Charley submissively put his hands up over his head. "No need to get confrontational."
"You're so easy Char" Sands smiled and stroked his fingers, bent and back-sided along Charley's cheek. "Give me my letters sugar…" he whispered and kept his eyes glued upon Charley's.
Charley reached into his desk and pulled out some dozen letters addressed to Sands, a few of which the seal's had been broken.
"Well I suppose I should thank you for not shoving them up your ass…" Sands paused as if in thought… "However," he mumbled and grabbed Charley's waistband and yanked it so the prong came free and his trousers were loose to manipulation, and he probed and prodded his slender hands inside the man's pants. "Boxers…" he remarked upon feeling the man's underwear. "Interesting." Sands thrust his hand against Charley's skin and then left him to his faltering clothes as he strutted towards the exit of the office, with his letters in hand.
Sands hesitated, grabbed his own crotch and pulled out his gun, leaving his own brand of bullet square in Charley's groin… he wasn't into the games of others, only his own. He took the pleasure of watching the man fall, and pools of blood flow, trickle to an ooze and then the sparse drops on the floor... then split. Out in the hall he looked either way, and found a janitor. "A little help?" Sands muttered, and pointed him in the direction of Charley's room.