Chris' Corner Videos
"The Grace X Files"     
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He watched her quietly, as she sat drinking her coffee, looking at her beauty, he has seen many
beautiful women in his life, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

Her dark brown hair, frames the face of an angel, but it was her eyes, that brought his attention, back
time and time again, he was mesmerized losing himself, in to the darkness of those eyes, every time
she glanced up, and  looked around the room, it was as if she was calling to him.

She didn’t notice him as she brought the steaming cup slowly, to her soft red lips, he sat there,
carving her features into his brain, he knew her, or at least knew who she was, and marveled at her

She didn‘t pay him any attention at all, so use to the stares of men, knowing of their desires, if she
would have looked, she would only see a stranger, not the Grim reaper that he is, but just another
man setting in the coffee house. She would have laughed, if someone would tell her, that he was the
most important person in her life.

He was plain to look at, a blessing in his line of work, he sat in a cheap suit, just blending into his
surroundings. She sat sipping her coffee, the sands of her life slowly emptying, not suspecting that
her existence was in his hands. Not knowing, that he was hired to kill her.

He wondered as he sat watching her, what she was thinking, as he always did, wanting to know the
thoughts of the ones he was to kill. He supposed she was thinking about all the daily problems, one
has to face in life, as she sat there sipping from the waxed paper cup, the mundane things, as if these
were the most important things in the world.  

He was fixated on these minutes that they squandered, he asked someone once, before he killed him,
of what had been on his mind the hours before his impending doom, the guy just shrugged his
shoulders, saying you know the usual.

He  wished he could tell them, to somehow let them know that their time was running out, if he would
walk up to them, and whisper, prepare yourself, tonight I‘m going to take your life, what then, would
they do.

He watched as she rose, his breath caught in his throat, seeing her stand, it seemed as if the eyes of
all the males turned at the same time, and a thought fleetingly passed through his mind…can I kill her,
but he knew the answer, he was a professional, and he knew that he would.

Thanks Jake, she said, her voice like Chrystal, as she paid her bill, smiling, see you tomorrow, she
called out, waving as she left…..Ok Grace, he smiled back, watching her walk out the door,

It was my secret, one that I couldn’t tell, it was hard being only one of two, in the world to know that
she would never see Jake again, he would never again smell her perfume, nor mentally undress her,
as she stood in front of him, paying her bill, or sneak a peek at her butt as she left.

Sorry Jake he thought, as he got up to pay his own bill, I would miss seeing her everyday to, he was in
no hurry knowing where she was going, and he knew he could take her life, at anytime, and be done
with it, but he wanted to be with her, alone for just a little while, to touch her, to feel her warmth
surround him, as he entered her, to be her last lover, he wanted to linger with her in her last
moments, to maybe soften somehow, the pain she will feel.

So he granted her a reprieve, and let her life go on, as if she had years left to live, instead of only

He didn’t know why any one  would want her dead, but they did, he had a retainer, and that’s all that
mattered, down to the simplest form, what a person‘s life was worth, three thousand dollars, her  
beauty was to be denied to the rest of the world, for three thousand dollars.

He paid his bill, feeling melancholy this morning, beautiful women had that effect on him, especially
the ones that were to die, he followed her out into the weak sunshine, marking time until he saw her
again, he looked towards the heavens, and saw the sky was clouding, he thought that it looked like it
was going to snow, hoping that it would, he loved the snow.


Grace has also been carrying a secret, from a few years back, to most a horrible secret, and to most,
the guilt of that knowledge would be burning into their brain, weighing them down.

She was not most people, and the thoughts of the young woman’s death brings her pleasure still,
Grace is not the innocent woman that she now displays, she is in hiding, from her past, Mike, would
have her killed, if he knew where she was, she stole from him, more then just his heart.

She left him laying in exhaustion, after a night of passion. Sneaking off into the night, with the
diamonds, laughing now, remembering his soft snores, as she eased the door closed.

