One Page Stand

The clock on the nightstand shone "2:40" when she sat up, weary but restless. Beside her slept Jacob, his arms curled around his bare torso, his lips slightly ajar. His breathing was slow and gentle with a hint of mint breath spray and sweet sex.

Jacob, she thought, as she wiped a spot of semen off her lower hip. Such a divine name. Barely anyone has that name anymore. This world is too forsaken for it. She paused when her tongue tasted stale sperm on her teeth. Or forbidden, actually. Just as our little play was forbidden. Just as that aconite in your tea was forbidden...

Aconite. The bottle was still in her purse, empty. The killer was now doing its deadly duty within Jacob.

Sighing, she stood up cautiously, slipping on her panties and evening dress. My job is done. It's a pity, really. I was beginning to grow onto you, Jacob. For a night, you made feel more than just an assassin.

She smiled sheepishly. Or a sexually-deprived assassin, to be exact.

Silently, she left, leaving the aconite to its purpose.