Cassandra sat at the bar, tapping her long painted fingernails and humming to herself, snatches of some song by an obscure band called Gwar.

'Everybody needs somebody to abuse...'�

The man next to her, in a flannel shirt that Paul Bunyan would have gladly worn, glared. Apparently he didn't like her interruption of whatever country sap was currently playing. Cassandra sent him back an icy glare and continued to hum, dismissing his presence almost immediately. He and his friends held no interest for her on this occasion, or any other, for that matter.

The reason she was there, in this fashionable bar, looking as out of place in her leather as Mr. Lumberjack in his flannel, was the wealthy, athletic man in the corner. In his mid-twenties, he must have been self-conscious about his hair, because he brushed it forward to hide an already expanding forehead. A perfect, well-made-up blonde rested beneath each muscled arm, and he smiled indulgently at them both. Cassandra's humming faltered as she growled under her breath. The lumberjack moved uneasily away, but she didn't notice.

Cassandra remained focused intently on the her quarry. His name was Mark, known in online circles as eyes_in_hatband. She shook her head, ignoring the information. She had no time to think of names and statistics. Everything had to move forward perfectly. She did not want him to recognize her until she was ready. There was small chance that he would, with what little he had seen of her, but she had taken no chances tonight. The leather boots that came almost to her knees added a good two inches of height. She had also darkened her short hair, and was wearing an almost overbearing amount of makeup. Surprise was everything.

Cassandra downed her martini as she examined the eye-candy he had with him. Nearly identical, the only difference she could see was that the taller one seemed slightly more confident. She gazed up at Mark adoringly, giggled, and then tossed her hair like a pro. The decision was simple. The other woman. Almost as though hearing her thoughts, the shorter of the two slid awkwardly out of the booth and tottered toward the restroom in her stilettos.

Wondering whether the woman could possibly be drunk this early in the evening, Cassandra followed her down the darkened hallway and into the restroom. It was empty, another stroke of luck. While the woman ducked into a graffiti-covered stall, Cassandra inspected the makeup she was unused to wearing. She barely recognized herself. Good. As the door to the stall opened, she noticed a quote scrawled on the wall in black marker: 'Screw you! I like mimes.'�

Cassandra stifled a laugh and looked quickly away as the woman moved forward to wash her hands. She could not appear too anxious.

'Say, do you have a lighter I can borrow?'� Cassandra asked, putting a warm smile onto her face. It felt odd, stretched somehow, but the woman didn't seem to notice.

Passing the lighter, the woman poked a finger into her eye, sliding a blue contact in a small circle over her brown iris. Cassandra lit an unfiltered Lucky Strike. She didn't normally smoke, but on this night she was celebrating.

'I'm Belle, by the way.'� the woman said, pulling back from the mirror and holding out her manicured hand.

Cassandra ignored the hand, and made a bold move. She twined a strand of Belle's hair around her fingertip. 'You have gorgeous hair.'� She purred silkily, shifting closer to the woman.

Belle, shocked, began to stutter 'Th-thank-ks.'� She seemed torn between being flattered and offended. 'And you...you're....'� She trailed off.

'I'm Cassandra.'� Just then a bad rendition Fur Elise began to play. Cassandra swore and grabbed at the cell phone in her front pocket.

'Hello, is this Hope?,'� questioned the masculine voice on the other end of the line.

'No, you must have the wrong number.'�She laughed. 'There's no Hope here.'�

'So,'� Cassandra said nonchalantly, hanging up the phone. 'How's your evening going?'�

She supposed she must have frightened the girl by being too forward. Now she needed to calm her, needed to be invited to the table in the corner. That couldn't be too difficult, even with the minor slip-up. Cassandra focused her attention on Belle, and smiled again. It still felt uncomfortable.

'Ok, I guess. I'm just out for dinner and drinks with some friends.'� Belle's voice wavered, possibly because she was still slightly off-balance from the drinking and from Cassandra's magnet-like influence.