Grace’s life from very young, is littered in crime, and the one murder, she remembers it, as if it
happened last night, just as a virgin remembers her first lover, she remembers the young girl.

She took her life, on the night of March seventeenth 2007, she didn’t plan to kill, but she was caught,
red handed, and if  it was between her going to prison and the girls life, the girl lost, she didn’t even
hesitate, grabbing her before she could yell out for help.

Draping her scarlet silken scarf, around the young girls neck, she was at the wrong place, at the
wrong time, nothing more then that, just a dedicated employee, returning to finish some papers, and
caught Grace in the act of industrial espionage.

The thought even today, of the struggle, that the girl waged brings sexual excitement through Grace’s
body, and she sometimes lays late at night bringing her fingers down to rub herself, sensually
masturbating, with that vision in her thoughts, remembering her twisting, turning body like  rerunning
a DVR, the picture burned into her brain.

To feel, the girls body tense, every muscle fighting, to free herself, to flee, to live, as Grace held her,
trying to keep her arms from flailing about, her hoarse gasping, her actions panicky, trying to drag
something, anything into her closed airway, to feed her burning lungs, digging franticly at the scarf
that was tightened around her throat, she fought hard for her life.

Grace remembers the girls strength, the fight she put up, long minutes that seemed like hours,
fighting for control of the girls thrashing body, that rubbed its self  into hers, whispering into her ear,
to give it up, just let go baby, Grace would whisper, in a soothing voice.

Then she did, her fight lessened, her resignation of life, came swiftly now, her arms dropped to her
side, her unprotesting acceptance, of her death, was total, as her knees gave way, and Grace rode
her down to the carpet, laying together, each feeling the wetness of their mutual climax, one in the
throes of death, one in the exhilaration of the kill.

Grace rode the waves of her climax, when she felt the spasms tear through the girls soft body, as she
held her close, her fight over, her death just moments away, her green eyes opened red tracks
invading the whites of her eyes, her eyelids slowly blinking, up down…..up..down….up…..down…each
time slower then the last, to finally stop, leaving her green eyes staring, the embers of life now

She lie still, except for a trembling through her curling fingers, a jerk of her legs, a small tic of her
cheek, her nerves forgetting they too must die, Grace slowly turned her, to look at her face.

Her mouth open, lips tinged blue, her tongues tip, laying just over her bottom teeth, bulging in her
open mouth, she was pretty even in death, and Grace caressed her face, brushing her blond hair that
was wet from her sweat, away from her cheeks, leaning over her and kissing her mouth.

Mentally thanking the girl for the climax that she gave her, as she rose up, standing for a moment, as
after shocks of pleasure yet tingled between her legs, looking down at the young girls body, laying
twisted on the floor, her skirt disheveled, rising above her right hip, as it jutted in the air, the strong
smell of urine, now filling the small office.

Grace thought that she was the most beautiful creature in the world, and in that moment she loved
her, she turned then, leaving the room, redoing her scarf around her neck, smelling the sweet smell
of the girls perfume, lingering on the silk.

That was what she relived, on the nights she satisfied herself, and she  never quite knew if one
murder was going to be enough.


He stared out of her window, watching the flakes of snow drifting down, glistening in the halo of light,
radiating from across the street, he was content to stand in the darkness of her room, watching the
snow fall, waiting  for her to come home.

He had already investigated, smelling her presence, in every corner of her apartment, her perfume
caressing his nostrils, his fingertips touching her things, the silken feel of her undergarments,
sending an undercurrent of excitement, of what was yet to come, getting as close to her as he could,
with out actually being with her, he wondered why there were no pictures of her, or any one else for
that matter, the walls and her dresser bare,

His memories of his youth, flooded his mind, as he now stood looking out her window, he traveled
back to the days of playing in the snow, with his father, building snowmen, sledding down Johnson’s
curve, the laughter they shared, his mother waiting, with a laugh, and hot chocolate, when they came
in, it was the best time of his life,  

His thoughts, of his youth, playing in the snow, faded away, when the yellow cab pulled up, and he
watched as Grace got out, she was bundled up in the cold, a silk scarlet scarf  wrapped around her
neck, she stood on the stoop, turned around looking up, as the snow fell, she stuck her tongue out
catching a flake, laughing, turning then, opened the large brown door, and disappeared inside.

