The Seductress (On Hold)

The Target: Chapter 2

One Week Later

"..Yes sir. I understand, sir. Tonight. Alright, I'll be there."

i snapped the phone shut. The Three Piggies had called. They informed me that my time for research was up, that now I'd have to put my knowledge and skills to the task. There was an art exhibition of one of the Skye's closest associates tonight. Which meant that the young Mr Skye, my target would be there.

Tonight I made my move.

I chewed on my lip, a little nervous. Which was ridiculous since I've never been nervous before, not even on the very first assignment. But this one was something different, I could feel it.

For the past week, I'd researched my ass off about Ethan Skye, but I came up with only a handful of relevant details. The guy barely had his own Wikipedia page!

I let out a frustrated breath. Guess I'd have to fly in blind. I hated that, I hated not knowing what I would, or who I would, be dealing with. Turning on my heels, I made my way to the bathroom. If the exhibition was at 8 as a little birdie told me, then I'd better start getting ready now. Discarding my robe on the floor, I stepped under the showerhead and turned it on. 

Hot water fell gently on my face, streaming down my naked body, little rivulets forming all over me. Mechanically, I reached for the shampoo, and began latering some onto my head. All my thoughts, however, were on the handsome devil I'd been studying till now.

No, handsome wasn't quite the word for it. Drop dead gorgeous was more like it. That chiselled form, that square jaw, and, oh, those shoulders. Broad shoulders, built for a woman to latch onto. And possibly never let go.

I let out a moan, my hands travelling lower to cup one breast, kneading and molding it. Aah, that man was the wet dream of women all over the world, straight or bi. One hand slid lower until it reached the crevice between my legs. I hesitated awhile, I couldn't afford to be turned on now. One thing would lead to the other, and i absolutely could not be late for the exhibition.

Damn, I missed Callum already. But I could afford distractions even less now. 

The hand withdrew as I concentrated on applying the bodywash instead. When all of the citrus scented lather had been rinsed off, I turned off the water and stepped out to dry myself. 

Grabbing my bathrobe off the floor, I made my way to the closet. Now the hardest question that faced the aristocratic woman, what to wear? I ruffled through the rows of gowns and dresses until I chanced upon a red one. Taking it out, I brought it upto my body and examined myself in the mirror. it was a scarlet piece, off one shoulder, with a gold sash a little above my waist. It resembled a Greek chiffon, was light and clung to all the right areas. I smiled, this one would be perfect for a first impression. 

I stood in front of the full length mirror, starightening out the fabric and adding the final touches. My hair cascaded down my back, lightly curled at the ends. I'd donned matching gold and red earrings and a gold bracelet, complimenting my gown beautifully. All in all, I looked ravishing. 

I leaned a little closer to the mirror, slightly frowning. The dark bags underneath my eyes still showed lightly, but there was nothing I could do about it. This week, the nightmares had upped their game, so much so that even when I tossed back a couple of sleeping pills each night, I'd end up jerking awake in bed, breathless and terrified. Aside from the usual screams and ghostly hands, I now experienced physical pains; slaps, kicks to the ribs, canes, that sort of thing. 

My hands unconcsiously flow to the small of my back. The gown hid it well, but my fingers could still feel the uplifted skin; the perfectly formed circle, two crossing lines, and a three-digit number. 012. Time had erased all the other marks of my ordeal, but only that one remained, never letting me forget..