'Yes, you seem to be having a good time. You mind if I join you and your friends?'� Cassandra made her voice smooth, and watched Belle's eyes carefully. 'I could use some fun myself.'�

Belle nodded slowly and led the way back to the table, wobbling a little less this time. Cassandra went over her plan in her head. Everything seemed to be exactly as it should be. She slid into the booth after Belle, and listened with half her attention as Belle introduced her, voice growing steadier by the moment. Mark seemed mildly interested, while the other woman merely pretended not to notice the introductions taking place.

'So, umm, Cassandra.'� Mark said casually. 'To what do we owe this, uh, honor?'� He was clearly still sober, unlike his companions. The causality didn't quite reach his eyes, which were trying to bore holes through her.

'Just a girl trying to have a fun evening.'� Cassandra deliberately made her voice light, and blinked her eyes slowly. 'You guys seem to be having fun.'�

Deciding to pretend drunkenness, Cassandra tipped back her head and shouted to a waiter passing behind her 'Another martini, Chase.'�

The waiter's name wasn't Chase. She had no clue what it was. But if Mark believed she was a regular, his doubts about her would be lessened. Cassandra scooted closer to Belle and made a great show of whispering in her ear. Belle giggled hysterically, mostly because Cassandra had just whispered some rubbish about a fish. The other girl, who Mark had not bothered to introduce, glared across the table and began shredding her napkin. Cassandra winked to her as the waiter handed her the martini.

The seeds of jealousy were sown. For the next few hours, Cassandra made herself indispensable by providing amusing commentary on any and all of the other patrons in the bar. She shared several more whispers with Belle, and smiled innocently at the other woman, finally introduced as Claire. Beginning to enjoy herself, Cassandra pointed to an older woman in the corner.

'And that old woman, the one with the ragged looking hat, and the holes in her stockings, she's a bodyguard for a rich whorehouse madame.'� The others looked incredulously at her, and then began laughing uproariously. 'What? You guys don't believe old Mabel could kick some ass?'� This only produced more laughter.

'I need to pee,'� gasped Belle, through laughter. 'I'll be right back.'�

'And I shall escort you, my fine lady.'� Cassandra said smoothly, before Claire could say a word. 'You never know when Mabel might decide she needs some practice.'�

As they left, still giggling, Cassandra noticed Claire toying with the plastic sword in her drink and glaring off into the distance. Only a couple more pushes, and the woman would leave in a huff. Cassandra linked arms with Belle. This served to further annoy Claire while steadying Belle on her feet. The woman seemed ready to fall.

In the bathroom, Cassandra busied herself with adding to the already graffiti-covered walls while Belle relieved herself. The evening was going well, and it would all begin to come together soon. Belle came out of the stall, readjusting her skirt. Cassandra finished her sentence and stood back to admire it.

'Bango Skanks was here.'� Stephen King would be proud.

'I don't feel so well,'� Belle muttered weakly. She ran back into the stall, where Cassandra heard her vomit noisily.

'Sweetheart,'� Cassandra said, grimacing over the word, 'is there anything I can do for you?'�

Getting a noncommittal response, Cassandra continued. 'I'll send someone to check on you in a few minutes.'� She checked herself once in the mirror and then walked out of the restroom.

As she turned the corner, Cassandra was greeted with the sight of Claire stalking out, trailing her jacket behind her and with her back so stiff that one might think she had a metal pole in a very uncomfortable location. Cassandra slid back into the booth, smiling brightly at Mark. This time the smile was not forced. He smiled back, looking vaguely befuddled.

'She decided she might prefer the company elsewhere.'� He muttered, rubbing his forehead. 'Where did Belle go?'�

'Oh, she ran into a friend in the hall and decided to go with her to some club downtown.'� Cassandra said brightly.

'I guess it's just the two of us, then. What do you say to another drink?'� Mark seemed to have regained his composure. 'We shouldn't let those two ruin our fun, now should we?'�

Cassandra leaned back against the booth as Mark ordered drinks for the both of them. When hers arrived, she took a tiny sip and then exchanged it, when he wasn't looking, with one of the empties on the other side of the table. She didn't want to be drunk tonight, only appear to be. And only until the right moment.

