Marie's Artistic Caper Marie steals art, then has to inflict a terrible beating Sweat was pouring off Marie Andrews' body. She had started her workout with forty-five minutes on the treadmill, had lifted weights for an hour, an now was engaging in her new favorite form of exercise. She was wearing a pair of lightly padded gloves and was pounding away at a heavy bag. She drove into each punch with the big muscles of her strong legs you could see them flex with effort. Her powerful arms slammed her padded fists into the bag, each punch accompanied by a loud smack. Marie had added the heavy bag to her workout routine after having to fight her way out of a couple of tight situations on a recent caper. As Marie continued to work on the bag, she reflected on how she got to this point. As a child she had the potential to be a world class gymnast. A growth spurt at an inopportune time caused the elite coaches to brand her "Too big". She did get and education out of it by winning a gymnastics scholarship. The team spent a lot of time in the weight room as well. When she graduated with a degree in hotel management she had a strong, muscular but flexible body which she continued to improve with rigorous daily workouts. She got a job with a large hotel chain in one of their luxury resorts as an assistant manager. That is where she started her other profession. Marie became a thief. She discovered that guests, especially those with money were very careless. She started in her hotel, and with the help of Billy Jamison, the fence she found, they expanded to other hotels by paying off bellhops and cocktail waitresses to spot marks for them. They were making unimaginable amounts of money. Marie was very careful about conspicuous spending, but the one luxury she indulged in was setting up a gym in a spare room in her house. That allowed her to conduct her workout as her schedule permitted. As she continued on the bag, she thought to herself "I must be a bit of a sadist somewhere deep inside." Her mind turned to the two fights she had on a recent caper. She realized that she did not know how to fight, but her powerful body had carried her through. She also discovered that she received a sexual charge from defeating her attackers with her fists, unlike anything she had ever felt. She had the two most intense orgasms of her young life while knocking out the two people who forced her to fight for her freedom and her life. She longed for that feeling again, therefore the thought about being a closet sadist since she had been so stimulated sexually by smashing people with her fists. Since then she had not been in anymore situations in which fighting was necessary. However, she learned that she needed to be better prepared in the future, so she took some classes at a local gym from an old fighter, then added the bag to her home routine. Marie finished her workout with a series of slashing uppercuts, her fists pounding the bag, toweled off and strode through the house to her bathroom to take a shower. As she reached the bathroom and turned on the shower, she realized that she had been stimulated just from hitting the bag. There was a small wet spot on her shorts between her legs. She stepped into the shower. She stayed there a long time, letting the warm water massage her body. When she had finished and dried off, she checked herself out in the mirror. She liked what she saw. Looking back at her she saw an attractive young woman 26 years old. She was five-six in her bare feet. Her wide muscular shoulders tapered to a small waist. her gymnast's legs were ripped with muscle. Her arms showed the years of lifting weights. She hit a double biceps pose in front of the mirror. Mountains of hard muscle popped up on each arm. They were easily sixteen inches around. She stepped on the scale. 147 pounds it read. She looked like exactly what she was, a strong, muscular flexible athlete in the prime of her life. Her dark, short hair required minimal work to keep it looking good, and her intelligent green eyes took everything in. One last look in the mirror and she went in to dress for work. At her job as the assistant manager, the day seemed to drag on forever. Marie kept thinking about the meeting tonight with Billy Jamison. There was an art exhibit in town with several expensive paintings. The centerpiece of the collection was a Gauguin which was valued at 1.2 million dollars. Billy had found a private collector who would pay a cool one million for the painting, no questions asked. Billy and Marie were trying to formulate a plan to steal the Gauguin. Finally, the day was over. Marie drove to Billy's pawn shop. They went in the office in the back through a locked door. The office was much nicer that would be expected in a business like this. A large mahogany desk with an executive swivel chair, a comfortable leather sofa, and a wet bar. Billy had some good news. Through his connections he had been able to get Marie a job as a night security guard for the company providing the security for the exhibit. She would start to work tomorrow night. If all went well they would make their move on Sunday night, three nights from now. "Now we have to alter your appearance. You are definitely to pretty. People would notice you and remember." They came up with a blonde wig with the hair ending just above her shoulders. Next came blue contacts to hide her green eyes. Makeup would add a scar to her right cheek. Padding was added to her waist to make it larger. Her breasts were strapped down to make them