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Assassins (Findarato and Lemon)

He was pulling on some new clothes, a loose pair of grey sweat pants, and a white wife beater that kept his arms exposed, and was tight onto his chest. Sasha had never seen him dress casually, unless if they were in disguises. His suit seemed like a piece of his body, he wore it constantly whenever he wasn't forced to dressed up to fool someone. He looked up as she moved towards the bathroom. He hoped she wouldn't say anything, yet he also hoped she did. Maybe he should apologize. He shook his head at the thought, and looked out the window, then began to change the sheets of the bed, there were damp spots, and the sheets had been distorted as they had both grabbed at them in their sex.

It was her fault, he decided, she had been the one to offer him her body as a means to relieve himself, and he had taken full advantage of it, and even told her they would only do it once. She willingly did it, knowing that once it was over, it would be over, and he would return to his normal self. His thinking justified how he treated her after, it wasn't like she should have been surprised. He treated her like that all the time. Even so, there was an empty, sunken feeling in his stomach that he could not ignore, and he found himself wishing they had showered together, so he could touch her more, kiss her, whisper sweet nothings in her ear and call her baby.

They had gone at longer than he had realized, and it was late already. It left him feeling exhausted. He looked out the window one last time, before he closed the blinds, and shut the lights off. He slipped under the covers, listening to the spray of water inside of the bathroom, placing his hands upon his chest. Maybe he should give her the bed, and sleep elsewhere to make her feel more comfortable. He made a move to get up, but he found that the bed was too comfortable, and laid back in resignation. It was large enough for the two of them, anyway. Scott turned his back to the middle, looking out over the edge. He did not trust himself to look at her and not feel anything, and if they touched, he didn't know what would happen.
 
Though they had made an agreement that it was simply going to be a one time thing...she hadn't anticipated for him to treat her so coldly, so soon. Of course, she was used to his attitude and his obvious annoyance with her, that was...well, it was normal. However, after he had shed light upon a side of him that contradicted everything she had thought him to be, it was a little difficult, to merely forget how...sweet, he could be. Perhaps Sasha wanted some of that affection to stay present, even if they weren't going to indulge in one another sexually. The least he could have done, was not leave her soiled, ashamed and naked on the bed by herself.

That was just...cruel.

It didn't matter anymore, though. What was done, was done. It would be in her best interest, to simply try and forget about it as best she could. Even if it was going to serve to be quite a challenge, Sasha would do just about anything, to protect herself from getting hurt. Both emotionally, and physically. Thus, when she finally stepped out of the shower, and caught a glimpse of the prominent redness still plaguing her backside, and her neck...she merely brushed it aside. Eventually those would fade, as would her own conflicting emotions for her partner. In time, everything seemed to heal, despite what people tended to say.

Opening up the bathroom door, bare feet padded gently across the tiled floor, and soon stopped. It was dark, say for a little bit of light that allowed her to maneuver around the bedroom with ease. A small pair of cotton shorts were tugged from one of her suitcases, along with a simple white t-shirt. Sasha had managed to notice Scott already occupying the bed, and while she assumed the sheets were now changed, the pillows were welcoming...and the mattress would be far more comfortable than the couch, she opted out. No way in hell, was she going to sleep beside that man tonight. Not after everything that had just managed to transpire between the two of them. He had hurt her, whether she wanted to admit it or not. The young woman was ashamed of being so sensitive when it came to him, of all people. It just...it wasn't fair, at all.

Dropping her towel, she quickly slipped on her makeshift pajamas and made her way out into the living room quietly, crawling up onto the couch with a soft sigh. This would do just fine...
 
He tried to sleep, but it did not come. He saw her in the darkness after she came out of the bathroom. As he heard the rustling of her clothes as she began to dress, he turned away, not wanting to even make out her feminine form in the dark any longer. All he could hope for was that they would find the money as quickly as possible, and they would never have to speak to each other again. He held his breath as he waited for her to ease herself into the bed, tensing his body, but it never came. Instead he heard her moving away from him, towards the living room as she nestled herself on the black leather sofa.

It didn't occur to him that she did not want to share the bed, he only thought that she figured he would not share it with her. He sat up slowly, looking into the living room, his mouth opening to speak. He was going to offer her a spot, but he did not want to seem like he was inviting her. She would get the wrong idea, and maybe come too close to him. That wasn't acceptable. Yet he felt a pang of guilt as he realized she would be sleeping on the couch, he was a man, he should have the harder place to sleep.

Even so he wanted to limit his interaction with her, and it wasn't like this was the first time he treated her like this, although when it came to their job, he usually took the harder role, not out of politeness, but because he did not trust her to fulfill it. Organizing a living situation between the two of them, although temporary in the honey moon suite, was unfamiliar to him. It had been a long time since he had shared a place with anyone. She had been the one more exhausted, considering all the marks he had made on her body. She needed the comfort more. "You can have the bed, if you'd like," he suddenly offered, sitting up as he prepared to get out of the blankets.
 
The couch wasn't uncomfortable by any means, and considering the mood she was in right now, Sasha wasn't quite sure if she'd be able to fall asleep. Eventually, of course, the exhaustion that plagued her young body would eventually win out, and force her eyes to close. But, until that moment came, she merely laid there, legs outstretched, arms crossed over her chest, and eyes blinking up towards the space of darkness above her.

She was silently hoping that Scott would get a horrible muscle cramp in his sleep, so he'd have to get out of bed, to successfully stretch it out. Or, maybe he could just roll over too far, and fall out of bed that way. It didn't matter to her, she just wanted him to experience some discomfort. It had certainly been uncomfortable for her, to have laid there a complete mess, wondering what the hell she had done, to deserve his abrupt treatment. Furrowing her brows, she was now glaring, a spike of anger beginning to influence her mood. It was better if she hated him, right? It would make it easier for the both of them, to completely avoid the obvious.