When a few more minutes had passed, Cassandra made her move. 'Hey, we're not going to have any fun sitting here, why don't we go back to your place. We can have a few more drinks, watch some tv.'� She didn't wait for his answer, but began to stand.

'That sounds nice,'� Mark replied, a grin twitching the edges of his mouth. 'As long as you don't mind the mess. I live alone, you know.'�

On the cab ride back to his apartment, Mark chattered on about his business, computers, and how he planned to make millions selling virus protection. 'Three out of four home computers will become infected with a virus this year. Did you know that?'�

Cassandra grimaced and changed the topic as the cab slowed and pulled to the curb. 'So this is where you live?'� She nodded approvingly at the tidy, well-kept apartment building.

Mark nodded, not answering, and handed the cab driver a twenty. Mere moments later, it seemed, they were sprawled in his king size bed, watching Whose Line Is It Anyway on the flat screen. Mark's hand crept up her thigh, and Cassandra tried to lay still, anticipation beginning to fill her. She moved away from him after a few minutes and suggested that he get into something more comfortable while she got herself a drink.

Mark laughed. 'I knew I picked the right one to bring home tonight.'� He began to pull his shirt over his head as she left the room. 'I just knew it.'�

In the kitchen, Cassandra worked quickly. Out of her bag came four lengths of rope and a silk scarf. She made sure the bag was rezipped and placed it by the door. Then, as she heard the bathroom door open, she wandered back into the bedroom, still fully clothed. Mark was wearing the most outlandish briefs she had ever seen, red silk with some sort of a dragon painted on them.

Holding back a laugh, Cassandra let a smile creep onto her face. He seemed to take this as approval, and reclined on the bed. She looked him over, liking the lines of him, and his lean frame. She could even ignore his premature balding. Her smile widened as he noticed the objects in her hands. He appeared taken aback for a moment, and then laughed.

'So, that's how it is going to be?'� He asked, reaching toward her.

'Yes. Hands above your head.'� Cassandra tied Mark's wrists tightly, then moved to his ankles. Luckily for her he had a four post bed. Everything seemed to be going well.

'We're going to have some fun tonight!'� He said enthusiastically, testing the ropes.

'Well, one of us is, anyway.'� Cassandra sat down next to Mark, scarf still in hand. 'Let me explain what's going to happen tonight. I'm going to leave, and a little later, this building will explode, crushing you.'� She nodded briskly. 'Any questions?'�

'That's funny, sweetheart.'� He laughed uncertainly. 'Now, let's get down to the real plans.'�

Cassandra leaned closer, and laid her arm across his windpipe, pressing down to cut off his air. 'I've explained what will happen, and that's exactly what will happen.'�

When she released the pressure, he gasped for air, terrified, and asked the question she had been waiting on the whole evening. 'Why?'�

'Because, 'eyes_in_hatband', you recently sent me a file you claimed contained a mod for one of my PC games. Trusting you, I opened and saved it. The next morning, do you know what was waiting on me when I turned on my laptop?'� She shook her head angrily. 'Do you?'�

'No.'� He choked out, tugging at the ropes. 'How could I. . .'� He trailed off as she slapped him across the face.

'Unmountable boot volume. Unmountable fucking BOOT volume.'� Her face began to grow red. 'Hard drive failure.'�

'I'm not responsible for. . .'� He started.

'SHUT UP!'� She screamed. 'You are responsible, and you are going to pay.'� She began to stand.

'All right, I'm responsible. But do all the others in the building deserve to die as well?'� He appeared to feel he had won something, there.

'Oh, I considered beating you to death with a riding crop,'� She said mischievously, 'But do you have any clue how long that would take? No? Well, it would take less time than doing it with a newspaper, and longer than doing it with my bare hands.'� She broke into laughter.

