona. 

She catches his eye, and he nods, makes a gesture with his eyebrows. 

She doesn’t hesitate, lifts her dress in one smooth motion and drops it to the floor.

Mahender and Prakash are at one corner of the room, observing the proceedings, and participating when called up to do so. 

They know that this is a big and important Bhai, a don of sorts, and it would not do to displease him. He is, after all, here to take possession of the girl. 

Nawaz has just been dispatched to get some booze and food.

Earlier, the men had been so busy playing with their gori whore that Prakash had lost track of the time and Nakul Bhai had almost derailed them. But now things seemed to be a little more controlled even though Nakul Bhai in the middle was clearly calling the shots.

When the foreign looking lady removes her dress, they stare at her mesmerized. 

She isn’t a white woman, a gori, but clearly she is foreign. 

Her features are not Indian at all. 

They have heard Nakul Bhai call her Ramona. 

Mahender and Nawaz watch bug eyed as she drops to her knees in front of Nakul Bhai and fishes his large, peculiar looking dick from his slacks. 

She begins sucking.

It does not take long for him to get fully erect, and by this time the woman can barely contain him in her mouth.

Nakul Bhai waves her away and she goes and stands in the corner, like a piece of furniture.

“Turn around and back up your cunt onto my dick,” Nakul Bhai instructs. 

Swati hesitates, but obeys.

[pro10]

Swati is nothing but a plaything now.

[abcturbine]

Excellent....
Sensational...
Thanks for writing...

[Dinesh Raveendran]

Excellent

[S Darko]

Sammy parks the car a little distance away from the target house from where he can just about see the SUV in front of the house, but not much more detail.

His knees jiggle, and his fingers beat a tattoo on the steering wheel.

He looks around, peering through the gathering gloom.

He is a little nervous, he admits to himself, but it wouldn’t do to show it to Arvind who is eyeing him with curiosity.

He turns to Arvind, forces a smile and a chuckle. “Nothing. Just waiting.”

“Want a smoke?”

Sammy shakes his head. “No, I don’t smoke. Never did.”

Arvind gives him a sad smile. “I keep trying to give up," he says, and taps the pack in his shirt pocket.

Sammy feels a little bit of some emotion, he isn’t sure if it is guilt or remorse or something else, but he has come to like Arvind.

But he also understands what needs to be done. Nakul Bhai has already told him, and if that weren’t enough, Alexei too has texted him the same thing on WhatsApp.

Arvind says nothing, but he is clearly uncomfortable. His breathing is still a little labored and he coughs a lot.

Sammy finally pulls his cell out of his pocket and makes a call.

Arvind says, “Who? Who are you calling?” His voice is a full octave higher and there is an edge of panic in it.

“One of my men at the butcher’s shop,” he says to Arvind as the connection goes through.

He points into the distance where Arvind can see a few goat carcasses hanging.

“Arvind Bhai is here,” he says into the phone. We will be there in a couple of minutes.”

He listens some more, then hangs up and turns to Arvind. “The guys are in place. The girl is here. Let’s wait over there and make sure we know what’s going on.”

He points to a tea stall, an awning with wooden benches underneath. The old man, the tea seller is busy with a couple of customers, paying no attention to them.

They get out of the car, and walk to the stall. “Two cups of tea, Chacha,” Sammy says and sits down.

There is a darkly tinted SUV near the entrance to Prakash’s building.

Sunny knows it is Nikolai’s car, but he is also certain that the man is upstairs, although he doesn’t know the exact location.

He waits and watches. There is probably one person in the car other than the driver, he knows. This is how they operate.

He sees a sudden green pulsing light in the car.

A phone call.

This must be the signal.

“Let's, go,” he says and gets up without waiting for his tea.

Things are finally in motion.

[Yesudoss]

Nice update

[S Darko]

Swati backs up, legs bent slightly, hands parting her fleshy buttocks, and slowly, very slowly, settles her pussy on his large, protruding member. 

She can feel the ridges of his strangely shaped cock, the girth of it stretches even her cunt. 

Mahender had sprayed some kind of astringent liquid there and she had tightened up considerably, and now this Russian gangster’s dick was proving to be a tight fit. 


“Impale yourself on my dick,” Nikolai says, comfortably leaning back in his comfortless wooden chair. 

Swati feels humiliated beyond belief by this Russian. 

Prakash briefed her before he went to get the man that he was an important man, a firangi to whom he owed money, and she should therefore be nice to him. 

This isn’t unusual; he has pimped her out a few times before, mostly to the men from the chawl, and she never thought anything of it. 

Truth be told, she was usually deep in her sexual sub-space, not caring who used her body, fucked her holes. 

In that space, in that time, she was in a sexual haze, living only for the next sensation, the next orgasm. 

But this was new. 

The man who walked into the room looked white, but there was something funny about the way he spoke. 

