It had taken her longer than it normally did to to track him down, mainly because she'd been distracted along the way. But she'd found him, and that was what mattered. He was tall, over six feet, and he had sandy brown hair and a Navy tattoo on his bicep. She'd tracked him to a bar down the way, and he'd gone with her easily into the night.
She was dressed as she normally was for this type of work: A black wig tonight, this one long and flowing, and a corset top and black micro-mini to match. The knife was in her boot, and as the man pressed her against the wall, she felt the familiar snick of her control over him snap into place. This one had taken longer than most, and she had her face turned away from him as he rocked against her, as she reminded herself why she was here.
After that, it was easy enough. Move away and Move back, and she straightened her skirt and pulled out the knife, unaware that someone was watching who might misconstrue the situation. The man's knuckles were bruised reminders of breaking a young girl's nose and knocking out her teeth, and so she went for them. Her signature wasn't perfect yet, wasn't consistent in placement, but as she dug her blade into the back of his hand, he whimpered in pain, unable to scream due to the quiet Don't scream she'd whispered just prior.