Due
by Mecca
The coast was clear. No one in sight. Anton was in his front doorway, one foot outside his apartment, when he suddenly remembered the most important item.
"Passport," he breathed, suddenly dropping his duffel bag, turning around and heading back into his bedroom.
Well, perhaps not the most important item. At the bottom of the duffel bag was all the cash he had on hand, which he was going to need if he was going to get anywhere. Still, his passport was worth going back for. He frantically searched his desk, tossing aside bills, pens and stapler refills until he found the little blue book. "Got it!"
He smiled and ran back towards the door and towards freedom. He didn't know where he was going, he just knew he was going as far away as possible. It was no longer safe for him here.
With plans of the best route to the train station in his head, he opened the door. There stood Lada and two men, as if they had been waiting for him. Maybe they had been. Anton froze. He knew he was in deep shit.
After a moment, his self-defense kicked in. “Hey, Lada,” he said. “Good, you’re here. I was just on my way to-” Before he could finish his sentence, Lada punched him square in the nose.
The Dvorak crime family had various enforcers to make sure that debtors paid their debts. Lada was one such enforcer, and while she was “just” a woman, she seemed to overcompensate with her pain and cruelty. She was 130 lbs of solid muscle, built like a brick shithouse. Anton was fucked.
Anton stumbled backwards, caught himself, then checked his nose. He was bleeding, as expected. He looked at Lada. She didn’t look like she was going to be receptive to his excuses. Still, he had to try.
“Okay, wait,” said Anton, holding up his palms.
Lada caught his head with a roundhouse kick, sending Anton face-first to the ground. He didn’t check for blood this time. He simply lied on the floor, seeing stars in the periphery of his vision.
“Owww…” Anton held his head. He looked at Lada but saw no sympathy in her face. She always had a hard face. No one had ever seen her crack a smile. She would give him no respite. “Okay, message received,” he said, sitting up. “I got the money.” She held her fists up and approached him. “I got the money!” he shouted. She stopped herself. “Check the duffel bag.”
Lada didn’t take her eyes off Anton as he stood up, still clutching his head.
“I got 5,000 here,” yelled Marek, having sifted through the contents of the duffel bag.
“Right,” said Anton. “And I got another five thou coming in two days-” Anton was cut off by Lada’s swift kick to his groin. Anton folded like a deck chair, whining in a high pitch like a boy who didn’t want to go to school. Now that he was on the floor again, she grabbed his long, filthy hair and pulled his head up. With his face revealed, she uppercutted him on the chin. Anton fell backwards.
“You seem to think this is some sort of game,” said Lada, with a heavy Czech accent. She had a hard face, but a tight little body. No tits, but a tight ass you could bounce a quarter off of. Her massive thighs were the thing of dreams. A short pixie haircut, but some guys were into that. Anton imagined that if she just smiled once, she would be gorgeous. He found her pretty hot, regardless.
She walked around Anton and kicked him once in the ribs. Anton howled in pain. “Where if you say the right words, I go ‘Okay, Anton. Sounds good! No more debt for you! I go now.’” Lada stopped and looked down at the squirming debtor. “No. The game is, you pay us, or I break your legs.”
“If you break my legs, I can’t drive!” shouted Anton. He had to make sure she knew that he couldn’t make them any money with broken legs. She nodded.
“So then you’ll give us the money?” asked Lada.
“I don’t have it all right now-” Lada swung her leg and placed a boot on Anton’s neck. “I don’t!” he choked out. “I’m telling the truth! But I can get it!” Lada eased her boot off of his neck. He rubbed his neck. “There’s this kid. He carries 10k on him every day. And he trusts me! He doesn’t even know how much he’s holding! It’s free money for me.”
“And this ‘kid’. He has no connections?” asked Lada.
“No one except this old man,” said Anton, smiling. “And he won’t notice the money’s missing for months.”
“So we could just go take the money off this kid ourselves.”
Anton stopped smiling. His eyes grew glassy. “C’mon. It’s just a kid. No need to kill him.”
“When you see this kid next?”
“Today,” said Anton. “Noon.”
Lada paused and thought for a moment. “You said you could get money in two days.”
“Yeah, I’m seeing him in two days, but I can call him! It’s no problem! I’ll set it up for today!” Lada glared at him and squared her jaw. Anton crawled to his knees. “I’ve been planning it for a while anyway.” Anton slowly reached into a drawer of a desk that was randomly located in the entryway. Lada looked at her comrades with a disbelieving smirk.
Marek yelled, “Gun!”
Lada looked back at Anton with wide eyes and immediately twisted his gun-holding arm, then punched him at the elbow, breaking his arm and dropping the gun. “You’re dead,” she said, punching him in the throat.
“No-ulk!” he said before the blow.
Lada grabbed him by his hair and threw him against the mirror he had in his living room. The mirror shattered into a million pieces and Anton stood, stunned. “I was just-” he started. She uppercutted him twice in the ribs and then headbutted Anton, causing him to fall backwards over his living room plant. She held her forehead. She was upset that this miserable piece of shit would even think of crossing her.
“You think you kill me?” said an enraged Lada.
“No!” said Anton, his face bloody and bruised. “I was just showing you the gun I’m gonna use!”
“Lies,” she said.
“I’m gonna use it with the kid and the old man! I swear! I don’t even have bullets in it!”
“Lies!”
“No lies!”
Bohdan picked up the old revolver. “It’s true,” he said. “No bullets in this gun.”
“This kid is real?” said Lada, still in a threatening voice.
“Yes!” said an exasperated and adrenaline-wrecked Anton.
“You get the money today?”
“Yes!”
“5PM, Kensington Park. If you’re not there, don’t worry, you won’t even have any legs to break.” Anton nodded. “Say it!” she yelled.
“5PM, Kensington Park. No legs,” he huffed.
Lada nodded and Anton breathed a sigh of relief. He lay on the floor, holding his broken arm.
“One more thing,” added Lada. She placed a foot on either side of his head. Anton’s eyes went wide, fearing for his life. She dropped her pants and squatted over his face, facing his shoes. With her wrinkled starfish in his face, flecks of toilet paper and all, and pussy lips hovering over his mouth. “Kiss my pussy.”
Anton could hear the guys laughing, but he couldn’t really believe his ears. “What?”
“Kiss my pussy.”
Lada was a bit of a hardass and had just beaten him within an inch of his life, but he could think of worse things. He pursed his busted lips and planted a kiss on her hanging labia. Just as his lips grazed hers, a stream of urine flowed onto his face and neck. First a dribble, then then full-on stream. She was pissing on him. He was grossed out.
Anton twisted his head away and sputtered. The guys, Marek and Bohdan, were howling now. Even Lada’s body shook with what seemed like laughter. She cut off the stream, shook her dripping flaps, and redressed.
“See you at 5,” said Lada.