Just a Job
Hips Don't Lie She was sitting quietly in her chamber - really a refurbished storage room, brightly lit and a mirror fixed on the wall for the perfect make up, a chair and a small wardrobe for the costumes and outfits. Normally she shared it with three other girls but she had kicked them out, much to their dismay. It didn't bother her. It never did. If she was lucky it would be her last night in this establishment, her last dance before she could return home. Her eyes narrowed. The reflection of the mirror starred at her. Hard. Home. She had lost her home a long time ago if she ever had one in the first place - she couldn't really remember. Her contact had promised that her target would be sitting among today's audience. The man would be recognized easily - he would be sitting in a crowed of bodyguards. The woman checked her appearance again. Appearance was a major part of her job. Her flame red hair was hanging loose in wild curls and framing her face. The make up and synthflesh covered her face perfectly not even her sharp eyes could make out the outlines of it nor hints of the scars, received years ago during a fight. You have a job to do! She opened the bottom of her jar. Two tiny sprays fell out, one red one blue. The woman took the blue one and sprayed a thin layer of it on her right hand. She didn't miss a part of her palm. It would be fatal to her. Then she waited for some seconds, letting it dry. Her fingers flexed to test the film. It didn't break. The latex skin would protect her from the poison. The red head took the other tube and repeated the spraying. Her weapon was now ready. Ladies up in here tonight The announcer outside started with his usual yell. No fighting! It had started. She rose from her chair, the cape falling over her shoulders hiding her whole body from prying eyes. No fighting! The crowed already chanted her name. She opened the door and walked briskly down the corridor toward the stage. On her way she had to push the other girls aside. They yelled at her, cursed and muttered. Shira ignored them as always. The women were not worth to be considered in any way. After nearly two weeks in this establishment she had already her regulars, guests coming to just see her dance in the hope of more. This cover was the easiest way for her to get to her target. The atmosphere was heated up, the drinks and@#$%tails were emptied fast and refilled even faster. Even more important he was a regular costumer. The bellowing voice of Timbol, the announcer, continued praising her abilities. I never really knew that she could dance like this The end of the sentence was swallowed by the yells of the audience. Shira, Shira That was her call. She slipped through the curtains, her body swinging already to the music. Oh baby when you talk like that Dancing was like a natural thing for her. Fighting and dancing. Both were nearly the same just had a different outcome. Eventually. Shira stepped over the stage, swinging and circling. The cape billowed, ravelling a booted leg, an arm, only to hide it again after some seconds. And I'm on tonight Her cape fell from her shoulders, showing her tight black skirt and high heeled boots, reaching up over her knees, and a matching top. She rocked her hips to the music, receiving whistles from the crowed. In the first row she could make out her target, just as promised, surrounded by disinterested bodyguards. What threat could be found in a place like this anyway? A smile sneaked across her lips. And I'm starting to feel it's right Her movements were designed to attract attention from the rotund man surrounded by his well muscled bodyguards. Shira searched his eyes, caught them and didn't let go of them anymore. Won. Now he was all hers. Hey Girl, I can see your body moving Timbol screamed over the speakers to the masses. Over the last few days she had learned he loved doing that. It was his way to make sure the girls on the stage got enough tips. Maybe it was just his perverse way to drool over them. It did not stop him though. And when you walk up on the dance floor The men answered with other yells. Making her smirk even more. Shira, Shira I'm pretty sure you all wouldn't want my attention if you knew who I am, what I am able to do. What I'm going to do! But she played her part. She was too professional for anything else. Oh baby when you talk like that The rotund man was all hers now. She had danced as if he was the only one present. Swinging, shuffling, exposing flesh and hiding it again, back and forth. Her hips rocked, her belly rolled. At some point she fell on her knees and crawled forward. She reached the edge of the stage, right above her target. Her right hand reached up and stroke over his cheek. Shira noticed that the bodyguards didn't bother to pay attention to her. The man stood up and put some money into her cleavage. She ignored him. She had got what she wanted. And the crowd too. Shira, Shira Timbols voice echoed slightly above the men's but not loud enough. Shira, Shira She got up and turned her back to the audience, her hips swinging again. I'm on tonight, my hips don't lie Time to finish this nonsense. One last round on the stage and then she would be gone for good. Shira looked at her target, she could make out a blue hint to his face. Her job was done. She was done in this establishment. Maybe Shira Brie could be dead after this and wouldn't need to appear again. Oh, you know I'm on tonight and my A last swing and she was gone. The curtains closed behind her and she hurried down the corridor. The other girls were still there, properly waiting probably for their own stage time. No fighting She heard Timbol again. Even when Shira is done for tonight we have several other hot girls waiting for you. The woman, who used the name of her former self, picked up her cape and covered her body. It concealed her appearance quite well and would not attract attention outside. She pushed the back entrance open when she heard chaos erupting in the bar. The bodyguards seemed to finally have noticed that someone had killed their boss beneath their noses. She allowed a satisfied grin graze her lips. Skilled she pulled off the synthskin, her own flesh itching under the treatment. Without a second thought she threw it away. Shira was gone and was once again replaced by Aeron, the Mysterious Lady. Unnoticed she vanished into the darkness. Her home. |
Comments
- Tuskers
Wonderful story... So you are a bounty hunter? ;)posted Dec 2, 2008 12:44 PM | Report Abuse - G-Man
WOW that is great work :Dposted Dec 1, 2008 8:45 AM | Report Abuse
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