The Maroon Covered Girl

Her lips were a dark maroon, it didn't really matter, yet it still didn't change the fact. She walked into the room, her shiny black heels thudding across the bare floor. The shoes lead into shapely tanned legs, the kind only seen after hours of post work on computer editing software. Fact was her entire physique was sensual. Something that no one would or could forget. She stood in the middle of the room, and could be confused for a beautiful mannequin center piece that the aristocrats surrounding her would divulge all their free time to stare at. She knows what she's there for, and doesn't let the advances of a few horn dogs deter her.

"Hey baby, can I help you find something tonight?"

She turns her head, not even affording him a full view, "Yeah, a real man."

Then she walks over to the bar, not in a hurry, as if she's got all the time in the world. She hears his shoes clomp up behind her, she sighs into her hand, having dealt with this one too many times.

"So, you're looking for a real man huh? Well, look no further little lady. The Chad is here."

This time she turns all the way around, and looks right into his eyes. "Look, Chad is it? I'm not looking for a gnat on my ass tonight; I've got things to do."

"Well you do those better things..." Chad walks away and murmurs bitch under his breath. She just looks at her hand and then to the glass filled with some mixed drink that she hopes will take her mind off things. "The door on the other side of the room opens, and it's him, the target. He walks in with a woman on each arm. It makes her sick, but she's a professional. She sets down her drink, and calculates every angle, leaving no chance for error. A true sign of her skill. She looks at all the innocents, if they live, all they better for them, if not, well she has a job to do, whether they live or not is not a part of that.

She fancies herself a feminine James Bond, but she isn't a womanizer, or whatever it would be called if she did the same thing to men. No, she only compares herself to James Bond in the respect that she and him, they always get their jobs done, no matter what. He steps into the room, the center of attention. She remembers from his file that his name was Joseph Connor, some wealthily kid, born with a silver spoon picking up his shit, and a golden spoon making dirt piles. Joseph Connor's worst nightmare, was a day when his nanny forgot to rub the finest baby oil's in all of America between his rich pampered, and now chapped, cheeks. This kid didn't know pain, or the feeling of losing something. What a wonderful candidate to lose his life at such a young age. None of this matters to her though, not even what he did, although it was interesting to read. She can't remember exactly, but who cares really, he had sex with the wrong woman, pissed off the wrong CEO, doesn't matter to her. The only thing that matters is that her payday for this is more money than she even knew existed. She walks up to him, setting her plan in motion, smooth as the freshly bought velour suit Connor is wearing tonight.

"Hey baby." She almost sings as she runs her fingers across his velour covered chest. He grabs her hand in mid rub.

"Hey chick, no one touches the suit, not even my butler Chauncey, and I trust him like Batman trusts Alfred."

She found the Batman reference odd, but didn't let it deter her from what she had to do. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him look her up and down; knowing she now had him under her thumb. She took a step back, look to each of his sides, and subtly thrusts her head at the two ladies on either side of him.

"So what are you doing with these two? Looking for an upgrade?" she says using the most clichéd of the action movie dialogues she can think of. Connor looks at the girls on each of his arms, and slowly loosens his grasp.

"Sorry ladies, I think tonight's my lucky night, and this little lady here is going to make me feel special." The lady with the maroon colored lips shoots a quick smirk to each of the girls as they walk past her, hearing them simultaneously call her bitch as they brush past.

"Shit," she thinks as they walk past, "I just saved your lives." She steps up to him, puts her lips next to his ear and whispers, "So where are we hea…" when a hand grips her shoulder. She twirls on the ball of her foot like she's practiced before, and comes face to face, for the second time tonight, with "The Chad."

"So you won't have a drink with me, but you'll leave with this prick, just because he has a nice little suit on? You money hungry whore, I didn't want you anyway, I was just trying to be nice to you." Chad turns to Connor, "Hope you got protection guy, She looks like she's been around the block and all up-state." He walks out and slams open the doors, purposefully drawing attention to himself as he goes out. She turns to Connor, suggesting they go out the back, to avoid meeting up with him again. They step out, Connor barely containing himself from groping all over her before they even step outside. She kisses on his neck, leaving maroon colored marks on his neck and on his collar. They step outside, in an alleyway lighted only by a flickering light hanging from a rusted railing, to old to date. They get right into it, skipping the formalities, thinking only of the primal urge to satisfy their lust; or rather Connor is. She pushes him off and pulls out her purse. She pushes it into his hands and tells him to look for a condom. She puts her head down, and acts as if she's taking off her panties. He fumbles around for a few seconds, and instead of pulling out a condom, takes out a PP7 with a silencer attached. He holds it up in the dim light.

"Wow, what's this little baby for? You sure you can even handle this miss?" With her head still facing the ground, she gives off a little smirk, quickly pushes it out, and begins to straighten up, feeling her mission is almost at an end, and she can finally end this night.

"Oh I think I handle it well enough…"she raises her head, with one eye looking down the long barrel of a Walter PP7 with a silencer attached. The eye not occupied with looking into a barrel momentarily widens, but she quickly regains her cool and tries to play it off.

"What you doing ba…"

"Thwap Thwap Thwap"

Three muffled shots rebound off the walls, yet quickly dissipate into nothingness. She falls face forward into a shallow pool of water. The blood pours out of her head, mixing with the water, surrounding her head in an odd maroon color.