They had enjoyed it. They liked being close, kissing, calling each other those ridiculous names and losing themselves in one another. It had been the most passionate, romantic and utterly fantastic bout of sex she had ever experienced in quite a while. What scared her the most, was the fact that it had been on a complete whim, and consisted of two people who supposedly felt nothing positive towards each other. If it had been under different circumstances, to where...they could actually form a proper bond, outside of merely working with each other, how much better would it have been? To be honest, Sasha wasn't even sure if it could get any better.

A frustrated sigh, and soon enough, a groan. He told her she could have the bed if she wanted it. Oh? So, now he was concerned about her? She turned onto her left side, facing the back of the couch, her legs tugged up against her and arms wrapped firmly about her small frame. "I'm fine. Go to sleep," she said, her voice soft. Although her words were firm, it was obvious she just wasn't in the mood to interact with him. There was the slightest crack behind her tone, a tremble...that showed how much of an impact he had had on her, despite Sasha trying to keep herself as emotionally unattached, as possible. Anyway, that bed...it was too soon.
 
He knew he shouldn't have asked that as soon as the words left his mouth. She had been stubborn as he was in the past, although more bubbly and polite. Whatever bubbly qualities she had in the past had become non-existent as he heard the tone of her voice. It was hard, and had a fake sense of kindness in it. He felt his chest collapse at her words, and tried to pretend they didn't hurt him as much as they did. "You can have it the tomorrow night," he said, wanting to have the last word in. "Good night," he said in a gruff tone, with no sign of affection.

Fuck her, she was just a bitch after all. He didn't need her. He hadn't wanted her until she tugged that towel off, anyways. Or so he thought.

Sleep did not come easy. While the bed had originally been very comfortable, and had promised to provide the best sleep of his life after their vigorous fuck session, he found himself uncomfortable in every sense of the word. He rolled, tossed and turned, punched at his pillows. The sounds were anything but quiet, and if Sasha rejoiced in hearing them, she would be pleased to hear an occasional grumble of discomfort from the silent man.

Eventually he did find sleep, and it was filled with some nightmare he could not describe, and he found himself awoken in a sweat. He raised his arms high in the air above his head, and stretched, yawning powerfully before he swept the covers off of himself, sat to the edge of the bed, giving Sasha a brief glance before he stood up. He pulled the blinds, and was pleased to see their target was still sound asleep. He took his suitcase with him to the bathroom to shower and dress, and came out in black slacks with a matching black tie, along with a traditional white shirt, the cuffs unbuttoned.

He moved to the phone, and began to order breakfast while he fastened and fiddled with his tie. "Do you want anything?" He asked, glancing at her.
 
It was a pity, that she hadn't been awake to bare witness to Scott's discomfort throughout the night. She had been right, in assuming that her fatigued, aching state would eventually get the better of her. Falling right asleep, she stayed comfortably curled up, throughout the entire night. It had been a night of rest that she desperately needed, and if she could have had it her way, she would have continued to sleep. Yet, the assault of sunlight was quick to awaken her, making her grumble in brief annoyance. A little shimmy of her hips, and she turned upon her back, stretching her lithe arms and yawning with a soft, sharp squeak.

Was it morning already? Curiously, she tipped her head off to the side, just in time to catch a glimpse of the man she currently had a personal vendetta against. She had never been a morning person, and it showed, in the way she continued to lay sprawled out upon the couch, not a care in the world. Let him watch their target; after all, he never trusted her enough anyway, to take the upper-hand. Sasha figured it would be in her best interest, to take complete and utter advantage of the space that he tried to constantly give to her. After all, this was the best of times, to do such. She didn't want to strengthen the tension between them.

It had taken her a long moment, to realize that...if she wanted to make him hurt as bad as she had, then she would need to act just like herself. Kill them with kindness, wasn't it? Thus, she pushed herself up to sit then, her back flat against the large cushions. "Mmn...stuffed french toast! With, whipped cream...and fresh strawberries. Hot syrup, and cold orange juice," she said to him, offering a subtle smile, just before she let her bare feet hit the cold, tiled floor. It would hit him hard, if she treated him like she had, before they slept together, wouldn't it? She wouldn't give him the gratification of getting underneath her skin.

"Sleep well," Sasha asked nonchalantly, rising up, and arching her back. Casually, did her white t-shirt slide across her tummy, revealing the rich skin beneath, and that peeking scar. A shake of her hips, forcing her plump rear to tease him, before turning about on her heels, and bounding over towards the telescope. Seems that their target wasn't much of a morning person, as well. This made her silently want to crawl back onto the couch, and snooze for another hour or so. However, if she did that, then her beloved Scott would go an hour or so without being put into his place. At least the rain let up, however...which inevitably made their line of slight clear.
 
He nodded at her, and spoke into the phone, repeating her request. "What else do you have?" He asked, turning away from her. There was an audible woman's voice on the other end, going down a list, trying to make each meal sound better than the last as Scott listened. Waffles had caught his ear, and he was about to interrupt the woman until he heard Sasha ask a question. Annoyed, he turned to look at her, about to mouth to her, "Can't you say I'm on the phone?" Until he was presented with her rear shaking from side to side. It was obvious where he had been looking when she turned around, and his eyes helplessly followed the revealed skin, eying it greedily. His nostrils flared as he inhaled heavily, and suddenly the vivid image of her last night came into his mind, seeing her lose her tower with her nude, beautiful form with the darkness of the city behind her through the window, like she was a painting. It was more taunting when he recalled how his member had been lodged in his mouth , and she happily serviced him, and the memory of having her on all fours on the bed made his knees feel weak. "Waffles," he said, looking away from her, into the phone. "Yes, blue berries. Sounds good. Good bye." He spoke in a mildly flustered tone, and set the phone down despite the, "Wait, sir!" from the other end.