'But why bother coming here tonight, if the building would be destroyed in my sleep anyway?'� He tossed his head as she tied the scarf firmly across his mouth, muffling his words.

'Because I wanted you to know.'� She turned and left the room without a backwards look.

~ ~ ~

Jessica looked around her at the girls gathered on her bed. 'And that's why the Dame can never go back to Seattle.'� She finished in a dramatic tone.

Instantly, there was pandemonium. Every girl began talking, almost shouting, at once. After about five seconds of chaos, a voice emerged that quieted all of the others. Annie had been here the longest, and was closest to the Dame, as she preferred to be called. When she spoke, the others girls listened, and respectfully. After all, not many girls reached exclusive status, and rumor had it that Annie had been exclusive for years.

'All right, ladies, one at a time.'� She shook her head slightly. 'Let's try to be civilized about this.'�

A tiny redhead named Katrina spoke up. 'I heard she DID beat him to death with a riding crop,'� she said shyly, adjusting the strap of her silk nightgown. 'After she. . .well . . .'�

Jessica burst back in at that. 'Why would she want him? She could have any man in the universe.'�

Annie continued to mediate. 'You said yourself that she found him attractive, Jessica. It's possible. Now who else has something to say?'� No one moved. 'I, myself, heard that she poisoned him, and then stayed to tell him she had done so.'� She put in helpfully.

'I heard she threw him out his window, and he lived on the tenth floor!'� Alyssa burst out suddenly. 'She wouldn't blow up a whole building full of people.'�

'Wouldn't she?'� A quiet voice from the door stunned the group.

No one moved, except for Katrina, who sqeaked and fell out of the bed, grabbing at embroidered pillows as she went. A pair of twins with pierced noses helped her up. Everyone pretended to watch in fascination, none of them wanting to be the first to speak up. A younger girl, in a tank top and some man's forgotten boxers, glanced at Annie, hoping she would once again take charge.

'It was Memphis, not Seattle.'� Cassandra shook her head gently. 'You girls had probably better get to bed. We'll have extra company tomorrow. New Year's Eve, you know.'� She turned to go.

'But, um, how DID it happen?'� Alyssa asked quietly.

'Who says I even killed the poor guy?'� Cassandra responded. 'I could have never searched him out. He could be a regular here.'� A few pairs of eyes widened at that. 'Or maybe I strangled him with a g-string.'� Jaws dropped to match the widened eyes. 'You'll never know, now will you?'�

Cassandra glided from the room, wearing some sort of silk robe that hinted at more than it revealed. She hummed a snatch of a song by the Cherry Poppin Daddies as she heard the girls begin to talk and giggle again. 'I said bed!'� She called down the hallway.

'Now don't be shy, take off your towel. . .'� Cassandra sang as she closed the door to her room. She faltered as she noticed an ancient woman rifling through her closet. 'Oh, hi, Mabel. Didn't realize you were still here.'�

'Just leaving, Mistress. You haven't been filling those girls' head up with stories, have you?'� She looked around the room searchingly one last time. 'You know how they tend to exaggerate.'�

'No, Mabel, we were just talking about lost loves.'� Cassandra glanced at her laptop, one in a long series of top of the line models. 'Goodnight, Mabel. I'm sure your replacement can handle anything that happens tonight.'�

Mabel left, muttering something about her advanced age, and Cassandra settled down at her desk, prepared to enjoy what was left of the evening. Giggles and shouts still came from down the hall, but she left the girls to their fun, knowing that even if she forcibly drug them to bed, no one would get any sleep for pondering their own theories. She grinned, wondering if any of them would ever figure out the truth about that evening.

Cassandra glanced down at her screen, jiggling the mouse and waiting for her Lupin background to appear. Instead, a black screen appeared, with blockish white letters that warned of a catastrophe. 'Unmountable Boot Volume,'� it proclaimed stoically.

Cassandra swore under her breath, 'Mother bitch ass!'� and then failed to smile at the nonsensicalness of her curse. Perhaps Mabel's replacement wouldn't be able to handle tonight, after all.

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