"I've found one," I said into my cell phone as I stood unobtrusively in a darkened corner of the bar. "He looks very promising."
"Have you tested him yet?" the voice on the other end of the phone asked, barely audible over the cacophony of sound in the popular club.
"Tonight." I stuck a finger in my free ear, muffling the external noise only slightly. "I know how anxious the client is, and I thought you might like to give her a bit of good news."
There was a sniff at the other end of the line. "It won't be good news unless he meets the necessary criteria, Sabela. Call back after you've performed the requisite testing." Control sounded abrupt, but then, she always sounded thus. I'd long since grown used to it.
"Yes, ma'am." I snapped the phone closed and slipped it back into the pocket of my jeans. Turning, I scanned the room until I located my target. He was sitting at the end of the bar, nursing a beer, occasionally glancing at the people around him. He was a good looking man. Short, chocolate brown hair combed neatly away from his face, deep set blue eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. High cheekbones, wide, sensual mouth. A neatly trimmed goatee. Yes, he was an attractive man. Why was he sitting alone in a bar? Truth to tell, it didn't matter much to me.
You see, I'm an Aquirer. When I get the call from my boss, Control, I receive a detailed description of what the client wants. Then I begin the hunt. Sometimes it takes a bit longer to find exactly what the client is looking for, and in this case, the requirements had been extremely specific. Ordinarily it takes me about a week to locate my target, but in this instance I'd been searching for almost twice that long. The client had been getting a bit nervous, but my boss was an expert in keeping the clients calm and cooperative.
Back to the target. I carefully made my way through the crowd, approaching him from behind. I parked myself on a stool between him and the back wall, so I could keep an eye on him and, more specifically, watch who he was watching.
A woman approached, a tall blonde with breasts that could not be natural. She leaned across the bar, giving the man, myself, and any other person who happened to be looking in that direction a clear view directly down her cleavage almost to her belly button. She licked her cherry red lips and whispered something to the man, giving him a blatant "come hither" look. Over the noise of the bar I couldn't hear her words, or his response, but it was obviously not what the blonde had in mind, because her collagen plumped lower lip slid out in a pout, and I could distinctly read her lips as she said "your loss," and then disappeared back into the crowd.
Check buxom blondes off the list of women attractive to the target.
I watched for another two hours. Every once in a while a woman got up the nerve to approach the target, and he shot down each and every one of them. Apparently he didn't go for blondes, brunettes or redheads, women with overly large breasts or skin tight cloths. An image was beginning to form in my mind. The image gelled when the target's head swiveled suddenly. I watched a woman make her way through the crowd. She smiled brilliantly, and out of the corner of my eye I saw a man stand up from a table and approach the woman. He folded her in his arms and placed a kiss on her that should have sucked all the oxygen right out of the bar.
The target's shoulders slumped slightly, and I knew the time was nigh. I'd found the form that would attract him, and I quickly slipped out of the bar. I would only be gone for a moment, just long enough to don my disguise.
It was the reason I was such an excellent Acquirer, the reason my services were so often specifically requested. I had the unusual ability to alter my physical form into anything I needed. I've done this many, many times in the course of my career. I slipped into a darkened alley next door to the bar and, closing my eyes, pictured the physical form I needed. Petite, somewhat curvy in the bust and hips, dark, almost black hair. Not exactly like the woman who had elicited such a strong reaction from the target, but with enough similarities that I should be able to approach or be approached with little difficulty.
Transformation complete, I walked slowly back toward the bar. I carefully adopted the attitude of a young woman looking for a drink and a little relaxation. Definitely not one on the prowl for a man, as the women who'd been rejected had obviously been.
The target was still sitting at the end of the bar, and I made my way toward him. I deliberately avoided direct eye contact with him as I slid onto a bar stool a couple seats down from him. I ordered a glass of wine, and took a long sip. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him look up and take notice of me. He watched me, only slightly less surreptitiously than I watched him, as I sip for sip emptied my wine glass. I knew that the metabolizer implanted in my stomach would absorb the alcohol, preventing me from getting drunk, no matter how much I consumed. A handy little device, that metabolizer--it was just as useful on drugs as alcohol, and had prevented sexual attacks on me on more than one occasion. One night I'd taken a great deal of pleasure in all but gelding a couple perverts who'd slipped GHB into my drink.
Just as I was setting my glass back onto the tacky little paper coaster in front of me, I felt a warm body slid onto the stool next to me. I turned with a smile and looked up into those gorgeous blue eyes. "Can I buy you another round?" he asked, returning my smile.
"Thank you," I murmured, looking away. He raised a finger to the bartender, and a second glass of zinfandel appeared on the coaster.
"I'm Tony."
"Sabela." I took a deep breath, and smiled. He smelled good. This was going to be a pleasure, in every sense of the word. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
We chatted for a long while, as time passed and the bar began to slowly empty. The more I found out about him, the more perfect he seemed. He was twenty-seven years old, single and unattached. His parents were both deceased, no brothers or sisters. His only relative was an elderly aunt who he admitted wanted nothing to do with him. He pretty much had no connections left in the world besides his friends. Excellent, I thought. No one to miss him overmuch.
I always felt guilty when a target turned out to have family that would miss him. I deliberately never took married men, or ones with children or elderly family who depended on him. Occasionally I found a target with parents or siblings who would grieve, but I always made sure that the family would survive without him.
For he would never be coming back.