smaller. The uniform shirt was intentionally a bit too large, to hide her muscular build. Last Billy opened his desk drawer and took out a wedding ring. He slipped it on her left hand. "We are leaving your first name the same, Marie. We haven't had enough time to work on names so if someone called our "Marie" you would respond even if you weren't supposed to. Your badge and papers will say Marie Jorgensen. A married former police officer trying to pick extra family income. Here take a look." Billy turned her around to face the mirror behind the bar. Marie did not recognize the person staring back at her. This woman looked almost ten years older than Marie. She looked slightly overweight, with small breasts, blonde hair, blue eyes and a small scar on her right cheek. There would be no possible connection between Marie Andrews and Marie Jorgensen in anyone's mind. The next evening Marie Jorgensen reported for work. She met the other two security guards that she would be working with. Ron Willis was fifty two and a retired police officer. He was a smallish man only about five-seven. He was not a friendly person, and already was trying to order the other two around. Fred Washington was a slightly pudgy black man who at forty-five had worked at a variety of jobs until he had become a security guard two years ago. He also seemed to have a chip on his shoulder, blaming society for his inability to hold a job. Marie thought "Both of these guys are losers. This should help make this job a little easier." Roger Simons who was in charge of the exhibit addressed them. "These yokels wouldn't recognize art if it fell on them. We could have a fake Gauguin sitting there and they would never know the difference. However, we have to take precautions, anyway. I want you to be wide awake all the time. You have the most important shift, at night after the exhibit has closed. I will be keeping an eye on you, so no goofing off, or sleeping or you will be fired. Stay on your toes and keep your eyes open. The monitors are here. They should be covered at all times by one of you. The other two should be on patrol. The laser system is turned on as soon as the exhibit closed and remains on all night. If you see or hear anything the alarm buttons are on the console and by the case the Gauguin will be locked in at night. Any questions?". There were none, so Simons left. Marie quickly volunteered to be on patrol. "I'm trying to lose a little weight. The walking will do me good." she explained. Fred and Ron agreed to alternate between patrol and the monitor console. Marie started checking out all the security in the building. She also learned the routine for patrol so she could determine the best time to try for the painting. By the time Sunday night arrived she had her plan set. She noticed that Fred who would be on the console usually dozed off sitting in his chair by three o'clock in the morning. Ron assignment would take him to the far side of the building between three and three twenty. She had made a video tape of the room which she planned to plug into the video system so it would show nothing unusual in the event that Fred should wake up and check the monitors. The laser beams were more of a problem. This is where her strength and gymnastics background would come in to play. It would be too risky to try to shut it off, so she would have to learn the beam pattern and use her physical ability to get through and over the beams. She would make her move at three o'clock. The days leading up to Sunday were very difficult. Ron was trying to tell everyone what to do. Fred was surly and grumpy and Simons was raising hell about everything. In order to have time to prepare, Marie had called in sick at work. She and Billy worked very hard to get the equipment. They decided on a heavy cable that would run the length of the room that would be anchored into place with bolts fired from a powerful crossbow. Marie practiced diligently with the crossbow until she could drive the bolt accurately into the wall with the cable attached. She also practiced moving along the cable by grasping it with her legs and pulling her body forward. When she got to the spot over the painting, she would hang from the cable by her knees, use a diamond cutter with a suction cup to cut out the top of the glass case, then lift the painting out. She would slip it into a carrying case hooked on her belt and use her legs again to cross to safety on the cable. Marie practiced this over and over, cutting down the time she took on each run-through. She also was learning all she could about the electronic surveillance systems and laser beam technology. Finally, Sunday night arrived. Simons was hanging around much longer than usual tonight. It was almost nine o'clock before he left for his hotel. Marie hoped that this would not change their routine or delay Fred's nap at the console. She had come in early and stashed the bag with her equipment in the ladies' room. She and Ron alternated patrol routes. The exhibit room would be on Marie's route when she planned her three o'clock move. Time passed very slowly. Every hour seemed like two. Marie and Ron kept to their alternating patrols. At two forty-five they left on their rounds. Marie held back to see if Fred was going to take his nap. He was asleep in less than ten minutes. She ran to the ladies' room retrieved her equipment bag. She inserted the videotape that would mask her activity and raced to the exhibit room. Moving very carefully she took out the crossbow, inserted the