By
Hklaw and barrie125
“What’s it been now, just coming up on nine months?”
“Yes. Seems like it should be longer, but they go at it
hammer and tong, sometimes 16 hours a day for seven days, weeks on end, even
sleeping there. When she’s not there,
she’s either hard at her program – discipline I should say rather – or she’s
here borrowing every book I have on the subject, even managing to ferret out
ones I’d completely forgotten about.
Still I shouldn’t complain, she’s totally organized the collection, even
found books for Tara that she hadn’t seen.”
“I knew I’d get every effort, but truth of it I never
expected this. It’s like a switch was flipped and a perpetual motion machine
started up, and this says nothing of the change.”
“Yes, remarkable, but let’s not forget the other side of the
ledger.”
“I know. What do you think about putting that
change to work in a different area?”
Alice Hamilton made a face and put down her teacup
delicately on the saucer, making hardly a sound. It was a skill that Claire
could, in spite of all her practice, never quite master.
“That, of course, would depend on the area,” Alice answered
with a smile, throwing the ball right back at Claire.
“Nothing dangerous, perhaps a simple courier mission, just
let her get her feet wet again,” Claire said, taking a sip of tea and watching
Alice’s reaction over the tip of the cup.
“Shame on you. Any grandchild of mine, however many times
the ‘great’ is put in front of it, knows there is no such thing as nothing
dangerous in this profession.”
“Just seeing if you were paying attention,” Claire said with
a small laugh. “Of course I know there’s
no such thing, but look at the strides she’s made. She commands the room, runs meetings like a
Victorian school master, has all the answers and data at her fingertips,
recommends training regimens for agents.
But most importantly she now commands their respect. They listen and do
what she says, and the results are there to prove it. Several have actually broached the subject
with me about why she’s not in the field, even offered to take her on as a
trainee. If they think she has that kind
of potential, well who am I? Who knows
she may be another Carol Brown.”
“I can see all that, but it’s up to her. She has to want it
and she has to believe she can do it.
It’s one thing to command a meeting; it’s quite another to be commanding
in the field, where the competition is not so friendly,” Alice explained.
“Let’s give her something easy. I think she wants to try again, she just needs
that little nudge. I’ve seen her in
mission overviews, those eyes want another try. She’s just scared to ask for
fear of the answer. Since you seem
lukewarm on the idea, I’ll see to the details,” Claire said with a smile. “Now back to the other one.”
“Wants to go on a shopping spree for fabric and such. Submitted
the itinerary, which I know you didn’t read given your last question. Perhaps I’ll
just delete your email account since you never use it,” Alice said dryly.
“Oh, I use it. I just delete your emails, that’s all,”
Claire smiled. “Seriously, I read it.
Sounds fine, I mean when we set this whole thing up what did we budget for it
all? Something like $6 million and annually about $3 (million) to run it. It actually makes us money, a fact I still
can’t believe. In fact, it all does.
Well, Gina always did, but Alvice, that woman is beyond scary in her
creativity. I mean who would ever think of putting a safe combination lock
decoder in the button of a woman’s coat, blouse, skirt, hat. The expansion of her business, on the public
side more than compensates for our side.
Finally, those two, even running the shadow business of what we require
her designs sell so well on the other, with I grant you civilian modifications
and alterations to the design, but a win all around. No, my concern is it’s all work. She never
stops. No play. Maybe this buying trip will help. Perhaps we should extend its
length and impress upon her the extra time is to relax and do nothing, and I do
mean nothing, which I’m sure you catch my meaning.”
“As subtly put as always,” Alice said with a smile as she
took a sip of tea and put her cup down again silently.
“The other
concern is, of course, that breach that happened at the bank in Switzerland has
complicated things a little with regards to our security and I have arranged a
meeting between you and Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward to discuss the matter. She
assures me everything is fine, though,” Alice mentioned.
“Good, then you can tell her,” Claire said, getting up to
leave the library. “One day I’ll master that cup and saucer challenge, and send
me the details on the meeting. I promise not to delete them.”
“Ah, but a person’s reach should exceed their grasp or
what’s a heaven for,” Alice smiled ruefully as her door shut a little louder than
normal.
* * * * * * * * * *
“The shopping trip has been approved, but with two codicils.
We want you to take more time, open-ended of course, and we want you to relax,
take time away, see sites, the usual tourist things,” Alice said.
“Excellent! I’ve already made my arrangements,” Jessica said
beaming. “And I promise to honour your requests.”
“There is no way to say this without it being interpreted as
a double meaning, so I warn you in advance, even though I know you’ll take it
in the correct manner. The change in you
over the nine months since you’ve been with us is nothing short of
remarkable. When you came, of course, it
goes without saying you were and still are, a very attractive woman. But since then, what was an excellent figure
has been transformed into an astounding one.
We all see the looks you get walking down the halls. I’ve even had
inquiries about working with you,” Alice said, giving her eyebrow a small
raise.
Jessica tried not to flush in the face, but failed, just a
little. Alice noticed, but made no comment. She was sure she’d have done the
same thing. “‘I’m glad that we made you
take some very basic training.At least you’re qualified on several firearms,”
she added.
“Yes, I could never see the point of that. It’s not like I’m
an agent and hold valuable secrets, but I will admit once I got over the
anxiety of holding and shooting a gun it was exciting.”
“Everyone here is a potential target. Granted, agents face
the bulk of the threats, but you and so many others here are the real glue that
makes this place work. You and Rachel
alone have been directly responsible for a huge jump in our success rate on
missions, not to mention agent survival rates.
The metrics the two of you put in place now give us more than ever the
keys and the building blocks for even greater triumphs in the future. Somewhere an analyst has been figuring this
out, looking to see why we are so much better than they are and eventually,
once all the data is crunched, it will come down to certain factors. If one of
those is clothes, then it just narrows the focus. I’m not saying it could be today or tomorrow
or 10 years from now, and I’m not saying it’s not, but someday the answer will
lead to you, hence the training,”Alice stated.
Jessica was not disturbed by this. In fact she was quite
exhilarated by it. Amazing how just nine
months and a lot of confidence can change a person, she thought.
“Anyway, send me the details and enjoy yourself,” Alice said
and left Jessica’s office.
The Fashionista sat down, called up her draft email, added a
few lines and hit send. What she wanted
to take was packed already at her apartment. She planned on traveling light,
buying what she needed along the way. She smiled as she leaned back in her
chair and ruminated on what Alice had said about being prepared.
* * * * * * * * * *
“You’re sure this is the last one?” Claire asked as Rachel
handed her a copy of the proposed mission.
“Yes, this should be fast. Just a simple courier pick up in
St. Marten. I’ve arranged the whole
thing, the intel is on a thumb drive disguised as mascara applicator,” Rachel
explained.
“Sounds like you have everything planned out in detail ahead
of time, as usual,” Claire said with a smile as she looked up from the briefing
notes.
“Here’s a list of possible agents,” Rachel offered, sliding
a piece of paper toward Claire, who slid it back and looked up.
“No, I’m looking at the agent I want to send,” Claire said
and she watched Rachel’s face as the colour drained away.
“I ... I’m not an agent, not even close to a courier even,”
Rachel stammered. I mean, look at my
file. It says everywhere that I don’t have what it takes, the intangible, the
ineffable.”
Claire let her go on with more reasons why she was not the
woman for the job until she ran out of reasons and there was a tense silence
that filled the office.
“I want you to listen to me Rachel,” she said, taking her
hands in her own and holding her gaze. “We thought about this awhile. I will
not lie to you, it was not a unanimous decision and if you really don’t want to
go I will not force you, but you need to hear me out first.
“I don’t care what those files say. I’ve watched you since
Jessica arrived. You’ve grown in every way possible, but most importantly in
confidence, what you demonstrate, but more importantly and what you maybe don’t
see that I’ve seen. You’re starting to
command the room. People watch you, listen and act on what you say, but two
things I know you don’t see that I do,” Claire explained then paused to see if
Rachel had any idea before continuing.
“Female agents accept what you say without challenge, which
means they regard you as an equal, and I can see in the eye of some of them
that you are a threat to the supremacy they usually enjoy in the room and that
is only confirmed by the stealing glances the male agents have been giving
you. Nothing significant has changed in
your appearance, so it’s the intangible that has and that is the missing
ingredient.
“You remind me of Carol Brown. She had great potential, but
lacked a belief in herself and had settled into the role of a courier until
circumstances forced her into action. Now she’s a go-to agent. I think you’re exactly the same, and I think
deep inside you want to find out as well. Even if it means failure, you still
want to know, but you won’t admit that to anyone except deep down to yourself
and only in fleeting unguarded moments.
Here’s the secret: Find out, accept the challenge and use all that
confidence – and that’s all it is, confidence – draw that precious internal
resource to the surface. You’re a
smashing woman, Rachel. Sexy, technically perfect, extremely smart. Now just
let those components mix together in one cup and drink from it. I think you’ll
like the change.”
Rachel knew this was the moment, the crossroads. She would
not be asked again, this was her last opportunity to see if she could be a
field agent. She involuntarily gripped
the arms of the chair tighter and tighter in her hands while showing nothing on
the outside except a calm, pondering expression. She was just about to say no when she realized
how tight she had been hanging on, her hands were white from tension.
“Yes, I want this,” she blurted out relaxing her hands. “I
want to let go.”
* * * * * * * * * *
The flight to Rome was uneventful, save for the looks
Jessica got here and there. Normally,
she never noticed these, maybe she thought because they didn’t happen before,
but now she noticed. Her mind was
sharper than it had ever been, her eyes keener, her senses attuned and always
adjusted.
Some might have found it exhausting, but Jessica Collins
found it the opposite. She noticed a man
sitting one seat over and back chanced a look at her legs once in a while. Rather than find it uncomfortable, she actually
enjoyed it. There were many younger women on the flight, but she was the object
of innocent appreciation. She even teased a little by adjusting her position
with a re-crossing of her legs to give him a better look.
The
man beside Jessica even bought her a drink. That had never happened to her,
even in her 20s. She added that to the
collection of looks she got from passersby. It made her feel special and,
indeed, she was special, but a secret special only she and FORCE knew about
Jessica thanked the man again for the drink and the
conversation, but sadly had to disappoint him by saying that she would only be
in Rome for a day or two and she was fully booked with appointments. A warm
smile sent him away disappointed but still happy for having tried.
She took a cab to Via Cola di Rienzo and exited the cab at a
nondescript door bearing the name “Gina’s”.
The door just cleared, the stairs immediately confronted the fashionista.
She climbed quickly and easily – even in heels – a breeze for her where once it
would have been a slog. At the top, the
a small vestibule branched off into two hallways. The left led to a door marked
“Roberto Scarfone, Avvocato Specializzato
in Diritto Bancario.” To the right, a door marked “Gina’s”. Jessica made a left and entered the office,
smiled at the receptionist and entered a door to the back offices.
