The night was warm. Rain pattered in gentle droplets from the edges of Felicia's umbrella as she moved through the crowds lining the lamp-lit street. She'd walked this way many times, gazing up at the majestic Manor du Salis in all its gothic beauty. This was as busy as it got.
Discreetly, she slipped into the line of already-tipsy partygoers and pulled out her phone. She felt herself tense as she scanned once more over the message that had buzzed half an hour earlier.
"It's on. Drop off on 54th street. Behind green bench. Will collect."
The corner of Felicia's mouth rose. Tomorrow, she would probably make the headlines.
Isabelle Lauryn-Graham stood staring at the ceiling, transfixed by the peeling white paint.
"You can't do this again!" her fiancee intoned. "It's been every night this week. I'm sick of it."
"I'm sorry, Luke," Isabelle said, looking him in the eye again and not liking what she saw. "You know this is just how it is sometimes. It's that kind of job."
He bristled at that, and started walking away from her. She followed him hotly. "I didn't ask for it to be tonight!" she said. "Do you think I wanted it to be this way? You know as soon as we catch her, that's that."
"That's it?" Luke said, turning to face her. "That's all I get; 'I'm sorry'?"
"What else do you want me to say? You know I've been waiting for an opportunity like this since last June. I have a tip-off that the Red Rose is going to steal the Perune necklace from Sasha Salis's party tonight, and I won't get a better chance to catch her in the act," she said through bared teeth. Just thinking of that thief frustrated her. "Look, I really am sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you after tonight. We can go for a break together..."
"Fine," Luke said, not looking at her. "Just go."
His resignation hurt more than rage. Isabelle turned, pulled her jeans up, slipping them on with a jerk, grabbed her coat, and left.
Felicia smiled sweetly at the man on the door. He was two heads taller than she was, and he had a polite, nervous look. She could see his eyes were too low to even read the forged invitation she was holding up at her eye level. That was the point of a good plunging neckline after all, wasn't it?
She pushed through the throng of people and made her way into the reception. The decor was beautiful. It was a display of colours combined in a way only a true artist like Sasha Salis could conceive. Felicia looked around, taking in her surroundings as she stood there in the middle of the vast room. She fit right in with the guests and the music, the showing off endemic throughout the rich and wealthy. She'd chosen a black dress with a small slash down her left thigh, but not too much to reveal what she had on underneath. That would spoil the surprise. She carried a faux-leather purse, but almost just for how it matched her dress.
Everyone who was someone in the fashion world had gathered to celebrate the launch of Salis's new clothing line. They wore masks of gold and crimson, ebony and opal. Felicia had to admit, that helped her goal tonight tremendously. When she'd picked a fox mask and matching ears, she wondered if she was being too coy. It was the kind of private joke that made her smirk. She wanted to have some fun tonight. Maybe after she'd dropped the necklace off.
Security was heavy, but it didn't take her long to find out which sections of the manor were off-limits. It was almost too easy. She flirted with some guests, some guards, and within half an hour she'd gotten what she wanted. The Perune Necklace was in Sasha's private wing, most likely on display in a bedroom. That presented a problem, of course. The rumours about Sasha's private habits were almost as outrageous as her fashion sense. She could be fucking someone right now, which, naturally, meant one of the bedrooms would be occupied. Come to think of it, the kind of people Salis associated with might mean that it was more than one bedroom Felicia would have to worry about tonight.
She'd taken her time to spy her way through the party, however. There was a lone guard near a set of stairs leading to the private wing. It wasn't the only entrance, but there were clearly meant to be two men watching the stairs. One would be easy, but if the second man came back...
She approached the lone guard and pretended to be feeling ill, tripping over nothing and falling into the guard's arms.
"What the hell are you doing?" the guard growled in a deep, basso voice. The guy was huge.
"Sorry!" Felicia said, too loudly, making sure to touch his chest. "I think I'm going to be sick. Where's the bathroom?"
Wanting to avoid a scene, the guard took her a few feet into a nearby, conveniently placed bathroom.
"Are you ok, miss?" he said as she rushed to the toilet.
Felicia pretended to retch.
He approached from behind, touching her shoulder.
With a flash and a low grunt, the guard was twitching on the floor, and Felicia was pocketing the taser back into her bag. She kicked his legs into the cubicle and closed the door behind him, not before liberating him of his keycard.
She stood for a moment, admiring herself in the mirror. The whole exchange gave her that familiar rush of adrenaline. It was easy to get addicted to the feeling, she found. So easy...
Felicia made her way out of the bathroom, locking it from behind. No-one saw her dart up the stairs, but as she turned, she saw the second guard come back. He seemed to wonder where his partner was for a moment, but then settled against a wall and started picking his nails.
Felicia found a small cubby and decided it was time to change. After all, she wouldn't be making her escape down the same set of stairs. She slipped out of her dress, throwing it down over her shoulders. Beneath it, she had been wearing her suit. The thin latex fit perfectly under the full-body dress. And she had to admit, she did look quite stunning in black. Felicia looked down and admired how her breasts threatened to pop out of the suit. There was something about looking sexy while stealing people's things that she just couldn't resist. It even had a crotch zip. That had turned out to be practical as well naughty.
