It's Just Business

When I was 6, I was taught how to bait a hook. I found pleasure in the nightcrawler’s scream.

At 7, my Crackerjack box offered up a prized magnifier I turned into a weapon of mass destruction. As I grew, my enemies fled in fear of my fascinations in pain.

Now I am armed with pistols, daggers and poison. But my best weapon is my God given disguise, a perfect shape tightly wrapped in a designer navy-blue business suit. My pulse-points are drenched with intoxicating pheromones mixed with his wife’s scent.

I tame my disgust and instead, exude a woman in need.

Soon my target’s eyes dart around my racy curves, coming to a sudden stop at my yielding cleavage. Loosening his tie, Mr. Green cautiously makes me a lecherous offer. With a girlish giggle, I let down my vicious black hair and move to perch on his proffered knee.

As he draws in my smell, I toy with my poisoned hair-comb, targeting the worm-shaped vein in his neck.

My name is Lilith, code name Night-Crawler. And tonight, I have a trusty hook to bait.

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