There was indeed a Roberto Scarfone, and he was indeed a
Lawyer Specializing in Banking, but he had just one client (FORCE) and two
purposes in the overall scheme. One was
to invest money from various FORCE enterprises, launder money and goods FORCE
acquired from operations, mainly from enemy agents and organizations. The other was a cover office for his second-floor
compagno ,Gina. One side of his office was indeed his. The
door that Jessica went through led to a hidden back office for Gina’s secret
client, FORCE.
Gina Perini was there to greet her. The lovely 5-foot-9 raven-haired
beauty still looked in fighting trim, her exquisite black ponte pencil skirt, white
silk blouse and black tapered jacket – not to mention a pair of black
stiletto-heeled Cesare Paciotti ankle boots with a sexy bow on the back –
showed off her assets to tremendous success.
Italian women really did have style, Jessica thought.
Good to see you again, Gina,” Jessica said with a kiss to
each cheek.
“And you as well. You certainly have kept us busy over the
last while,” Gina said.
“Do I detect complaining?” Jessica laughed.
“Not at all. I love it that way, keeps me creative and sharp
and, speaking of which, you look even better than the last time we were
together,” Gina added with a quizzical look.
“You don’t need to flatter me, not after the last time. I’m
still dining out on those compliments,” Jessica said with a hint of
embarrassment in her voice.
“Nonsense, you deserved every one of them. But you’re
different again. Come,” Gina said raising her arms in the air indicating for
Jessica to do the same. She complied.
The lingerie designer moved behind Jessica and brought her
own hands up into Jessica’s then slowly ran them down her arms, shoulders,
sides, hips, butt then finally descending to her ankles before walking around
to face her.
“You’ve really taken yoga to heart, arms, legs, and torso as
well,” Gina said before snapping a kick at Jessica’s knee.
The reaction was quick and fluid. Jessica raised her leg,
caught the inside of Gina’s ankle in the front of her foot then pushed through,
completing the motion and spinning Gina away and around.
“That was natural. Your reflexes are sharp and your senses
acute. Yoga alone doesn’t do that,” Gina said with an appreciative smile.
“Claire made me do training, you know just in case, and I
took it to heart.”
“You certainly did. You know, with that body, your natural
beauty and training you’d make a fine agent. Perhaps you should consider it. You,
after all, do like an adventure,” Gina suggested.
“Tempting, but I’m spinning many plates. One more is not in
the cards right now,” Jessica responded.
“Pity. The spy femme world’s loss is the spy femme world’s
fashion gain. The order is ready for you
to see and I want to ask you a few questions about some things. And if you’re
good, one or two surprises for you to see,” Gina teased as she opened another
door and beckoned Jessica through.
They passed down a small hall, then used a retinal scanner
twice, one for each eye to access a room. The heavy door unlocked and rolled
inside a wall, much like a pocket door.
“Security is tight,” Jessica noted.
“Of course, forget the spy world, the fashion world is the
real espionage market. This is mostly to protect my designs from being stolen
by my competitors,” she said with a mocking laugh.
“I don’t blame you, they are excellent,” Jessica added no
hint of false compliment in her voice.
Gina was the best.
Gina believed in live models for her creations – to be
specific, actual agents. She used
lifelike mannequins so the wearer could demonstrate what the garment did and
how it moved.
“‘It’s not just about the look, it’s about how it flows and
allows movement for the woman inside it, the light it looks best in among other
characteristics,” Gina said as the first agent came in.
Marla Fox was a stunning raven-haired woman in her 20s. Jessica
had dealt with her and apparently the suggestions had been well absorbed. She had a vivacious personality and the
outfit matched.
“Very ’60s retro. You’ll forgive me, but this looks like the
baby doll Ann Margaret wore in ‘Murders’ Row?’ ” Jessica questioned.
"Excellent eye. I mean why reinvent the wheel, except this
baby doll does a little more than attract,” Gina said as Marla approached the
mannequin, which Jessica still marveled at its lifelikeness. The spy slowly
slipped one arm around the shoulder and cupped the back of his neck while she
kissed his cheek and swayed about, her body turning counterclockwise as she
worked on his side and back of his neck then around the other and finally back
to her starting position.
Gina watched the garment; Jessica was lost in the rapture of
the woman’s talent when suddenly she was jolted to attention. Marla was swaying around and about, her dance
provocative and supple as she moved for a few minutes then stopped and turned
her ankle and walked a few steps away.
Jessica came to her feet and walked over to the mannequin/enemy agent
then turned to Gina.
“It’s quite simple really; the baby doll fringing conceals
the weapon. One of the single strands in
the fringe is extremely sticky. Marla’s close contact attached it to the
mannequin; from there, simple distracting contact in the form of kisses and
touches as she turned allowed her to encircle him. From there subtle undulations allowed the
extraction of a long line, which she turned about him using the heel of her
right slipper. Just several strands are
needed then, of course, her dance. Eenticing, distracting and deadly, it
allowed her to weave her web into place using motion and the underside of her
nails to direct the strand about his body.”
“Ingenious,” Jessica said as she looked at the mannequin
before continuing. “Of course, the baby
doll works best with long legs and a standard agent,” she added and saw Gina
nod.
“How did you cut the strand, Marla?” Jessica said.
“With the inside of my left heel,” Marla answered taking off
her bedroom slipper and turning it over for the fashionista to examine. “A
sharp point built into the slipper, you see.”
“Options?” Jessica asked, and Gina knew what she meant.
“Contraction or Paralysing Silk filament, depending on the
operation,” Gina responded. “I call this creation Arachne’s Dance.”
“Excellent! What else have you got?” Jessica asked.
Jessica recognized Lauren Howe, the next agent. Tall and
perfect for what Gina had put her in, something Jessica vowed she’d pay attention
to this time. Lauren paused at the door,
playing the part of the seductress perfectly, then casually sashayed up to the mannequin
and slipped her arms about its waist and pressed tight, a slow swirl of her
body the only motion. Again, Jessica was enthralled. Lauren pretend nibbled his neck and switched
her head to the other side of the mannequin before a sudden jerk of her arms
spun the lif like male 360 degrees and she walked away to the door turned and
blew a kiss.
Jessica looked at the mannequin, which was covered in a
corkscrew pattern from neck to ankles in the dark black fabric from Lauren’s
gown.
“I call this creation Night Snake. The strips are heat-activated on the outside.
The target’s hands, which will naturally be all over the back of the agent,
heat up the other side. Close contact
adheres it, then just a simple quick turn encases the prey in the fabric,” Gina
stated.
“Yes, the Gauzy Gown, and we still use it, but its main flaw
is taken away by this. The piece of
lingerie requires the moment of the entangled prey to seal them inside it. This, however, does not always happen
perfectly and the victim sometimes is not fully encased, allowing them to
escape, especially if the legs or arms happen to be free. This eliminates that possibility. It just gives our agents another option,”
Gina explained to perfection as usual.
“Now for number three,” Gina continued and a set of two
doors opened, revealing agent Molly Harman lying across a set of mock stairs.
Molly was an older agent, but you’d never know it from her
body or her style. This time she’d
deliberately chosen to create a throwback style with regard to her hairstyle
and lip colour.
“You have a flair for the dramatic, Gina,” Jessica said with
a smile as she watched Molly get up and walk slowly, very slowly and Jessica
thought oh, so sensually toward her target every step of the way building the
anticipation of the target, getting them off guard. There was a reason Molly taught seduction
classes to the trainees from time to time. She demonstrated it in her motions
and even took that to greater lengths for her audience.
“How do you like it?
Doesn’t leave much to imagination, I know, but what it covers is far
better than any imagination can be,” she said before turning about, the
translucent fabric flowing in the small air eddies she created so it seemed to
dance about her, the small diamond patterns sparkling as they hit the
light.
Jessica found herself slightly aroused, not by the daring
outfit but by the way the woman employed it, her confidence and her choice of
words and phrasing. She pushed those
feelings down with great effort and focused once more.
Molly seemed to glide toward the target in an achingly slow
motion, the tease so natural.
“Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, they say, still I’m
willing to part with mine, but not quickly,” she said in the sexiest tone
Jessica had ever heard. “Impress me,
handsome, or better yet let me impress you,” Molly said with a pivot of her
hips as she hugged him entirely, the motion of her swirling the fabric about
him like a curtain and she simulated a kiss.
Jessica could feel a pulsing inside her growing, she was
thankful that Molly released her encirclement of him and walked away and also
bewildered.
“Ok, great outfit and I know there’s more, but just what I
don’t know. I call uncle on this,” the fashionista said.
Gina smiled. “I get Molly to explain,” and right on cue the
sexy spy came round the corner.
“Knew I wouldn’t guess. That obvious?” Jessica said in a
self-deprecating tone.
“It’s a multifaceted weapon. The stars are the key,” Molly
explained. “Some stars contain
microscopic radioactive chips that adhere to the skin for 48 hours, allowing us
to track them by the specific signature they emit. Others a microchip of poison
that lies inert on the skin until activated, again a 48-hour lifespan. Other chips act as small batteries, my motion
charges them. They fully charge in 5 to 8 minutes depending on active movement,
then they leave me and attach to him,” Molly said with a smile.
“And what makes you think you’d be able to keep that garment
on for that time frame?” Jessica smiled.
“A women skilled in the art of handling a man knows just how
to make him think it’s his idea that it’s time to remove it. As for a female target, I find they like
longer foreplay anyway,” Molly demurred and watched as Jessica tried and
somewhat succeeded in not blushing.
“Ingenious, but how do you activate any of the systems?”
Jessica said hurriedly, hoping a question would return her to a more controlled
state.
“With either of these,” Molly answered. “Simply open the
compact by turning the catch this way to engage the tracking device; it will
automatically connect to wi-fi. Then
flip up the makeup tray and you have an LED locator complete with map. If you turn the compact upside down and slide
the catch the other way it sends a signal to activate the poison. Its effect
depends on the type you choose and how fast-acting you want it to be. Finally, opening and closing the compact
twice within 30 seconds or less by pushing the catch straight in activates the
battery charge and delivers a very debilitating jolt. Some targets are oblivious to the compact as a weapon, other more experienced agents will
catch on the minute you open it, but by then it’s too late. Even a poor agent
can conceal a compact from view and on the off chance they do see you open it, you simply close it to deliver the stun. The second, a lipstick case, turn it this way
for the tracking, that way for the poison and merely push the bottom once it’s
fully open to deliver the shock. I
prefer the lipstick, it’s sexier,” Molly said.
“How so?” Jessica asked, curiosity playing a part but just
the explanation from Molly was sure to be arousing.
“Suppose the agent is on to you, that he/she knows you’re a spy. You wear nothing but this, no concealed
weapon. How could there be?”
Jessica stopped her there.
“Well, you could be wearing a poison lipstick, scratch him
with your nails, use an injection ring on him, earrings, perfume,” Jessica said
listing more before Molly stopped her.
“You wear none of those things and make it obvious you
don’t. You don’t have your makeup out or
on, you wear no jewellery, that sort of thing.
A lovely time in each other’s arms, you tease by pulling away making
your next move obvious. You walk to the
vanity or desk or in front of a full-length, just be sure the target has a good
look at you. It’s about distraction, and this is very distracting.
