Eight pm.

It’s officially holiday season. The whole place smells like pumpkin spice latte. Jack-o’-lanterns everywhere. Kids in costumes.


Somewhere in the shady block, in the shadiest apartment, Shannon pouts in the mirror. Touches up her lipstick. Slips on six-inches-high slasher heels. Picks up her clutch and keys. Heads out.

There’s a man downstairs. Like always.

He’s loaded. Polished. Cologne-d. Chin shaved and aftershaved to perfection. Suit so sharp you could slice a figurative cake with it. And he drives a Ferrari.

She wraps herself around him, like a feathered boa, in her faux fur coat. Her slim body is lithe from all that workout and salsa (and the pole-dancing at that swanky upscale strip club where he first spotted her), and she kisses him passionately enough for the hairs at the back of his neck to prickle. Very feline.

This is only their fourth date, and he’s already showering her with gifts: diamond entrusted bracelets from Tiffany’s. Birkin handbags. Manolo Blahniks. He’s good-looking and he could have had his pick of women. He couldn’t explain what made him gravitate towards Shannon. Never mind her Slavic cheekbones. The long, wavy hair. Her cup size. Her butt. That waist. All of it – au naturale.

He never fell for strippers anyway. This was a first. The first.

Shannon breaks the kiss to grab some air, giggling extra-girlishly and he pats his pocket nervously, checking to see if the little square box is still there. She pretends not to notice.

Jackpot, Bitch.


9 pm. Some fancy restaurant.

He proposes. All the other female patrons near them look over at Shannon, jealous. Of course she says yes. The stripper and the business tycoon.

Always the classic love story.

Only with a twist.


When he wakes up the next morning, he’s lying alone in a ditch. Clothes and phone and car and Rolex and wallet, all gone. He can’t feel his face. He can’t remember who he is. He can’t remember where he is.

And Shannon?

She’s in some other shady apartment, in some other shady town, with some new fake id, planning the “execution” of her next victim, all the while thinking how perfect her gift of wiping memories is.

Did y’all like this story? Please let me know! You know your comments keep me going – and I love y’all so, so much!😍😘

Merry October!


14 thoughts on “Femme Fatale

  1. Now this was great πŸ˜‰ I nice twist πŸ™‚ I loved the plot more than that I loved your words πŸ™‚ like All of it – au naturale πŸ™‚ You added charm with it πŸ™‚ keep writing πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

      1. and yes if you can rectify my comment πŸ˜› ..remove I that is lying before nice twist πŸ˜› ..typo mistake πŸ˜‰ sorry for bothering you πŸ˜›

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Okay… Well-written, and an entertaining plot. Also, a nice twist there at the end. It could use a bit of expansion, to puff up some of the paragraphs, to make the plot line a bit clearer at the end… but, any reasonable editor would tell you that. With a bit of punching up, it can be a very nice short story for a sci-fi, fantasy venue…

    Nicely done….


    Liked by 1 person

      1. Actually, it’s the perfect size to be a chapter; you could write several of Shannon’s adventures & make them each a chapter…. but, they’d need to be even a bit longer than what you wrote, to do that “punch up” I referred to… It’s a good story line to develop over time…


        Liked by 1 person

      2. I’ll do what I can; I’m not a trained editor, but, I know several… You just write, & I’ll help you all I can to keep you pointed in the right direction…….


        Liked by 1 person

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