He leaned against the wall behind the door, hearing as the key was pushed in, the handle turned,
there was a pause, and for a moment his heart raced, puzzled that the door didn’t open, then it did,
she entered, her mail in her hand, she reached for the light switch, as he reached for her.

Her scream muffled as his hand clamped over her mouth, his other now jerking the silken scarf back,
twisting it, shutting off her air flow, bringing her back into his body, his right hand now leaving her
mouth, his arm and hand wrapped its self under her breasts, holding her tightly as her struggles
lessoned, and her legs folded.

He let go of the scarf, letting her breath, picking her up, taking her to the bed, laying her gently down,
he removed her white coat, unbuttoning each button, slowly, opening it wide, pulling her white
sweater up over her bra.

Bringing her arms one at a time gently through the sleeves, of the coat and sweater, setting her up,
bracing her head so she wouldn’t hurt her neck,  and then removed the coat bringing the sweater
over her head, and unsnapping her bra, carefully hanging the coat in her closet, folding the sweater
setting it on the chair by her bed, with her bra on top.

He sat on the edge of her bed, and just looked at her for a moment, his hand shook as he reached out
and touched her breast. She stirred, her eyes fluttered, then flew opened, gasping, moving away from
him, until the head board stopped her, her right hand protecting her throat, her left modestly covering
her breast from his eyes, her knees tucked into herself, eyes wide with fright.

What do you want? She stammered, her throat sore, then more forcibly, GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM

He put his finger to his mouth, shhhhhhhhhhh, he told her, you don’t want to me to get mad, now do

She knew, then why he was here, she pleaded, tell Mike I’ll give it all back, tell him I have most of it, I’ll
make it up to him, bargaining, look I’ll show you, her  legs, swung off the bed, she went to her dresser,
not worried now about her bare breasts.

Talking to him, pleading, please, you don’t have to kill me, he heard the tone of her voice changing,
from pleading to one now in control, I have the proof right here.

He said if your looking for your .38 forget about it, and the knife to, just come back and sit on the bed,
you have a little time yet, don’t waste it, he knew she wouldn’t listen, they never do, and she tried to
run, bolting past him.

He let her get to the doorway, then he shot, smoke and flame belching out of the gun, the explosion
loud, ringing in his ears. Grace spun, stepping backwards tripping over her feet, and she fell through
the open doorway, he got up going to her, as she turned to her belly, and tried to crawl away.

He reached down, picking her up she arched, trying to scream, but she couldn’t, the hole in her lung
wouldn’t let her, but she tried yet to fight him off of her, knowing if she went back to the bed, she
would never leave it alive, but he was to big, she would have lost, even if she hadn’t been shot.

Sweeping her legs off the floor, carrying her back to the bed, she was gasping trying to take in deep
breaths, beating back the taste of blood, her bullet pierced lung wouldn’t let her, and she panted
instead, as he laid her down, and started to touch her, squeezing her breasts, sucking her nipples,
she tried to fight him slapping at his hands, and face, her slaps were weak, but she tried, he would
give her credit for that.

He rolled her, unbuttoned and unzipped, the skirt, rolling her back over. To her jerks and gasps,
arching her back, Grace’s boot heels dug into the sheets and blanket pushing them into a ball,
twisting in her pain, she couldn’t hold the blood back any longer, and she coughed out, splattering
her bare breasts with droplets of dark red.

She gagged, as the blood started to flow from her mouth, her arms jerking upwards, hands to her
throat, he wanted to end her pain, but he needed  her to feel him, as he entered her, before she died.