“Pick up the lipstick and just open it a little, not fully
so you don’t activate it. Not yet. The
target will be by your side in seconds, but here’s the trap, especially for a
man and even a woman, though a little less so but not enough to stop it. Both
sexes love to see a well-dressed or in this case a well-undressed woman apply
lipstick. They can’t look away and are powerless to stop it. I use that tease, even offering something
like, ‘Now where were we?’ as I stand up.
Of course they realise the trap, well most times anyway, that’s why I
use a FORCE -issued lipstick of my choosing, of course. If they don’t, my touch awaits them a final
time, but most times I just smile and say, ‘Oh, well you can’t blame me for
trying,’ then I use the device.”
The last agent was Erin Brooks. She wore a similar negligee,
but with black dots encrusted on it. She
moved delicately toward the mannequin,
then into a full embrace as she swayed in her arms for a while before deftly
reaching behind and separating an invisible seam in the garment and shrouding
him in it. Jessica watched the negligee instantly constrict around him from
neck to feet, then the back dots all bled into each other. Erin w
“Ok, this one is some kind of chemical reaction,” Jessica
said knowing she had it figured out.
“An instantly-sealing synthetic rubber compound activated by
the heel of Erin’s shoe. Encases the
victim in a second skin immobilizing him totally,” Gina offered. “And it comes
in a variety of shades, but I used black just for dramatic demonstration
purposes. Come, I have some wonderful
things to show you that I’ve done with bras and panties.”
They spent several hours together going over some of the
deadly undergarments Gina had created.
Jessica was impressed as she placed orders for them. She took more care with the negligees as to
what fit what agent’s style. Not all
agents were baby doll wearers. Iit didn’t work for them and she adjusted the
see through qualities of the others, explaining the she wanted the agent to
have a choice.
“Some men what to see it all right away, they see with their
eyes. Others want the mystery, then see
with their exploring hand. The agent
knows which negligee for which type,” she said.
“What about you, Jessica? Which one do you like? What’s your
style?” Gina asked.
“I’m not an agent. Besides, I think I’m a little late to the
game to be thinking about that.”
“You can think that all you want, but it’s not true. I think you’re just where you’re supposed to
be, only you don’t know it yet. My
experience in this game tells me there is no such thing as neutral or
retired. Don’t believe me, why not ask
Adele or Mrs. Hawthorne or Nancy Prud’homme.
All retired agents, or so they thought, yet somehow danger still seems
to find them. The enemy doesn’t go away
just because you hang up you stilettos.
In fact, you’re much more a target then they are. You know all the
agents, have read their dossiers, know locations of training facilities and have
access to our latest weapons. What a prize catch you would make should they
ever discover you, Agent Collins,” Gina said with a grin.
Jessica, for some strange reason had never thought of this,
or maybe she just didn’t want to admit it.
“Not to worry. Your secret is safe with me, Jessica, but
just in case,” Gina said, opening a closet door. “I’ve put together a boudoir
wardrobe just for you, and from what I’ve seen you could be quite dangerous in
any of them or even perhaps out of them,” she said with a knowing smile.
As she walked into the hotel's cocktail lounge, Madeleine
could feel the eyes watching her. And she loved it.
She'd been a successful FORCE operative for almost a year
now, but she never got tired of the rush of confidence she felt when she was on
a mission and things were going well. And her confidence had only grown since
she'd begun working with Rachel Sparks and Jessica Collins of the
organization's Style Centre.
Her outfit started with a dark green fitted blazer over a
cream-colored chiffon camisole. The cropped jacket's darts and tailoring showed
off her shape and a pair of small but perfectly proportioned breasts as well as
her toned arms. As good as she looked from the waist up, it was the rest of her
outfit that took her to the next level.
The cropped jacket fell just at the top of her shapely hips,
which were hugged and accentuated by a wool pencil skirt in a green tartan
plaid that was subtle yet eye-catching. The base color matched her wool jacket
perfectly, and the fabric of the skirt had just enough spandex in it to show
off every glorious curve to just below the knee as she wiggled her way across
the room and the sea of bodies parted for her.
Her legs seemed to go on and on before ending in a pair of
classic Christian Louboutin pigalle pointed-toe pumps in nude patent leather.
The color and the 5 1/4-inch stiletto heels just added to the leg-lengthening
effect. The days when she was afraid to wear such heels because of her height
were long gone. She not only loved the way her legs looked in sky-high
stilettos or platforms, she got off on the power she felt towering over most
women and even many men, not to mention the way walking in such heels and a
form-fitting skirt or dress oozed sexuality. Her shoes were her trademark, the
one thing Rachel and Jessica didn't have to change -- and a subject over which
she and Rachel had bonded. They could talk for hours about the latest pumps,
sandals or boots and what they'd wear them with.
She accessorized with a tasteful gold necklace and matching
bracelet that also served other purposes, courtesy of FORCE's Alvice Papin, a
gold Bulgari watch and a dark green leather Chanel laptop bag that coordinated
perfectly with her jacket and skirt.
Madeleine was in her element and in total control -- of the
room, of the moment, of the mission. Her task was to find out who was
extracting valuable information from powerful women across Europe and how it
was being done. All FORCE knew was that it was happening with alarming
frequency, and all of the women involved were either too ashamed or afraid to
say how. The only lead Claire and Alice had was that two of the women had
retained the services of male escorts while in Rome on business.
As she made her way to a quiet table in a corner of the
trendy lounge, Madeleine made sure not to smile, although it was hard not to
when she felt this good. But the mission required her to play a role, that of an
American-educated member of the French trade delegation who had just come to the end of a romantic
relationship. She was supposed to be distant, aloof, lonely. She could play
that role, too.
The next part of the equation fell into place almost immediately
after she sat at a high table and ordered a pear martini from her smitten
waiter. A woman she recognized as a fringe member of the German delegation
headed from the bar toward Madeleine's table.
Madeleine sized her up instantly.
The woman, who looked to be about 30, wore her dark hair in
a short, pixie cut that allowed her dark brown eyes and perfect bone structure
to take center stage. Even now she could have been a model, except for the fact
that she only stood about 5-foot-4 or 5-5. In Europe in particular, they liked
their models taller, although she certainly was thin enough. She
overcompensated with a pair of black suede platform pumps that had 6-inch heels
that even Madeleine wouldn't have tried. Black tights and a black pinstriped
pencil skirt added to the effect but detracted from rather than complemented
her thin frame and features. (Madeleine could almost hear Rachel and Jessica's
critique of the woman's looks.) A shapeless black blazer and a white silk
blouse that was unbuttoned just a bit too much completed the look. Multiple
strands of silver necklaces and a silver clutch just made her look cheap. But as the woman introduced herself, Maddie
switched on and prepared to throw out the bait.
"You are Madeleine Moreau?" the woman asked with a
hopeful smile.
"Yes," she replied hesitantly.
"I'm Katarina Meier, from the German delegation,"
she said with a slight accent, extending a thin hand that ended in long nails
coated with black polish.
"Of course, now I remember you," Madeleine
replied, forcing a smile. "How are you?"
"Very well," she said. "May I buy you a
drink?"
"I've one coming in a moment, I hope."
"I know I could use another after such a long day. I'm
glad they let us out early. Do you mind if I join you?"
Just then the pear martini arrived and Katarina signaled for
the waiter to bring her one, too.
"No, but I probably won't be very good company,"
Madeleine said. "I'm just trying to get through this week and get back to
Paris."
"Ah, Pur-eee," Katarina said wistfully. "The
City of Light. They can keep Rome, I say, but I could spend a month in Paris
and never tire of the shopping, the galleries, the romance."
"I'm not feeling very romantic these days. I just want
a bit of time to myself."
"You? No," Katarina said, trying to flatter her
new acquaintance. "Surely there is a handsome man who will be waiting for
your flight at de Gaulle Airport."
Madeleine said nothing before crossing her long, shapely
legs and taking a sip of her drink and reaching for her laptop bag to pay her
tab.
"I'm sorry," Katarina said, putting a hand on her
arm. "I did not mean to ... how do you say ... put my foot in it."
"No, that's OK," Madeleine said with a laugh that
was intended to break the tension and get things back on track. "It's not
you. It's me. Just feeling a bit sorry for myself. I'm coming out of a
relationship that ended ... abruptly."
"I understand. I don't have time for them
anymore."
"Men?" she asked with an eyebrow slightly raised
to indicate that she didn't go that way but wouldn't judge if Katarina did.
"No!" she replied with a hearty laugh.
"Relationships. They're too much work with too little reward, I think. And
there are other ways to meet our needs."
Madeleine gave her a look that said she was very
uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation.
"You misunderstand," Katarina said with a knowing
smile. "I love men. I just don't love relationships with men."
"I'm not really the one-night stand type,"
Madeleine said. "But it does get a little bit lonely, especially when I'm
traveling on business."
"I know exactly what you mean. And if you don't mind my
saying, I may have a solution for you. What's your number?" she said,
pointing at Madeleine's phone.
"01 47 70 86 29, why?"
Katarina typed quickly on her phone and a moment after she
finished, Madeleine's phone chirped.
"What's this?" Madeleine asked hesitantly looking
at the screen.
"It's a number you should call. Before you judge, let
me just say they provide a service for women like us."
"I'm not calling an escort," Madeleine said and
stood up, again making to leave.
"I said the same thing," Katarina replied,
grabbing Madeleine's right arm firmly and sitting her back down. "This is
different. The men are ... different. Smart. Sharp. Cultured. And it goes
without saying, handsome. Hot even. It can be simply drinks and dinner, or you
can skip directly to dessert. Whatever you need. I don't use this service
often, but I have never, ever been disappointed."
"I don't think so," Madeleine said firmly. "I
don't need ..."
"Don't need what? A little romance? A little
excitement? We all do, and we deserve it when we want it. Not when some man who
tells us we pay too much attention to our job and not enough attention to him
actually pays attention to us. Men have been doing this for centuries. Does a
beautiful, intelligent woman such as you not deserve as much?"
It was time to close the deal now.
"That sounds great," Madeleine said, "but
even if it isn't too good to be true, it's probably too expensive to be true
for me. I don't know about you, but the government François doesn't pay me
nearly what a Wharton Business School-educated woman deserves."
"No, it's not cheap," Katarina said. "But
aren't you worth it? I know I am, and I can honestly say it's the best $1,000
Euro I've ever spent."
Madeleine made her jaw drop at the figure. But then gave a
longing look.
"I am due for a bonus after we wrap up this treaty, but
... "
"You have the number, and if you are worried about
their discretion, don't be, The charge will be broken up on your credit card
and won't raise any eyebrows as long as your credit checks out. Give them my
name if -- no, when -- you call," Katarina said firmly. "They won't
work with you without a reference."
Madeleine took a gulp of courage, downing the rest of her
pear martini, before standing and grabbing her phone and laptop bag. She looked
at Katarina hopefully, before taking both of her hands firmly and whispering,
"Thank you!"
"I need to go make a call," she added before
turning on her stiletto heels and heading for the lobby. She stopped near the
door to look back and waive at her new friend, mouthing, "See you
tomorrow." Katarina smiled and nodded before hitting speed dial on her
cellphone.
