The Devil Wears Heels

I stashed the knife in the elastic of my stockings and placed the gun inside my purse, determined to bring this matter to a decisive end. Nobody dares to cross me.

Slipping into my Jimmy Choo's, I added a final touch to my red lipstick, the intensity of the fire in my eyes evident as I observed myself in the mirror. Despite anticipating that tonight might turn out to be one of those troublesome nights, there was a silver lining—others might learn a valuable lesson.

Exiting the hotel where I had been staying, I hailed a taxi to take me to the bar.

The music resonated loudly, and the atmosphere was filled with people in various states of inebriation, either dancing or attempting to engage in flirtation.

Taking a seat at the bar counter, I found the person I was supposed to deal with already waiting. He had ordered a whiskey and was adorned in a less-than-impressive suit. Some individuals strive to exude classiness, even when they are mere amateurs. I knew nothing advantageous awaited me here, but I decided to see...

"Can I get you something?" the man inquired, his gaze shifting from my face to my body, as if I were a toy he wished to play with. How foolish. Poor men! They always believe they can prevail, but their hormones deceive them. Well, hormones and a multitude of other factors...

"Not now," I replied, continuing, "My payment."

He then produced an envelope and handed it to me.

I didn't need to glance inside to recognize my disappointment. "This isn't the payment I requested," I informed him.

He gazes at me and remarks, "Well, you made quite a mess in there, and my men had to clean everything."

Recognizing that the current setting wasn't conducive to my objectives, I adopt a seductive look and say, "You know we can't discuss business in a place like this. How about we go somewhere more fun and quiet?" Running my hand along his thigh, I sense his satisfaction, and he smiles in agreement.

We rise from our chairs and make our way to the back of the bar. Throughout, I feel his eyes on my body, and his demeanor leaves me thoroughly disgusted by such men.

Upon opening the door to the room, he attempts to get closer, but I halt him. "We were talking about my rightful payment," I assert coldly.

"I told you, you made a mess, so the prize is reduced."

He tries to deceive me, as if that would work. "There were six men against one woman. Maybe next time you should get better information before sending people to do your dirty work," I retort, displeasing him this time. "Take this and leave," he says, throwing the money in my face. Now, he shouldn't have done that.

"You don't tell me what to do," I assert, maintaining my composure.

"You're a female. The only things you're good for are cleaning and pleasing," he remarks, infuriating me. I smack him and then deliver a kick to his stomach, eliciting cries of pain.

"You little..." he starts to say, but stops when he sees me pulling out my gun.

"A, aa! The problem with you men is that there is not just one problem, but what you just said is what I hate most," I declare as I move the pistol from his chest down to his stomach. "You see, a man that doesn't value a female doesn't deserve his balls," I say, shooting at his testicles.

He cries out in pain, and I stand there watching him whimper. "...But then again, a man without balls doesn't deserve to live," I add, shooting him in the forehead. His lifeless body lies on the floor, blood everywhere. I leave his money there. "Keep the change, bastard."

Afterward, I exit the room, with no intention of getting my shoes dirty. Leaving the club, I return to my hotel, slightly disappointed but not surprised.

Tomorrow, I have to make a new deal with some powerful people, and it's safe to say that I can't wait.

I open my suitcase, where I had stashed my money. Lying on my bed, I throw it, feeling pleasure taking over me. This was all I ever wanted, all I ever needed—my reason for existence. Something that is never going to change.

I sense the warmth of the sun's rays on my skin; it's already morning. Being a night person, mornings aren't usually my thing.

I rise from the bed, allowing the soft sheets to glide down my naked body. After a refreshing shower, I prepare my coffee, adding a touch of alcohol. The taste on my lips finally wakes me up. Grabbing my Chanel cigarette box, I light a cigar and step onto the balcony of my hotel room. The noise, the sounds, the bustling people and cars—all signify one thing to me: freedom. It's something I undeniably cherish. The freedom to live on my terms, do as I please... and money grants me that freedom. That's why I engage in this. It's why I hustle and work relentlessly. While I have enough money to sustain my entire life without working, it isn't sufficient for me. I crave the sensation of being alive, of being powerful. I want to relish life, enjoy the one life I've been given.

I pack my suitcase, gearing up for my next deal. Afterward, I check out of the room and settle my payment at the reception. A cab arrives as I head to the airport.

Taking my seat on the plane, I await its departure. Passengers are boarding, and after a few minutes, a young man sits next to me.

He appears young, somewhat naive, like someone who just completed medical or law school. I decide to ignore his presence and focus on the plane taking off.

In a short while, the plane ascends, and I watch the clouds, resembling cotton candy.

"Tourist?" the young man beside me inquires.

"No, it's a business trip," I respond.

"That's great. I just finished college, and I'm heading home," he shares.

I smile. I had a feeling.

"That's very good. What are your plans for the future?" I inquire.

"Well, finding a job, helping my family, finding love..." he replies.

"That's cute; I don't really believe in love," I express to him.

"I thought it was the complete opposite; you are a very beautiful woman," he observes, locking eyes with me—an action other men rarely took.

"Thank you, but just because a woman is beautiful doesn't mean she is good for you," I reply with a smile. He seems too innocent for my taste.

"How are you like?" he inquires.

"I am the woman your mother warned you about," I inform him, gazing out of the window.

After a five-hour flight, I finally arrive in the city. I check into the hotel I booked, although I have no intention of staying in tonight. If there's one thing I can't do at night, it's rest. Who said nights were made for sleep?

I dress up, apply my makeup, and leave the hotel.

As I walk the streets, I raise my head to look at the sky. The same sky filled with cotton candy that I saw a few hours ago is now adorned with shiny stars, sparkling like expensive jewelry. I desired something like that, but I knew it was something I couldn't have. Yet, there were other things within my reach.

I continue walking on the bustling streets until I find myself in front of a Tiffany store. I adore Tiffany's. It's true what they say—diamonds are a girl's best friend. In my case, they serve as a significant motivator.

Entering the store, I'm surrounded by crystals, silver, gold, emeralds, pearls, and diamonds. This is my happy place.

I peruse some pieces, feeling a tingling sensation on my skin each time I touch them. I linger for a while to savor this experience before approaching the salesperson.

"So, have you decided which pieces you're buying?" she politely asks, eyeing the jewelry.

"I am buying all of them."