Being Good

It felt so good to be bad. She had lived most of her 29 years being good. Studying in school, not smoking, no excessive drinking, following instructions and directions, listening to her fellow man, working hard. But now she was free of all that for the first time in her life and it felt good, darkly, dirty, sexy good. She could see the fear in the eyes of the man she had the heel of her boot planted on. She dug her heel in a little more and watched with glee as he winced in pain. This was the most fun she had in a long while. She asked the man one more time for the information she wanted. This time with blood streaming from his broken nose he gave it up, everything she needed to know. She removed her foot from his neck holstered her gun and sauntered out. She headed for a bar she knew would be crowded with the kind of people she needed. In her short skirt and fishnet stockings a man couldn't help but watch her walk by. And that is exactly what she wanted. She had learned the fine art of distraction from a prostitute in Memphis. It was a skill she had never used before but had found she had a knack for and she used it now for one reason and one reason alone, Revenge! They would pay, all of them. The good girl was gone.