Not far away, Jessica Collins had just left Gina Perini's office
after a long work session prepping undergarments and lingerie for their agents.
The American fashion designer decided to do some window shopping and was
strolling along the Via del Babuino. Jessica rarely copied anyone else's work,
but she often found inspiration for her own designs in the shapes, colors and
fabrics used by Italy's most famous fashion houses.
A romper in brightly-colored silk displayed in Emporio
Armani's window caught Jessica's eye, leading her into the store. As she
wandered the aisles amid the wealthy and the beautiful, she didn't look or feel
a bit out of place. More than a few eyes were trained on Jessica, and with good
reason. The days when she was timid about her own style were a distant memory.
Jessica wore her dark brown hair in its usual
shoulder-length bob, but she'd done nothing to straighten it today, instead
scrunching in a bit of product that gave it a loose wavy look that amplified
her stylish highlights. Her makeup was tasteful, her striking olive complexion
needing little help, save for a bit of mascara and shadow to give her eyes a
smoky, sultry look, she decided against a FORCE-issued lipstick shunning the
advice of Claire who advised her that one can never be too careful.
‘I’m not an agent, never will be, so no need for all that
stuff,’ she told herself again, bit still it nagged.
Her outfit was casual but stylish and more than a little bit
sexy. Jessica wore a black wool cropped moto jacket unzipped over a sheer black
silk blouse that she left unbuttoned low enough to show more than a hint of
cleavage. She broke up the monochromatic look with a stylish white, gray and
black silk scarf.
As
Jessica turned and bent forward to compare her own black leather hobo bag to an
Armani bag on one of the lower shelves, the hard work she had been putting in
with yoga and FORCE training was readily apparent. She was no longer shy about
displaying her assets, and today she chose to do it with a pair of super skinny
black leather jeans that hugged every curve of her thighs, her exquisite
derriere and her shapely calves like a second skin. The leg-lengthening effect
was enhanced by a pair of black calfskin Giuseppe Zanotti ankle boots with 5-inch stiletto
heels.
She oozed sexuality and sophistication with the kind of look
that would have set an example for any FORCE agent who happened to catch a
glimpse of her at Emporio Armani. Instead, it was a handsome gentlemen walking
toward one of the sales counters who took notice of her, bumping into an older
woman and nearly knocking over a fragrance display amid profuse utterances of
"Mi scusi." Jessica hadn't been flirting with him, but the effect was
the same as if she had. This was the sort of thing that happened to her
frequently now, and she grinned at the hapless man who she so clearly had
distracted.
After looking over some more items she'd noticed in the
windows, Jessica headed toward the doors back onto the street. But her path was
suddenly blocked by a familiar face. It was the handsome man she'd distracted
so obviously earlier.
"Scusi, Signorina," he said hopefully as she
nearly bumped into him. He then launched into a series of questions and phrases
in Italian that were spoken much too quickly for her to even hope to keep up
with considering her limited knowledge of the language.
Jessica's quizzical look finally brought his monologue to a
halt as she looked him over. He really was strikingly handsome: thick, wavy
black hair cut stylishly and framing a classic Roman nose and jaw line,
chiseled features and great skin. He could have been a young Ian McShane,
although the actor obviously wasn't Italian. He stood about 6-foot-2 and looked
to be 34 or 35 years old, but a slight age difference wasn't going to deter
her. He had her attention almost as much as she clearly had his now.
"You do not speak Italian?" he asked as Jessica
continued her mental inventory before answering.
He wore a well-cut black wool suit that showed off his
athletic body. She made him to be a triathlete or maybe an amateur boxer, based
on his build. A gray fitted shirt and a silver-and-black geometric tie that was
just the right width completed the look. His pants were tight enough -- but not
unfashionably so -- to show that he was indeed fit. (She would have to wait
until he turned to assess his buns, she thought, trying to stifle a girlish
giggle.) His shoes were classic Italian calfskin oxfords, clearly well-made but
not ostentatious. The total package said businessman or civil servant, but a
hot one. A very hot one.
"No, well ... solo un po," she said, using one of
the few Italian phrases she knew well.
He smiled and he had her. His brown eyes lit up as he
introduced himself.
"Carlo, Carlo Cuccini," he said, extending a hand.
Jessica took it eagerly as she replied, "I'm Jessica,
Jessica Collins."
His smile was still prominent as he gently leaned forward
and kissed her hand. "I am very
pleased to meet you, Jessica," he said in a thick accent.
"And you, Carlo," she said enthusiastically.
"You are American?" he asked.
"Is it that obvious?" she asked.
"No, no," he said. "That is why I speak
Italian to you. I think maybe you are ... how you say, Italian model or maybe
TV presenter."
"You flatter me, Carlo," she said blushing.
"I do work with models. I'm a fashion designer. I have a small house in
New York, and a workroom in London."
"Ah, you travel for work? That is what brings you to
Roma?"
"Yes, business -- and pleasure," Jessica added.
Now she really was flirting.
"Do you have plans for this evening?" Carlo asked.
"What did you have in mind?" she replied.
"Maybe we get a glass of wine? I know a nice little
place not far."
"I'd love to," she said.
"You ... how you say, make my day," he said with a
broad smile that told Jessica she had him.
Madeleine Moreau quickly found a secluded corner of the
hotel lobby from which to place her call. She stood with her arms semi-folded
in front of her and leaned back on one stiletto heel, tapping the pointed toe
of her right shoe as the phone rang. It was a nervous habit she couldn't quite
get rid of, but it could also be downright sexy.
The woman who answered Maddie's call spoke English and did
not betray an accent of any kind. After getting her credit information, which
Maddie reluctantly (at least for her role) provided, she asked a rather lengthy
series of questions about her. They covered everything from her physical
attributes to her academic and work background before moving on to some
particularly pointed questions about her preferences in men. Everything was
done in a subtle manner that gave the service some wiggle room to explain away
the true purpose if the call were recorded.
When the questions were answered and Madeleine's reference
and credit were approved, the woman from the service told her, "We have a
gentleman who would be perfect for you, and he is available later this evening.
Would you like to proceed?"
"Ummm," Maddie said with deliberate hesitation,
playing her role to the hilt. "Yes, yes I would!"
"Excellent, Mademoiselle Moreau," the woman said.
"You will be meeting Andre. Would you like this to be for dinner or ...
"
"I'd rather meet somewhere private," she replied.
"Very good, Mademoiselle. Your hotel? Or I can recommend some excellent
accommodations where the billing can be handled most discreetly and at a
greatly reduced rate."
"Yes, that," Madeleine said nervously. She was
good at this, but she had no idea how good the people she and FORCE were
dealing with were.
"Do you favor a particular style of hotel?"
"Maybe something art deco, and at least four
stars."
"May I recommend the Regina Hotel Baglioni?" the
woman asked. "I believe it would suit your needs perfectly."
Maddie looked it up on her phone. It was a short cab ride
from her hotel, close enough to allow her to change into something appropriate
and brief Claire on her progress.
"OK, I can catch a cab there," she said.
"What time should I be there? And what room?"
"Shall we say 9 p.m.?"
"Yes, that will give me time to get ready," Maddie
replied.
"There will be a reservation under the name Julian Kay,
and it will be paid in advance on your card. Is that satisfactory,
Mademoiselle?"
"Thank you," she replied in a girlish voice.
"I'm really looking forward to this."
"Merci, Mademoiselle. I am sure you will have a night
to remember."
Maddie then hurried to the elevators to head up to her room
and prepare for the evening.
Along the way, she called Claire and briefed her on the
plan. After setting up check-in times, Claire advised her to proceed cautiously
and abort the mission at any sign of trouble, but Maddie had no intention of
backing off now. She hadn't failed FORCE yet, and she wasn't about to start
tonight. Whoever was extracting information from important women across Europe
would be telling her what she wanted to know before the evening was over. Her
skills would see to that.
The walk to the small outdoor bar took Jessica Collins and
Carlo Cuccini about 10 minutes. Neither seemed to mind in the least.
Carlo learned a bit about Jessica's background in fashion,
although she obviously couldn't tell him that she was now working for FORCE.
Jessica learned that Carlo was a police officer, a detective, in fact, that he
was a native Roman and that he had never been married. She also learned that he
seemed totally incapable of taking his eyes off her, not that she minded.
They had chemistry -- or at least that's how it seemed to
Jessica -- but she wasn't sure. She had been out of circulation for so long and
hadn't gone beyond flirting since her last, failed relationship that the old
insecurities started to resurface. Was she the problem in her previous
relationship? Was she capable of making a relationship work? Was she good
enough?
She was lost in the process of tearing herself down like the
old days when they reached their destination. He took her right hand gently but
firmly, jolting her back to reality, and kissed her sweetly on the right cheek
before asking, "You still want to have a glass of wine with, how you say,
a cop?"
"Not with a cop," she said, "with Carlo
Cuccini." And her warm smile told him all he needed to know.
His ear-to-ear grin -- and the subtle slide of his left hand
from her right down over the back pockets of her skin-tight leather jeans and
around to her left hip as their waiter led them to their table -- told her that
she wasn't misreading any signs. When he took her hand again to help her into
her chair before pushing it in for her, she felt something she hadn't felt in
years.
Two glasses of Frascati each had them gazing into each
other's eyes and communicating in a way that broke down any language barrier.
Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the setting or maybe it was simply her
time, but when Jessica finally managed to ask Carlo if he wanted to come back
to her hotel, she couldn't even complete the sentence before he was leaving
money for the waiter on the table and helping her toward a cab. On a cool night
for Rome, the back windows were already coated with steam by the time the
8-minute ride brought them to their destination. The driver gave Carlo a wink
when he tipped him before they hurried into the lobby, Jessica trying to keep
up with Carlo in her 5-inch stiletto heels as they made their way to the
elevators. They had to wait a minute, holding hands and looking back and forth
at each other like nervous teenagers, before the ding and the up arrow told
them they were almost there.
As the elevator doors closed, they were all over each other,
Jessica wrapping her arms around his neck and Carlo grabbing her tight little
bottom and lifting her up onto the pointed toes of her ankle boots as their lips
merged. When the elevator dinged again, they were either oblivious or assumed
it was Jessica's floor, so when the older German couple got into the elevator
they didn't even come up for air until the husband cleared his throat loudly
and brought up what sounded like a considerable quantity of phlegm.
Jessica and Carlo quickly parted, but immediately held hands
as she giggled girlishly until they reached her floor. As the doors opened,
Carlo led Jessica from the elevator before looking back and shouting to the old
couple, "Have a good evening." Jessica, clearly enjoying herself,
added, "We certainly will," as the doors closed and the old woman harrumphed.
They ran down the hall and barely had the key card in the lock before they were
inside the room and both of their jackets were on the floor. By the time they
reached the bed, Carlo's tie was off and Jessica's silk blouse was completely
unbuttoned.
When in Rome ... , Jessica thought as the sound of a zipper
-- she wasn't even sure whose -- signaled that she was about to get her groove
back.
