Rebecca

Rebecca hated what she had become, but this "occupation" if you can call it that certainly has its perks.  The money was great, even if it was considered illegal,  Because she was good at what she does, her name was passed around for clients to enlist her "services".  Back home in Texas, the family thinks she's a "consultant".  The evasiveness and non-descript company she tells them she works for; keeps them off her back as long as she sends them money to help pay the farm's mortgage. 

The truth is, she dropped out of college freshman year.  She needed money and was desperate, so she made the choice to answer an online posting and the rest was history.

Rebecca approached the revolving doors of the five star hotel close to midnight.  She looked at her reflection and wondered if they'd even let her in with the way she was dressed.  She felt like vomiting in her mouth knowing what was about to happen.  She couldn't not do this.  This is all she knows.  It will all be over in a couple of hours.

Only to be in the same situation soon enough.

She wanted to be shortsighted, thinking of longevity in this profession is never what you think about when you start.  Each time you tell yourself "this will be the last one."  You always think this is going to be the last one because each "job" you lose yourself more and more.

But when you compare your morals to the money you're making, you lock those morals up when you have bills creeping in on you.

She walked to the bar past the lobby turning heads all the way inside.  Rebecca was pleased with herself, she had become her own stylist.  She's perfected it practically.  When she started she would make appointments to have her hair colored or make up done for the high end clients, but they asked too many questions.  It was easier to have less people know about her the better.

"Miss Draper?" asked a well dressed man in a well tailored suit.

"Yes?"

"The ambassador is ready for you, please follow me."

Well dressed man led Rebecca to a dark corner of the bar.  Rebecca smiled when her eyes met the Ambassador's.

"Good evening, Ambassador.  It's a pleasure to see you again."

"Come. Sit."

Rebecca obeyed and sat on his side of the booth. The Ambassador put his hand on her exposed thigh.

Get your hand off me you fat sack of pudding.

"Mister Ambassador, you don't even wait to buy your date a drink."

"Henri!" The Ambassador called to the well dressed man, "get Miss Draper a drink."

"Right away sir."

Henri left and the Ambassador leaned closer to Rebecca, he ran his fat chubby digits through her red hair.  Alcohol consumed his breath and calling it malodorous would have been an insult to foul smelling odors. 

Think of the money. Think of the money.

"Mister Ambassador, I'm not real thirsty. Let's skip the drinks and head to your room.  Get to the point of this rendezvous."

"You sly vixen!  Just let me inform Henri of our intentions..."

"Don't bother Henri.  He's a smart man, he knows where you'll be."

In his condition she didn't have to make a clear cogent argument.

"No wonder you're so highly recommended.  You get right to the point."

They snuck out the back of the bar and made their way to elevator and his presidential suite.  The entire time his hands longing to touch every inch of her body.

"Wait until the room, sir.  We don't want to call any unwarranted attention to ourselves."

They got to the room and and his slacks were around his ankles before the door even latched shut.

"You're not wasting time are you Mister Ambassador?  Go over to the bed."

The ambassador complied as Rebecca opened her purse.

"There's just one more thing you bulbous ass.."

TIFFFF TIFFFF

Rebecca's arm remained outstretched as smoke left her pistol.  The Ambassador fell to the bed with two fresh bullet holes in his face.  She put the gun back in her purse and took out her cell phone.

"It's done.  The Ambassador of Latvaria is dead."

"Excellent work, Rebecca.  We will ship the money through the normal channels. We'll be in contact for your next assignment."

She hung up her phone and started walking to the door.  She passed a mirror, took a long look at herself and wanted to throw up in her mouth.