Information

Cayenne has a minion!

Trixie the Springbreezy

Cayenne
Legacy Name: Cayenne

The

Angelic Jollin
Owner:

Pepsi_306

Age: 11 years, 7 months, 1 week

Born: September 9th, 2012

Adopted: 11 years, 7 months, 1 week ago

Adopted: September 9th, 2012

Statistics

Level: 1
Strength: 10
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 0
Books Read: 0
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

She frosted the cupcakes with her back to the customers, not needing to turn around. She had sensed him right when he walked in the door and he smelled like money... The woman kept her apron strings to him until her junior assistant had seated him. Only once he had ordered his coffee and had time to browse the menu did Cayenne turn his way.

She caught his eye immediately. Her hair ranged in shining colors from a tawny gold to a deep mahogany. She was slender, but he could tell she had built some muscle from her long days of stirring batters and dough. She moved with a quiet elegance; she appeared to be gliding just above the floor's surface as she moved closer to him. He couldn't help but breathe in her scent. It was a mixture of fresh sugar cookies and the enticing scent of her shampoo. Alterna Ten, he thought to himself. It was new on the market, and quite expensive if he remembered the advertisement correctly. Whatever it was, he couldn't stop himself from inhaling deeply again.

But, it wasn't any of this that caught his gaze the most. It was her eyes. They were curved upward as she smiled slightly at him. And the color, it was nothing like he had ever seen. Blue, but not just blue, bright blue. They were the clearest, sexiest eyes he had ever come across. Through her smile, he could sense the intelligence behind those eyes. Finally, beauty and brains. Maybe this package could be his.

Cayenne knew what he was thinking. They were all the same. Men. She managed to hold in her smirk as she stopped at his table. She put the plate she had been carrying in front of him.
"You must be new in town. I haven't seen you in here before. Here, try today's special. It's called the Decadent ButterCherry Cupcake. It's our popular Devil's Food Cake, frosted with our classic buttercream and topped with strawberry glaze and a fresh cherry imported from the trees of our town's local orchard. On the house."ï¿½ She gave him one last seductive smile and turned to go back behind the counter.
"Wait. I didn't catch your name?" he asked before she could leave.
"Cayenne," she said, "and yours?"
"I'm Clinton. Clinton Fraise. I'm staying at the hotel in here in town. I'm here on business. My associates and I will be staying here tonight and tomorrow morning, then it's back to the city."
"Well Clinton, it was a pleasure. Please let me or my assistant know if there's anything else we can get you today."
"Actually, there is," he said slowly. "I'd like to take you to dinner tonight. Our meeting is done for today, so there won't be any business involved. Just fun."

Cayenne paused, not because she didn't know what to say, but because she liked to see them sweat it out for a few moments. Finally, after he had started to fidget with the menu, she agreed. They exchanged information and she talked him out of picking her up. Instead, she told him she would take a cab to his place. Then, she could bring over a plate of cookies they could share for dessert when they returned from the restaurant.

Clinton left with a spring in his step. How could he be the lucky fox to snag this vixen? Not only that, but she wanted to go back to his place after dinner! Apparently his new suit had done the trick. He'd have to send his personal shopper a bonus when he got back home. He headed back to his private penthouse suite at the hotel to count down the hours until she was stepping out of the elevator on his floor.

Cayenne watched him leave, and this time, she couldn't stop the sly smile from showing. Another rich, lonely sap, she thought. Hook them with good looks, set the line with homemade cooking, and reel them in with the promise of a long night. Not only that, but he'll be leaving town in the morning. Cayenne was a practiced con artist. She would catch a prosperous male, dazzle them with her charm, slip a little of her special roostertail into a dessert recipe, and make sure they took enough to forget everything, even her name. When the dozing guy was counting Z's, she'd be counting the dollars as she made off with cash and other goodies. Cayenne would be thousands of dollars richer and she'd never have to see him again.

The day passed by in a flurry for the vixen. With the after-lunch rush, she was always kept almost too busy. Finally, the shop was closed, cleaned, and recipes were prepped for the next day.

While Cayenne was taking her best dress out of her closet, she thought of what she might come across in his hotel room. She knew where the private room safes were, and thanks to her man on the inside, she knew the combinations to every room. Clinton would most likely store any loose cash in there along with his valuables- watches, cufflinks, rings. She could almost taste the adrenaline starting to course through her veins. Tonight was going to be a good night. Good and profitable.