Back in her hotel room to primp for the evening, Madeleine
Moureau was going for a look that was young and stylish. She wanted to show off
her shape and display her legs to their best effect. She had no doubt that the
dress Rachel had suggested would do the trick, and she paired it with a pair of
heels she bought here in Rome the day she arrived for the trade talks. Alvice
had made a bracelet, ring and earrings, all with her special touches, to
coordinate perfectly with the dress. And, of course, Gina had the undergarments
-- and Maddie -- covered in style.
She was ready to take on the world!
After undressing and taking a quick shower, Maddie set about
styling her hair for the evening first. She decided to wear it down and brushed
and blow-dried back off her forehead. She'd picked up all sorts of styling tips
at the Style Centre and from her fellow agents, and she put them to good use on
every mission.
Madeleine moved on to her makeup, going for smoky eyes,
well-defined cheekbones and glossy lips. (The mascara FORCE found for its
agents really didn’t run, their testing proved, even through blood, sweat and
tears.) Everything she did had been perfected during her training so that it
was second nature. She knew exactly how to appeal to any target, and she loved
doing it.
In a moment of introspection, she'd told Rachel that this
part of the job seemed to fill some void for her. For some agents, it was all
about becoming someone else. For Maddie, it was about becoming her ultimate
self.
Tonight that self was a stylish young woman who looked as if
she was going out to an exclusive club and would be coming home with any man
she chose. Madeleine was almost done bringing out that part of herself.
She started dressing with undergarments from the collection
Gina had created just for her. An emerald-green silk thong with black lace trim
was slipped over her legs and came to rest high on the curves of her hips. The
dress she would wear was lined and needed no bra, so she paused to admire
herself in the bathroom mirror.
She really did have a nice pair of breasts, she thought. The
days when she worried about her 34B chest size being disproportionately small
were a thing of the past. Her girls were more than enough company for any man,
and they didn't get in the way of anything she might have to do in or out of
the bedroom. Her curves were sculpted and powerful, yet utterly feminine. Her
long, shapely legs were the one feature she'd never really had any doubts
about, although she'd had to work to overcome a tendency to slouch --
especially in the company of shorter men -- because of her height.
Tonight she was not worried about any of those old hang-ups.
It was all about the mission and the agent. She was going to achieve her
objective, and she might even have some fun doing it.
After
smiling at what she saw in the dressing mirror, Madeleine padded over to the
closet and pulled out a hanging bag and grabbed the Casadei shoe box from her
shopping trip two days earlier.
She unzipped the garment bag and carefully pulled out a
hangar bearing an emerald-and-black paisley jeweled mini dress that Jessica had
created just for her. Like most of her wardrobe from the Style Centre, it was a
work of art. As Maddie pulled it on and zipped up the back, she admired the
dress in the floor-length mirror. The delicate cap sleeves and the sheer upper
bodice complemented a straight neckline to perfection. The fitted bodice showed
off her shape and lifted in all the right places. A straight skirt that fell
mid-thigh displayed her legs to great effect. The over-laid beading and colored
rhinestones in a paisley pattern gave it a dramatic look, and some of those
beads and rhinestones held tools and substances that might even save a mission
and her life.
No outfit is complete without the right shoes. That was a
motto Madeleine Moreau lived by, and her taste in footwear was held in such
high esteem at the Style Centre that many of the ladies -- and, in fact, even
Rachel and Jessica -- sought ought her advice on a regular basis.
She'd found just the right shoes for this particular dress
on a short shopping trip the evening she arrived in Rome. She sometimes had her
shoes custom-made by designers she particularly favored because she had trouble
finding them in size 10, but these had come straight off the shelf of one of
those artistes, Cesare Casadei. He wasn't there when she visited his flagship
boutique, but Alessandra, his right-hand girl, had guided her straight to them
and told her that she was his muse in creating them. He said they reminded him
of her eyes.
he walked over to the closet to find her jewelry bag,
getting her wiggle on as she acclimated to the shoes, then added the matching
bracelet, earrings and ring before finally pulling a black clutch from her
suitcase.
She stopped in the bathroom to grab the special lip gloss
FORCE agents carried and some new prototype condoms developed in their lab,
then remembered the Bulgari watch she'd left on the dresser and fastened it on
her left wrist.
Maddie stopped in front of the full-length mirror one last
time and smiled as she turned like a model and admired herself from all angles.
That long mane of auburn hair, those eyes, that face, that was all her. She'd
been born with all of those things. The body -- toned arms and shoulders,
rock-hard abs, an exquisite ass and shapely legs -- she had earned with
grueling workouts, a stringent diet and sheer willpower. The dress and heels
just brought all that work into sharp focus.
She was ready to take on the world and anyone in it on
behalf of FORCE. Tonight she would put another mission in the win column.
Madeleine Moreau took a quick glance at her watch, leaned
back on one metal blade heel with her arms crossed in front of her as she
looked at herself in the full length mirror, then blew her reflection a kiss
and strutted toward the door and her fate.
After two hours, Jessica still couldn't stop smiling, except
when her lips were all over Carlo or when she was moaning or screaming. She was
doing the former and approaching the latter as she looked back over her left
shoulder at the intensely happy face of her lover, who had her bent over an
overstuffed armchair and was doing his best to pleasure her.
Their bodies moved in unison, something that had happened
almost instantly. They really did have chemistry.
Carlo was completely naked and demonstrating just how toned
and strong the muscles in his thighs and buttocks were. Jessica was wearing a
black satin garter belt and sheer black stockings from the collection created
just for her by Gina and a pair of black patent Jimmy Chou Anouk pumps with 5
1/2-inch stiletto heels. She'd somehow determined early in the evening that he
liked seeing her in heels and lingerie, and she was only too happy to oblige.
She'd gone through a couple of costume changes, mainly because the other
outfits had gotten soiled by their lovemaking.
As Jessica pushed back against Carlo harder and harder with
each of his thrusts, she felt herself approaching yet another orgasm. Her lover
was nearly there, too, as she felt him swelling up even more inside her. His
deep, guttural moan coincided perfectly with her scream of unbridled ecstasy as
they came simultaneously. This had never happened before for Jessica; she had
considered talk of such things a myth until tonight. And here she was sharing a
moment of perfection with Carlo for the third time.
They rode out the waves of passion together, moving slowly
and maintaining their synchronized rhythm until both were eminently satisfied.
Their smiles were deep and heartfelt. Even without words, both knew what they
had tonight was something truly special.
Finally, Jessica broke the silence.
"Well, that's every piece of furniture in here,"
she said. "I guess I should have gotten a suite."
Carlo knew more than enough English to get the joke, and
they laughed until their ribs -- and other more intimate parts -- hurt.
Then he kissed her passionately before taking her by the
hand and adding, "There is always the lavatory."
Jessica nearly tripped and fell in her high heels as he
quickly led her toward the bathroom.
After texting back and forth with Claire on her way down to
the lobby, Madeleine formulated a game plan on the cab ride to the Regina Hotel
Baglioni. She would play shy and hard to get at first, but once the
preliminaries were out of the way, she would use some of the considerable tools
and skills at her disposal to gain the upper hand and find out what her escort
knew.
The ride took about 15 minutes with traffic, Maddie crossing
and re-crossing her long, sexy legs nervously numerous times during the ride.
It was another habit she struggled to break, but it always seemed to help her
burn off some nervous energy and get her focus.
The cab pulled up in front of the hotel and by the time she
paid the driver, the doorman already had her door open and a gloved hand
extended to help her onto the sidewalk. He looked to be at least 50 years old,
but his eyes got that young man twinkle back as soon as she took his hand and
he saw those legs.
"Buonasera, signora!" he said with a broad smile.
"Thank you, kind sir," she said, smiling back and
stepping onto the curb as she smoothed the back hem of her mini dress down with
her other hand, which also held her clutch. She did it so subtly and
effortlessly that it was obvious she was accustomed to wearing short dresses
and heels.
The doorman closed the cab door and quickly hurried to
fulfill the other part of his job, holding the door for Madeleine as she
strutted seductively through the night. He tipped his hat to her and couldn't
wipe the smile off his face, which she noted with a sly grin as she hit the
lobby and headed toward the front desk.
Madeleine's metal blade heels clicked a samba beat as she
glided across the marble floor, catching the eye of everyone who saw her hips
sway their way. She had to wait a moment for someone else to check in, then it
was her turn.
"How can the Regina Hotel Baglioni serve you,
signora?" He asked with a practiced
smile, jaded even to a beauty such as Madeleine Moreau.
"I'm meeting someone," she said, trying to sound
nervous. "The room is under 'Julian Kay.' "
"Ah, yes, Signore Kay has already checked in. He waits for
you in Room 321," he said, handing her a key card.
Maddie took the card and headed for the elevators. She
thought about taking the grand staircase up, but decided against it. Walking
down those stars would be a great way to make an entrance, she thought, but not
going up.
She was alone for the short ride up to the third floor,
which gave her a chance to touch up her lip gloss and check her makeup in the
mirrored walls. Perfect! she thought.
As the doors slowly opened, Maddie smoothed her dress one
more time. It wasn't really necessary, as the frock fit her like a second skin,
thanks to the exact laser measurements Jessica and Rachel always used and the
strict diet and regimen she followed to stay within 2 pounds, plus or minus, of
her ideal weight.
She got her wiggle on as she made her way down the plush
carpeted hallway to Room 321. But when she reached the room, she took a deep
breath, shook out her arms and shoulders for a moment to get into character and
knocked on the door before sliding in the key card and turning the handle.
When the door opened, she was taken slightly aback for a
moment at the man who greeted her with a disarming smile.
"Mademoiselle Moreau?" he asked, extending a hand.
"I am Andre."
"Madeleine ... I'm Madeleine," she said, trying to sound
nervous and shy and leaning forward just a bit on her 5-inch blade heels so
that she didn't look quite as comfortable or confident as she felt. "It's
very nice to meet you."
"And I you," he said, leaning forward and kissing
her hand. "Tu es tres belle!"
"You're not so bad yourself," she said with a
giggle, and that was an understatement.
If men like this one were the other side's secret weapon, it
was going to be a long war, Madeleine thought. The young man standing before
her was drop-dead gorgeous. He stood at least 6-foot-4, with light brown hair,
parted to one side and swept back to show all of his strikingly handsome face
and those eyes ... piercing blue and smiling at her. Andre wore an expensive
light-grey wool suit that fit him perfectly. His physique was impressive --
trim, but muscular in all the right places -- and he knew how to display it
with a tight black cashmere mock turtleneck under his three-button jacket. He
wore black calfskin monk-strap shoes that had to cost at least $750 Euro. He
appeared to be about 25 years old -- a couple of years younger than Maddie. He
was as close to perfect as any man could be without plastic surgery, and it
certainly didn't look as if he'd had any.
She hadn't quite expected this and she had to compose herself
for a split second before he led her to the expansive room's sitting area.
"Come, sit and let us get to know each other a bit
better," he said as she strode across the marble floor, her heels clicking
seductively again as they passed the door to the opulent bedroom to the left
along the way. Madeleine wondered how long it would take before they got down
to business in there.
