Soft jazz permeated the dimly-lit lounge as the beautiful Monique sat unobtrusively in a corner, awaiting the arrival of her prey. The lithe, long-legged beauty had been stalking him for several weeks, long enough to know that this was one of his favorite places to go to relax when he wasn't on assignment. His schedule was, of course, irregular, but Monique was patient. She knew that he'd eventually come here again. She smiled to herself, looking forward to the implementation of her plan.
Illya was feeling particularly downcast tonight. Of course, he'd been blue ever since he'd ended his relationship with Trina, but tonight he was feeling even sadder than usual. Earlier in the day, he'd taken a stroll through Central Park, where the sight of a happy family at play had tugged at his heart. That was the kind of life Trina deserved, he knew. A husband who worked a regular nine-to-five job, was always there on weekends and holidays, and could give her a regular, predictable life. The last thing in the world she needed was a partner who could be called away at a moment's notice for weeks at a time to literally anywhere in the world, with absolutely no guarantee that he would return alive. Although the pain in her eyes had cut like a knife, he knew that he'd done the right thing. In time her broken heart would mend, she'd meet someone else and fall in love again, and he'd continue his hectic life fraught with danger.
He decided that perhaps a visit to his favorite lounge would help cheer him up. He hadn't been there in awhile and decided that it would be safe to make another appearance there. Feeling marginally better, he locked his small apartment up and headed out for the night.
Monique watched as the diminutive blond entered the establishment, her heart pounding in anticipation. Her patience had finally paid off, and it was time to move in and claim her prize.
When his eyes met hers, she gave him a dazzling smile and swooped into the seat opposite his. "Well, hello there!"
"Hello," Illya said politely.
"You have the clearest blue eyes I've ever seen." She reached across the table and covered Illya's hand with her own.
"Thank you," the Russian replied.
"Do you come here often?" As she spoke, she moved her leg slightly, allowing the jeweled coin purse in her lap to slip to the floor. "Oh, my purse! Would you get it for me, please?" She batted her eyelashes at him, and wordlessly he bent to retrieve the object, giving her just enough time to slip the colorless, tasteless substance into his drink.
As he sat chatting with the beautiful, mysterious woman, Illya found himself becoming incredibly relaxed. The almost constant ache in his heart was replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling of kinship with his new companion, and as he observed her, to him she began to look more and more like Trina, until he eventually became convinced that she was Trina, that she'd somehow appeared here in this jazz club with him.
"I am just so happy to see you again, Trina, my love," he slurred as he attempted to squeeze her hand.
"Shall we go somewhere where we can be alone?" She gave him a seductive smile as her hand lightly slid up and down his arm.
Back at Illya's apartment, they wasted no time in shedding all their clothing and tumbling into his bed together. As he lay atop her thrusting, she waited until just the right moment, and as he cried out in ecstasy, his seed filling her, she took action. He didn't even feel the tiny hypodermic needle slip into his upper arm and withdraw a miniscule amount of blood.
He awakened the following morning with a pounding headache and only the faintest memory of the previous night. Vaguely he recollected going to the jazz club, meeting a young woman...had she been Trina? Trina. How he missed her! Although he knew that the break-up had been for her own good, he still grieved for the life they could have shared together if only circumstances were different.
He sniffed the air. Was that a lingering scent of perfume he detected? If so, it wasn't Trina's brand.
He arose and made his way to the kitchen, wondering why one of his shoulders felt slightly sore.