Myra

She took hold of him and with brazen face said:  
“I have perfumed my bed  
    with myrrh, aloes and cinnamon.  
Come, let’s drink deeply of love till morning;  
    let’s enjoy ourselves with love!” excerpt from Proverbs 7  
 
I had enjoyed inner peace since my last killing assignment several months ago, but the nightmares had recently returned. After several sleepless nights, the dark cloud revisited me to give new instructions and quote a scripture verse. The cloud said, “You’ll meet a maiden, and something about her will connect her with Proverbs 7. That connection will tell you she is the chosen one for your deed.”  
 
Preparing for the hunt was exciting. After a new haircut and suit of clothes, I was ready to meet the world again. I wondered about the mystery girl, the pleasures, and peace she would bring back into my tortured life.  
 
I learned later that night that her name was Myra. She sat with two friends, and I introduced myself while sipping my beer. “Hi, I’m Jake.”  
 
She smiled, “I’m Myra.  
 
“Myra, rooted in the Latin word Myrrh, the fragrant resin from a shrub,” I said. “It’s a beautiful name.”  
 
She laughed, “You’re the first person I’ve met who knew that.”  
 
I could feel the powers of my dark cloud kicking in, and it felt good to be back on my game again. What I didn’t mention was that myrrh was used in preparing bodies after death. The name, Myra, also means to flow or pour out.  
 
Her name wasn’t all that was beautiful. She was slender, probably in her late 20s, and had long brown crimped hair, and deep brown eyes. Later that evening I would learn she’d been engaged twice but never married, had a sorted past and was heading for a life similar to that of the lady in Proverbs who used myrrh to perfume her bed. Presently, there was still a lot of sweetness remaining in Myra.  
 
As the evening wound down, I ended up at Myra’s apartment along with her two friends, one with a strong scent of cinnamon. At 1 a.m. they left Myra and me there alone. It didn’t take long for the sparks to begin flying.  
 
She knelt before me as I sat on her couch. As she took me into her mouth, her wide eyes looked up into mine. I rubbed her eyebrows and gently down the sides of her sockets. I marveled at the care she'd given to her mascara. You've got to respect a lady who takes that kind of pride in her appearance. My fingers rubbed her temples softly as she sucked. She purred her approval, and I thought what a privilege it is to  escort someone from life in a mindful way, focused on her needs and desires.  
 
My center burned with Satan’s fire while looking deep into these clear windows of her soul as they gazed up. There was no hint of mistrust. She seemed fully at peace as she licked up and down my shaft and re-inserted me between her moist lips.  
 
I rubbed her hair softly and mumbled something about heaven to which she laughed.  
 
Directly, she raised up and kissed me deep while climbing to straddle me on the couch. I’ve never witnessed a girl so gracefully lower her fleshy barrel onto my piston rod. Once locked in, she made of us one perfect machine, tangled together working toward orgasm. Running my fingers over her legs as they flexed reminded me of the crank mechanism in old steam engines on trains. I could almost hear the choo choo sound of our bodies pressing into other another as she slapped down against me.  
 
My hands slid to the small of her back where I marveled at the flex in her core as she leaned forward then back, rolling her head back so that her face disappeared and only her neck and chin showed toward me. Such an artistic creation as she danced over my body!  
 
I was overcome with emotion and said, "Dance Myra! Dance to your life and dance to mine!" She looked down approvingly, still bouncing on my stone-hard cock.  
 
In that moment I felt such gentle concern for Myra, almost an attitude of tenderness. How would I escort her away while giving her the most fulfilling ending possible? These are the questions I grapple with in my divine calling.  
 
I decided to change my M.O. and complete our time together before doing the deed, ideally without notice or alarm.  
 
Myra's hot cylinder still churned on my piston while I had these thoughts. It appeared we could continue like this all night, which would be fine, but I knew we'd soon reach exhaustion and I was on edge for sure now.  
 
I saw in her eyes the twinkle of orgasm. I felt it too, and we both came together, her folding down and rolling her breasts across my face as I spent my final thrusts into her warmth, her fully living being. We were "drinking deeply of love" and I wanted it to last until morning.  
 
In the soft glow of our love, we cuddled on the floor, her kissing my forehead softly. I looked into her eyes. "Would you like some wine," I ask Myra and she agreed. We sat naked together and shared a toast.  
 
"To the sweet perfume of our love," she said and our glasses met.  
 
"To our futures, however fleeting."  
 
After the wine, she slept deeply. Now would be the time to do my task so she'd enter eternal bliss, darkness, or nothingness without pain or distress. I retrieved my knife, but the cloud hovered over us when I returned.  
 
The voice said, "Do not rob Myra of being aware of her death. Her life is a 29-year drama that must have a conclusion. I'll remind you of her name's meaning. It is important that her life's blood pour out at her death."  
 
The cloud lifted as Myra woke up a moment later. "What was that sound? Were you talking?," she asked.  
 
I said, "Let's kiss again, perhaps our last." Still waking, she looked confused but gave me a long and passionate kiss. My left hand cupped her right breast then slowly slid down to the base of her sternum, where I rubbed gently as we kissed. My thumb located the soft tissue below the hard bone that protects the heart. I rose slowly over her naked body while looking into her eyes.  
 
Myra looked kindly at me and smiled. My knife came from beside her and slid slowly, but firmly, into her chest, breaching her heart muscle. Her smile turned to horror when she felt the pressing sting. "What have you done?" she screamed as her eyes immediately welled up with tears.  
 
My hand still held the knife inside this body I'd made love to an hour before. I looked into her tear-filled eyes and twisted the blade left then right, knowing that I was slicing all that was vital for her to live.  
 
"I'm sorry," I said as she grew pail while still crying underneath me.  
 
"But, I loved you. We fucked" she whispered.  Her arms pressed lightly against me and then slowly, her fingers slid down my arms causing me to tingle at her touch, ending in the touch of death. Her eyes were glazed and hollow now, still staring toward me.  
 
The dark cloud returned. "Well done, Jake. Tomorrow, you shall have your reward."  
 
I took one more look at Myra, so peaceful in death, her eye mascara in radiant contrast to her still-beautiful, but now colorless face. I pulled a small bottle of myrrh essential oil from my pocked and sprinkled it over her body and then walked into the night knowing peace would accompany me.