He moved over to the window, and leaned against it, looking through the blinds. "I slept well," he lied. He had wanted to get up during the night, and to go to the couch, to kiss her face sweetly, to watch her eyelids shut as she slept, or flutter open when she realized he was kissing her. "Very well," he muttered, before adding. "It seems our target slept well also, well, he is still sleeping." He buttoned his cuffs of his white shirt, before he moved to the bed. He pulled at the sheets and blankets, starting to make it neat once again. "And you? I hope the couch was pleasant." Scott was being a bit more conversational than usual, but perhaps it was simply because they had to spend a great deal of time together in the suite.
 
"Mmn, it was more comfortable than I had expected," she admitted, letting her eyes slowly trail over, until she was watching him from behind. He was rearranging the bed, and she couldn't help but feel the most insistent urge, to simply burn the entire thing down. Who would have thought, that on that relatively innocent mattress...she would have committed quite the crime. It was a horrible reminder, and every time she thought of it, the reality of the situation would rear its ugly head. Gods, she wanted this to all stop...no matter how badly she tried to ignore it, to push it to the back of her head, the wound was far too fresh to go numb. She'd have to suffer, and Sasha could only hope that he would suffer along with her. It was only fair...after all. He didn't have to say yes to her, to kiss her that way...make her feel that good, come that hard...

They were both red handed, and guilty.

Stepping away from the telescope, she crossed her arms over her chest and merely surveyed him, watching as his muscles rippled beneath the texture of his shirt. He was so gorgeous, and she would give just about anything, to once more be able to feel him shudder against her. Oh, what a wonderful world this would be, if she was given the delight of having his head tucked betwixt her creamy thighs, and licking her like he had only briefly, the night prior. It was torturous, and quickly, hoping to regain some bit of her sanity back, she shook her head. It wouldn't happen again...they both wouldn't let it. That was official.

"I was thinking," Sasha quipped, "We need to get closer to him, either way. It would be a smart move, and...since he enjoys women, obviously, perhaps I could be of assistance? I'd be able to eavesdrop on any conversation he's having, maybe...find a clue of some sorts in his room. Anything, actually...would be a lot of help for us. I'm pretty sure he's not going to give us anything, from this distance. I need to get in closer."

This way...she could also stay away from Scott for a little bit, too. Maybe clear her mind.
 
Once he had finished the bed, he turned to look at her after she had thrown out her proposal. "I was thinking the same thing." Sasha had proven herself time and time again to be useful in such situations, but this time it was different- she wouldn't have to kill him right away, because they wanted to find the money first. "You will go in tonight." He straightened out his shirt, smoothing it out over his bulky frame. "To the bar," he continued. "If he doesn't show up, we'll have to try another night."

There was a knock at the door, and Scott moved towards it, and assisted the server in pulling the cart which had a tray with their breakfast on top of it. "I got it," said Scott stubbornly, he obviously did not want to let the man inside to see that there was a telescope.

"But I need the cart ba-" Scott did not have any of it, simply taking the man by the arm, pivoting him to turn around as he walked him out of the door.

"We're busy. Get it later." And with that, Scott had shut the door on the man's face, and locked the door. He turned back to Sasha, walking towards the cart, as he began to use a knife to spread butter along his waffles. He continued with their plan, "Do not go to him. You must wait, and let him come to you. Otherwise he will be suspicious." Sasha probably knew that, but Scott was the same as ever, making sure the details were hammered into her brains. "I trust you brought something appealing to wear to catch his eye asides from your pajamas?" He asked with a tone of humor, although when he looked up at her from his waffles, his eyes were hard, and a flat, emotionless expression had taken over his face.
 
Tonight? Sasha's brows lifted a bit in surprise, having not expected for this plan of theirs, to already be set in motion so quickly. Perhaps he was far more impatient than she had initially thought him to be. Or, maybe he just wanted to get her out of this room, away from him, and in the arms of another man. As if that would make any difference. It wouldn't change a damn bit between them, or rid of any memories. It would only make things far more complicated...but, there wasn't a thing she could do. It was merely a job, and while there had been obviously something present between them the prior night, it meant nothing now.

Sasha stepped over towards the cart with their food upon it, after the display of stubborn dominance, and picked up her plate of french toast, and glass of orange juice. Taking a place at the elegantly decorated dining table nearby, her long legs crossing over each other. She would let Scott inform her of what to do, even if she already knew every detail that needed to be tended to. The only thing that had her attention at the moment, was the delicious wafting of sweet cinnamon and vanilla, currently assaulting her senses. The food was divine, and she merely wiggled where she sat, overwhelmed. There was nothing like a good cooked meal, to ease a somewhat broken heart. "What I plan on wearing, and what my pajamas look like...are none of your concern," she mused in a quiet tone, her eyes lifting up, to gaze over towards her partner.

"Believe me, I'll have his attention the moment I walk into that bar. I got your attention after all, didn't I," she asked tauntingly, delicately placing a strawberry upon her tongue.
 