bolt and fired. The bolt hit right on target. She then repeated the process on the other side of the room. Marie leaped up to the cable, and locked her legs in place. She had thirty feet to cover to get to the case. She moved as quickly as possible. She was breathing heavily when she arrived over the case. She took just a second or two to catch her breath. She reached into the utility belt that she had brought in the equipment bag, and took out the cutter. She swung down hanging by her knees to keep her hands free. She quickly cut the top off the case, reached in and grabbed the painting. Her legs were on fire by this time. She slid the painting into the case that was hanging on her belt, and carefully started to cover the remaining twenty feet. She reached the end and dropped softly to her feet. She needed to take some time to recover. Because of her superb physical condition, she was ready to go in less than two minutes. Marie checked her watch and realized she had run twelve minutes past the planned time. She rushed to pack the equipment bag and shoved the painting inside with the equipment. As she was finishing she heard footsteps in the hall. She quickly tried to hide the bag, but Ron came through the door. "What the hell in going on. Why are you still here?" he said. "I had to go to the ladies' room. I got delayed." Marie answered. Ron was about to accept this explanation when he saw the empty painting case. Next he looked down and saw the bag Marie had been trying to hide. "You! You are a thief. You came here to steal the painting. He started to reach for his gun. Marie covered the short distance between them before his pistol cleared the holster. She dived and tackled him. The pistol clattered to the floor and slid away from him. Ron started for the gun on his hands and knees. Marie leaped at him. He fell face first to the floor with Marie lying on his back. She gripped a leg with each hand and lifted his legs and hips about eight inches off the floor. Marie drove her knee into his balls from behind.. From that position she couldn't get full power into it, but she felt his body spasm with pain. Marie crawled in front of him. He was curled up in a ball with both hands clutching his injured testicles. Marie got to her feet, reached down and lifted Ron to his feet. He was doubled over in paid. Marie felt a familiar sexual stirring as she reached way back with her right fist and brought a powerful uppercut smashing into his chin. Ron dropped to the floor, but though dazed tried to crawl away. "You're tougher than I thought, we'll have to try that again." She raised him to his feet again. Her left fist crashed into his cheek about two inches below his right eye. Ron spun to his left and started to go down. "We're not quite finished, Ron baby." Marie said. She caught him and set him upright again. Marie backed up a step and wound up her hard right fist like a baseball pitcher. She stepped into the punch and it was more like he got hit with a one hundred mile an hour fastball. except her leather covered fist might have been harder than a leather covered baseball. Her fist exploded on his jaw, there was a cracking sound and Ron flew back several feet and crashed to the floor again. This time he wasn't moving and looked like he would not be for a long time. Marie took a last look at him. "God that felt good." she said. She noticed the wet spot on the crotch of her uniform trousers. Then she gathered up the bag and started for the lobby. She saw Fred still fast asleep at the monitor console. She moved silently past him to the door. As she reached it Fred began to wake up. Marie dropped the bag and walked toward Fred. "Why are you out here?" a drowsy Fred asked. Aren't you supposed to be patrolling the building. Marie was standing right in front of Fred now. "I just came to give you something to help you sleep, Freddie." she said. Fred was standing now with a puzzled look on his face. "Something's wrong here." Fred stated "I'm going to caUUNNNN" Marie cut him off by burying her big right fist deep in his pudgy belly. All the air rushed out of Fred's lungs and his body appeared to be wrapped around her fist. Fred fell on Marie's right shoulder. With him hanging there, she ripped her left fist even farther into the fat, soft tissue of his stomach. Fred's mouth was moving but he couldn't make a sound. Marie pushed him erect and ensnared his uniform shirt in her left hand. Her powerful right fist hammered into his face three times smashing his eye and causing blood to run from his nose. Marie looked into his eyes. Although he couldn't get any words out she could see the pleading in his eyes. Marie could feel that warmth in her genitals again as she cocked her fist as far back as she could and sent it crashing on the point of Fred's chin. He started backward from the force of the blow, but her hand still holding his shirt prevented that. Fred was a completely inert, dead weight supported only by the rippling muscles of Marie's left arm. She started to let Fred drop to the floor, but changed her mind. She carried him over to the chair and sat him in it. To anyone passing by it looked like he was sitting in the chair behind the console. After a final look around, Marie gathered up the bag, unlocked the door and left. Forty-five minutes later Ron began to stir as he slowly came around. He was having trouble seeing out of his right eye, and his jaw hurt like hell. When he tried to move it there was more pain and a loud click. All at once he remembered the missing