As soon as Jo situated herself onto a barstool, one of the Lucky's bartenders, Ryan, made his way over to her. Scott stopped his coworker saying, "I got this. Thanks, man."

Ryan shook his head but walked away.

"Tequila on the rocks?" Scott asked Jo. "By the way, you look especially amazing tonight."

Jo blushed. She had slipped out of her silver Versace dress into something more casual – a black silk camisole and a chic pant – but her hair was loosely curled and her makeup was more boldly applied from an earlier mission.

"Tequila would be amazing," she said gratefully. As the two made small talk, Jo's mind started to wander. She was drawn to Scott for some reason. He felt familiar, and she was completely at ease around him.

Jo suspected he had some sort of military background from the way he carried himself. His tough exterior was reminiscent of the guys she grew up with - specifically, her older brother and his best friend - which was a result of their rigorous training and all the crazy shit they had been exposed to.

Scott also had a protective side: he was always eyeing the other male patrons who approached her. But despite his hard exterior, Jo knew he was a softie deep down. She never asked him about his background, however, as that would open the door to questions about her own. And she didn't want to lie to him.

Scott's voice interrupted her thoughts. "I don't want to overstep here, but Brandon... is bad news."

Jo grimaced upon hearing her ex-lover's name. The last time she was with Brandon, he had surreptitiously admitted that he loved her, and she had been avoiding him like the plague ever since.

"How so?" Jo asked, playing dumb. She couldn't exactly admit that Brandon's womanizing ways was why she was attracted to him in the first place. Jo wanted a purely casual relationship without strings attached or feelings involved.

Plus, she was still in love with her brother's best friend. Jo knew she would never feel the way about anyone the way she did about him. But he and her brother were spies for the Agency, and unless she joined the very institution that caused her parents' death - which she refused to do - she was never going to see them again.

"Well, to put it lightly, Brandon is a bit of a player," Scott said in an apologetic tone.

Her black leather clutch vibrated on the bartop, and Jo pulled out her gold phone.

Speak of the devil, she thought to herself.

Brandon: Are you awake?

Jo was putting her phone back into her black clutch when the phone vibrated again.

Brandon: Can I come over?

She just shook her head. "You don't have to worry about me," she said to Scott with a smile.

Jo appreciated his protectiveness, but she wasn't the one that needed protecting.

Just ask Brandon.

Just ask the the man she had robbed and left naked and unconscious in his penthouse suite.

* * * * * *

Earlier that evening, Jo had been waiting patiently at a swanky hotel bar, absentmindedly running a finger around the rim of her glass. She was a vision in a clingy, floor-length silver dress with a slit up to her thigh. The dress hugged her every curve, and as soon as she walked in, she could feel eyes undressing her. But she was here for one man and one man only: Christian Pierce.

Christian Pierce was the CFO of a national energy company, and she was being paid to acquire proof of his shady dealings. Jo had it on good authority that the wealthy bachelor would often lose his mind on booze, drugs, and sex - all weaknesses she could easily exploit.

"Hi," a deep voice greeted her. Jo turned to face a tall, dark, and handsome man in an impeccably tailored navy suit.

"Hi," she replied, a smile playing on her lips. "I'm Natalie."

He looked at her pink, pouty lips hungrily and licked his own lips in anticipation. "Christian. Can I buy you a drink, Natalie?"

"Of course. Buyer's choice."

Christian led Jo to his favorite table and ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon. The two talked about their jobs - she worked at an art gallery - and became increasingly flirtatious with each glass of champagne. Jo would touch Christian's forearm when she laughed, and he was leaning in so close he could practically kiss her.

As Christian gestured at a waiter for another bottle of champagne, Jo studied him. His tie was loose, and his dark brown hair was slightly disheveled. His face glistened with perspiration, and he was speaking an octave louder than necessary. He was drunk. Perfect.

When the waiter came back and topped off their glasses, Jo placed one hand on Christian's thigh and squeezed gently. He looked at her lustfully.

"I think we should take this bottle up to your room," she said.