Scott did not budge from his spot, standing near the cart as she took her plate, and seated herself at the table. Pouring syrup over his waffles, he began to cut portions out of them crudely, only using his knife, and with the table manners of a barbarian (or no table manners at all, since he wasn't sitting at the table) he lifted said portions to his mouth and ate hungrily. He had been starving, he soon realized, and their actions last night had been the cause. He lifted his gaze from his plate to her eyes at her comment, studying her briefly, before he shrugged indifferently, and continued eating. She had always dressed well before, so he found himself wondering why he asked. Suddenly he knew why he asked, he had knew all along, he had wanted to see or know what she planned to wear, just so he could see it first. The thought flustered him, and he began to eat his waffles almost angrily, as if they were the cause of his frustration.

Her next statement made him press his fork into the plate, unable to look up at her. She could hear the sharp pressing of his fork against the plate, an unpleasant ringing noise of metal upon the finished, glazed ceramic material. He looked up at her, finding the strawberry upon her tongue. He was transfixed, she could tell from the way his eyes watched her with a blank expression. Finally, he managed to look at her in the eyes, and she could see a flicker of annoyance in them. "You did," he said finally, defeated. And he had enjoyed every minute of it. Why did she have to bring it up again.. it was hard enough to get the image of her unwrapping her towel to present her body to him out of his mind. She had done everything for him that night like she had been his the entire time. He walked over to her, slowly, as if perhaps he could no longer take it. Maybe he was about to break down, and kiss her again. They had the time, after all. He stood before her, looking down at her with a look in his eye that perhaps hinted that he wanted to do just what they had done last night. It seemed even more convincing as he took the strawberry from her, and brought it to his lips.

"So you did. But do not bring it up again," he said in a threatening tone. She could see now that the look in his eyes was one of anger, not lust. He placed the strawberry in his mouth, and crushed it between his teeth, to show he would do something similar to her if she brought it up again. The juices spilled out of his mouth, before he used a napkin to clean himself off. He turned on his heel, and went to finish his own meal.
 
It was one thing to steal her strawberry, but to threaten her, on top of that? Sasha was frozen in place, her own fork hanging just above her breakfast, whilst she watched him with wide eyes. Did it truly anger him, to be reminded, that he had shoved his cock inside of nearly all her holes in the span of a few hours? Flustered with his attitude, considering he was now much crueler, than usual, the young woman made it a personal right, to stand her ground, and put him in his place. It would be the last time she ever spoke of what had happened to them, but god save her soul, she was not about to let him have the last word.

Tossing the silverware down, she jerked back in her chair crudely, letting wood squeak against the marble below. "You fucked me," she exclaimed, standing up, "You fucked me last night, Scott. Get over it. You lost complete control over yourself, and practically ravaged me. On the couch, up against the window, and on that bed you slept in all night." He didn't want her to bring it up again? Too bad, he was going to hear everything she had to say, whether he liked it or not. They both needed one another to get this mission completed, and thus, Sasha knew he wasn't going to do a damn thing to harm her life.

"You loved every single second of it, too. Admit it. You'd give just about anything to do it again. Even now, when you look at me like that...as if you want to rip my throat right out, you'd more than likely end up kissing me," she taunted, her hands balled up into fists, and her lithe stature rigid with annoyance, and anger. "You're a fucking asshole, though! How dare you...how dare you leave me like that after you were done. What? Like I'm nothing but a tramp, a two dollar whore?! You had no right to do that to me...to make me feel worthless and dirty, while you took a damn shower. I didn't even have a towel to wipe your fucking sweat and cum off of me," she yelled, unaware of her eyes growing moist, with rising tears. "I hate you for doing that to me. I hate you with every fiber of my entire fucking being. You're a cruel, heartless man!"
 
He thought the issue was done and over as she did not respond immediately, only trying to finish his meal as fast as he could. Their target needed to be checked up on. Maybe he should eat looking outside of the window, that way he wouldn't have to be near Sasha any longer than he had to be.

To say he was stunned when she got up and spoke to him angrily, would be putting it lightly. Scott was more than stunned as she continued, going on and on, until she called him a cruel man. So much in fact, that he had his mouth drop open, almost losing the contents of his breakfast in his mouth, before he forcefully swallowed. Anger was rising up in him, she had wanted it just as much as he did, but the way she spoke made him feel shameful.

Still, he had too much pride to admit anything, even though inwardly he would have agreed with her that the way he treated her after their sex had been uncalled for. "You are a tramp!" He shouted at her in a shrill, uncontrolled voice. "You are a whore! A fucking whore who pulled off her towel, and offered her body to me for my use! The only difference is I didn't pay you a fucking thing!" Scott was no stranger to whores, he preferred them because it was easy to stay detached, and all they seemed to want was his money, anyway. "You knew what you were getting into. I told you it would only happen once before we even fucking started!" Scott ignored the fact that he probably would have fucked her regardless, even if she had disagreed to their deal. Spit was flying out of his mouth at this point, she had never seem him so out of control, except perhaps last night, when he had been plowing her happily with his cock. He wanted to hit her so badly, to put her in her place, to tell her to never speak out like that to him again in her life, but he couldn't. He substituted all of that by hitting the top of the cart with his hand, thankfully only swiping the silverware as he flung it off, letting it fly into her general direction before they clashed near her feet.

He stared at the silverware, and breathed harder, letting his body fall back, trying to control himself.

"I did love it. I loved fucking you. Every second of it." He seemed a little calmer now. He looked her over, he did want to kiss her instead of tearing out her throat. How could he explain to her that he had not left her immediately because of his cruelness, but simply because he needed to get away from her? He had vowed to never sleep with another partner again, and when it was all over, he knew it was a mistake, and he had to get away, before he merely held her, and whispered sweet nothings into her ear. "I..." he averted his gaze from her, she had glimpsed confusion in his eyes, and he was not sure how to express himself. He grew quiet as he tried to recollect his thoughts. He looked like he was about to say something, perhaps apologize, or explain his actions.

