She was well known in her world. Not by name specific, in fact it was rare she ever came across her true name these days, often it was an alias.

She’d gone by so many, it all became a hazy blur, sometimes she’d even get confused as to what to go by, slipping on a new persona each time.

It was a day like any other. She’d packed what she needed, small carry all, light, cut out the unnecessary items.

She had the name from her employer, a photo and brief description. Also the location of where, not the usual she’d been given but this helped with her plans. They’d almost done all the work for her.

It was to be at his home in London. A fancy apartment where he was throwing a birthday bash for himself, plenty of people around so it’d make it tricky for her but nothing she couldn’t handle.

In the hotel she got ready, black lace dress, glass on her lips giving it that extra pop of invite. Just what she needed.

Arriving the night was dark, you could hear the music from downstairs and she was escorted to the apartment, penthouse.

He was a main of good taste, wall hangings of exquisite artwork. Colour draped from side to side in the boudoir. The rooms were filled with mainly women, the odd business man here and there.

He was a high up guy in the world of finance. For why they wanted him she didn’t know but she never really asked. If it paid well she’d take it, she was the best in the business.

Leading round the apartment, she kept her eye on him the entire time but so did he on her. He introduced himself, shaking then kissing her hand, complementing on the smoothness of them, pointing out they never got dirty, if only he knew.

Asking by name she replied Arabella this time, an alias used only a few times when she tried to spin she was from European nature, an artist looking for a good time. That ought to catch his eye.

They chatted and drank all night, her very little often saying she’s watching her figure to pass it off.

It worked anyway because by the end of the night there where numerous people passed out, only the two of them left chatting away and as it always happened, the man trying to come on to the lady and make some moves.

He ushered to take it to the bedroom and she politely agreed. Moving side to side, barely able to stand he did so. She briefly paused in the kitchen and swiped a palette knife that rested on the kitchen counter.

In the bedroom, the double doors that announced flamboyance, she closed them behind her with a smile. The gloss lips beaming at him as she slowly moved closer to the bed.

She moved her hands through his hair, fingers in-between the strands. Pulling the knife from behind her back, the blunt curved end moving across her skin, she wiped it out stabbing him in the eye socket.

The smile across his face dissipated and his body shut down. A trickle of blood oozed from the wound and she released the back of his head as he fell back onto the bed.

A smile glimpses across her face as she moves backward, opening the doors and trailing through the apartment of sleeping bodies like a isolated graveyard of the rich.

And with that, she left as an alias. A mystery woman in the dead of night with another contract completed.

4 thoughts on “Alias

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s