Without a word, Christian stood up, grabbed the Dom Perignon from the bucket of ice, took Jo's hand and led her up to his penthouse suite.

By the time the pair reached his suite, the alcohol and whatever drugs Christian had taken finally hit him. The CFO could barely walk in a straight line.

Jo, on the other hand, was perfectly fine. Not only did she have a high tolerance for alcohol that was cultivated over many years, Jo had been refilling Christian's champagne glass all evening while she sipped from her own slowly.

"Let's get you in bed, shall we?"

"Natalie. Natalie. You're so fucking hot," he slurred as he stumbled to the California king bed. Jo stifled a giggle and followed him into the bedroom.

He sat at the edge of the bed and unlaced his expensive leather dress shoes before kicking them off. "Oh, that feels good," he grumbled.

He began to loosen his tie with a side-to-side motion, watching her with a shit-eating grin.

Jo smiled back as she grabbed the straps of her silver dress with both hands, pulled them off her shoulders, and let the silky dress fall to the floor.

Christian's jaw dropped open.

"I hope I remember this tomorrow."

"I won't hold it against you if you don't," Jo replied cheekily as she approached. She pushed him backwards into the bed and straddled him. Christian closed his eyes and exhaled sharply.

She bent down and kissed him, and he shoved his tongue down her throat. He tasted like cigarettes and something bitter she couldn't quite place, but Jo pretended to enjoy kissing him as she deftly unbuttoned his shirt. She unbuckled his belt and pulled off his dress pants.

"Smack me as hard as you can," he said.

Jo was taken aback, but without missing a beat, she raised her right arm and slapped the bad boy CFO across the face. He groaned with pleasure and his dick twitched against her.

She could work with this. Jo grabbed a handful of hair and pulled him close to her face. "Did you like that?"

"Yes."

"Do you want more?"

"Yes," he begged.

Jo grabbed his belt and tie from off the floor. Christian was panting with anticipation.

"I'm going to tie you up. Do you understand?"

He nodded. Jo expertly tied the CFO's hands to the bed frame with his own belt. She leaned in for a gentle kiss, then slapped his face again even harder.

"Fuck," Christian groaned as his hips bucked upwards.

Jo admired the red imprint forming on his cheek. Christian was wearing a pair of Armani briefs, but she could tell he was extremely well-endowed. Jo grinded her body against him as he let out a string of expletives. She was thoroughly enjoying teasing him. Jo reached for the half-empty bottle of champagne on the nightstand and took a swig.

"Would you like some, Christian?"

He nodded.

"Open your mouth."

Christian obeyed, and she poured the Dom Perignon into his mouth until he choked.

"Careful," she teased. Jo poured champagne onto Christian's smooth chest and licked it off. She could feel his dick jerk underneath her as she blindfolded him with his silk tie.

"You're killing me," he sighed.

Jo silently stepped off the bed. She found her Jimmy Choo clutch on the floor, took out a tiny vial, and emptied its contents into the champagne. Jo gave the bottle a swirl and returned to Christian.

"Open your mouth."

He dutifully obeyed, and she poured the remaining champagne into his mouth. Mere seconds later, Christian's breathing slowed and his body became motionless. Satisfied, Jo got dressed.

* * * * * *

Jo had retrieved Christian's laptop from the hotel safe, and she was able to unlock the home screen easily. When she found the computer files she was looking for, she saved it to her USB flash drive. The mission was an astounding success, and now she just needed to clean up her crime scene.

After she put the laptop back into the safe, she returned to the bedroom where Christian remained unconscious. The CFO would wake up in the morning with a wicked hangover and a fuzzy memory.

Jo ripped open a gold condom wrapper, unrolled the condom, then tossed both in the wastebasket. She found a napkin and wrote "thanks for last night :)" in bright pink lipstick.

Finally, Jo undressed, unblindfolded, and untied Christian. Satisfied with her work, Jo dialed a number on her burner phone.

"It's done," she said as she left the penthouse suite.

* * * * * *

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