He unzipped her black boots grabbing her legs, jerking them off her feet, tossing them to the floor,
pulling her skirt down her legs, wiping her blood that had soaked into the fabric on the  back of her
waistline, off of his hands with the skirt, throwing it to lie wrinkled, over top of the boots.

Grace lay, across the bed, her feet hanging off the side he tugged her black silken panties off her ass,
down her legs and off her feet, leaving tiny trails of blood as he pulled them downward.

Bringing her protesting body, to the edge of the bed, spreading her legs, he lowered himself to his
knees, licking her thighs, feeling the silkiness of her dark thigh high nylons, rubbing the side of his
face  inserting his cigarette stained fingers inside of her.

His licking stopped, and his tongue separated the petals of her womanhood, he was a gentle lover, as
he searched for all of her hidden treasures, on some plain she felt pleasure, through her pain, and
her body started to react, he tasted her juices, as they flowed to his tongue.

Standing now, inserting his stiffened member into her, sliding easily the full length of his manhood,
holding her legs in the crook of his arms, gently at first, not wanting to cause her any more pain, then
taking her more rapidly, she jerked now in equal measures of pain and pleasure, moaning out, as she
coated him with her juices.

He looked down at her dying face, she was as beautiful now as she was this morning, even with the
blood flowing out of her mouth, her eyes though were squinted, and he felt sadness, that he was
causing her so much pain.

She gasped, her panting accelerated, as he pounded into her, her eyes opened, she looked up at him,
and he felt the warmth of her climax covering him, spreading over him, with her eyes opened, the
dark pools stared up at him, bringing him into the center of her soul, calmer now as the waves of her
climax filled her with something more then just pain.

It only lasted a moment but in that moment they were as one, then the dark pools closed, only to open
once again, but this time in panic, and her right hand grasped the bloody white cotton sheet, balling it
up with her fist, he spoke softly to her, as he stood there still inserted inside of her, her legs dangling
over his arms, telling her it was alright to let go, her eyes moved to his face, her lips Trembling, he
smiled down at her telling her its alright, Grace, just let go.

She arched a spasm rolled through her, she grasped him tightly with the walls of her sex, milking his
sperm into her body, then she relaxed, and was gone, he could see her eyes once again, as her face
relaxed, her beautiful eyes, as they looked up at him, he watched as the spark left, and they stared
unblinking, he lowered his head wanting her still alive.

He removed himself from her, closing her legs, lifting her to straighten on the bed, laying her head on
the pillow,  pulling the blood soaked sheet over her, to hide her nakedness, giving her some
semblance of respect.

He loved her, he knew that he did, the moment he laid his eyes upon her, he looked for her brush,
then brushing her dark brown hair to lay over the pillow, wiping the thickening blood from her lips,
bending down kissing her tenderly, hesitating, looking once again into her eyes, but now Grace wasn’
t there, he lifted his hand closing them forever, but he knew that they will hunt him for the rest of his

Turning walking out of her apartment, down the steps, and out into the snow, he stood in the cold,
wanting it to freeze his heart, he lit a cigarette, and smoked, the snow, dusting his coat, turning  his
brown hair white, he finally turned walking to his car, looking back once more to her apartment, then
dialing 911 reporting a gunshot coming from her room.

He didn’t want her alone tonight, he thought he owed her that, then he climbed into his car, and drove
slowly away.

The End

A story by Nighthawk
The Hit


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Comment from: Grace X
Date: February 26, 2012

Nighthawk hon, to say I am impressed with this story does no justice to my feelings
about it. Your entire style is one where the action and psychology feels "real".
You're downright amazing in the balance you hit between hard-hitting drama and
harsh sexual eroticism. Man alive! You mesmerize me, hon.

Reading this I felt transported into the fantasy of it, body and soul.