No, he would not even tell her how he felt about her. It would be better this way, to remain mad at her, that way she would be sick of him and leave as soon as she got the chance, and it would all be over. "You're the one who started it! I didn't say a god damn fucking thing, you just stood up, and took your towel off. I was horny, and I fucked you. Can you blame me, you filthy fucking whore?!" His voice was shrill once again, whatever brief moment of quietness and looking away from her in shame had been replaced by arrogance and anger. "No one said a god damn thing about taking care of you after it was done, okay? You could have beat me to the shower anyway, but I guess you were too busy indulging in your sluttiness. You knew who I am. You knew I never liked you. When have I ever been kind to you, huh?!" He wanted to push her down on the floor, and slap her until she really cried as he saw her tears. They only made him more upset. "You shouldn't have done it, you knew what the consequences were. Did you think I would treat you like a princess when I had been spanking your ass like the fucking bitch you are?!"

With that, he pulled away, suddenly with a non-existent appetite, and sat down near the window, watching their target face his TV. His shoulders rose and fell rapidly, displaying the pace at which he breathed.
 
She just stood there, staring at him. It was considerably difficult, trying to take in everything he was saying to her. Sasha would have never imagined, that she would actually be in this situation with Scott. It was a numbing experience, to have such degrading words sent towards her. One, after the other, he dug beneath the surface and pinpointed her right where it hurt. A whore? He thought she was...a whore? She truly should have known better, than to actually believe, that he would have any ounce of genuine kindness for her. He did hate her, she always knew he had...for a reason, she wasn't quite sure of. It was best left unasked, and unanswered. It was her own fault, that she was now being belittled by the one person that knew her better than many. Scott should have known...she hadn't been with anyone in so long...

And while the young woman knew she wasn't a slut, it still pained her despite how strong she was in most situations. Maybe she had hoped he would have at least let her clean herself up, before leaving the bedroom. That's all she had wanted, really. Their moment of passion was ill-placed, and wrongfully directed towards each other. They were both sexually repressed, and while Sasha had already assumed it to be a one time thing, she had never anticipated for Scott to be so quick to judge her. He turned it right back around, and made her look like a damned fool. How the hell, was she suppose to retort to his outrageous outburst?

A soft bite into her bottom lip, and she tipped her head down, akin to a child that had just been scolded. Sasha didn't want to cry over him, because, he really wasn't worth the fucking effort, or the tears. He hadn't been worth anything to her, merely a business partner. It was so fucked up, she could barely breathe right now, her chest tight and hallowing itself out. Everything ached, from head to toe, and she was most certain, that this was something no one had ever made her feel before. There was no place she could run to, to stay...and get away from him. She needed that money...as much as he did, if not more.

Those salty droplets fell the moment he stepped away from the cart, and sat down behind her. Rolling down her flushed cheeks, the fat beads of moisture staining her pretty face, Sasha quietly exited the living room and made her way towards her luggage. She needed to pick out a dress for tonight...something that would make heads turn, even if they often did despite the fact if she was all dolled up or not. Scott had never seen her cry, or, show any sign of negative emotions. She was always that happy, bubbly personality that seamlessly drew everyone in from the start, like a moth to flame. Within the last twenty four hours, everything had taken a drastic turn for the worse. It all dropped...plummeting straight down into complete hell. It was going to be torture, trying to get through this last hit, knowing that every time her eyes fell on him...

That made her gasp out, a short breath, almost a wheeze. Clasping her hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt of quieting herself, she shook her head, cursing herself for losing her demeanor. She didn't want him to see her like this! Weak, vulnerable...wounded by the truth of the situation, and how he felt about her. It was embarrassing, and before she could humiliate herself further, she knelt down, shoving her face against the sheets and mattress. Sasha hated him...she did, for making her feel like this, when they had merely been with one another a single evening. How daunting, to know, that he had this much power over her being.
 
As he sat there, he desperately tried to remove her from his mind. He tried to pretend she didn't exist, but behind him he could feel her, the last image he had of her was her head tilted down, defeated, submissive as he had shouted at her. Even with her shameful appearance, he felt like his back was on fire, like her eyes were setting him afire. He tried to focus on the target, but he found that he no longer cared about it, nor the money. All he cared about was her. Sasha. He spoke her head in his name a million times, just listening to the way it sounded. All he wanted to do was push his chair back, and run to her, to hold her, to kiss at her face, to apologize for everything, how he acted, how he treated her, anything he ever said to hurt her. Yet he could not. His stubbornness and pride forbade him from doing any such silly actions, as badly as he wanted to do them. She would probably laugh in his face, and slap him.

He heard her darting away from him, and back to the bed room where the luggage was. He couldn't resist the temptation of turning his head to look at her, but when he peered across the room and into the other, she was no where to be found. Little did he realize that she had knelt on the opposite side of the bed where he could not see her, and was letting her fresh tears stain the mattress and sheets. He heard a ... wheeze ? Did he hear that right? Was she crying? It certainly seemed like it. Scott felt the guilt feel his entire body, and he slowly stood up from his chair, trying to relax his own breathing. He made foot steps to go to her, but half way there, he decided to go to the kitchen, and pour himself a glass of water.

He drank it heavily, wondering why his feet had taken him towards her. He simply just would gravitate towards her, unable to help himself. He grunted, and forced himself back to his seat after he was finished with his glass of water. He was done with her, he decided. He had merely been lustful, that was it. He could give a damn less about her. When the thought came to him of how satisfying their fuck had been, he shook his head, and told himself there were other fish in the sea.
 
