𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 | 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯

➥ lorraine; inescapable

There's been tension between me and my pretty, blonde, colleague for a long time. Her eyes usually meet mine somewhere between the luxurious purple armchairs and giant screen projector used to show us our intended target in the conference room. When she tears her eyes from mine it almost feels as though a hole has been left in my heart. A large gaping space that aches for her.

I vividly remember her beautiful ocean blue eyes wandering my body on our third mission - infiltrating an Italian Mafia's sixtieth birthday party. To say we wore short dresses would be an understatement as I clearly remember her coming up behind me, cupping my ass as she whispered something about pretending to be a couple. I agreed of course; my mind was hazy from her touch at that point.

The reason I'm referencing these moments is because she's doing both of them to me right now. Not the ass cupping part unfortunately, but you get the gist. And with no shame, keeps smirking to herself after admiring me for a solid five minutes. Our boss has been watching her with an expression of both curiosity and disbelief.

We are shown to our table quickly and this is where the fun begins. I didn't ask to be invited out to eat at a fancy restaurant after stopping the plans for nuclear bombs (again) being received by Germans. But here I am anyways. Unfortunately for me I struggle massively with food and everyone intends to eat lots of it.

I excuse myself around the first main course - which came after three starters, to go to the bathroom. Honestly it's an improvement. My hair is pulled into a ponytail as I closed the cubicle door shut and puke into the pristine toilet bowl. Multiple flushes later and when the familiarity of an empty stomach has returned: I start to reapply my makeup in the mirror.

The bathroom door swings open and I glance at the person behind me. My stomach knots and warms. She knows something's off - I can see it in the ocean blues that have turned a sad grey. That and my eyes are darker than they were previously - rosy colour drained from my cheeks leaving my skin dull.

I continue to fix my dripping mascara and smudged eyeliner from the tears that escaped. Somehow I didn't notice her advance in the background until I could hear her light breathing behind me. I want her to touch me but she doesn't. I catch myself, remembering I shouldn't feel this way about a collegue.

I lean forward again to apply blush (hiding the little colour) and lipstick. Unfortunately, she chooses this moment to push herself as close to me as possible. The red starts to shake in my hand as her arms land on my hips. Her touch is electrifying.

"Why were you gone so long?" She asks, blue eyes piercing into mine in the reflection.

"I don't handle mass amounts of food well." I keep it simple, she doesn't look at all surprised, in fact, it looks more like I confirmed her theories. She steps back a little, allowing me to stand straight again. I put the lipstick in my bag - no longer having any desire to wear it.

Lorraine takes my hand as we walk back to the table and the electricity fizzes through my body again. I let her guide me back to the table through a maze of red fabrics and moving people. Instead of sitting back with the people I have to call colleagues, she announces our unmissed presence.

"We're leaving now. I've already paid for me and Y/N so we'll see you at work next week." She declares. A flurry of byes and okays and we are free assassins. She doesn't let go of my hand as we leave and I don't make her. "I'm taking you home."

"I'll call a taxi it's fine, you already paid for my food." I insist. I hate being a burden.

"No, I'd feel better if I dropped you off myself." I sigh and get into the car, which she holds the door open for me as I do. She's more of a gentleman than a man, it's attractive. I'll find a way to pay her back.

As we drive I drift off to sleep, the warmth of her hand on my thigh being a constant comfort. This woman is completely inescapable.