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Accidental Villainy 45
🕑 Added 2024-01-27 03:59:01 +0000 UTC“I’m pretty boring, I’m afraid,” she said with a flirty tone as she threw her hair back, leaning forward to further enhance her cleavage. She took another sip of her drink.
I made a point of looking into her cleavage. “Oh, I sincerely doubt that,” I answered, and she shivered. It was an exaggerated, obvious move, which was also fake. I had to struggle to hold my chuckle. The irony was beautiful.
I wished that I still didn’t have a horrible headache and could afford to push my power without delaying my recovery further, but I did not. After confirming that she had no intention of using powers against me tonight, I decided to play it slow.
After all, she was here with a seduction ploy, which was equally slow-paced. There was no hurry.
“Really? Then I’ll disappoint you,” she answered.
“Well, how about if we make it interesting,” I said, letting my tone darken even more, letting it suggest far more than my tone.
“How so?” she whispered.
“We can turn it into a game. Two truths and a lie, for example,” I said. “Every victory gives you another precious drink. And, if you lose … you also lose a piece of clothing,” I added.
“Interesting,” she whispered, flirting overtly. “When is it my turn to ask questions?”
I let my smile disappear, and let my face twist into a threatening expression. “Never.”
She made a show of flinching like she was afraid of my sudden turn of expression, but there was no fear. Whatever her powers were, she was very confident in their effectiveness. “That doesn’t sound fair,” she complained, trying to hide her fear. I had to admit, her seduction play was very interesting.
“My bar, my rules,” I shrugged.
“Can I bank victories,” she responded. “I don’t think I can drink anymore tonight. Too much … and I start making bad decisions.”
Another obvious seduction line, clearly expecting me to push, would give her the chance to push as much as she wanted before she suddenly came to her mind and cut the seduction short. I had to admit, she was trained well.
Yet, surprisingly inexperienced at the same time.
Meanwhile, I typed on my phone. Asking Emily to give me a social media report, about the identity of my mysterious visitor. I also did it openly, as the game gave me the excuse to do so.
“Deal, but with one condition,” I said. “Once we stop the game, you dance for me before you’re allowed to put your clothes back on.”
She looked at me, trying to look hesitant as she sipped her drink, then nodded. “Alright. But, how would we know that I’m telling the truth?” she said, slightly tense.
I smirked. “Well, I’m sure you have some photos to prove things. And, I could always check social media tomorrow and make sure everything is above board,” I said, deliberately playing to her strengths. “Of course, I need your name for it first.”
Clearly, faking some photos wouldn’t be too difficult for whoever was behind her. Also, it was an opportunity I’m offering for them, to see if I could penetrate the fake identity of their agent.
“Later,” she said with smirk. “We don’t want you cheating.”
All that remained was to see how strong her cover identity would be, which had some interesting implications. Too simple, and they were baiting me to attack her. Too strong, they had other plans. The middle ground, they were trying to test me.
Sometimes, it was good to let the enemy play their moves first.
Then, I smirked. “Also, I’m sure you have some evidence in your phone,” I said. “A picture or two should be enough to prove some of the more interesting lies.”
She looked relaxed at the offer. It was clearly aligned with her mission, but I didn’t let it turn me overconfident. Just because it was what she expected didn’t mean that it was what her superiors expected. Still, in general, revealing my ‘weakness’ to seduction was much better than the alternatives.
“Well, I’m a student in, the marketing department. Two parents, both workaholics, and I love sweet things,” she said.
Ironically, it was actually difficult to detect the prepared lies, because she had no emotional attachment to them. For example, I knew that she didn’t like sweets, but her persona did. However, at this point, Emily had already managed to find her social media accounts, and sent me a detailed report of them.
“Hmm,” I said as I ‘subtly’ checked my phone, checking her cover identity, which showed that her fake identity was an art student. I had to admit, the cover was rather good if Emily didn’t catch any problems during her first pass.
Her power gave her quite a bit of an advantage in catching those. If it wasn’t for my headache, I would have delved deeper to understand just how good. Instead, I just checked the basics. Like her cover name, which was Amelia, and her beach pictures, which were spectacular.
“Easy,” I said, like I just guessed it. The act of checking my phone was obvious, but it was a deliberate mistake. After all, she was supposed to be a rich and spoiled girl. There was no need for me to be too careful when I was checking her information from my phone.
“You don’t like someone that would study marketing.”
“How did you know?” she gasped pointedly even as she leaned back, acting like she didn’t connect my careless browsing to my knowledge.
“You look too elegant and sophisticated to be interested in something boring,” I said, letting her play the role she clearly wanted to display.
“Clever,” she admitted as she blushed. Then, to my surprise, she removed one of her earrings.
“Not as clever as you,” I admitted as I looked at the accessory sitting on my bar. It was a good ploy for two reasons. It allowed her to control the pace, which, in turn, relaxed her.
And, it slightly undersold my capabilities as a villain.
The second one would have been a bad idea previously, but things changed after dealing with three supers without leaving any direct evidence. That proved my strength sufficiently. Now, I needed to give them a weakness they could target as well.
Or I became too big of a threat.
“Now, the next question,” I asked.
She smirked. “I have a cat, I don’t like jazz music, and I’m allergic to peanuts.”
“Hmm, let’s go with the cat thing,” I said, deliberately answering correctly based on her social media posts even though the information on them was more obscure, showing that I had the ability to dig obscure facts quickly. Another little benefit.
“Clever,” she said as she took a large sip from her drink, finishing it. “But, it looks like I have to ask harder questions to get a drink here,” she said.
“Go ahead,” I said.
“I love the feeling of fresh morning breeze. I hate modern impressionist art. I never smoked.”
I paused a moment, making a show of thinking. She was deliberately being tricky. There had been no smoking photos in her dossier, but that didn’t mean it was technically correct. The other two were even more complicated.
Too bad for her I chose to ignore her little trap. “Let’s go with the morning breeze,” I said with a big smirk. “You deserve a drink.“
“Thanks,” she said, managing to hide her frustration sufficiently well. I poured another drink, this time a tequila-based citrus cocktail with slightly less sweetness, just enough that she would enjoy it.
Her eyes widened as she tasted the cocktail. “Not too bitter, right?” I asked. “I can change it.”
“No, it’s surprisingly good,” she answered quickly, compromising her persona slightly for her enjoyment. “It’s not my usual taste, but it works well.”
“Good,” I said proudly, though I was more interested in her vigilance, quick to loosen at the slightest hint of success, further confirming that, while she had been clearly trained, she lacked practical experience; and her arrogance worked against her.
We continued back and forth. She won four strong drinks, all she consumed directly, acting progressively drunker. Acting only, as for some reason — either her power or some kind of medicine — the alcohol didn’t affect her.
However, her victories came with a cost. Her accessories made a small pile, and her top lay next to them, leaving the task of protecting her chest with a sexy lacy bra. And, she just lost again. “Hmm,” she muttered as she stood up.
She had only five pieces remaining on her. Her bra, her panties, her skirt, and her shoes, each counted as one. “Maybe I should just remove a shoe and call it an end.”
“If you want to dance barefooted,” I warned her.
“You wouldn’t let me put the back on,” she gasped seductively.
“Of course not. Make your choice.”
