The homes of the rich and powerful never failed to surprise the woman known to the city at large only as Kunoichi. Her campaign of larceny had certainly given her plenty of experience in seeing how the city’s well-to-do lived, from expansive mansions to towering condos, their grandeur and opulence offering both a declaration of the power their inhabitants possessed and a tempting challenge a thief of her infamy could not possibly ignore, yet even she couldn’t help but be astonished by what she found. The homes of oil executives who prided themselves on never reading anything more complex than fishing magazines contained libraries stuffed to bursting with priceless books, while she’d liberated more than a few paintings from townhouses so gilded and gaudy and downright tacky that even the most self-indulgent of the nouveau-riche would turn up their noses at it. And though she took good care to scope out each of her targets before she robbed them, half of the thrill was discovering what exactly lay behind each door: fine art and statuary, jewels and coin collections and cold, hard cash…

And desirable young men. “Well, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here tonight,” Kunoichi purred, the slightest touch of her gloved fingers stilling the futile struggles from the figure on the bed. A small moan sounded, muffled by the strips of tape sealing his mouth, and full crimson lips turned upwards in an enticing smile, almond brown eyes likewise reflecting delight beneath the concealment of her black domino mask. “Especially a handsome stud like yourself. Come here often?”

“Mmmmpggh!” her captive cried, wrists straining impotently against the layers of duct tape securing his wrists to the headboard. She’d caught him wandering into the kitchen for a late-night glass of water, any resistance he might have offered immediately stifled by the threat of a pistol (a water pistol made to look like the real article, for only a graceless thug actually needed to use a weapon when performing a burglary) and the roll of duct tape in her black matte rucksack, leaving her free to take stock of his handsome attributes in peace. He was in the prime of his life, late twenties at the absolute most, and was in very good shape to boot, the toned and muscled physique of an athlete left naked before her hungry gaze with only a pair of tight-fitting black boxers preserving his modesty. Blue eyes bashfully turned away from the catsuit-clad thief, a blush spreading across his pale features at her intense scrutiny, and the sight of his further physical reactions provoked a giggle from her. “Mmmggh…”

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed,” Kunoichi teased, a wicked thought coming over her. Silently, she rose from his bedside, lithe dancer’s figure stretching tantalizingly beneath the form-fitting confines of her black leather catsuit, head tilted back so her long dark hair cascaded down like an ebony waterfall. Slowly, torturously, she began to pull down the zipper at the front of her catsuit, the first hint of her black satin bra drawing in his eyes like moths to the flame. “You desire me, don’t you?”

A small tremulous nod answered her, his bound form going rigid with astonishment and want. “Good boy,” Kunoichi cooed, rewarding his honesty by unzipping the garment down to her navel. “Now then, I’ll just be pinching a few odds and ends from you, certainly nothing you can’t afford.” Quickly examining the contents of the bedroom, her eyes fell upon a small oil painting depicting a woman in a long white gown standing at the shore of a tempest-tossed sea, and she strode over to seize it, dexterous fingers stroking the polished wooden frame. “This might fetch a fair price…”

“Mmmmppggh, mmmmmppppggh!” the man instantly began to thrash about, bedframe creaking in time to his struggles. “MMMMPPPPGGH!”

“Ah, so this is rather important to you then?” Kunoichi surmised, straddling her captive, pinning him in place beneath her long legs. The tape covering his mouth came away, replaced by her hand an instant later before he could spit out the wad of mouth. “Care to give me an explanation that doesn’t involve you screaming for help?”

The man nodded, and Kunoichi pulled out the cloth. “It’s my mother’s,” came his urgent whisper, desperation lacing every word. “She painted that before she died, and it’s one of the few things I have left of her. Please, take anything else but that.”

“Hmm… you have something else in mind?”

“My lockbox, in the sock drawer,” he said, jerking his head that way. “I keep an emergency stash there; $100,000 in unmarked bills. Keys are on my desk, you can take that!”

One hundred thousand dollars. More than twice a middle-class worker’s average salary before taxes, kept as a rainy-day fund and in cash. The rich really do live in another world, Kunoichi thought to herself, not for the first time. The money was exactly as promised, and quickly, she stuffed the night’s gains into her rucksack before zipping back up her catsuit. “What’s your name, handsome?”

“It’s… it’s Paul.”

Smiling, the thief returned to his side, hands on his bare, muscled chest. “I’ll leave your mother’s painting, never fear, but I will take one last thing from you tonight.”

“What w—mmmpggh!” His line of questioning was suddenly cut off as Kunoichi’s lips crashed against his own. A few more moments of heedless passion and the kiss broke, leaving Paul so utterly stunned he did not resist as the gag was reapplied.

“I hope you’ll think of me on those cold winter nights,” Kunoichi whispered huskily, retrieving a pair of scissors from his desk and placing them in his right hand. Blowing him a final kiss, the thief hightailed it for the apartment’s balcony, grappling-hook pistol in her hand and rucksack full of cash at her back. Longing eyes watched her go, and she smiled in pleasure. Seems I’ve stolen more than just his money…