painting. He hurried to the lobby, where he saw Fred, sleeping as usual. "Come on, Fred wake up, we have a big problem." Then he noticed the caked blood that had run from his nose, and his swelling left eye. Ron reached for the phone and made the call. He knew that he and Fred were in big trouble. To lose the painting and then both be knocked out by a woman, was not only embarrassing, it was more than likely going to cost them their jobs. As he sat and waited for the police to arrive, Fred finally started to come around. The two of them sat in silence. They would have to do plenty of talking soon enough. Marie drove to Billy Jamison's shop. She went inside carrying the case containing the painting. Billy was there with a man she did not recognize. "How did it go?" Billy inquired. Marie pointed at the case and said nothing as she looked questioningly at the newcomer. Billy understood and smiled. "Don't worry. This is Ted Aaron, or resident art expert. He is here to authenticate the painting. We can't sell something for this price and have it be a phony." Marie relaxed. "It went fine. I had some trouble with the other guards getting out, but I have the painting." she told Billy. "Give the painting to Ted and while he works, you can tell me about it." Billy said. Billy took the case and handed it to Aaron who immediately went to another room and started to work. Billy and Marie stayed in the office. Marie said "I want to get out of this outfit and change in to something a lot more comfortable. I hope I don't have to wear a getup like this again." She went into the bathroom and changed. She smiled when she saw the wet spot still on the crotch of the uniform trousers. She thought "I can't believe that I get such a sex charge out of punching somebody out. I'm afraid I have started to like that better than sex itself." When she came out she looked a lot more comfortable. She was wearing shorts and a halter top that showed off her powerful build. Marie sat on the sofa. Billy poured champagne from a bottle of Dom Perignon he had chilling on the bar. "To your success," he said. "Now tell me all about it. Marie told Billy everything that had taken place. When she finished he looked at her and said "You see the value in altering your appearance. The police will be looking for a blue-eyed, overweight blonde with a scar on her cheek and small tits. Absolutely nothing like the beautiful green-eyed young lady with no scar and shall we say "not small" tits" Billy laughed as he said this. As they finished the glass of champagne, Ted Aaron stuck his head in the door and said "We have a big problem." Billy could tell from the look on Aaron's face that it was serious. They waited for Ted to continue. "What we have here is a top of the line forgery. This in definitely not the original painting. It looks like somebody beat you to it." Marie entered the conversation for the first time. "Simons! That fat, slimy jerk. He was blowing off the first night that the yokels here not being able to tell the difference. That painting was authenticated before the tour started, so it would not be checked again. The SOB stole it himself." Aaron groaned "What are we going to do now?". Marie was furious. "Simple. We will steal it back from him. It must be in his hotel room. He can't very well put a stolen work of art in the hotel safe. I will just have to pay the fat slob a visit." Billy chimed in, "I hope he is not staying at the Hyatt. They have really beefed up security there after you broke that society babe's jaw and stole her diamonds." Marie checked her notes. "No, he's staying at the Continental, so getting in should not be difficult. If we can steal it back he certainly can't report it since it was stolen in the first place. By the way, I think I broke one of the guards' jaw tonight during my getaway." Billy looked at her. "That's getting to be a habit. Maybe we'll nickname you 'The Jawbraker'" he said. They all laughed at that and started planning how to retrieve the painting from Roger Simons. Then Marie went home to rest. The attempt would have to be tonight because they were running out of time, and Marie had taken all the time off from work that she could with arousing suspicion. Marie checked her watch and saw that it was time to get ready. She dressed in usual "work" outfit. Black jeans, a black silk blouse, black running shoes, skintight leather gloves. Her short, dark hair was topped off with a black baseball cap. A black leather utility belt contained a variety of equipment she might use. One look in the mirror and she was ready to go. She could already feel the adrenaline start to flow as she got in her car. Marie drove slowly past the Continental Hotel. She had discovered that Simons was in room 2243 on the twenty second floor. She parked down the street and walked back to the hotel. She slipped in through the employee entrance facing the parking lot. She used the stairs to avoid being seen. She was not even breathing hard when she reached the twenty second floor. She knew Simons usually had dinner in the hotel's swank french restaurant and that usually took an hour and a half. That should be more than enough time to find the painting and escape. She reached the door of 2243. She opened a pocket on her utility belt and took out her lockpick. In a matter of seconds the door was open. The room was actually a suite with a bedroom, living room large bathroom. Marie started a thorough, systematic search. At first she ignored the obvious hiding places such as under the mattress