lacey doesn't know the full extent of my job. she thinks that i'm a masseuse, which isn't a lie. that's a cover for my real job: hit woman.
i used to be purely a freelance hit woman, but once i met lacey i knew that i had to switch to something less risky, so i joined a circle of hit women who disguise themselves as masseuse, then often kill their clients.
personally, i only go for cheating, abusive, asshole men who absolutely fucking deserve it. there was this one dude, about 35, who cheated on his wife with a 16 year old. yep, you heard that right: a fucking 16 year old.
his wife tells him that he's seemed "tense" lately, and books him a nice little massage, like he hasn't been getting enough rubbing lately.
i knock on the door at 12:30 pm, right on time. he answers the door in nothing but a robe.
"hey, you here for my massage?" he says, his tone anything but polite.
yeah, dickhead. that may just be why i'm carrying around a massage table.
i force a smile, "yes sir, i am."
"great, come on in." he says, stepping out of the doorway.
i walk in, and his hand instantly goes to my back, "you want something to drink, sweetheart?"
and let your greasy ass take advantage of me? no fucking way.
"no thank you." i say, keeping my tone calm and polite.
he sits on the couch watching me like a hawk as i set up the massage table. then, once i'm done, he takes off his robe, leaving him in his underwear, and gets on the table, face-up.
i start at his shoulders, questioning him as i massage, "it was really nice of your wife to set this up for you, huh?"
he chuckles, "well, sweetheart. full disclosure: we're kind of on the rocks right now. she probably booked this to keep me from leaving."
i stifle a laugh, keeping my tone unamused, yet polite, "oh, really?"
"yeah, she just never puts out anymore. it's fucking ridiculous."
"hm." i say, not even wanting to get into that one.
i can feel his eyes on my tits, and i could knock him out right then and there, but i let him go on.
"i bet you put out for me, wouldn't you?"
there it is.
i raise an eyebrow, acting shocked, "i'm sorry?"
he chuckles again, shaking his head, "come on, baby. you know you want it."
i smile at him, "well, let me just grab some massage oil from my bag."
he smirks, "oh yes, please do."
i go over to my bag, reach in, and pull out my gun. then, i turn around and point it at him. he looks at me wide-eyed, frozen in fear.
"go to hell, asshole." i say, then pull the trigger.
i watch as the bullet hits his forehead, and he falls back onto the table. then, i pull out my burner phone, calling the clean up people, telling them only the address before hanging up. i put the phone on the floor and stomp on it, planning to trash it in a dumpster somewhere far from here. i look in a nearby mirror to make sure there's no blood on me, then walk out the door.