It turned out to be about 20 minutes as Andre made small
talk, asking her what type of business she was in and if she had been to Rome
before, recommending a few restaurants and clubs, all the while mentioning how
beautiful she was at every opportunity. It was all designed to make her feel
great about herself. That's the trick, isn't it, she thought. Disarm her with
attention and flattery, make her feel like she's the only woman in the world,
make love to her and then, when she is at her most vulnerable, break her. She
would be so surprised that it wouldn't take much to shatter her world -- a
little rough sex, a little bondage, maybe some light peril. A woman in that
position would tell him whatever he wanted to know.
But Madeleine Moreau wasn't any woman, and she would not be
put in that position. She would be the one in control, the one asking the
questions and getting the answers.
At least that was what she thought until she stood up to get
a glass of champagne -- Andre or whomever he worked for, really had thought of
everything -- and he stopped her after a few sexy steps.
"Wait," he said urgently, before getting down on
one knee.
Oh, my God! she thought, trying not to laugh. He's not going
to propose to me, is he?
Andre had a proposal for Mademoiselle Moreau, but it wasn't
a marriage proposal. It fell into the category of an indecent proposal.
"An intelligent, beautiful woman such as you should be
worshiped," he said. "Allow me to pay you homage"
Madeleine almost blushed, but decided that if she tried to
speak she might say the wrong thing, so she just slowly nodded her ascent.
Andre reached up and took both of her hands before slowly,
gently placing them on his shoulders as he moved closer. Then he reached down
and placed his fingers on the back of her legs before slowly, ever so slowly
moving them upward, caressing her in a way that was subtle but oh so sexy. As
he worked his way past her knees he moved to the front of her legs, running his
fingers up to the short hem of her stylish dress before inching it upward and
caressing her inner thighs.
Madeleine did not find the sensation unpleasant, but she
knew where this was going and she was prepared to seize control of the
situation as soon as the opportunity presented itself. She might even use her
thong or the dress itself to ensnare him at the appropriate time. But she was
going to let this play out for a few more moments, like letting a fish run with
the line after setting the hook in its mouth. Then she would reel him in.
Andre had to stretch the fabric of her dress to slide it up
past her shapely hips and once the hip bones were cleared, he slipped his
fingers under the sides of her satin thong and began to slowly slide it down. Madeleine
moved her legs closer together to help him and looked down out of the corner of
her eyes to watch him carefully in the reflection off her iridescent Casadei
pumps. Once the thong was past her knees, Madeleine stepped back and balanced
on one high blade heel to allow him to remove the thong, then stepped out of it
altogether as it fell to the marble floor. She never noticed that he had seen
the thin filaments in the black lace trim of the thong.
She thought maybe this was the time to stop him, but she
decided to give him just a bit more line, knowing that the scented coating she
had applied to her lips when she carefully shaved back at her hotel would be
enough to paralyze him after just a few touches of his tongue. It was a
decision she would come to regret.
Andre slid the satin and lace thong away from them, then
slowly ran his strong hands up the back of her thighs as she widened her stance
and leaned back a bit on her 5-inch heels. The hem of her mini dress was still
clinging to her body just above her hips as he cupped her exquisite ass with
both hands.
"This is how to worship a woman," he said looking
up into her eyes intently before slowly leaning in between her legs.
Madeleine knew what was coming, but she still gasped and her
sculpted leg muscles tightened involuntarily for a moment when his tongue first
touched just below her waist. She bit down hard on her glossed lower lip and
ran her fingers through his hair as the tip of his tongue found her most
sensitive flesh. "Mmmmhhhh" she purred softly as he entered her.
It won't be long now, Madeleine thought as he probed and
caressed her with considerable skill. Once enough of the coating on her lips
was absorbed through his tongue, he would be hers and she would get down to the
business of finding out who was using Andre and other male escorts to obtain
information from some of Europe's most powerful women.
Almost there, she thought, as the tip of his tongue worked
deeper and deeper and she felt herself quickly moistening as he slowed
noticeably. Keep going, keep going, she thought ... and her eyes went wide as
every lean, lovely muscle in her body went rigid. Maddie's head tilted back and
her mouth opened wide, but no sound escaped as she tried to push him away but
found that her fingers -- entwined in his hair -- were useless and an orgasm
the likes of which she had not experienced in years hit her with the force of a
tsunami. She tried to move but could only shake and tremble as every nerve in her
body seemed to be sending out tingling shocks of bliss. Andre kept going ...
and going ... and going until she felt herself falling, falling backward over
the edge into an abyss of ecstasy as the marble floor came up to meet her.
Back at Jessica’s hotel, she and Carlo were catching their
breath. Jessica, always a bit obsessive/compulsive, saw their clothes and shoes
strewn about the floor where they had fallen and decided to straighten up a
bit.
As she collected their things and Carlo enjoyed the view as
she bent over to pick up various items, Jessica caught him ogling her and
smiled at him before neatly placing her clothes on one chair and his on the
other, which was still damp from their earlier activities. As she did so, his
police ID fell from his pants pocket.
When Jessica picked it up, she happened to glance down at
it. Her eyes went wide when she saw his date of birth: March 4, 1987. Carlo was
not 34 or 35.
“You’re 28?!!!” she said incredulously. “Twenty-eight?”
“Si, and you are, what, 30 maybe? Is not a problem for me.”
“I’m 38, Carlo!” Jessica said, still stunned that her lover
was, in fact, 10 years younger than she.
He just smiled like a Cheshire cat. “I dated a few younger men back in
the day, but not that much younger.”
“And even so, I feel like, how you say, a teenager when I am
with you,” Carlo said. “You look as good as any woman ... no, better.”
“You’re sweet,” Jessica said, blushing a little. “But I’m
going to have to think long and hard about this.”
“Long and hard, eh?” Carlo asked looking down at his own
stiff shaft with a mischievous grin. “That is how you make me feel now.”
Jessica couldn’t deny the effect she had on him, and there
was no doubt in her mind about how he made her feel. Being with a much younger
man might take some getting used to, but it definitely had some benefits,
Jessica thought as she walked back to the bed and looked down at what awaited
her.
“OK, that’s enough thinking,” she said with a smile. “Where
were we?”
And she was on top of him before he could answer.
“Welcome back to the world of the living, Mademoiselle
Moreau, at least for now,” Andre said as he leaned over her.
Madeleine stared up at the ceiling of the bedroom, which still
tilted back and forth a little, and her green eyes had trouble focusing. She
blinked repeatedly to try to get them to come round.
“I think she is not quite all there yet,” another voice said
as the spy turned her head to the left on the carpeted floor and looked up, her
eyes this time adjusting to see another very handsome man looking down at her
as well with the same menacingly evil smile pasted on his face.
“You really should be careful about who you give your cell
phone number to these days you know. Why
it invites everything from spam email, telemarketing calls to, well, even
intrusions into the phone itself. And that can lead to, oh, say, room numbers
for hotels, which can lead to searches of those rooms, which can lead to
surprising finds and that can lead to defensive measures against those finds,” Andre
said with a smile as he looked over at his accomplice.
“I am sorry,” Franco said, picking up Madeleine’s limp hand
and kissing it. “When your suite was
searched, it was expected that we would find the usual information we could use
in our dealings. Imagine our surprise
when it turned up things only a certain kind of woman would have. Now our
question to you is: What kind of a woman are you?” he said, his tone indicating
more than just curiosity.
“The kind of woman who doesn’t kiss and tell,” Maddie said
weakly but in a defiant voice.
“Come Franco, we are getting ahead of ourselves,” Andre said
to his shorter but also notably handsome partner in crime. “I’m sure our client
is more than a little curious as to how she ended up in our care and not the
other way around.
“Thanks to a sample of your coating, we were able to
synthesize an antidote to your rather clever trap, thus rendering it useless
and giving us control when, of course, you thought you were in control. It was a risk. A swift thrust of your legs
might have entrapped me in those hard thighs of yours, but that was a risk
worth taking, a calculated one, I grant you, but after just a couple of touches
I knew you would not slip around me. You were enjoying yourself too much and
lost your focus. Bad for you and excellent for me,” Andre explained.
“G.I.G.O.L.O. (Give In Girls Or Lethal Operations) trains
its agents well. Just as males have many
vulnerable points of attack, so do females, although this is sometimes not
explained as well or used as often as it should be. In this case, letting you continue thinking
you had the upper hand played right into my hands, or should I say my
tongue. The Oral Ophidian, as you can,
see works extremely fast and its effects are rather long-lasting. Simple but precise strikes to a woman’s
paradise overcome the pleasure receptors in such a way that basically your body
short-circuits and shuts down, rendering you unconscious and helpless, which is
where you find yourself now,” Franco explained.
“And we find ourselves wanting to know more about you. It would give us great pleasure if you’d
answer a few questions for us. Of course, it would give us even more pleasure –
and even give you some – if you refuse and we have to actively extract the
answers from you,” Andre said hungrily.
“You can be sure of that!” Madeleine said strongly, her
voice and senses coming back.
“She is eager to start and we should never disappoint a
customer,” André smiled.
Franco crossed Maddie’s long, luscious legs over at the
ankles. She could tell in an instant by the feel that he was using her previously
discarded thong to bind her legs together.
Andre meanwhile had stretched out her arms above her head and crossed
her wrists, but left them unbound. They
nodded to each other and rolled her over onto her back Maddie quickly feeling
an experienced hand slowly and tantalizingly unzip her dress. That was immediately followed by her being
raised into an inverted position, Franco slipping his strong arms between her
legs before leisurely running them up her smooth, satiny calves until they
contacted the tether about her ankles.
“Really, gentlemen, if you wanted me out of my dress, all
you had to do was ask, but thank you for releasing me from the confines of
it. I feel like a snake that has just
shed its skin. Care to get closer and feel me?” Madeleine teased, her
predicament not seeming to bother her in the least as the dress slipped
languidly down her body, her arms then off her.
“I think we should leave her in her heels, don’t you, Franco?
She looks so wonderful in them,” Andre stated.
“I agree.”
The bound spy felt Franco place a leg between her arms and
slowly pulled forward as she stretched her already magnificently displayed
figure to new levels of perfection, her flat stomach and her gravity defying
orbs, firm and full against the pull.
She watched and more importantly saw Andre’s reaction, his flaccid but
already impressive shaft quickly rising to a mighty obelisk of inflexible
flesh, its throbbing undulations just inches from her mouth. She could not see Franco’s man root, but
imagined it was just as impressive and just as hard.
“Lollipop lollipop, my
boys’ lollipops,” she ad-libbed the song as her tongue wetted her lips as
they opened and closed, her hungry tongue darting the air as it searched for a
meal to latch onto.
Franco bent forward a little more, arching her back and up,
but nothing Maddie couldn’t easily handle. The question was could they handle
her?
In a flash, Madeleine’s bound wrists raced up his legs and
around his, as she fully expected, distended shaft while the up-arching motion
brought her close enough to Andre. Her
mouth opened and warmly enveloped his shaft, swathing it in her wet mouth as
she pulled his length fully inside, her tongue dancing a washing lap about it
as he moaned but refused to pull away.
