This story is by Ruth Church and was part of our 2017 Summer Writing Contest. You can find all the Summer Writing Contest stories here.
Randall Anderson took her first look into the smokey bar to see it was full of criminals. It was exactly where she wanted to be.
Finding herself unusually alone after her most recent undercover mission, she could only wonder why her team hadn’t appeared yet to sober her up? Trying on her own, she was turned away at a rehab facility when she couldn’t produce identification. How ironic. Normally she’d have multiple passports on her, but they’d mysteriously disappeared. Equally confusing was what reappeared; her Medal of Honour. It was supposed to be locked away, but now it was on her person. And above all that, how the hell did she get to New York City? The details swirled around her in a patchy fog. They were sketchy, incomplete, and came with more questions. ID or not, she knew she could buy her way into treatment. It was time to speed up her recovery and get answers.
‘Shopping’ for Anderson was far from stereotypical. A high end boutique she’d spotted weeks ago was a money laundering front that would provide just the clothes she needed to go out on the town. Cash from the till would be enough for electronics and incidentals. The club she would attend that night had a no cell phone rule, so she needed a tracer that looked like a phone. Activate it, drop it in the bucket with the others, pass the time while it works it’s magic. She’d have credit card numbers galore within the hour.
Seduction 101: Get everyone’s attention to draw out the leader of the pack.
Arriving at the club, she put her game face on and entered through the heavy velvet curtain. Depositing her phone, it was time to put a Plan B into place, just in case. She strode confidently to the bar, tight designer jeans wrapped around strong swaying hips attracting a lot of attention. Her steps were slow and heavy to accentuate the clip clop sound of the red spike heels. Catching the bartenders eye, she ordered a two finger glass of Laphroaig, then motioned him to her as she leaned in with a suggestive whisper. It meant she could inconspicuously see past him to the patrons on the other side of the room. They too were fixated on her. Excellent.
After a few low level plebs failed trying to impress the sexy, unfamiliar woman, the big dog finally revealed himself from his dark corner. He approached her stealthily as she sat poised on the bar stool. She was pleasantly surprised that her Plan B was handsome. It was easier to feign interest when the bad guys were attractive.
He kissed the back of her hand.
“I’ve never seen you here before” his voice was strong; his left hand swirling a smoking cigarette.
“I’m new in town.” She cooed.
“Are you a cop?” He was direct. Dropping her head back, she let out her signature flirtatious giggle. She stood, turned, and spread her legs shoulder length apart, then took a step backward until she was just four inches away from him. Arching her pelvis she looked back and hummed, “Search me.”
He didn’t move, his eager eyes scanning her up and down. She turned back to him.
“I’m looking for a job. I heard it gets all kinds of crazy here.” She drawled out the words, as she looked him up and down.
“Well the good news for you is, I do the hiring,” He paused. “The bad news is, there’s no way I’d let you work behind this bar with all these men lusting after my woman.”
“Your woman? Mmmmm….” She purred as if turned on by the thought. She continued, “Well the good news for you is, I don’t work behind a bar.” She motioned towards the band. “The bad news is, I do my best work on stage with an audience.”
Without hesitation he replied, “I want an interview first. In my private quarters,” He motioned to a door at the other end of the bar. “And I want to watch you walk to it.”
Anderson kept up her swagger and entered to find a large but dimly lit office. Turning back towards to her target, he closed the door behind them and she approached, using both hands to reach out to his left; the thumb and two closest fingers in one hand, the outside two fingers in her other hand. They were dry and calloused, perfect to give her a good grip. Sensually she brought them up to rest onto her breast. Taking a deep breath in as if aroused, she prepared. In a quick jerking motion she lifted his hand up and out, splitting the skin and bone down the middle. Anticipating a yelp, her other fist hammered quickly into his neck, striking the vegas nerve. His eyes rolled back and he immediately went limp. She gave a loud sensual moan to cover up the sound of him hitting the floor. His unconsciousness would last about twenty minutes, but that was more than she needed.
Spotting a poorly hidden safe, she made short work of attacking it and emptied out the cash. She let out another flirtatious giggle for prying ears, though she was really just relishing her success. She picked one last lock to exit out the alleyway where she retrieved a back pack full of items to change her identity. Rounding the corner back to the front of the club, the bouncers dismissed her as some teenager in a hoody, listening to music on her phone. As she reached the wall attached to the interior trove of cell phones, she activated the scanner to retrieve the information it had been collecting. She sang and danced in place while she waited, as if captivated by a great song. When the phone buzzed that the scan was complete, she continued looking anonymous and danced straight up the street into the night.
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