Lady in red

She wore a red figure hugging dress that left little to the imagination. Her hair was black, long and silky. She stood staring at her latest victim.

“It’s done”, she mumbled to herself.

The sound of the fatal gunshot still echoed. A young man, dressed in a well tailored suit, laid in a pool of blood. His vision became clouded as he Gasped, trying to catch his last breath. As the soul parted ways with the flesh, his body slowly turned cold. By then the grip he had on the black suitcase slowly weakened.

 Calm as she could be, her thoughts swiftly drifted of to the hours that led to this mans despair.

He sat at the end of the bar, running his finger on the rim of the glass and gazing at his golden brown brandy, as though he was lost somewhere in thought. Then suddenly his nose caught a pleasant floral scent that broke his chain of thought. At the corner of his eye, he caught a glance of a majestic being approaching the bar. It was a lady in red.   

He cracked a subtle smile and uttered out in his baritone voice “May I get you a drink?”

In the mellowest of all voices, she simply said “no, thank you.”

“Bartender, Can I get a glass of your finest Cabernet Sauvignon for the lady in red.” He said in spite of his failed attempt                  

“Persistent and charming” she said as she settled down beside him.

The alcohol stared flowing and so did the conversation. “From your attire, I would say that you’re a tenderpreneur of some sort.”       

“Tenderpreneur…?” He couldn’t help but laugh. “No, I’m actually a prosecutor.”   

They had now fallen into a flirtatious state. Emotive touches indicated that their bodies spoke a language of their own. The concept of time had vanished, until the bartender with a broom in hand started clearing up giving an indication that he was closing. There and then, they decided to leave together.  

She grabbed her clutch bag and he grabbed the black suitcase that sat by his side. They were both baring broad smiles as they knew the night was young and rousing. They ambled their way, in the silence and darkness of the night, to a white Porsche parked beneath a street lamp.

Once they got closer to the car, she abruptly asked “Do you know a man called Dave Ellington?”

“Ag, I sent a man who goes by that name to jail…” He replied. “Why do you ask?”

“He is my fiancé”. Barely discernible, she slid her hand into her clutch bag pulling out a gleaming silver 9mm with her trigger finger in place. Instantaneous he knew that she was a wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing, on the prowl for those responsible for her fiancés incarceration.

Transfix with shock, he felt a sudden pinch and weakness in the knees.

He fell to the ground silent and teary-eyed.

Hitherto, mans greatest weakness has been a woman. He is easily enticed by breasts, lips and hips. If only he saw beyond her seemingly innocent eyes and that cynical smile, maybe he would have known that not all is what it seems.