He spoke English, but the accent was weird. She had spoken to Russians before, clients and collaborators, and although they spoke English quite well, they had a specific kind of accent. Most of the people from the former USSR spoke with similar accents. 

This man’s accent was different. His emphasis has been on the wrong consonant more often than not and his vowels not clear enough. 

She didn’t think much more about it, mostly because she sensed a new adventure, more sex, and this time with a foreigner. 

She senses he is rich and powerful, and probably a gangster. 

She had already seen the bulge under his jacket in the back, and knew he was packing a gun, and that only added to her heady sense of impending sexual ecstasies. She sets about pleasing him as well as she can. 

Standing in the middle of the room, she had greeted him with a knee quaking orgasm, and from the way his eyes widened, she had sensed he was quite taken with her. 

Then he had walked into the room, and quite literally taken charge. 

He spoke little, but made his intentions abundantly clear. He had Mahender untie her and her arms had fallen to her sides. She was already quite tired, having had at least three double penetrations already, but the hungry wolf in her body was awake and she was raring to go. 

Nikolai, as he had introduced himself, sat down in the chair and asked her to go through a variety of moves, all designed to show off her best assets. 

The dildo in her cunt kept buzzing away all through the process. 

He hefted her tits in his hands, grunted his approval. He then tested the openings of her cunt and ass with one, then two, and finally three fingers and approved. 

He noted her obedience and alacrity to obey instructions, and turned to Prakash and complimented him on training her well. 

Most of the time he treated her like furniture, rarely speaking to her, and always referring to her as though she wasn’t even there. 

Perversely, this thrilled her like nothing else. To be treated like nothing, a commodity, no more than a sack of potatoes. 

It wasn’t exactly what he said or did. It was more his attitude toward her, a dismissive way, and she felt demeaned and cheapened. 

The chawl men were always grateful for her company, for what she did for them, and it showed in their attitude. This man was different. 

Over the next half hour, Nikolai had her insert various dildos and other devices in her cunt, her asshole, and each time he had her lick them clean afterwards. 

During the time she tried out the different devices, he would have Prakash or Nawaz whip her with the flogger or with the crop, and sometimes with the cane. Nothing severe, but there was a constant barrage of mild pain on her tits, her stomach, and sometimes even her pussy. She could see her skin turning red, but there were no welts or bleeding points. Both men were expert floggers.

He made her hold several poses, some seductive, but mostly just humiliating, although this too wasn’t anything she hadn’t done before. 

He had Mahender take his pants off, and made her lick his asshole, making her stick her tongue into it. She did it all, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. 

He hadn’t touched her other than hefting her tits in the beginning.

Swati could see the prominent bulge in his pants and wondered what was behind the layers of cloth. She didn’t have to wait too long.

He instructed her to do jumping jacks, but with the dildo stuck in her cunt on full vibration. 

It was difficult enough to keep the device in place, but she managed somehow and even started doing the jumping jacks. 

Her breasts jumped all over the place with her movements and ultimately one of them struck her full in the face. 

She had never had that happen before. Always while exercising, she wore a sport bra. She could suck her own nipples, and had done so much to the delight of her many lovers, but she’d never had her own breast hit her in the face. 

She was surprised at how heavy and meaty it was.

Nikolai had laughed at her discomfiture, a nasty, demeaning laugh, a laugh that was aimed at you and not from simple mirth but from malice. The others had remained silent. 

Somehow this felt worse to her than everyone laughing and having a good time, and she stared at the floor, red faced. 

But this was fine with her, at least judging by her body’s reaction. 

She had never felt so alive, her cunt had never tingled more. He nipples felt like they were on fire. Her whole body, despite the shame, was alive with an animation that was more than sexual. It was a release, a culmination, an apogee of sex. 

But Nikolai had moved on. 

He sat back and beckoned to the foreign looking woman who removed her dress in one swift move. What was this? Some kind of orgy?

But the woman, Ramona, only fished out Nikolai’s cock and started sucking on it like a lollipop. 

The cock was fascinating though. It was pale like the rest of him, but full of bumps and knobs, like one of the dildos on the wall. She’d used one not too long ago to satisfy the Russian. 

When the Russian’s cock was as hard as it would get, she had an eyeful of the monstrosity. The woman moved off to one side and stood with Mahender, who was pantless. He started pawing at her breasts. From the way they stood proud of her chest, she could tell they were fake, but they were beautiful nonetheless. The woman resisted, but then gave in, and even started fisting his still erect cock. 

Swati began to feel like this was some kind of test, an audition of sorts, although she had no idea what it was for. 

She started to feel uneasy. She wanted to ask Prakash what was going on, but he seemed to be in the white man’s thrall and stood to one side, saying nothing. 

She wished Paro was in the room to provide some support. 

And so, back to the present, she wiggles her hips, spreads her legs further, widening her pelvis and the cock head settles in her vulva. 

She gives a slight push, and Nikolai’s cock enters her. 

“Now fuck yourself on my cock,” he instructs. 

