Plus Sized Assassin

WHEN THE BLACK WIDOW STRIKES

“Hi, I’m Mystique, here for room 308?” Barbie informed the receptionist with a straight face and an Australian accent. Deep down, what she wanted to do was laugh at the incredulous look on the poor girl’s face.

It was obvious that she had a fair idea what went on in room 308… obvious that she knew that Barbie looked nothing like the girls that normally went into that room, but bless her heart, she was trying so hard to be polite about it.

“Just to be clear, room 308?” The girl repeated.

“Yes. Room 308,” Barbie stated.

The girl nodded in slight embarrassment and handed her a key. “Sure thing, go right up, Ma’am.”

And so, Barbara did just that.

The hotel suite smelled of cigar smoke, whiskey, and arrogance as soon as the door clicked open, and Barbie adjusted her wig and took one final look at her person to make sure everything was in place.

It didn’t matter, though.

Barbie definitely wasn’t the Mystique he had been expecting; she knew that.

The real Mystique was safe, completely passed out in a motel not far from here, but safe.

Barbie had stolen her identity—but only temporarily— to finish this mission… her last but one assignment for her uncle.

Yes.

Barbara was a failure.

She should have known from the get-go that there was no way she could outsmart Kenneth after making a deal with him. He was known as the devil for a reason after all.

But hey, at least after a month of intensive training and several months of taking care of some of the most dangerous men on the planet, she was almost done and could finally move on to the next chapter of her life.

Barbara slowly walked into the room, acting every bit like the demure woman the real Mystique had taught her to be. The black dress she wore showcased her best assets… her breasts… but if she was being honest, she was uncomfortable as hell. She told herself, however, that it was the small price she had to pay for her salvation from her Uncle’s sticky hands.

Her task was simple: kill Vincentio Morcetti, one of Kenneth’s old enemies who had somehow managed to slip through the cracks of every police file and government blacklist.

It would have been a very straightforward task, alright, had she not walked right into a room filled with five men.

The men lounged around the private suite like kings awaiting their evening’s entertainment, whiskey glasses dangling from their fingers, cigar smoke clouding the air. Their eyes cut to her the second she stepped through the door, and at first, their eyes widened in shock and a bit of horror, right before mischievous smirks appeared on their lips.

Ah, there we go.

“And what do we have here?” One of them started with a sneer, “Damn, did the agency run out of the good ones today? Morcetti, you didn’t tell me your preferences have changed? Please tell me this is a mistake?”

Morcetti laughed boisterously, crossing his legs and lighting up another cigar. “Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” He grinned.

Barbara could point him out in her sleep. Beady eyes. Actually handsome for some of the atrocious things he had done.

“Well, are you lost, baby girl?” he asked her, sending the men into another fit of laughter once again.

Who knew criminal lords watched 365 days?

Definitely not Barbara, who wished she could laugh along with them at how ridiculous they sounded.

Too bad she was in character.

The demure, sexy, Mystique.

“I believe I’m right where I should be, Mr. Morcetti,” She cooed seductively.

She had them right where she wanted, if the turned-on looks on their faces were any indication, but she had seen enough to know that men like these feared to confess their attraction to a bigger woman, especially when there were other males present…

And so, she wasn’t really surprised when they burst into more laughter, sharper… meaner this time.

“I didn’t know they made escorts this big.” One sneered. “Thought they were supposed to be… what’s the word? Petite. Sexy. Not—” he gestured crudely at her body, “—this.”

“Careful, Morcetti,” the first one said, his grin spreading wider. “If she rolls over in the night, you might suffocate.”

More laughter.

Barbara stood still, her expression smooth, almost bored.

She actually was glad that they were being the meanest versions of themselves they could be. It was going to make the killing all the sweeter.

It was a good thing that she wouldn’t have to put up with this much toxicity much longer.

Just this mission.

And one more.

And then she was done.

Done with Kenneth, and his iron-clad deal… done with these vile men and having to listen to them choke on their own cruelty as she took away their lives the way they tried to pick at her self-worth.

Barbie had tuned out briefly from the conversations, expecting that they’d be done by the time she came back to the present, but they were far from done.

“Tell me, girl,” another man, the oldest among them, said, twirling his drink, his eyes raking over her as if she were a piece of spoiled meat. “Do they charge by the pound for your services? Or is there a flat fee?”

The others laughed harder, a few even pounding the table.

Barbara kept mute, letting them have their moment.

She let them dig their claws in with every fat joke and insult they could come up with.

She didn’t blame them?

They didn’t know.

They didn’t know that she wasn’t here to warm anyone’s bed, that she’d been sent to end one of them. In fact, with the way her temper was rising, she couldn’t promise to let the others go scot-free, but the day hadn’t ended just yet.

“Speaking of women,” one of them slurred, pouring himself another glass. “Did you hear about that story on the news? Some guy in our business… poisoned in his own bed. They’re saying a woman did it.”

The oldest one chuckled darkly. “Not just any woman, folks. They’re calling her the Black Widow. A ghost. No one knows her face. There are just whispers of her. Apparently, she charms men, and once they give in to her, none of them make it out of her web. Poison Guy’s story is not the only case.”