What was the point in crying over him, anyway? She wasn't in love with him...and he, certainly wasn't in love with her, either. The most they had spoken to one another, was actually during this very mission. Barely, had they exchanged words of casual curiosity. It was how they worked together. They never, ever mixed pleasure with business...and she should have known better, than to cross that line. Perhaps, throughout the years of being by his side, she felt admittedly close to him, despite not knowing who he actually was. It was a silly, foolish reason...but one, nonetheless. Sasha was desperately trying to find out just why she felt this horrible, after everything he had said to her. Surely, he didn't know her on a personal level, and therefore couldn't pass judgement. He knew nothing about her, and yet...they had shared one of the most passionate, zealous nights together. It made her sick to her stomach, knowing she still missed his touch...the way he kissed her, held her down and forced her to melt against his tongue with ease. It was...torturous.

Something behind the way he had treated her throughout those hours, showed a depth to him, that Sasha wanted to connect with. She liked that side of him, very much.

He had been...sweet, tender, and beyond caring...

Everything he no longer was. Coming to terms with her loss, she finally did manage to pick out an outfit for the evening. She cleaned herself up, and remained out of his line of sight until the sun began setting, the stars came out twinkling, and the night sky was in full effect. This wasn't a simple job of getting herself pretty, and trying to impress a man in hopes he would take her home tonight. No. This was what their entire mission, and lifelong riches, were currently riding on. So, she took her sweet ass time, and figured it would be best if she did. Let Scott wonder what she was doing behind closed doors, it wouldn't matter either way.

Finally he would hear the familiar clicking of heels, and upon looking, he'd be given quite the vision to behold. Auburn ringlets, curled to perfection, were tied up and held at the back of her head delicately with a few perfectly placed clips. Revealing the soft curve of her neck, and the elegant slopes of her bare shoulders, it was certainly a right choice. A dress, made of rich velvet, the deepest color of azure...clung to her every curve like a second skin. Sinfully tight, pushing at the plump swells of her breasts and falling to mid-thigh length, it was certainly an article that most women wouldn't dare try to pull off. If one was to follow the slender, long expanse of her bare legs, soon they would be witness to some very high, sensuous heels of pure metallic. From those plump lips painted red, to those smoky hues, she was flawless.

Sasha held tightly onto the matching silver clutch purse she would be taking with her, trying her best, to not await for any type of reaction from Scott. She was just a whore in his eyes, anyway, and more than likely...he would merely insist that she looked the part right now. "Is there anything you'd like for me to attempt, while I'm over there," she asked curtly, voice impressively flat and void of any discomfort.
 
Scott spent the majority of the time from the morning to the evening watching the man. Their target did not do much, mainly stayed laying on his bed, watching tv. Occasionally he spoke on his phone. He did not even leave his room for food, only having it brought to him. It was obvious he was in hiding, and did not want to be seen. Scott seriously doubted the possibility of having him go down to the bar, and he had debated whether to call it off entirely. In the end he decided to go through with it, just because it would be an excuse to get Sasha away from him- not that she was anywhere to be seen. She seemed to prefer to away from him for the time being, which was perfectly fine with Scott, although he felt something apart of him was missing.

He was sitting down as she finally presented herself, and she did not seem all that excited about her task. Normally she would twirl around and smile at him, asking him what he thought, and he would respond in a gruff manner. This time, she merely stood there, and spoke to him in a nonchalant tone. He gritted his teeth behind his lips, his response coming delayed because he had been eying her, and not in a way that could be considered 'inspective'. To cover that fact that he had been checking her out, he coughed, before he nodded in approval. "It will do," he told her, always wanting to have some sort of final say in everything, for no particular reason other than to give himself the authority of the leader position between the two.

"No. Just let him come to you, and get as much intelligence from him without arousing any suspicion. If you find the money, kill him, and come back. If he doubts you, tell him you're unhappily married. Rings don't lie. He'll probably be even more interested in you, anyhow. Men love to claim other's wives, especially the ones vile as he." He stood up, and strode over to her, reaching into his pocket before he handed her a ring, it was made of gold, with a small blue sapphire upon it. It seemed Scott was the same as ever, going over the details thoroughly, even if it meant purchasing a ring for their 'pretend' marriage.

He looked up at her face, and found himself caught into her eyes for a moment too long. "Got it?" He asked, stepping back. "He might not even show up, he's just been hiding in his room the entire day...I think we may have to go there tomorrow and simply bust in his room and force it out of him." He returned to his seat. "If there's nothing else you wish to discuss, you can be on your way. I'll give you a text if he leaves his room, stay near the entrance of the bar to see if he goes elsewhere, like outside, then I'll track him."
 
He better show up. Because, some part of her wanted Scott to see her sleep with the man. It was sick, considering she had never been given the ultimatum of going so...far, in a mission. However, right now, she was confused, hurt...and simply wanted to make him feel like complete dirt. What did it matter anyway? It was her body, after all. They weren't in a committed relationship...and hell, it had simply been a one-night stand, with certain circumstances stapled to it. It was all fun and games, in the end. Sasha could only imagine that sleeping with another man might wash away that bitter taste in her mouth. All she could remember was the way it felt to be touched by him...it was horrible. Thus, she was hoping their targeted man would be as good at sex, as he looked to be. Sasha needed to get Scott out of her fucking mind, pronto.

