Senator Vargas was looking very smug, considering how disappointed his parents had been in him. The Divine Rowena hadn’t even flinched when he’d removed her lace shawl and kissed her plump shoulder. He poured her a drink as she lounged on the couch in his den. He excused himself for a moment and when he came back, he said, “I took the liberty of sending the servants away. I gave them the night off. There is a fiesta at the cathedral square.”
The big blond said, “How thoughtful of you. I thought you’d gone to put on a contraceptive.”
Vargas blinked in astonishment as she grinned lewdly up at him. He recovered and dropped beside her, putting his arms around her as he gasped, “Oh, me 100ilomet, I was so hoping you were a sophisticated woman.”
The Divine Rowena shoved him off as he started to paw her and said, “Don’t mess my dress, dear. If you want to fuck, let’s take off our clothes, for Christ’s sake.”
“Just like that? You put my heart’s desire in so many words?”
“Look, junior, if I didn’t want to go to bed with you I wouldn’t be here. Do we have to go through all this romantic garbage? Where’s the bedroom? Or would you rather do it in here?”
“¡Madre de Dios! I have found the woman of my dreams!”
“Yeah, yeah, let’s get on with it. I’m kind of anxious, too. All that flirty shit takes a lot out of you.”
Vargas rose, started dragging her to the conveniently positioned bed chamber next door and reached for the light switch. Rowena said, “Leave it a little dark, lover.”
“Ah, si, more romantic, no?”
“You want to bullshit about it all night or are you going to take off your clothes?”
Vargas laughed incredulously, and began to strip, bursting a few buttons in his anxiety as he said, “Forgive me, this is all so sudden.” And this time the Divine Rowena laughed. It was a cruel mocking laughs but he was too excited, or too stupid, to notice.
He stripped down to his underwear and socks before he asked, “What about you, my treasure?”
The Divine Rowena shrugged and said, “May as well,” as she started peeling matter of factly. Vargas grinned and sat on the bed, taking off all but his socks as the big blond moved toward him in high silk stockings, loose silk bloomers, and a combined corset and brassiere. As she loomed over him, Vargas asked, “Are we not to see you in the all-together my treasure?”
“It’s your funeral. Why don’t you turn over on your stomach, eh?”
“Ah, my little dove is shy, eh?”
The Divine Rowena waited until he’d rolled over, facedown, before taking off the corset and slipping out of the bloomers. Then the big blond fell forward on top of him, clamped a pair of ham-like hands around his neck, and began to methodically strangle him, saying, “Now, you son of a bitch!”
Vargas gasped for air that refused to come and struggled to rise from under the mass of naked flesh pressing him into the mattress. As he felt his head filling with tom-toms and shooting stars he gargled in even greater horror as he felt a huge erection between his buttocks! The Divine Rowena moved one hand down to guide-it into his rectum and Vargas managed to croak. “¡Madre de Dios, you are a man!”
The German agent shoved it in savagely and resumed his grip on his victim’s neck as he chortled, “You just noticed, eh? I don’t usually do this, but I haven’t had any for a long time and I’m hard up as hell.”
Vargas made no answer as the German slowly strangled him. The Divine Rowena’s doppelganger started humping, saying, “Nice. I like the way the guy’s guts go crazy when he’s dying. Feel the way your bung hole is dilating and contracting? No, I guess you can’t, you poor bastard. But take it from me, no woman ever felt this tight – except a few they told me to liquidate like this.”
The body was still convulsing when the German reached orgasm and then, to make sure, and because he really had been feeling frustrated, he went on sodomizing the corpse until it was as limp as a rag doll and he’d come a second time in a now-flaccid opening.
The killer withdrew, wiped himself off on a pillow case and said, “Let the cops figure this one out, junior! You leave with a big blond woman and they find you with my stuff up your ass. I’ve confused Scotland Yard and the czar’s police with that one, baby!”
The German went into the bathroom and sponged off. Then he walked naked out to the den and got the Divine Rowena’s big handbag. There was a pair of men’s shoes and socks in it. He put them on before selecting male attire from the late Senator Vargas’s wardrobe. The shirt wouldn’t button all the way and the suit was a tight fit. But people accepted sloppy fat men on the street at night. The female disguise went in the handbag, which turned inside out to become a nondescript black leather satchel.
The German took out a tiny derringer with very big bullets and searched the house thoroughly. The clod had told the truth about the servants. So there was no need to rush, after all.
The German dragged the naked corpse by its heels out to the latrine pit provided at the back entrance for the servants. He removed the two-hole cover, set it aside, and rolled the limp corpse in. It hit bottom with a mighty splash. He struck a light. Most of the late Senator Vargas was now covered in semiliquid shit. But the German Secret Service prided itself on efficiency. So he found a broken flowerpot, filled it with garden soil from the pateo, and carefully sprinkled the flesh still showing until there was no visible indication that the latrine had been used in a most unusual way.
He put the cover back in place and said, “Good night, sweet prince. That will show you not to annoy the Kaiser. The Americans are all mouth and the British have degenerated. We Germans take offenses seriously, nicht wahr?”
Then, since he obviously had the time, he went back to straighten up a bit more. He whistled as he worked. Sooner or later they’d find the dumb bastard, but they’d go crazy trying to figure it out, and was this not a funny little prank?