Mika

Fifty-Five Mika

Being a dear, I help Ander carry the two wine glasses as I follow him up the staircase to his bedroom. He enters the bedroom, popping the cork and causing a bit of fizz to fall on his marble floors. Like a lady, I sit on the bed with one leg over my thigh, holding the glass for him to fill. He bends his wrist to fill the tumbler as a few droplets fall onto my bare thigh.

"Shit," he curses, wiping the stain with his palm. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I reply, conquering the fakest laugh in the world. "You must be in a hurry to get these clothes off of me."

His left dimples emerge on his cheek. "I'm never this straightforward with a woman. You know what's funny? My younger brother wanted to come by tonight."

I bite my lip. "Really? That would be awkward if he walked in on us."

My charms are lackluster tonight. But can you blame me? It's hard to want to seduce the man that stole my virginity. My other clients at the club never take advantage of me and listen to the rules. It's easier to wear a fake mask when inside I'm not on the verge of breaking apart.

He takes a small sip of his wine before setting it down on the bedside table. "I-is it alright if I go to the bathroom first? Freshen up before we start?"

"Of course," I say sweetly. "Don't be too surprised if you return to a naked girl lying in your bed."

Tapping my fingers on the glass, I try to act as if I wasn't waiting for him to lock himself in the bathroom. The lock clicks, and I jerk from the bed to start phrase one. With scrunched brows, I shuffle to his glass, trying to make the less sound possible. Digging into my bra, I pull out a small plastic bag and a red pill.

If it was my choice, I would tear Ander apart piece by piece, starting with his teeth. Keep him alive long enough to suffer through all the morbid rounds I'll design for him. I would be his personal Saw, but I'm only an employee. The big boss decides how the target dies, depending on their status.

Ander is a big fish to fry.

We can't leave questions lurking in the background. His death has to have a concrete story. That's why Diablo gave me this pill. It's a new underground drug with the strength to knock a person out in minutes without leaving a trace in their bloodstream. The ending of his life is my story to construct-- I can turn him into anything I want.

The toilet flushes and my eyes widen as I slip the particles of the pill into his drink. It fizzes, falling to the bottom of the glass, disappearing in the red liquid like a magic trick. Dashing like a teleporting superhero, I'm on the bed again when he opens the door, drying his hand on the towel rack.

What an idiot.

He doesn't suspect a thing.

Ander sports a half-grin as he chugs most of his wine, cleaning his mouth with his sleeve. No reaction. As if the wine had been left untouched. He squats down, leaning his back on his dresser as he sits. His knees are upright, holding up his elbows as they dig through his hair.

"I-it's been a while since I've been with a girl," he admits, clearing his throat. "How do we start?"

My lips curl into a coy smile. "Say less."

Standing from the bed, I tug the zipper down to my waist, slipping my arms out from the dress. Inch by inch, the flowy dress falls to the ground like flower petals, leaving me in only my undergarments. His gaze sweeps over my body, focusing on the dips of my hips. He sucks in a breath as the bra straps fall down my shoulders, my tits eager to impress. While hunger dances in his gaze, a hint of pain shimmers in them.