What it must be like to be the disposable love interest left in the super-spy’s wake…
|SCREAMS!!! Entry 12/28/19
Prompt: Dancing with Death
My gorgeous dance partner stomped on my scarlet D&Gs, firing pain from my feet up my legs.
“Sorry, love,” he said, looking over my shoulder at something that he clearly didn’t want me to see. His suave demeanor and graceful dance movements contrasted starkly with the foot stomping, so it was likely some sort of diversion. What was that all about? Just because I was unbelievably good-looking and willing to jump into the sack with him within moments of meeting him, he thought I was stupid? Humph. Two could play at this game…
I pulled his head toward me and locked lips. His eyes went wide, then softened, melting into the pleasure of my chloroform-coated kiss before closing completely. I let him slump against me, then waltzed him off the dance floor to a dark corner. Luckily, no one noticed me whirling his limp body around in plain sight.
I called my boss—not on my cell phone, mind you, because that would have looked odd to nearby observers. I pressed on the brooch of my dress, a carefully disguised radio transmitter, instead, because that looked so much more normal to the casual observer. What? It’s not me that’s stupid, it’s my perpetually-thwarted-but-never-actually-apprehended boss! Honest!
“Boss, it’s Piper Groove. I’ve got him!” I whispered, careful not to mention him by his real name because that name, unlike mine, would instantly attract attention, the way the insipid spy dropped it at, well… Every. Single. Opportunity.
“Good work, Piper! We’ll send the help to get him,” his mysterious voice replied. The help? Pfft. Usually the help came armed with razor hats or shooting canes or some other ridiculous thing. They never seemed to actually “help” much. No matter, though. They couldn’t screw up too badly with an unconscious opponent, could they? It’s not like he had some sort of harpoon-firing watch or something that I hadn’t bothered to check for.
As the men arrived and picked up their quarry by each arm, dragging him, unobserved, alongside the huge, public dance floor, I followed behind them, doing my best blend to near invisibility in my daringly low-cut dress with a hip-high slit in the side.
We arrived in the massive warehouse-sized room underneath the posh Monaco hotel, where my boss stood lording over a massive tank of water. I saw a dark shadow swimming in circles inside. I wondered why he felt it necessary to place a massive swimming pool in the basement of the sumptuous building, but then, he was the genius boss, right? There must be some sort of reason behind his oddly expensive, impractical décor.
The help and I ascended the rickety metal stairs immediately next to the tank to the railing-less platform where my boss stood, tuxedo-clad super-spy in tow.
As we arrived, the spy began to stir. I saw the sparkle of delight in my boss’ eye as he realized he would have an opportunity for a lengthy, plan-revealing monologue after all. I rolled my eyes.
“Good evening, Mr. Smith, or shall I say, Mr…” he began. Funny, I couldn’t remember the guy using that Smith name. Maybe once? Most of the time, he seemed to just use his actual name. Whatever. I looked at my nails as he continued to speak. I really needed a manicure…
“…so you see. I now have the means to dispose of your government and take all of its natural resources for my own!” He cackled and rubbed his hands together. Natural fucking resources? If that’s what he really wanted, more power to him… as long as he paid me in cash!
Suddenly, the spy wrestled out of the grip of the two heavies, and one of them backed into me. I fell off the platform into the pool with a loud splash.
I swam to the sloshing surface of the huge tank, wiping the water from my face. As I took a breath, I opened my eyes… to see a shark with a freaking laser beam attached to its head.
I saw red—not the angry kind of red but the literal glowing kind, just to clarify thing, you know—then I saw nothing.
My limp, disposable body bobbed in the spy's shark’s wake.