A Dying Kiss

It was peaceful and quiet. The only sound that was heard was their rambunctious voices conversing, echoing in the tunnels. Under his estate, the tunnels were a good place to hide away.
Lady Elizabeth Duchee, as she was called by many. Oh how lovely she is!
These were the thoughts reverberating in the mind on Baron Richard Fosare at the given moment.
But why her? Out of all the beautiful madams with their big bosoms and curvy bodies, she was not much more. But his burning desire grew even hotter when he saw her. Nonetheless, he could be married and well satisfied to any of his gorgeous female adorers. Adorer, what a funny...
“Richeee! Richeee!”
Her voice hit him like a locomotive.
         “Are you going to stand there all day? It’ll get dark soon! You know, the sun sets earlier at this time of year!”
A joyful yet slightly aggravated “Arf Arf!” broke the silence of Richard’s thought.
         “Yes, let us keep walking, and Xaverian, don’t interrupt me!”
Xaverian, his beloved husky. Also, there were Rangal and Basten, his two Dachshunds, Sasha, Faro, and Rexene, his Wheaten terrier-wolf mix breeds. He loved them all so, his loyal hunting dogs. They would never abandon him, nor he them.
Then, without prior notice, he grabbed Elizabeth’s arms, and they raced down the stairs, leaving the dogs moping behind them. They came down to where all four tunnels that ran under the estate intersected, meeting like perpendicular lines.
         Richard’s soft voice broke the silence:
“Do you remember when we were young? We would play and kiss. Then our parents would walk in, and we would act as if nothing had ever happened. Let us recreate our happy childhoods!”
The fire burning in her eyes, he sensed the passion dancing. It was all present. He leaned in, whiffing her sweet perfume, put his finger to her cheek, and reeled her in. His lips met hers. The warmth, her soft, luscious lips. Their tongues dancing in writhing joy!
Her hands wrapped around his shoulder, he nibbled her ear. His lips embracing her neck, his hand slid up her thigh.
Elizabeth muttered a loud “Ahh” of content. Goosebumps ran up her arms.
“Don’t stop!” she moaned softly, his hand on her soft behind and his mouth at her bosom. He slowly unlatched her brassiere. But then, that very moment, his primal instincts told him to stop. Gunshots echoed, pity yelps were heard, footsteps, four guns being cocked, then silence. With his peripheral vision he noticed the four men, standing in each of the directions, north, south, west, and east, like a compass rose. Richard sighted the croon ahead of him holding the lifeless body of Xaverian.
“Nooooo!!!” something called from inside of him.
Richard then sank down to the floor, his hand disappearing into his trench coat, and faster than the eye could see, the barrel of the gun in his hand turned from left to right to straight ahead, the trigger being pulled three times, three direct hits, like a master marksman. Evidently, Richard knew the fourth man was behind him, but he didn’t care. He knelt down and gave the fair Lady Elizabeth the most passionate kiss, and as he had previously decided, the last one of his life. He then stuck the gun in his mouth, and then, in Elizabeth Duchee’s arms, he became nothing but a memory.
         This was all what he expected. Thinking of all the thanks he got, a damn revolutionary, all for the good of the poor, the third estate as it was called in Pre-Revolutionary France. And after all, the stupid Magistrate sends out hitmen!
What a wicked world, he thought to himself, laying with his eyes closed, restless, finally at peace. But this was the ending he had aimed for. Her arms around his, his lips touching hers, his loyal companions lying lifeless beside him.
         This was how he wanted to leave this world, with a dying kiss. This was how he wanted to be remembered in eternity.