Madeleine knew he was her prisoner, her tongue firmly locked
the door of escape as she began the Medusa’s Kiss. Her hands slipped from Franco’s colossal
prong. She tried again, but with the same result. She could not understand. He
was more than large enough for her hands to stroke and, more importantly, for
her nails to penetrate and deliver the Iron Maiden, paralyzing him totally. She
slipped and slipped again as Franco laughed and his partner moaned until
suddenly he turned and corkscrewed her taut, her arms falling down
instinctively to give her more flexibility.
The beautiful spy’s mouth was pulled free of Andre just as she nearly
had him. She watched him stagger backward and away from her vision as Franco
turned her more until she was fully extended in a spiralled position.
“You have skills, Madeleine. Where did you learn them? Tell
us!” Franco demanded as an almost fully recovered Andre came back into her
field of vision.
“Special class at the Y,” she offered to another turn from Franco,
who was proving quite flexible himself even though he was much shorter and
stockier than his partner.
“Our skills come from training as well, mostly how to
overcome the weaknesses most males have when the magical touch of a woman comes
upon us, such as you just tried.
Although my partner found you inviting, it’s a pity you could not get
more of a handle on me. My cock, often
an attack point for a seductive woman such as yourself, but a simple defensive
tactic keep me from falling under your embrace.
A silicone overcoat, exceptionally slick, makes it impossible to seize
and thus takes away an advantage from you.
“Now, again who do you work for?” he demanded.
Madeleine refused to answer even as Franco applied more
pressure. Finally he could turn no more.
“A woman has the advantage in this area against a solitary
male, but unfortunately for you I am not alone,” Franco menaced, his
well-trained form rippling against hers as he released her a little and Andre
joined the attack by inserting first his leg between her arms then his arms up
into her restrained legs.
“Uhhh!” Maddie breathed as she tried to time an escape, but
they were too skilled for such a simple maneuver to succeed. With the slack the attempt provided, she snapped
and wiggled her body in vain before the two began to attack her nude, hot form
once more.
“I hope you enjoy The Ringlet, Mademoiselle Moreau. Most women
find it loosens their tongue, not to mention other parts,” Andre told her in a
cold manner.
Maddie was turned in opposite directions at the waist, the
males easily overpowering her attempts to fight back. Slowly they pressed in against her, the
rubbing of their bodies stimulating her.
Erect nipples were teased back and forth across hard-muscled forms while
her wet and throbbing mound ground against firm, smooth chest muscles. The spy’s body danced up and down inside them
as she churned about trying and failing to find respite from the constant
stimulation.
“Ohhhh, no! Ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh.
Oh, Yes!” she moaned and then panted as she shook violently with pleasure, her
captured body in total rapture as she slithered, hot and slick against their
forms.
“We’ll try another line of
questioning Mademoiselle Moreau. What do you know about G.I.G.O.L.O” Andre
asked.
“Who? What?” she moaned before a
secondary spasm of joy overtook her.
“We are just beginning. You paid
for the entire night and we always leave our customers – and ourselves –satisfied,”
Franco laughed a little as he spoke.
Madeleine was turned back and
forth between them; her long, lean body stretched inside the trap was exposed
to their skills, their sensuous touches overwhelming her again and again.
“Never, no. Ohhhhh, again, hot,
ohhh yes!” she moaned and gasped for air as she twisted and wormed in joy and
exhaustion.
Maddie’s considerable strength was
being depleted, but still she refused, even after several hours, her scorching,
saturated body still worked against them, her desire for freedom still alive
and her sexual hunger still not satiated by them as their questioning resumed.
"What do
you know about G.I.G.O.L.O.?" Andre asked.
'Just a
Gigolo' is an old-school classic by Louis Prima, but I actually kind of like
the David Lee Roth cover," Maddie managed to say with a forced laugh.
"You think
we're joking?" Franco asked angrily. "What do you know about
G.I.G.O.L.O.?" he asked again, his voice rising.
"I thought
Richard Gere was really
hot in 'American Gigolo,' and I thought you were joking when you registered us
under his character's name, Julian Kay. I got a good laugh out of that one.
'If you want more from me, you’ll have to do better
than this, boys,” she gasped as her mouth hung open and her sopping copper-coloured
physique fought for coolness and air.
“We are nowhere near finished,
Madeleine, but you look close to it. Perhaps we need to bring a little more
pressure to bear before we ask you again,” Andre said.
The two males turned together and
twisted Maddie about, a faint scream all her lungs could expel as she felt the
transmission of pain and torment everywhere.
“Just the beginning, Mademoiselle
Moreau. Trust me, you will talk after this,” Franco said as he nodded at Andre
and they pushed.
The helixed spy, in spite of the
torment, felt them enter her. She was
hot and wet, their huge size forcing her into a gruelling dance. Neither of them pushed again after the
initial prick; both knew they had pinned themselves just inside her, the spy’s
labia holding just enough to not release them.
Maddie churned her hips, roiling them about. Slow side-to-side grinding and
pelvis tilts back and forth loosened and moistened her further. She swayed and shimmied and rocked about for
over 5 minutes until she persuaded her walls to open and allow her to work them
inside. She fought against the primal
desire, trying to fight, to push them out, but was foiled by her own undeniable
urges. A draining time later the
captured agent pushed over top of one prong and worked the other in until both
were fully encased and she was pinned between them.
The Ringlet delivered erotic
sensual torment to the victim. Overheated,
Maddie was prey to delirium and constant questions. She fought them off again
and again as orgasm after mind-numbing orgasm crashed her against the rocks
threatening to break her.
“No, never,” she moaned as they
turned her even more. She wanted to beg
them to finish her, but she refused, her training so thorough that she viewed her
terrible torment as a test of her worthiness to be an agent.
“There’s no force you can apply
that will make me talk,” she said, barely above a whisper as they applied more
turning and action to her.
Maddie climaxed in silence between
the males, her jerking body the only sign she was still alive. Andre motioned to Franco and the two lowered
to the floor, taking turns rolling on top to deliver sharper thrusts. Still Maddie refused and even fought back,
her hips working several cascades from them.
“You see, boys; I’m a force to be
reckoned with,” she said proudly and defiantly in a low panting voice.
They tried for another hour, but she
refused every time. No, Madeleine Moreau was spent but unbroken. They could sense her strength was gone and
they slowly unwound her and slipped off.
Maddie lay crumpled on the carpet, her body glowing and unable to move,
but thankful for the air.
She thought she heard talking
from the sitting area or the bathroom, but only from one of them. Maddie calmed
herself and gathered her strength. Her ankles were still tied in her own
FORCE-issue trap, but she didn’t care. The spent agent needed to gather as much
strength as she could. She knew when they came back it was death for her or
them, and she intended for it to be them.
In another hotel room in Rome,
Jessica and Carlo were just coming out of the bathroom, both wrapped in the
same large towel. As they padded slowly across the carpet toward the bed,
Jessica basked in the afterglow of what had been the most amazing, passionate
night of her life.
Carlo was right behind her inside
the towel, his arms encircling her, his hands cupped around her tender breasts
and his still amazingly solid shaft pressing between the firm cheeks of her
bare bottom. When they reached the bed, Carlo nibbling on her neck and Jessica
still aroused (she credited her yoga for the energy she was still feeling), she
decided to give herself to him totally.
As the towel fell to the floor,
Jessica got up onto the bed on all fours and moved the covers to get
comfortable before grabbing two of the pillows and sliding them under her
abdomen. Carlo slowly followed her onto the bed. As he knelt behind her, she
rested on one arm for a moment and used her other arm to guide him, not to her
moist slit but to her tight rear passage. She had never allowed any man to go
there before, but Carlo was not any man and he clearly had a deep appreciation
for that part of her anatomy based on the way he had fondled and squeezed her
bottom throughout the evening.
She looked back at him and smiled
before he asked, “Are you sure, amore mio?”
“I’ve never been more sure of
anything in my life,” Jessica said as she started to push back against his
now-stiff shaft and he pushed inward. She gasped and bit her lower lip hard as
he entered her and she moaned deeply.
When Andre and Franco returned to the bedroom, Maddie tried
to get up, to mount some type of forceful resistance. But she could do little
more than wiggle her hips slightly and turn her head to watch them. What she
saw did not make her feel any better about her situation.
Franco carried a large, long canvas bag that he quickly
unzipped before pulling out three camera tripods, which he set up – one at the
foot of the bed and one on each side next to the nightstands. As he set about
attaching cameras to each, Andre placed a black leather doctor’s bag on the
bed.
The first thing that he pulled out of the bag was a pair of
hypodermic needles, which he laid on the bed before pulling out a small vial of
liquid and holding it up to the light. Madeleine did not like where this was
going, still there wasn’t much she could do but watch.
“You know how this works,” Andre said before Franco
interrupted his work with the cameras and bent forward at the waist. Andre drew
something from the vial and quickly injected his partner in the buttocks. Then
it was Franco’s turn to inject Andre.
“Can’t keep up with me without help, can you?” Maddie asked,
the words barely audible in her exhausted state.
Franco glared down at Maddie, which let her know that the
needle wasn’t the only thing that had gotten under his skin, as Andre pulled
back the bedspread and quickly tore off a long section of the satin top sheet.
“Famous last words,” Andre said, joining her on the floor
and rolling her onto her stomach before pressing a knee against her back. He
tore the strip of satin bedding lengthwise into two pieces, one wide and one
narrow. He put the narrow strip next to her on the carpet before grabbing both
ends of the wider piece and twisting it around and around.
If Madeleine had been able to see what Andre was doing as
his partner finished setting up and focusing the cameras, she would have known
what was coming. Instead, she offered little resistance as he reached around to
either side of her pretty head and pulled the long strip of twisted fabric
tight between her teeth and ran it around to the back of her head and she
grunted her disapproval. He lifted her hair, which was slightly matted with
sweat in places but still looked surprisingly good, and knotted the satin strip
once tightly at the back of her head. He then took both ends and unfurled the
rest of the material so that it was smooth before folding it in half. Andre
then wrapped it around the front again and turned her head slightly to one side
to confirm that he had covered her face from nose to chin with two more layers
of satin and tied it off in a bow in back.
He then took the narrower strip of fabric and tore off a
much shorter piece. Then Andre grabbed her luxurious mane of auburn hair and
pulled it into a ponytail that reached down to her shoulder blades. Keeping the
ponytail wound with one hand, he picked up a piece of the satin sheet and used
it to tie a bow around her hair just below where her gag was tied off, then
twisted the rest of her hair into a quick makeshift braid and tied another bow
near the end with the other piece of satin bedding.
Madeleine tried to speak, but a muffled mmmppphhh was all
that escaped the layers of fabric tied through and over her mouth.
“There,” Andre said. “Once we go to work on you, we don’t
want to be interrupted.”
Maddie tilted her head back the little that she could so
that her chin was resting on the floor as Franco rejoined his partner and they
began pulling more things out of the doctor’s bag. Each held up what looked
like long pieces of clear, flexible rubber tubing. She didn’t know what they
planned to do with it, but she knew deep down that her torment was just
beginning.