Glancing down towards the ring, she slipped it upon her finger with ease and turned away from him, figuring their brief discussion of what the plan was, was now over. "I'll inform you if anything happens," she called out from over her bare shoulder. The lasting clicks of her heels soon cut off by the shutting of the front door. He was alone now, and she, was happily making her way towards the elevators, intent on getting herself a drink the moment she stepped inside the bar. Gods, did she need one right now. It had been like purgatory, staying up there with him...trying to avoid a man of his stature in a hotel room that wasn't made to hide anyone.

The music playing within the establishment was actually pleasant; a light, harmonious collection of classical numbers. The rhythm eased into her bones and already had her tensed posture slouching a little bit. As Scott had wanted of her, she took the stool at the very end of the bar-top, nearest to the entrance. She could see anyone who walked in, and out. The set-up was slowly going in motion, and the moment she raised her hand, to order herself a tequila sunrise, she knew she would happily stay down here, even if her appointed future lover, was a no-show. She didn't care. All she wanted was that sweet, fruity tang flowing down her throat and making the edges of her frazzled mind grow foggy. Her bartender was a kind soul, making it a strong cocktail, that had her nose scrunching up adorably at the first sip. Did she really look like a desperate housewife?

Huffing, she glanced down towards her cell, hoping this wasn't all for naught. She never liked waiting on dates...even if they were unintentional, or not.
 
Scott watched her trail off, wanting to say something else, but failing to do so. It had been a huge mistake to sleep with her, now she expected him to be different around her. He wasn't going to be. It was still a job. He was firmly lodged in this matter, refusing to budge. That was, until of course he made the mistake of watching the feminine movements of Sasha's body, flashes of their sex clicking wildly in his mind, and he felt his heart soften.

"Sasha, wait," he said, calling out after her in a soft tone. It was too late, as she had closed the door and left. He sighed and paced towards the window, staring out of it. He would tell her how he felt when she got back. She deserved that much at least. And maybe... Scott casted the bed a wistful glance, recollecting the previous night. Maybe... they could do it again. His heart leaped at the absurdity of the notion, but he felt himself grow light on his feet and light in his head, a burden lifting from him as he thought of what it would be like to have such interaction towards Sasha. It was frightening, he hadn't opened to anyone in years... and he found himself thinking that if there was one person to confide in, it would be her.

With that resolution in mind, he told himself to be patient.

Tyler Franklin, had awoken, later than usual. The previous night had been spent with some blonde woman whose name he did not even remember. She had left with the cash in the morning, and Tyler wasn't really disappointed. She had looked great and all... but he had been disappointed with how well she fucked, which wasn't very good at all. He found himself unsatisfied, so much so that he was determined to find a rebound fuck. It would be difficult, considering the time of day, but not impossible. He could always call an escort, if that's what it came down to. He'd play the game for now, go down to the bar, have a drink, and see what was there. He dressed himself in a silky white shirt, leaving the top few buttons undone to reveal his chest, and the hair there. He glanced at himself in the mirror and smiled. He wasn't as youthful as he was before, yes, but there were plenty of women that he had found out, would trip over themselves to get at him. His face had a textured wrinkly look to it, but not overly so, dark brown eyes. His hair which was black and recently cut short, had grey on its edges. While he wasn't as toned as he was in his younger days nor as muscular, his belly had no fat.

Moments later he found himself in the bar, ordering himself a drink and casually looking around. There was promise here. It wasn't too popular, but he had seen a girl or two. The darkness of the bar made it a little difficult to see, but there was one woman in particular who caught his eye, a woman with auburn hair, sitting pretty by herself in a dress. He looked her over, carefully deciding the best way to pounce.
 
Already halfway into her third cocktail, and Sasha was beginning to think that their target was going to be a no-show. She couldn't really pinpoint what she was thinking of, merely sitting there.. a bit lost in herself. There was this horribly empty feeling in the pit of her stomach, very uncomfortable. It made her skin almost crawl.. and it was only until she caught a glimpse of the ring upon her hand, did she know what was bothering her to such a high degree. The beautifully ornate, yet simplistic wedding band glittered under the soft light of the bar in a mocking fashion, almost as if taunting her.

Sasha was.. very lonely. Despite making the decision to finally retire, hide herself away in some secluded location and finally live that dream life of luxury, it seemed almost meaningless now. How could she possibly figure that it'd be pleasant, when she had no one to share it with? Her night with Scott, while it was to the point and meant nothing.. it had broadened her horizons. It forced the woman to take notice that she had been without a true partner, for quite some time. She missed the silly, futile details of a relationship.. waking up next to someone, sharing showers and eating dinner together. All of that and so much more, were the smallest pleasures in life, yet ones that were unfathomably unattainable for the assassin. This lifestyle had properly snuffed out any and all opportunities to find a man, and the one that had bedded her after years of celibacy.. hated her guts.

A sigh escaped her then and she reached out, her thumb having fiddled with the ring for a while. Sasha played the part of an unhappy wife quite well.. because honestly, she was wanting a man. One that wouldn't shun her, treat her like dirt.. even if she had come on to him, and blatantly offered her body. Didn't she deserve a bit more respect? It was as if she had fucked every man she possibly could... and Scott should have known that wasn't true. Hell, maybe he did and he just didn't care. Those words he had tossed her way were quite cruel. He had made his point, and Sasha felt as foolish as her actions had been.

Licking the tangy, fruity flavors from her lips, she turned her head.. eyes catching a glimpse of the one who she was here for. Well, shit.. he had actually shown up. Making it as if she were simply surveying her surroundings, she went back to the matter at hand, acting as if she had nothing better to do. A slight wriggle of her prominent hips, a shifting of those long.. bare legs, and she perked her chest out, hoping to gain even more attention from the prowling male. Seducing a man was easy... but it was a bit depriving when it was a man she wanted to only kill at the end of the day. Tyler Franklin was not her choice. The one person she wanted to seduce, and have crawling towards her.. was locked up in his dungeon of a honeymoon suite, being as miserable as ever. Why Scott? Fuck.. she didn't know.
 
