Monique and Henry were in his flat when they received the message.
They had agreed to have an informal meet up that evening, to discuss further plans and unwind a bit. They had cooperated a few times over the years, but they had never really had the opportunity of getting to know each other well. It was normal in their line of work not to be too intimate with their colleagues, but they had come to a point where they felt they could trust each other. So when his invitation came, she was pleasantly surprised and accepted with a smile. She was cheerfully absorbed in small talk with him, glancing every now and then at his dark hair and at his strong hands, when their phones went off at the same moment. Few seconds later, the atmosphere had completely changed.
“Your covers are blown - run for your life if you can, but don’t get caught alive”, the message read. At first, they tried to pull themselves together and hatch an escape plan. But the sense of anxiety soon turned into dread when they spotted from the windows armed watchmen at every corner in the street. The mafia assassins were already there for them. And if they had been caught, the only possible outcome could have been torture followed by a slow and painful death.
“Monique, I am so... so sorry”, said Henry, still coming to terms with the terrible new reality that had landed on them. “I was just hoping to offer you a relaxed evening, and instead...”
“And instead, it’s our last evening on earth”, she sighed, with a wistful smile. “That’s ok. It’s not your fault. We’d better get round to it then, we don’t have much time before they get here, and I certainly don’t want to be alive when they come through that door. How are we going to do it then?”
Monique was now speaking relatively calmly now, and the speed with which she had adapted to the fact that the only possible option left for them was their demise took him by surprise. He attempted to recover some composure, coughed once, and started saying, “well... we have guns, so...”
She interrupted him briskly, “I guess what I’m saying is, I am not afraid to die, but I would like someone to hold my hand while I go”. She managed a half smile while a tear rolled down her cheek.
“I see! I mean, sure...” replied Henry. “Thank you”, whispered Monique. After that brief moment when she showed her vulnerability, she was ready to take the lead again. She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the sofa. “Let’s do it here”, she said, and they sat down while holding hands.
Henry was so mesmerised by her countenance and decisiveness, that he had almost forgotten that after hers, it would be his turn. He pulled a revolver from his jacket, put it to her head, and gently asked “can I... shoot, then?”.
“Not so fast!” She said. “I know we don’t have much time to get to know each other, but I would like this to be a little more... intimate. For a start, I don’t like a hole in my head. It doesn’t suit me. How about you aim at my vital organ instead?”And as she said this, she pressed her hand to the middle of her chest.
“Oh, of course...” he said, a little embarrassed, and started lowering the gun to her chest. “But first, you may want to gain better access to it”, she preempted him. “You see, it’s winter, and I’m wearing a fluffy jumper. How are you going to find the target like this? It would be a shame if you missed it. Come on, find your target first”. Henry thought he could see for a moment an inkling of playfulness on her face.
He delicately lifted her jumper. To his surprise, this revealed her two soft, round, voluptuous breasts. He blushed slightly. “Oh, sorry! I couldn’t imagine...”
“That’s good, you’re getting close to the target, Henry! And now, how are you going to find it more accurately? Any clues?” Monique was properly smiling now. It’s as if they had momentarily teleported out of that hopeless situation, and they were alone in a secure haven.
Henry finally realised that if she wasn’t wearing anything under her jumper, it meant that she had probably been hoping for a different ending to their evening...
Reassured by this realisation, he tried to play along. “Well, to find my target, I could of course place my hand on your chest, and see where I can feel it beating... or place my ear, and listen for it”.
“Very well!” she exclaimed. “And you will do both of those things, in a moment. But before that, is there anything that you can see, that might suggest approximately where my heart might be? Something that sometimes people keep next to it, perhaps?”
Only at that point, he noticed that around her neck was a delicate gold chain. He had been so enchanted by the sight of her bare breasts, that he had not even seen it until that moment. The gold chain was long enough that it ended in the middle of her chest, just above the level of her nipples. A small gold crucifix was hanging from it.
“Oh, do you mean your crucifix?”, he said, a bit sheepishly.
“Precisely!” she replied, satisfied. “This little crucifix has been living next to my heart ever since my eighteenth birthday. Quite a few years ago, now. And it has been listening to every beat of my heart. I have never taken it off, not even once. Anyway, so now, you know where to put your hand!”
He placed his hand in the middle of her chest. At first very delicately, then applied a little pressure. A vortex of emotions and physical sensations flooded his consciousness. He could perfectly feel under his hand her warm, smooth skin, her supple breasts, the slightly rough edges of her necklace and crucifix, but above all, he could feel the regular, strong beats of her source of life, slowly working away right in the middle of her chest.
They both savoured that moment for a while. Then, once more, it was her who interrupted the silence. “It’s very good of you to get to know better my vital organ, before you put it to sleep for eternity”, she whispered. “But before you do that, I think it’s time for you to listen to it. See if it wants to say anything, before it goes quiet for ever”.
Henry felt a rush of blood to his face as he lay his hear on Monique’s chest. For a few long moments, he was completely inebriated by the sweet, regular sound of her heartbeat, as his face bobbed gently up and down with her slow, deep breaths. He could smell the scent of her skin, he could feel the warmth emanating from her vital organ. Monique did not say a word, but a slight increase in the frequency with which her chest was rising and falling and the vital pump in the middle of chest was contracting, told Henry that she was deeply enjoying the moment too.
But that bubble was suddenly burst by a loud noise outside their door. The criminals were approaching. Monique looked deeply in his eyes and whispered, “we need to be quick now. The moment has come... our hearts must stop beating within the next minute”. He nodded. He knew she was right.
“You are now very familiar and intimate with my heart. It is only right that you are the person who ends it. Henry - please, now put a bullet in my heart”.
As she pronounced these words, she grabbed the barrel of his gun and pressed it against her own chest. Then, she closed her eyes and pushed her chest out slightly. The meaning of that gesture was very clear. She was ready, and she was waiting for her heart to be pierced.
Henry did not disappoint her, and pulled the trigger. A loud bang ensued, and her body jerked for an instant as the bullet made its way through her heart. Her breathing became immediately shallow and frequent. Henry placed his hand on her chest again; her heart was still beating, but the beats were now fast and feeble. To his surprise, she opened her eyes slightly and spoke with a whisper. “Thanks Henry, this is exactly how I wanted to go. Now please keep your hand on my heart until its last beat... and make sure my crucifix is right in the middle of it... I feel my heart is about to stop beating”.
With tears in his eyes, he nodded, and kept his hand in the middle of her bare chest. Sure enough, very soon her beats became fainter and fainter, until they stopped altogether. Colour drained from her face, and her chest ceased to rise and fall. Monique’s heart was now completely still.
He would have wanted to remain in contemplation of what had just happened for hours, maybe for days, but he knew there was no time left. The mafia assassins were just outside the door, and would soon be in, but he wouldn’t let them catch him alive. He covered Monique’s chest again with her soft, fluffy, green woollen jumper. She looked as if she was asleep now. He felt his own chest with his hand. She hadn’t told Monique, but he also always wore a crucifix on a chain, exactly on his heart. He put the barrel of the gun against his chest, just left of the crucifix, and then, while still holding Monique’s hand, he pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession. Moments later, his heart had met the same fate as Monique’s heart. They would share eternal peace together.