XOX Grace


Comment from: Moon Shiner
Date: February 26, 2012

It seems our past always comes back to haunt us, hitman or double crossing
partner in crime. When you dance to the music you have to pay the fiddler.

This is classic NightHawk, setting up a normal routine, one we've all done, having a
cup of coffee, then filling in the story, from POV of killer and victim.  The view and
thoughts from both sides of the looking glass. You inject the thoughts of each, the
mundane normal, with a cruel flaw of horror interrupting the lines of a perfect day.

Through the whole story, the reader can see and feel the secret thoughts, desires,
loves and guilt, the events of life have dealt to these strangers.
Describing those thoughts in a way, that weaves them into a strong web, binding
the two characters together, for ever.

The demise of Grace X, detailed right down to strains and fluttering eyes, brutal
strength finally overpowering the will to live. Stripping away the clothes, and at the
same time, stripping away her defenses, the psychological protection that clothes
give us, reducing the victim to mental resolution. Grace shows great intelligence
with her attempt to  deceive her killer, offering the hidden money and to repay with
anything she could.

Underestimating her opponent.  

Grace X, I felt your pain, of discovery and your will to live, the all in, strategy of a
Texas Death Match, winner take all. NightHawk's portrayal of you, the signature
dark mysterious eyes, beautiful yet deadly, caught your essence to a T.

Thanks NightHawk and Grace X for the entertaining story.

I can see why you are in the anthology, my friend.

Excellent Read

Comment from: Fleming
Date: February 26, 2012

Wonderful story my friend, the writing is just superb, thoughtful, rich in feeling and
detail and as has become your specialty, the mind of the killer is so richly explored
so that we may know and understand him and even sympathise with him as he
hurts himself by killing this woman who's so dazzled him.

Grace's character is another example of the brilliant and layered structure of your
writing. First we know her as the bewitching woman all men crave from afar, then
we get to know her inwardly as the cold blooded killer and femme fatale she is
reliving with relish the murder she committed in such breathtaking detail and
finally we see her as the victim, reaping what she sowed with her crimes but still I
can't help but feel for her as well, such is your gift in these matters my friend.

The sexual aspects are absolutely stunning and wonderful and the blond's
strangling is so utterly perfect in feel, description and setting that I am at a loss for
words and then Grace's big moment as she is choked into unconsciousness (nice
touch its the same, lovingly undressed and beautifully made love to as
she slowly expired from her wound.
Spectacular, erotic and quite touching as well, the moment where they bond and
she milks him in her last moment was truly amazing.

My friend you once again prove your immense skills as a writer and surely have
earned your place in the book. :)

It appears that the mesmerising and fascinating goddess of this board has a way of
inspiring the best in us all who dare try our hands in writing her, a living proof that
muses are real and wonderful. :)

Your great friend and fan

Comment from: Nighthawk
Date: February 28, 2012

Grace, Moon, and Johann

I thank you all from the bottom of my heart, for all of your kind praise.

Each one of you a dear friend, though I know we will never meet, you are all in my

Grace you are such a lady, it was wonderful writing this story, although it did not
do you justice, I dare say that my stories probably never will, but I'll never stop
trying, my beautiful muse.

Thank you all once again


Comment from: Grace X
Date: March 8, 2012

Nighthawk hon, you did me FULL justice, and I am flattered and just plain
overjoyed that you are so generous in sharing your writing gift with me. The
thought of being a muse makes me blush, to be honest (and this from the tough
killer femme fatale, ha!), but you make me feel very special indeed.

XX Grace


Comment from: Moon Shiner
Date: March 8, 2012

Alas my friend NightHawk,
Never stop trying to do the Mysterious dark eyed Grace justice,
the thoughts of this delightful diva reaping her deserved fate, is quite stimulating.

Oh my, that sounds so Shakesperial.

Is that a word?

Where I come from, it sounds like a salt shaker that won't stay on the table.

Please continue to please your muse.
In my own words this time,

Keep pounding out those incredible stories!