Obediently, she pushes back and forth. His knobby cock, she realizes is hard like plastic, like the dildos she has used. He must’ve enhanced his cock with some kind of plastic. But the feelings are pleasurable, and he stretches her pussy walls like no one, not even Nawaz, he of the orange sized cock head.

She focuses on the unique sensations the new cock in her is providing, the friction, the pressure of the enhanced cock. Someday perhaps all men might be enhanced, and provide unlimited pleasure to their women. 

She settles into a bent over position, her hands on her knees, supporting her upper torso, legs bending and straightening with every impalement. Nikolai is really doing none of the work, just sitting there and letting her fuck herself on his cock. 

She is about to come, and come big, when Prakash, coming out of nowhere, sticks his cock all the way into her throat and pinches her nose shut. 

Her mouth has been open, panting, her eyes closed, and he must not have been able to wait, to resist this opportunity.

She vaguely hears Nikolai say, “Behenchod!” His accent is typical Northern UP.

As she becomes hypoxic from being unable to breathe, her orgasm builds. 

And then she erupts like a volcano.

The orgasm flows like a tidal wave into her belly and curls her toes and she is shaking like an epileptic and if the men are saying anything, she can’t hear them. 

[pro10]

Sometimes our lust takes over so much that we dont know what's wrong or right. Swati will realise it soon. thank you.

[S Darko]

Arvind gets up from the bench following Sammy’s lead, his movements labored. 

He is still recovering from the effects of the virus despite all the rest and medications. 

He is able to smoke again, but not very much. He smokes four or five a day now, but only half the cigarette. 

He really should quit, he thinks for the umpteenth time.


There is something strange, he thinks as he crosses the street behind Sammy. Things are moving faster than he’d envisaged, quicker than he’d like.

They’d sat down, and ordered tea. 

Sammy had watched the tinted SUV intently. Then there was a green light, like the LED on a phone. 

One of the older models. 

A call had been received.

Sammy had jumped up, ready to go.

It was an automatic action. What had changed?

He’d trusted Sammy implicitly. After all, he’d come to the hospital immediately when he had called. Also, a trusted guy for Alexei, his partner. 

He is vaguely aware that the tea shop owner is looking at him open-mouthed. Perhaps he's worried about the payment for the tea. Or is it something else? 

“Wait,” he says, “what are we doing? Is Swati up there?”

“Yeah,” Sammy says over his shoulder. “I told you she’s there.” He injected more urgency into his voice, “But we have to go now. Remember, you are talking to the Russian, keep him distracted, and I’ll take her away.”

That sounds like a hare-brained scheme. Stupid and reckless.

“Is it just him and the girl? Are there others?” he asks, and immediately realizes it must not be the case. 

Both Sammy and he are armed. There might be a civilized negotiation, and the guns just to enforce that, but there might be a shootout too. 

But then, he knows Nikolai, even though he’s met him only once. Surely some kind of accommodation can be reached?

“You think we can talk it out?”

“We might, if you’re a good talker. Otherwise, we have this.” He pats the small of his back where he has his gun. 

Arvind hopes this won’t come to a shootout. Perhaps if they take the gang by surprise, they would have a chance. 

Yes, that would be best. Go in quickly before the gangsters have a chance to pull their weapons. 

Right now they must be fucking the girl. 

Swati, he thinks, I’m coming for you, and you have no idea what I have in store for you.

He dismisses his concerns and silences the alarm that is going off in his reptile brain. 

Rationality and logic overcome the primal instinct. 

He focuses on his breathing, trying deep inhales, trying to oxygenate his virus-ravaged body.

They are in the middle of the street now, Sammy’s large bulk still covering his line of sight but also protecting him. 

Sammy looks left, then right. No cars or other vehicles coming. 

No passers-by either. 

Other than the tea seller and two customers, none of whom seem to be paying them any attention. Even the tea seller is focused on his saucepan, tea filter, whatever.

They near the other side of the street, and Sammy starts to veer away, toward the left.

He can see the SUV now. 

There is a man climbing out of the front seat. 

Not the driver’s side. The other side, the side that’s away from him, and therefore the one he cannot see clearly.

The man steps clear of the car.

There’s something in his hand. 

The late afternoon sun glints off it. 

Metal.

A few nanoseconds later, he thinks, gun.

A few more nanoseconds pass before he reaches behind him to remove his own gun. 

Even as he does so, he knows it is too late.

A horrific punch in his chest and he is thrown back into the street. 

He looks down at his chest. 

Surely the man was too far away to punch him, land a blow. 

When he sees the redness pouring out of the center of his chest, he understands. 

It must have been a 45 cal, he thinks. 

Big fucking bullet.

Then, there is no more time, and the darkness engulfs him. 

Swati, he thinks as he fades away. 

Swati. 

The bitch is responsible for this…

[pro10]

who died? sammy or arvind?

[S Darko]

Arvind. His POV. I can't edit it.