Henry O'Donnell was chuckling to himself as he rode the taxi to the station.<i>Some people are just far too trusting</i>, he thought. The old woman had been crossing a road, and tripped, twisting her ankle. Being a gentleman (of a sort) he had helped her up. She had then begged him to help her. Apparently her grandson owed a considerable sum of money to a loan shark, who was threatening to break his legs if he didn't pay by noon today. She had been on her way to his address to hand over the cash - her life savings - when she had stumbled. There was no way she would make it now...<br/><br/>Henry had agreed to take her money to the lone shark. After all he was a gentleman. She had given him the address and the amount to be paid - less than the amounts he normally dealt with on a daily basis, but probably a king's ransom to the old biddy. For some reason she had told him to use her purse, asking him as a sign of good faith to put any money he had in with hers.<br/><br/>Henry had agreed, and now he was riding a taxi in the opposite direction from the address she had given him. It was only when he was safely on the train, pulling out of Euston station, that he opened the attaché case he carried and pulled the woman's purse out. It was then that he realised he was dead. Not only was the old lady's money not in the purse, but nor was the money he had seen her put in it that he had handed her.<br/><br/>"Oh fuck!" Was all he could think of to say. That was ten grand of Mick Serpo's money, two hundred crisp new £50 notes. And he had allowed some two bit grifter to con him out of it? He was dead...!<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">---------------------------------000000---------------------------------​</div><br/>Her real name wasn't really that important. In fact her father was a man called Albert Thornton and her mother had a favourite aunt called Nancy, so she was stuck with Nancy Thornton. But that wasn't a name she used very often. That was the name on her real birth certificate, and the name on her police file, but the small bedsitter was rented in the name Sandy Foxton, the bank card she was fingering nervously was in the name Rachel Switt, and the name she was logging in to Expedia under was Lorraine Saville. In short, she had any number of names that she used and discarded at need, creating new ones when she had to, although that was getting harder now with GDPR.<br/><br/>Was it time to quit? That was the question she was asking. Ten thousand pounds Stirling was a hell of a lot. Okay maybe a lot less than a lottery win, but it was still one heck of a haul. And it worried her. Why would this guy be carrying that much money in crisp new fifties?<br/><br/>She shook herself and closed the Expedia window on her browser. He was probably on his way to put a deposit down on a house or something. She smiled. It wasn't anything to worry about. She slipped the bank card away too. She would launder the cash tomorrow. Right now, she needed to celebrate. And she knew just the place. She grabbed a quick shower to wash the grey dye out of her hair and the crows feet from her eyes. The 'helpless little old lady' was one of her best acts, almost always gaining sympathy. She did worry that perhaps she used that guise a little too often, but when it worked so well, how could she not?<br/><br/>Without the fat suit and the tie-downs on her breasts (a somewhat uncomfortable but necessary part of the disguise), she was an<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fmedia.self.com%2Fphotos%2F5a0dd24f7753b02dca52038a%2F4%3A3%2Fw_728%2Cc_limit%2FAlison-Brie.jpg&amp;hash=b5f50dbc0111f017d0f22ec230c2f76a" href="https://media.self.com/photos/5a0dd24f7753b02dca52038a/4:3/w_728,c_limit/Alison-Brie.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">attractive mid-thirties woman</a>, single and looking for a good time. Of course, while she would date a male mark, possibly even go to bed with him, sex was out of the question. Nancy batted for the other team, and while she wasn't openly butch, she did prefer her sex partners to have the same plumbing as herself. She also rather liked them to be pushy.<br/><br/>Dressed now in a midnight blue off the shoulder top and a white knee-length pleated skirt that swirled around her hips, her hair now an attractive shade of auburn, and with  4" stiletto sandals that matched her top and gave her hips that wiggle that made the skirt do it's swirl, she swivelled her way up to the bar in She Soho, probably the best know lesbian bar in town. "Bacardi and coke, please hun?" she asked the bartender when she finally caught the woman's attention. "Ice, no lemon, thanks." She accepted the drink and paid for it cash, then turned, leaned back against the bar and sipped her drink while surveying the room.<br/><br/><a class="username" data-user-id="2060" data-username="@Nora" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/2060/">@Nora</a>