Page 3 of Morally Corrupt

I massage my neck, stretching a little.

"This is on you," I add when he turns his face at the blood pooling on the carpet. "We could have done it so much cleaner." I shake my head.

"If it wasn't for your brilliant idea to watch them fuck, maybe we wouldn't be here, would we?"

"Hey!" I exclaim, outraged.

"Let's call it a draw," he sighs. "You wanted to learn about sex and I . . . well, I wanted to learn about sex after death. I'd say we both got what we wanted."

"No, I did not." I cross my arms, pissed at how everything had turned out. "You ruined a perfectly good chance! How am I supposed to get good at it now?" The more I think about this failed attempt, the angrier I get. Next time, I'm making sure Vlad is as far away as possible from me when I try anything similar.

"I don't know, practice? Should be like fighting. Practice makes best," he says with a shrug, setting about decapitating Bentham. We need to show proof that the man is dead.

"But I can't do that." I frown. He's right that practice makes best, but it wouldn't work for me in this scenario. "There's only one man I want, and I need to be the best at sex so I can blow his mind. Then he'll fall madly in love with me, and we'll live happily ever after." My soliloquy finished; I breathe out a dreamy smile.

"I don't know, B. Figure something out. Seduce him in disguise if you must, but stop compromising our missions. This isn't the first time you've been absentminded because of that wimp."

For once, I overlook his insult as I latch onto his previous words. Seduce him in disguise? Get him to fuck me? My mind is slowly working, putting together all the variables, when suddenly a big smile stretches across my face.

"You're a genius!" I jump up and down in excitement. I dash to his side and give him a big kiss on the cheek. "That's exactly what I'll do!" Why didn't I think of this before? It's simply the best solution.

***

"This is you trying to make it up to me, isn't it?" I arch an eyebrow at Vlad as he's pretending to check out the wigs.

"Who? Me?" He feigns innocence, passing me a white-haired one. I put it on and then look in the mirror.

"It makes me look old," I scowl, turning my attention to the other colors.

"Might be in your favor. He might not be into the whole snatching the cradle thing you got going on."

"I'm not that young." I say, even though, objectively, I might be too young for him. But he doesn't need to know my age. I put the wig back and browse the other colors. I can't seem to decide what I want to go for.

Vlad passes me another one, and I'm about to refuse, given his obviously questionable tastes, when I notice the color.

Pink.

I snatch it out of his hands, putting it on immediately. A short, straight bob cut, the wig has a pink, almost magenta hue to it. The bangs end just above my eyebrows. As I study all the angles, I get another idea.

"I should get some contacts too." If my goal is to eventually blow Theo's mind as myself, then I need to make myself as unrecognizable as possible.

Vlad grunts, already preoccupied with something else. I snicker at him and go to the checkout. It takes us a few hours of navigating different shops before my disguise is finally coming together.

"Don't you have someone else you can bring along? Like a girlfriend?" I hear Vlad mutter under his breath as I'm trying on a dress in the changing room.

"You know I don't." I pull aside the curtain to address him. "The last girlfriend I had decided to betray me after I pulled on her ponytails." Thinking of that incident has me fuming. I'd just wanted her hair tie — it was a pleasant color.

"And how long ago was that?" Vlad asks sarcastically, and I punch him.

"Shut it!" Yeah, it was during kindergarten, so what? I've had plenty of opportunities to make girlfriends, but it's too much effort. Why should I waste my time with another human being when there's only one person deserving of my full attention?

"That looks good," he suddenly mentions when he gets a better look at what I'm wearing. I'd chosen an incredibly short, skin-tight purple dress. "I've seen hookers wear that," he continues, and my face falls.

"Gee, thanks," I reply drily. Now I see why he's perpetually single — he simply has a way with compliments.

"Why? That's what you want, no? Hookers dress to attract." He shrugs.

I pause, digesting his words. He's not wrong. I may need to pull out the big guns, and by that I mean put all my assets on display.

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