Temptress

5

Cleo Horan

It'd been a while since I did my makeup like this, well, I had to blend in and the only option I had was to dress up like one of the rich guests attending the masquerade tonight. My eyeliner was a bit more elaborate than I'd usually do, even though I still had to put a mask on, and I'd also picked a dark red lipstick, nearly black.

I took longer in the shower tonight so I could shave and think a little because my brain often seemed to relax more under the water, and my muscles were aching after a very long workout session this afternoon.

Well, I also enjoy the time alone to make myself come with the showerhead, which helped a bit with the intense stress I was feeling lately.

Our dear Aaron tragically died yesterday after I stabbed him in the eye, deep enough to reach his brain, because I had obviously lost my patience. And he was being my only source of serotonin, even though he wasn't useful at all. So now that he was gone, I had to focus on this new job and hope that I wouldn't feel this dead inside.

I hated that he didn't give me a name or any more information about Styles or whoever killed Violet, even after I cut off all the fingers from his left hand. Oh well, he wasn't going to be missed and it was one less disgusting man in the world.

My mother had increased security and the dancers were being more careful, she told me she'd ask for the footage from the cameras across the street from the club so maybe we could see the face of the man that was with Aaron the night Violet died.

And speaking of dancers, June was supposed to stop by soon so she could lend me some heels for the auction tonight that would look good with the red silk dress I'd picked.

The fabric was thin and it hugged my body perfectly, I'd only worn it once before during another job and it was just waiting there inside my closet.

I finished applying my makeup and I looked at my reflection in the wall length mirror in my bathroom, tying my hair up in a bun as I looked deep inside my blue eyes. I only had my underwear on for now and I noticed the dark circles from the lack of sleep were gone with all the makeup, and my lips seemed bigger because of the dark lipstick, but I looked very good. I knew I was attractive, it was one of the things that made my job much easier.

But what people didn't see often were the scars all over my body, mostly on my arms, thighs, and stomach. I lowered my eyes so I could look at them again in my reflection, as if I needed a reminder.

The largest one was just above my pierced belly button, where a knife had left a huge gash there about three years ago, but the man who dared to do it suffered a lot before I killed him.

I had nearly died about four times already and I was used to it, I remembered the pain all too well. I was used to it by now.

The other scars were from bullet wounds or cuts, little white spots or lines that would mark me forever and always remind me of who I was and what I did. I didn't mind them at all and I wasn't embarrassed or ashamed, even though everyone I slept with would always stare way too much and ask about them. And there was no way I could properly explain.