Tyler Franklin noticed that she looked his way for a split second. Before refocusing her attention elsewhere. He stared at her blatantly, while steadily drinking, the dark liquid oozing down his throat as the sensation of the woman's body filled his eyes up. She was certainly a catch.. he found himself chuckling as she moved around. It almost looked like a mating call. He downed his drink purposefully, and ordered an additional two. One of them was the same drink she had just purchased, and for himself a black velvet. With both in either hand, he strode down the bar, towards her.

Without an introduction, or her permission, he sat down next to her. "You looked lonely all by yourself," he said, his deep brown eyes fixing upon her own. "Which is a pleasant surprise, a woman so beautiful as yourself without company is a rare sight."
 
She could feel his gaze practically burning holes into her flesh.. and it only escalated when soon enough, his presence was right by her side. Turning her head, her eyes took in his appearance. He was... a very handsome man. He seemed as if age did him well, and though she found the peeking of his chest hair to be a bit cheesy, Sasha was smiling nonetheless. Still.. what she had seen last night with Scott..

Gods, she could just kick herself in the head right now.

"That obvious," she asked, laughing a bit.. before her attention shifted down towards her lap, as if she were embarrassed, "Heh.. thank you, that's sweet of you to say." And honestly, he was right. The only company she had had thus far, was that of her partner. Who, wasn't all that great as company to begin with. He was all business, and very stoic. Scott was a man of few words... unless, he was hopelessly horny and drilling you from behind. Then, his entire demeanor changed.. and for the better, too. Damn it, why couldn't he be here with her right now? Why couldn't they enjoy a drink with each other? Just.. talk, have a few laughs and make their way back upstairs.. where they retired in the bedroom and screwed each other's brains out? Sasha could sit here all night day dreaming, but it wasn't what she needed to do.

Clearing her throat, she fidgeted.. her thumb nervously coaxing her wedding band about her finger in a counter-clockwise motion. "I haven't gone out to a bar in a while. I.. I feel a bit silly being here, to be completely honest with you.. I'm married and..." She bit into her bottom lip then, letting long lashes flutter and large eyes gaze over towards the man, "I'm not really sure what I'm looking to find here."
 
Slowly, he drank, watching her with his gaze, surveying her. So she was married. It wasn't the first time Tyler had encountered such a woman. From the look of him, it appeared he bought her nervous, timid personality, regardless of whether it was genuine or not. "Ah," he said finally, setting down his drink. "Your husband doesn't know you're here?" he mentioned, glancing down at the ring. The fact that she was married was even more appealing to the man sitting next to her. "Not the best place for a married woman, I'll tell you that. Always men prowling about, trying to get you drunk to lure them back into their bed..." he glanced at the drink he bought for her, and with a smirk, he nudged it gently forward, either being incredibly suggestive, or jesting, or a mixture of both. It was hard to tell with the throaty chuckle that emitted from his throat after.

"Ah, well, I know very well what I am looking to find.." he took another drink, purposefully letting his voice trail off to appear deep in thought. In truth he carefully waited for an inquiry as to what he wanted. His nonchalant gaze as he looked off would never give away such a purpose, that is.. of course unless if he was dealing with a highly trained professional killer who could read people easily.
 
This was a bit too easy. Inside, Sasha was practically giddy with success, but her outward appearance wouldn't dare let that slip up. No.. she looked more than naive, horribly vulnerable to fall prey to his trap. Her eyes immediately landed onto the drink he offered her, and with her brain already a bit fuzzy at the edges.. she figured it'd be best to take this one extra slow. "Thank you," she mused quietly, delicately bringing the glass up to her lips so she could sip upon the sweetened liquid. "Mmn.. that's good," she admitted with a slight laugh, smiling over towards him. Maybe she should have gotten Scott drunk last night..

"And.. care to indulge me a bit in what you're looking to find," she asked, giving him the bait that'd ultimately catch him.

He was going to lure her back to his room.. she knew it. She could practically smell the eagerness on him, see him oozing out desire to just take this lonely, unsatisfied and adorably gullible wife to bed. Sasha would give him the pleasure of doing so, too. She'd wear him out.. get him to sleep, then have herself a little scavenger hunt. Hopefully the money would be found, he'd be exterminated and well.. then she and Scott could go their separate ways finally. That's what they had both wanted, and the catastrophe that had taken place today.. only solidified her choice. Sasha needed to get away, from all of this.
 
It was all too easy for Tyler. She had set herself up perfectly, or so he had thought, never guessing it had been her plan all along. It was very easy to think very highly of yourself, when you were talking to a beautiful woman. Tyler was no exception.

He paused, finishing a majority of his drink before he spoke. He leaned in closer, just as she had slid closer to him. He began to tell her what he didn't want. "I don't want to know your name. I don't care about what you like, what you don't like." He didn't always opt for this blunt approach, but considering the state he was in, and how desperate he was, he only wanted to be bold. "I just want to take you to my room and fuck you until you don't even remember your name or your husbands." His voice was a mere whisper, tickling against her ear. His choice of words weren't very eloquent. There was still a tastefulness to them, in his rich voice and proper pronunciation, mixed in with 'fuck.' "I want to fill your neglected, married pussy with a real cock you've been craving your whole life."

Finally, he leaned back, and finished his drink as if he had just discussed the weather with her, his dark brown eyes looking her over as he measured her response. At least this way he wouldn't waste time, and he could simply call an escort service if she declined.
 
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