on me that dried up
my mouth instantaneously and I thought hard about probing any further. I
decided eventually that there was little to lose. He remained silent.
“Are you one of
the bad guys, or one of the good guys?” I asked, changing tact slightly as he
frowned at me and I couldn’t help but notice that the smirk was back.
“That’s a very
naive question, Chas. Everyone is the bad guy if you’re on the opposite side,”
he laughed and I guessed he was right.
“So which side do you sit on?” I smiled, still
desperate to glean as much as I could.
“The most
lucrative,” he said as I gasped, my moral dilemma playing out all over my face
as he stared at me for a moment.
“Let me guess,
you’re suddenly laying there thinking what the hell am I doing in bed with a
killer. This man is dangerous and I shouldn’t be here. Killing is wrong and immoral
and I could never like a murderer, much less have sex with one,” he said, holding
my gaze as I nodded mutely. It was exactly what I was thinking.
“Well, baby, let’s
put it another way. My skills were honed in the army where I was sent to war
and people were shooting at me,” he said as I held his gaze.
“Then of course
you have to kill them first,” I said as he smirked, not sure what he was
getting at.
“Then I was in the
Special Forces and we had a job to do; extracting hostages or falling behind
enemy lines where, by and large, people were shooting at me again,” he said as
I frowned.
“Then of course
you have to kill them first, but doing it for money isn’t the same,” I said as
he shook his head.
“Why, Chas? I got paid by the army, I wasn’t doing it for
free,” he said as I gasped. Surely he could see the difference.
“Because you were
risking your life for Queen and country, to do the right thing and not just for
profit,” I said as he laughed softly. I wasn’t amused.
“I never kill just
for profit and I always believe I’m doing the right thing, but it’s irrelevant
anyway. Who says I was ever doing the right thing; in the army, the SAS or now?
Killing is wrong, full stop, but when you cross that line, all it comes down to
is your set of belief systems. There is no absolute truth. The Taliban believed
they were right to kill me; that I was the enemy and they settled their
conscience that way. I did the same. When push comes to shove, right or wrong
is just an extension of your beliefs, not a universal truth. I fight for
capitalism, democracy and the concept of freedom because that is my culture and
I trust in that system. Just because you dress a killer in a uniform under the
control of a Government, it doesn’t automatically make it right to take a life.”
I guess he was
right and I was a hypocrite. I wouldn’t have had the same quandary if he was in
the army, I would have had none, and I thought about it for a moment as he rose
from the bed and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door and leaving me
laying there and realising that the answers to my questions had only succeeded
in making him more of a mystery.
I tiptoed across
to the bag, checking the door and unzipping it quietly to get another look,
rifling through his equipment and praying that I didn’t inadvertently fire one
of the damn things. Six guns in total. Why the hell did he need six guns? He
only had two hands. I wasn’t sure what kind they were; I’d never seen one in
real life. I started to zip it back up,
wondering if I’d just shared numerous orgasms with some kind of hit man,
freezing as I heard the door open, scrambling to my feet as he stood there in
the doorway, glowering at me.
“Get in the
fucking shower,” he said as I pouted, slapping my arse playfully as I walked
past him into the bathroom and suddenly smiling as he manoeuvred me under the
hot jet of water, gently stroking the hair from my face. “Curious little thing,
aren’t you?” he said as I laughed, loving the wet dark hair soaking in thick
tendrils over his face as
my mouth instantaneously and I thought hard about probing any further. I
decided eventually that there was little to lose. He remained silent.
“Are you one of
the bad guys, or one of the good guys?” I asked, changing tact slightly as he
frowned at me and I couldn’t help but notice that the smirk was back.
“That’s a very
naive question, Chas. Everyone is the bad guy if you’re on the opposite side,”
he laughed and I guessed he was right.
“So which side do you sit on?” I smiled, still
desperate to glean as much as I could.
“The most
lucrative,” he said as I gasped, my moral dilemma playing out all over my face
as he stared at me for a moment.
“Let me guess,
you’re suddenly laying there thinking what the hell am I doing in bed with a
killer. This man is dangerous and I shouldn’t be here. Killing is wrong and immoral
and I could never like a murderer, much less have sex with one,” he said, holding
my gaze as I nodded mutely. It was exactly what I was thinking.
“Well, baby, let’s
put it another way. My skills were honed in the army where I was sent to war
and people were shooting at me,” he said as I held his gaze.
“Then of course
you have to kill them first,” I said as he smirked, not sure what he was
getting at.
“Then I was in the
Special Forces and we had a job to do; extracting hostages or falling behind
enemy lines where, by and large, people were shooting at me again,” he said as
I frowned.
“Then of course
you have to kill them first, but doing it for money isn’t the same,” I said as
he shook his head.
“Why, Chas? I got paid by the army, I wasn’t doing it for
free,” he said as I gasped. Surely he could see the difference.
“Because you were
risking your life for Queen and country, to do the right thing and not just for
profit,” I said as he laughed softly. I wasn’t amused.
“I never kill just
for profit and I always believe I’m doing the right thing, but it’s irrelevant
anyway. Who says I was ever doing the right thing; in the army, the SAS or now?
Killing is wrong, full stop, but when you cross that line, all it comes down to
is your set of belief systems. There is no absolute truth. The Taliban believed
they were right to kill me; that I was the enemy and they settled their
conscience that way. I did the same. When push comes to shove, right or wrong
is just an extension of your beliefs, not a universal truth. I fight for
capitalism, democracy and the concept of freedom because that is my culture and
I trust in that system. Just because you dress a killer in a uniform under the
control of a Government, it doesn’t automatically make it right to take a life.”
I guess he was
right and I was a hypocrite. I wouldn’t have had the same quandary if he was in
the army, I would have had none, and I thought about it for a moment as he rose
from the bed and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door and leaving me
laying there and realising that the answers to my questions had only succeeded
in making him more of a mystery.
I tiptoed across
to the bag, checking the door and unzipping it quietly to get another look,
rifling through his equipment and praying that I didn’t inadvertently fire one
of the damn things. Six guns in total. Why the hell did he need six guns? He
only had two hands. I wasn’t sure what kind they were; I’d never seen one in
real life. I started to zip it back up,
wondering if I’d just shared numerous orgasms with some kind of hit man,
freezing as I heard the door open, scrambling to my feet as he stood there in
the doorway, glowering at me.
“Get in the
fucking shower,” he said as I pouted, slapping my arse playfully as I walked
past him into the bathroom and suddenly smiling as he manoeuvred me under the
hot jet of water, gently stroking the hair from my face. “Curious little thing,
aren’t you?” he said as I laughed, loving the wet dark hair soaking in thick
tendrils over his face as
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