"Lifetaker," by Nichole Robin

I've seen the trail/
You leave behind./
Your bespoke drips blood/
On lonely nights.

My kevlar heart,/
Ready for action./
Planned my attack/
To send you packin'.

Then one night,/
That one night/
In Ankara!/
I saw why they call you/
Heartbreaker!/
Lifetaker!

Your trail's gone cold,/
But I'm in pursuit./
You took it all./
Nothin' left but you.

What kind of man/
Would throw it away?/
Give up on us?/
Love another day?

Our one night,/
Oh, one night/
In Ankara!/
I know why they call you/
Heartbreaker!/
Lifetaker!

Chloe's fingertips traced the underslopes of her breasts, crossed the valley of her cleavage, spiraled upwards on thermals of music. Her nipples were yearning for someone's touch when she finally approached them, so her mind's eye conjured someone to pinch them between thumb and forefinger, twisting by slow degrees.

Zack had convinced his parents to let him out of the house so he could study with Chloe and their new friend Gavin for an upcoming school exam. The Bishops didn't know the three of them would be meeting in front of the packed Azure Rocks cinema.

"Do you guys know what this one's about?" Chloe's mom had apparently seen the first movie in this series with her high school boyfriend, but she couldn't remember anything about the story.

"No, but I hear it's awesome!" Zack said around a mouthful of popcorn. He was already halfway through the bag.

"I think somebody's trying to kill him for most of it." Someone in the next row Shhh!ed Gavin. Spoilers!

Then the lights dimmed, and with a unanimous cheer, everyone settled in to their seats.

The screen opened on a hotel lobby, the furniture threadbare and the walls yellow thanks to years of cigarette smoke. Two men in ill-fitting suits sat across a coffee table from each other playing chess. A third, dressed like a tourist, tapped his cigarette into an ashtray while he read a brochure. All three were clearly foreigners to this country, their faces ugly with sweat from the heat.

The audience cheered again as the square-jawed, blond (brunet in earlier films) hero stepped in off the street, looking immaculate in his tailored suit. He smiled at the pretty young woman behind the front desk, a famous pop singer in her first movie role, and asked about any rooms that might be available without a reservation. She laughed at one of his double entendres and retrieved a set of keys, her fingers brushing over his palm for just a second too long during the exchange.

A minute later, one of the suited men had been knocked out by a flying chessboard, the other thrown into a passing taxi, and the tourist doused by the ceiling sprinklers. The hero and the young woman, clothes torn and hair tousled, stared each other down from across the room, both having emptied their pistols during the fight. She tackled him...

To the bed in his room upstairs. The moon shone through a window, but it was dark enough to hide anything too naughty from the camera as the hero and his would-be assassin made love, the singer-actress's voice demonstrating its full range as she died a little in his arms.

The next morning, she woke up to find the window open and her lover gone. The first notes of the theme song played when she turned over. His pistol lay on the pillow next to her.

It had one bullet left.

The blond spy's hands, softer than Chloe expected, played with her nipples. Pinching them. Tugging them. He complimented her bust in his hot European accent, and she purred with a smile. Her face tilted up to kiss him, but he lingered out of reach. She craned her neck, reaching higher on every attempt, but he made her work for it, and just when she was sure she had him, he whispered farewell.