Mind the Bubbles

Originally written Feb 2013

       Her target had been a major politician running on a platform of oppression under the guise of family values.  He had been slated to step up to the big leagues and run for the top office but she was sent to stop him.  She found him at the party and quietly slipped into the group he was schmoozing.  He was ever the charmer.  Witty, self-assured, flattering.  He made sure to say all the right things, especially when he could be more liberal in what he said at gatherings like this. And like men of his ilk, he thought himself untouchable.  He was not.  She would teach him this tonight.  His one, final lesson before death.  He drank champagne, like the others.
       This would not be the first time she’d used those bubbles to her advantage.  There were other women around him.  Some eyed him seductively.  Others in awe.  She would, however, have some presence.  Just enough.  As he finished his glass of champagne, she oh-so-politely provided him with a new glass.  One of the wait staff walked by carrying a tray of fresh glasses.  She took two, one for herself, and one for him.  Casually, she slipped a small pill into the glass meant for him.  It fizzed some as it dissolved, adding a bit more to the bubbles.  She played to his ego, touching his shoulder gently and cooing lightly as she handed him the glass.  She was, after all, just a woman to him.  No threat.  Her dress showed enough skin to please his gaze but not enough to make her stand out from any other woman there.
       He took the glass and sipped.  He talked.  He flirted.  He did his best to have anyone around him pay full, unadulterated attention to him.  Occasionally, someone would ask him a question or he would make an anecdotal joke for everyone to laugh at.  He finished the glass and she, being the good woman, got him another glass.  Repeating her performance, sans the pill this time.  He was just finishing one of his jokes.  As she gave him the new glass, she laughed low but lightly in his ear.  His attention was quickly pointed elsewhere though.  One of the other guests provided her with an ample distraction to slip away.
       “What do you think about…”
       And that was it.  She faded into the background, as usual.  The job was done and now she made her way out.  She passed through party-goers like a shadow.  Eyes slid off of her as she made her quiet exit.  She walked out, retrieving her coat, and headed for the lobby of the building.  The doorman of the hotel hailed a cab for her.  She got in, gave her destination and disappeared into the night.  The next morning, it was reported that her target, ever the charmer, had died of a massive heart attack.  Nothing unusual was reported, save that he had appeared in perfect health.  The funeral was extravagant.

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