Morcetti’s lips stretched into a smirk as he exhaled smoke. “Ah, fairy tales, brothers. I’ve been in this game thirty years. No woman’s going to scare me out of my own bed.”

They roared with laughter again.

But Barbara just smiled.

If only they knew.

She got on the pole like Mystique had been brought for, giving them her most seductive dance piece, and it didn’t take long; the taunts soon faded as they got lost in her movements, admiring her surprising agility.

You see, Barbara may be plus-sized, but no one could deny her sexiness.

Not even Morcetti… or his cruel friends.

Eventually, he waved his friends out of the suite, wanting her all to himself.

The vile men groaned and chuckled, “Try not to get crushed, old man.”

Laughter echoed behind them as they filed out into the hall, their crude jokes trailing in their wake until the heavy door clicked shut.

And then they were all alone.

Barbara remained by the pole, her supple breasts rising and falling with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Morcetti’s eyes were on her now.

She had his full attention.

He leaned back into his chair, the tip of his cigar glowing as he dragged in smoke, exhaling it lazily from his mouth.

“Impressive,” he drawled, voice low and rough. “Not what I expected when I ordered Mystique, but…” His gaze lingered on her hips, her thighs, the way her dress hugged her hourglass figure. “You’ve got a presence. I’ll give you that.”

Barbara tilted her head, lips stretching into a sultry smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I aim to please.”

On the inside, her pulse hammered with restrained fury.

After he and his friends had called her every ugly name in the fat book, now that they were alone… she was suddenly impressive… presence-worthy.

Morcetti stood, stretching his broad shoulders. He flicked ash into a crystal tray. “Come here,” he commanded, gesturing her closer with the flick of two fingers.

She obeyed, taking slow steps, each one echoing on the marble floor like the tolling of a bell. His eyes shone with amusement and entitlement.

“You don’t talk much,” he said. “That’s good. I like my women quiet.”

Barbara’s mask almost slipped at that statement, but she hid it well. “Quiet doesn’t mean weak,” she purred.

That earned her a short chuckle. “Oh, you’ve got fire too. Maybe I won’t have to tie you up. He grabbed her wrist suddenly, yanking her closer. His grip was very firm, and his whiskey-soaked breath was hot against her cheek. “Why don’t you get on the bed like a good girl, hmm?”

Barbara smiled softly, “No. I—uh, I didn’t come here for that.”

“Nonsense.” He chuckled. “Get on the bed.”

She let out a porn-worthy giggle and pushed him… Hard, until he collapsed in the chair. He seemed genuinely surprised at her amazing strength. “You’re incredibly strong for a girl.”

Barbara only smiled, straddling him. “No beds,” she whispered seductively as she ground her hips against him.

The panties she had on were so flimsy, and he had silk pants on too, so she could feel every inch of his hard-on.

“I have a lot more planned for you, right here, right now,” she whispered deliciously in his ear, smiling like a tiger that had its prey right where she wanted when his hands reached behind her to grab her ass.

Barbie was so wet… but it had nothing to do with him and more to do with the thrill of knowing that soon, his warm, wet blood would be coating her skin as she watched his life drain out of him.

Yes, even s*x couldn’t compare with that feeling, and she knew that because she had tried so hard to achieve that same level of satisfaction that she did with killing, tried with so many different men, some right before she had murdered them… but it was never the same.

Only one man had been able to make her feel more… but she was never going to see him again, and she had made her peace with that.

She snapped out of the thoughts just in time to catch Morcetti’s hands inching dangerously close to her boobs.

Yep, she definitely needed to end this now.

“No,” she slapped his hands off.

Morcetti’s grin widened at what he mistook for resistance. He pushed harder this time, his hands gripping her bountiful breasts like they belonged to him. “Oh, I don’t think you’re in a position to—”

The dagger was at his neck with such speed that he never saw it coming.

Barbie looked down at him, letting her eyes shine with all the anger and irritation she had been feeling since she stepped into the room.

“I said,” Barbara whispered, her voice carrying the chill of death, “no.”

She slit his neck open in a swift move, leaning back to watch with fascination as he struggled to keep the blood in.

Boy, the blood spilled hot and fast, staining his pristine shirt, dripping on the cream leather couch. Morcetti’s eyes widened in disbelief as he continued to choke, his mouth working soundlessly as he tried to keep breathing.

Barbie saw it the moment recognition lit up in his eyes, and she smiled proudly, urging him on, “Go on… I know you want to say it.”

“You…”

“Yes?”

“You’re… the… b—b—lack widow.” He sputtered.

“Bingo.” She clapped dramatically.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She stood up from him to give him one last look as his life continued to drain out of him.

A wicked smile played at her lips, “I’ve seen this moment countless times, Morcetti… and yet it never gets old, watching you all choke on your words. Bet you didn’t think the fat girl had it in her, did you, huh?”

She walked over to the pole and grabbed the tiny bag that also doubled as a coat, her disguise out of here, and then she walked into the bathroom to freshen up, came out, and turned to shoot him one last look right before he took his final breath.

“Rot in hell, Morcetti…” She whispered, and then she stepped out of the room.

One down.

One more to go.