of the bed. However, being unable to find the painting, she even looked there. Nothing. Eventually she had looked everywhere imaginable. No painting. Where ever it was, it was either too well hidden or not in the hotel suite. Marie was determined to retrieve the original painting. She decided to wait for Simons to return and try to force him to surrender the painting. She sat down in a chair in the living room to wait. She had momentarily dozed off when the sound of the key in the lock snapped her wide awake. Roger Simons entered the suite. He tossed the key on a table while crossing the room to turn on the television set. Then he noticed the woman sitting in the chair. "I told the concierge that I didn't want you here before ten o'clock. You're much too early." Marie just stared at him. From what he had just told her, she had slightly over an hour before a prostitute Roger had requested would arrive. "I'm not the woman you are expecting. You and I have something totally different to discuss. Where is the original Gauguin, Roger, are you hiding it here or is it somewhere else." Marie said to him. Simons looked closely at Marie. "You look familiar. Do I know you?" Marie ignored the question and continued, "The important thing is that I know you, Roger Simons, and I know you have that original. Where is it?". Marie spoke in a very quiet voice. Simons answered, "I have no idea what your are talking about, so please leave my suite immediately!". Marie looked annoyed. "Cut the bullshit, Roger. We both know that you have that painting and when that forgery you had substituted for it was stolen last night it gave you the perfect cover that you have been praying for. I intend to have that painting!". Marie's voice took on a more authorative sound. "I'll tell you a short story, Roger. You are going to give me that painting. You can do this the easy way or the hard way. That is your only choice. I would advise you to take the easy way and hand it over. If you don't I will hurt you so badly that you will beg me to take the painting. Save yourself a whole lot of trouble and give me the painting.". Roger decided to try to bluff it out. After all it was a woman who was threatening him. "I already told you I do not have the painting. Get out before I call security." Marie had been removing her gloves while Simons was speaking. She did not say a word, she just stood up and started to unbutton the sleeves of her blouse. When that was done, she started on the buttons down the front. She removed the blouse and draped it over the back of the chair. Next she removed her baseball cap and placed it in the seat of the chair. Simons watched all this with a puzzled look on his face. Lastly, Marie picked up her black leather gloves and put them back on. When she turned to face him, he was facing a very attractive young woman wearing a black sports bra, black jeans, black shoes, black leather gloves, and nothing else. Marie started to move across the room to where he was standing. He got a good look at her for the first time and a twinge of doubt flashed through his mind about his course of action. He had seen very few people, men included with this high level of muscular development. He thought "Why am I all at once afraid of this woman? She is several inches shorter than me, and I am bigger even if I am a little bit out of shape. At five feet eleven inches he weighed two hundred and thirty pounds. Too much of that weight was centered around his waistline. He had not exercised in any form in several years. He had always looked down on people who did, saying if he needed to sweat he would hire someone to do it for him. Marie stood directly in front of him with her arms dangling down in front of her. She kept clenching and unclenching her fists. Her voice took on a more threatening quality. "Simons, I'm giving you one last chance to hand over the painting. If you do not, I am going to have to make you. It will not be pleasant or pretty. Do yourself a favor. The painting is not worth what will happen to you.". As Marie spoke she could feel a tingling warmth already starting in her genitals. She was already damp just from the anticipation of the coming events. In disbelief Simons said, "Are you seriously trying to tell me that if I don't tell you what you want to know, you are going to try to beat it out of me?". "Exactly!" Marie replied. As Simons comprehended her words she brought her left fist up from below in a vicious uppercut that ripped into his fat belly. Before the pain from that could register, her right fist did the same thing, driving deep into the jiggling flesh of his stomach. Now the pain registered and Simons had a look of shock on his face as his soft belly was invaded by those leather clad fists. He started to pitch forward and reached to cover his poor stomach with his hands. Marie's hard fists beat his hands, each of them plunging again into the fat tissue and sinking even deeper than at first. Simons legs could not support him any longer. he fell to his knees clutching his wounded belly and deposited his expensive french dinner on the plush carpet of the suite. He was wheezing and taking in air with a great deal of difficulty. Marie took hold of his hair and got him to his feet. Her left fist smashed straight into his nose, staggering Simons backward. Twice more that vicious left fist mashed his nose. Blood was everywhere. His nose was split wide open. The center of Simons' face where his nose was supposed to be looked like a giant overripe tomato had been