As Cayenne placed one stiletto heel in the cab, she told herself to remember the underwear drawer. That's where most men kept whatever they were trying to hide. Sometimes she found useful things, and other times there were only odds and ends collected from their flight and hotel stay. She placed the plate of spiked cookies next to her on the seat and, resting her head back, she closed her eyes to do a final mental run through of her plan. Not that she needed it, this wasn't her first time around the block.

Dinner proved to be enjoyable, surprisingly. Normally the men that Cayenne targeted were extremely wealthy but extrememly boring. A stale personality usually accompanied a substantial bank account. Clinton, on the other hand, managed to keep her engaged in witty conversation the whole meal. He did know, though, to keep the talking to a minimum while they ate. Nobody liked to see the other's full mouth. As interesting as the conversation was, Cayenne couldn't help but feel slightly impatient. Men were a waste of good looks, in her opinion. Women were more than capable of thriving without a male counterpart, and Cayenne was a perfect example. She had perfected her art and was able to do anything and everything she wanted with the money she stole. What did she need a man for? To domesticate her? She already owned her own successful bakery. To have an abundance of kids? She definitely hadn't even made a dent in her bucket list to be considering that. Plus, mothering would only serve to ruin her perfect figure. No, she was living the life she loved and loving the life she lived, and wasn't willing to change that. After tonight, she'd finally be able to afford a temporary chef and she could take a week off to visit the ocean. She could practically feel the sun warming her fur and the waves lapping at her feet.

Not surprisingly, he had a sleek, black limo waiting in the valet lot. She climbed in and managed to sit across him to showcase the slit in her dress. Clinton was mesmerized. He couldn't take his eyes off of her long, perfect, shapely legs. Conversation dulled to a comfortable silence. When they had arrived at the resort, Cayenne gave herself a mental pat on the back for correctly predicting that Clinton would have booked the penthouse suite. He opened the double doors and led her to the sitting room, telling her to make herself comfortable. She chose to sit on the cozy loveseat, knowing he would sit next to her instead of on the couch by himself. She heard him in the kitchen fetching napkins and glasses of milk for them to enjoy her cookies with. When he came back in and sat next to her, Cayenne insisted on serving him.

"I've made a few Peanut Butter cookies for you, one of our bestsellers. I also brought some Vanilla Cream Sandwich cookies over. I'll have one and leave the rest for you. I have a peanut allergy, so those are all for you."

Clinton took a huge bite of his cookie. The rich, sweet tastes seem to explode on his taste buds. Creamy peanut butter and a hint of brown sugar; he could see why they were so popular. He crunched the remainder and reached for another.

Cayenne watched him as she slowly nibbled on her own cookie. It was always a compliment when someone liked her baking, even if it was laced with a powerful mixture that would have him snoring in no more than 5 minutes. She made the appropriate small talk telling him about starting her own baking business until she noticed his eyelids continue to droop. She continued talking softly until his breathing deepened and he was fully relaxed against the couch pillows. She waited a few heartbeats before rising cautiously. When Clinton still hadn't stirred, she knew she was safe. She tried to keep her plundering down to a maximum of 3 minutes. The less time she was in the room, the less chance for disaster.

Cayenne went immediately to the room safe, spun the combination with practiced ease, and stifled a giggle. It was full with bundles of money. She snatched them up and stuffed them in her purse before quietly shutting the safe again. This was the most she had stolen in her memory, and she was not going to push her luck with greed. She straightened up and softly glided to the hotel room door. She went straight to the elevator, rode to the lobby and walked out the front door, hips swaying, mouth curved in a sexy smile. Those that paid enough attention to her were men, and all they saw were her form-fitting dress, exposed legs, and the dignified grace with which she moved, not any of her distinguishing features with which she could be identified with. She wasn't worried about being discovered by any security measures either. Her inside man would take care of that for her as well. All it took was a percentage of her profits. Clinton would be across the country in the morning, and she'd be back to scouting the bakery for her next 'date'.

Cayenne slinked to the curb, hailed a cab, and rode back to her condo, all the while hardly able to stop herself from counting her loot. She managed to hold back until she locked herself in her room, slipped off her heels and exchanged her dress for her favorite pair of sweats. Two point five million dollars; this was it. This was the best con she had ever managed to pull off. Cayenne hid the bills, and snuggled into bed. Her cat, Trixie, jumped up and lay close. As Cayenne closed her eyes, she wondered what the next days would bring. What richey-rich big-shot would visit her bakery next?