Sliced Bread

He was good looking, I’ll give him that. I made him in the bar, tall, slim, handsome in a rugged kind of way. His eyes never left me, never lost me, but he couldn’t keep eye contact.  I knew what he was there to do, and I demurely lowered my eyes. Maybe I could string him along for a while. A girl had to enjoy her work, after all. He was not the person I was there to see, I was sure of that. I risked a quick look around – no, my target for the evening wasn’t there. Pity. I’d have enjoyed…

Well, this would be almost as much fun. I flounced around the end of the bar, batted my eyelashes at him as I strutted to the little girl’s room. After a brief sit while I double-checked the contents of my purse, I spent a little time touching up my face. I wanted him worried, concerned that he’d lost me. There wasn’t a back door here – I wondered if he was prepared enough to have scouted it ahead of time. I doubted it – even I wasn’t sure I’d be here tonight. I held my little friend in my hands for a second. It was my favorite toy, one I’d given myself permission to use for this evening’s pleasure. I tucked it into the little pocket of my jacket, knowing I could reach it whenever I needed it.

I’d guessed right – as I sauntered back to my stool he was standing right at the entrance to the restrooms – I nearly ran into him. I smiled, gave him the whole treatment.

“Hi there. Are you missing someone tonight too? My date never showed up.”

He couldn’t hide the relief. I tried not to laugh.

“Mine either. May I buy you a drink?”

I nodded and followed him to his table, enjoying him, enjoying all the pleasure I imagined he could give if only…

“So what do you do?”

He looked at me like he wasn’t sure how to answer, then stumbled through his legend – a stockbroker. I’d have bet if I asked him for a tip he’d have been lost, if I talked trades he’d have been out of his depth. I was trained for a dozen different jobs, whatever I needed. It took a while to work him away from his job. I flirted outrageously, bent over enough that I could feel his eyes on my breasts, enjoyed the ‘accidental’ touches of his fingertips on my thighs. We must have hung together for an hour, no, more like two. He never noticed that while he finished his drinks, mine fed the potted palm I’d carefully picked to sit by. He was a lightweight – he was pretty buzzed and I was dead sober. Finally he stood

“I’m tired. Want to come up for a while and we can talk upstairs?”

I lost my respect for him – if that was the best he could do he should really be in another business. So he was really going to do it. Well, his loss. I kept flirting – I had to tease.

“Are you sure? After all, if you’re too tired…”

He realized what he’d just admitted.

“Oh no, I mean yes, I’m tired, but never too tired for a beautiful girl like you.”

He pulled out his room key and waved it in my face.

“And it is a suite, really quite beautiful. You must see it.”

He’d slipped back to his accent – he really was getting hammered.

Finally I gracefully gave in, and we left, arm in arm, the perfect couple. I’m sure all the patrons would so testify tomorrow, if asked. We worked our way to the elevators. I wondered if he was stupid enough to try in public. I couldn’t imagine that. Once we got there he opened the doors to the suite with a flourish, dropped on the bed and invited me over. It was tempting. I lay next to him, keeping my arm free. He lost focus, began stroking my thighs. Never met a guy yet who didn’t love to run his hands up my legs. I moaned a little, wanting him drawn in. I was enjoying myself, he had a light touch most men don’t.

“Oh, God, how I want you.”

His voice was husky. I could feel his fingertips shaking. The little earbud buzzed.

“Will you get this over with?”

His eyes were shut, and he probably scarcely felt it when I shook out the knife and sliced open his throat. I held the quilt up to catch all the blood. There are times when it’s not a bad idea to take a knife to a gunfight. I sighed. Never take your eyes off the ball. He opened his wide with an expression of disbelief. I couldn’t help laughing.

“Did you really think you’d got me? I’m disappointed. You should know better than that, even if you’re only a stand-in you should know better than that.” I stood, smiled. “Good bye, little boy. Best wishes to your side.” As I walked away I called quietly for a cleanup crew, checked myself in the mirror. Not a drop on me. No muss, no fuss. I looked back at him – he’d scarcely moved in his final minutes. Minute, I corrected myself.

The door opened and the crew came in, handed me my bag. It only took a few seconds to throw off my wig, shake out my hair, and change clothes. I handed the bag back – they were pros. I wouldn’t have to worry about anything. I wiped my knife clean with the proffered cloth.

“Nice job.”

“Yeah. I’d like to have nailed the primary, but he’ll do. It sure sends them a message.”

They nodded. That was the extent of conversation. I walked out, smiling. A girl had to enjoy her work, after all.


Been away for a few weeks – been busy and didn’t have time to enter.

This is part of the #wankwednesday group run by Ruby Kiddell. To look at all the entries see


7 Responses to Sliced Bread

  1. Pingback: Sliced Bread | Passion's Blooming Rose

  2. Molly says:

    Wow….a cold blooded assassin…..nice twist


  3. Gemma Jones says:

    As always didn’t see it coming. Amazing twist.

  4. Well written, and certainly different.

  5. Gene says:

    Awesome twist, talk about penetration 🙂

  6. A really nicely written piece!

  7. Thank you all for your comments – it always makes me feel good to know that I’ve pleased my friends.


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