smashed. A piece of red pulp in the center and streams of red freely flowing down each side. The pain was intense. The damage that brutal fist had done was unimaginable. Roger tried to cover his face with his hands as he once again slipped to the floor. He heard a very quiet voice that seemed to be coming from far away "Where is the painting, Roger?" the voice asked. He did not answer. Whether it was from stubbornness or stupidity, who knows? Marie grasped his shirt and lifted him to his feet again. Simons tried to keep his hands over his face. Marie backed him into a corner and jammed her big thigh between his legs. Is was almost as if he was sitting on her thigh. Marie shifted her attention again to his large stomach. Vicious rights and lefts pounded the flab hanging over his belt. She got into a rhythm just like she did when pounding the heavy bag in her workouts, except his belly wasn't nearly as hard as the bag. Marie could feel her fists penetrate far inside his stomach to bruise and damage his internal organs. Still she kept up the avalanche of fists. Blood now started to flow from his mouth to blend with that from his nose, but this was a much darker red. Marie could feel her organism building. She continued to rip devastating punches into that mountain of fat. She was having one of the most intense orgasms she had ever experienced. It seemed to go on and on. She realized the only things keeping Roger upright were the velocity of her fists and her thigh still stuck between his legs. Marie halted the onslaught and stepped back. Simons collapsed on his face. "Where is the painting, Roger?", that quiet voice again. This time he was unable to answer, he had lost consciousness during the prolonged belly torture. Marie went into the bathroom and got a pitcher full of water. She dumped it on Simons' face. He sputtered and slowly came awake. He sat up for a second and then the pain hit and he screamed. "Roger, are you ready to tell me where the painting is? I can keep this up all night." Roger looked as if he was going to tell her and he saw a million dollars flying out the window and mumbled, "Up yours, bitch. I'll never tell you." Marie leaned down "I'm really sorry you feel that way Roger. Look at this. You have ruined my beautiful gloves. They are both stained red because of you. I'm running out of time, so up you go." She pulled Simons to his feet. her blood stained left glove slammed into his right eye. It immediately started to bruise and swell. Then that horrible right fist buried itself deep in his traumatized stomach. Again, Marie could feel her fist penetrate through his abdominal muscles deep into his body cavity. More blood gushed from his mouth. "Where is the painting, Roger?" Once more that deadly quiet voice. When Simons didn't answer quickly enough she drew back her fist again to rip it into his body. "PPPPlease SSStop. Don"t hit me again. I'll ttell you anything, just please don't hit me anymore." Marie asked "Where is it." He pointed at a large mirror over the dresser. Marie let him fall to the floor barely conscious. The agony her fists had caused left him blubbering like a baby. Marie removed the blood stained gloves. Carefully she inserted a file in the crack between the mirror and the frame. The mirror slid out. The painting was taped to the back of it. Exercising great caution, Marie removed the painting marvelling at its beauty. She slipped the painting into the carrying case, and put her gloves back on. Hearing a noise she turned around and found Simons trying to get to the telephone. Moving rapidly, she caught him before he could get there. As he looked at her fearfully out of his good eye, she could feel a second climax start to build. Marie stood on her tiptoes and mockingly kissed him on the forehead. "This is from Marie Jorgensen." she whispered. Roger finally knew who she was. She just had to rip that plundered belly one more time. Her left fist met absolutely no resistance as it disappeared deep into the battered flesh. Simons wanted to fall, but she caught him. She cocked that big right fist far back. As recognition flashed in Roger's face That blood stained weapon of destruction hurtled toward his jaw. It landed with a crack like a well hit baseball. Simons flew through the air and crashed to the floor, out cold again. Before he hit the carpet Marie's second orgasm exploded. She took a few minutes to gather herself. As she looked down she could see her muscles were still pumped and appeared to be ready to leap out of her skin as they rippled and bulged. Marie strode to the chair containing her blouse and hat. She calmly removed her blood soaked gloves and placed them in a spare wastebasket liner. She put on her blouse and hat and picked up the gloves and painting. She took a long look at the unconscious Roger Simons. His nose was just a squashed pulp of tissue, blood still oozing. His right eye was closed, surrounded by purpling flesh.. His jaw looked like it could be broken, as it listed strangely to the side. "Roger, you could have avoided this by giving up the painting. If you are one of those people who get off on getting beaten, I hope you got you money's worth. Marie left the suite, climbed down the stairs and walked unseen to her car. As she sat in her car, the soaking wet crotch of her jeans reminded her of her thrills of the evening. "If I keep this up, I'm going to have bring an extra pair of jeans with me all the time. As she raced to meet Billy she was already thinking ahead to what their next caper might be.