The two men worked quickly and efficiently in binding their
victim with the tubing. First, they tied a piece of it around her ankles, tight
enough to keep them together but loose enough to allow them some flexibility in
how they positioned her. This isn’t so bad, she thought, I can work with this.
But her optimism was short-lived as they bent her legs back so that the metal
blade heels of her Casadei pumps were pressed tightly against her exquisite ass
and then quickly lashed her ankles to her thighs with two more pieces of
tubing. Andre then cut the thong from her ankles, no longer needing it to
secure her.
Madeleine was beginning to regain more of her faculties and
a bit of her strength, but it did her little good as they each grabbed one of
her arms before pulling her up onto her knees as she continued to mmmppphhh and
grunt into her gag. They crossed her wrists in front of her with the palms
facing toward her and quickly wound another piece of tubing around them before
tying it off tightly enough to induce tingling in her fingers. Next, Franco
took her hands and positioned them so that they were cupping her breasts while
Andre wrapped a piece of tubing around her left elbow, threaded the ends behind
her back and ran them around the other elbow before pulling it tight so that
her hands were pressed against her firm orbs, like a lover cupping them from
behind. The tubing was then tied off behind her.
She was much more alert now as her increasing struggles
attested. Madeleine tried in vain to roll onto her side, but Franco was on her
quickly, applying a knee to her lower back to keep her from interfering with
what his partner was about to do. Andre put the finishing touches on Maddie’s
erotic bondage by taking the longest piece of tubing yet and wrapping it once
around her slim neck and running the ends down her back through the tubing
around her elbows and tying it to the tubing around her ankles. Now she knew
why they had tied her hair into a ponytail. It was too keep it from becoming
tangled in her bindings.
They flipped her gently onto her back again before
explaining their plans for her as she looked up at them defiantly and tested
her bonds. They were tight, but the tubing was flexible enough to allow her to
struggle, which they seemed to enjoy watching based on their growing erections.
“Since you give us no information, your body is the only
thing of value left,” Franco said with malice. “G.I.G.O.L.O. will put that
lovely body to good use. We have something very special for you tonight.”
“You were a worthy adversary,” Andre added.
“Not worthy enough,” Franco added with a snicker.
“But we are nearing the end of our little tryst. You are
about to have the distinct pleasure of being a victim of the Torino Triangolo.”
“Whhhhaaa?” Madeleine asked, the gag muffling most of the sound
but her green eyes betraying more than a hint of concern.
“Allow me to explain,” Andre said. “One of the founders of
G.I.G.O.L.O. has been working for many years to perfect the most exquisite
forms of sexual torture to stimulate beautiful women such as you. The Torino
Triangolo may be his erotic masterpiece. Sadly, its only two victims have not
been able to experience its pleasures to the full because they were unable to
withstand the physical demands. Both died of a broken neck.” Maddie mmmppphhhed
anew at this news and renewed her feeble struggles, stretching the tubing but
also tightening the loop around her neck. “One because she was bound with stiff
rope rather than the flexible tubing that restrains you, and one because that
was what those who paid to eliminate her wished.
“You, Mademoiselle
Moreau, seem more than able to withstand the physical rigors, and your confidence
...”
“Arrogance,” Franco interjected.
“Perhaps yes, but those who train us believe that may be
just what we need to fully test the potential of the Torino Triangolo. The
cameras around the bed will be used to record high-definition video and still
images of our petite ménage a trois
for further study as we perfect this technique. It is our good fortune that we
found a woman as strong and beautiful as you and your misfortune that you were
not trained properly and you were sent to do your work alone.
“But now you will not be alone. Oh, no. Franco and I will be
with you to the very end, and if the Triangolo is as effective as we believe it
to be, you will die of pleasure. Your heart will beat so fast and for so long
that it will give out from the strain. To use one of your coarse American
expressions, you will be literally fucked to death.”
Maddie screamed into her gag, but only a high-pitched
“Nnnnnnnnnh” could be heard.
“Shall we begin?” Andre asked rhetorically.
He made his way to the bed, grabbing something from the
doctor’s bag, as Franco lifted Madeleine onto the mattress facing him. He held
her up on her knees as Andre opened a tube and began applying lubricant
liberally to his long, stiff shaft, which seemed to be getting even longer as
he admired Madeleine’s gorgeous, bound form before him. She really was superb.
If she were in their line of work, Andre thought, she could make someone very
rich.
He then pushed the pillows off the mattress and leaned back
against the padded headboard so that he was sitting upright.
“Now it is time for you to join me,” Andre said, motioning
toward his partner who lifted their struggling victim and turned her so that
she was facing away from the headboard. As her knees came to rest on the
mattress with his legs extended between them, he realized this was not going to
work with her blade heel pumps on, so he reluctantly removed them and tossed
them to the floor next to the bed. Then, Andre squeezed more lubricant from the
tube onto his right index finger and inserted it between her perfect ass cheeks
as she tightened her muscles against the penetration. Andre worked it in
deeply, the digit disappearing knuckle by knuckle, as Maddie mmmppphhhed her
displeasure.
When Andre was satisfied that she was ready and he was done
admiring her from behind, he said to Franco, “Monsieur, our damsel, cie vous plait.”
“It will be my pleasure,” Franco said with a sadistic grin.
“If not yours,” he added, looking into Maddie’s wide eyes.
The shorter escort lifted her so that her exquisite derriere
was just above Andre’s shaft and the escort on the bed grasped her hips firmly
as she was slowly lowered onto his throbbing member and he gritted his teeth
and pushed upward into her. Madeleine tilted her head as far back as she could
and looked down out of the corner of her right eye as she grunted at the
painful insertion. At least it was not her first time – even tonight – and he
wasn’t as thick as Franco, she thought, but he was long. Oh, was he long.
By the time Andre’s body was pressed tightly against
Madeleine’s back, she felt as if she was impaled on a flagpole and her
washboard abs trembled at the sensation. “C’est
magnifique,” he said, relishing the feeling of being deep inside this
beautiful young woman. She leaned her head back against his left shoulder and
closed her eyes, trying to think of some way out of this perilous predicament.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the mattress sagging
slightly as Franco joined them on the bed.
“Now we complete the Triangolo,” he said before fingering
her moist opening as Maddie tried in vain to avoid him. Franco could have
forced his way into her in a matter of moments, but this method of pleasuring a
woman required patience and stamina. Both men were certain their patience would
be rewarded later. Her soft, muffled moans and panting confirmed this as he
worked her slowly and deftly.
Once Franco’s fingers were coated with her juices, it was
time to enter her. He inched his way in between Andre’s extended legs and
Madeleine’s spread thighs on his knees until the massive head of his shaft was
mere millimeters from its target. She looked down at the thick, meaty member
that was about to enter her and closed her eyes to brace for the inevitable
insertion. And then he was inside her, parting her lips almost obscenely and
pushing deeper and deeper into her tight wetness as her eyes opened wide and
her mouth did, too, although that was difficult to see behind the thick gag.
“Am I too much for you, signorina?” Franco asked. “Now you
know about a G.I.G.O.L.O., eh,” he added, mocking Madeleine’s earlier defiance.
They almost were too much, she thought. Madeleine Moreau was
utterly full, both passages stuffed with her lovers as lubricant and her juices
dripped onto the satin sheets. I will not let them break me, she thought, but
as they each wrapped their arms around the curves of her body she came to a frightening
realization.
Maddie was figuratively and literally between a rock and a
hard place. She was utterly naked, stripped of her stylish garments and jewelry
and without any of the substances or tools that might have allowed her to free
herself or turn the tables on her captors. And she was unlikely to get any help
from FORCE. Madeleine was supposed to check in with Claire at midnight and 2
a.m., but she had missed check-in times before and even told Claire during one
heated exchange that she didn’t need to be babysat anymore. What she wouldn’t
give right now to see just one of those “babysitters” bursting through the door
to rescue her.
Instead she was caught in something called the Torino
Triangolo, held up by their bodies with Andre using the padded headboard for
support and leverage. With her hands secured to her chest, she could already
feel her heart beating faster. That was the idea behind that part of her
bondage, wasn’t it? Feeling herself losing control of her own body would
heighten the fear and intensity of the experience.
The sinister purpose of this diabolical deathtrap was not to
strangle her to death or break her neck with her bonds but to use those bonds
to heighten every orgasm by inducing at least mild asphyxia and, again, adding
an element of fear to the equation. It was all brilliantly conceived, and now
it was about to be executed along with her.
Madeleine would never let it show, not to these gigolos, but
she was more than a little bit frightened by the ordeal she was facing. Still,
she promised herself, no tears. They will not see me cry.
“We begin,” Franco said as both men began to move and Maddie
with them.
At the start, their strokes were slow and probing as they got
a feel for their victim and what motions and angles of penetration stimulated
her most. Every soft moan that escaped her gagged lips told them more, feeding
them raw data, until both men settled into a synchronized rhythm of pleasure.
Each shaft filled her at the same time, then was slowly withdrawn as she moaned
or mmmppphhhed in time with their hip thrusts.
It wasn’t long before she felt the first orgasm building
inside her. The man giving it to her from the front noticed first as Maddie's
green eyes began to glaze over.
“Si, Signorina, si," Franco whispered. "Let yourself
go. We are only beginning."
She looked back at him and moaned slowly and deeply before
her head tilted back slightly, tightening the tubing around her throat to the
point of asphyxia and the orgasm took hold. Maddie's body quaked and trembled
for a long time as she gasped for ragged breaths, but the two men continued to
pump her slowly and deeply in unison until her head lolled forward onto
Franco's shoulder and her ponytail fell on his chest.
Soon her breathing was less ragged and she appeared more alert.
I can do this, I can outlast them, she told herself. But just when she began to
adjust to their slow rhythmic strokes, Franco said, "Ora, piu veloce!"
("Now, go faster!") and they began to accelerate.
This was not what Maddie needed, but she had little choice
but to go along for the ride. She squeezed her muscles as much as she could in
an attempt to slow them, but it was only temporary as the steady flow of her
juices lubricated her front passage for Franco and Andre bent his knees to gain
leverage for his repeated thrusts into her backside. Soon Maddie was
mmmppphhhing and bouncing along to their beat as sweat coated her gorgeous
body, particularly where the rubber tubing came in contact with her flushed
skin.
After at least 10 minutes of rapid thrusting by both of her
lovers, Madeleine felt the unmistakable tingling building again deep inside
her. This time the passion ignited quickly and she screamed into her gag before
the arching of her back and her desperate but futile attempts to straighten her
long, lovely legs tightened the tubing around her neck again and silenced her.
Both men continued their onslaught, heedless of the effect
it was having on their pretty victim until she tossed her head from side to
side so hard that it hit Franco in the nose. "Troia!"
("Bitch!") he grunted, his rhythm broken momentarily. But he quickly
resumed matching his partner's strokes as Maddie shook violently in the throes
of her second orgasm in the Torino Triangolo. She saw spots before her eyes as
she struggled to breathe and pulled against the tubing around her neck,
straining every muscle in her toned shoulders and neck.
Finally, the waves subsided and Madeleine could breathe
again, but there was no respite for the FORCE agent in the clutches of the men
of G.I.G.O.L.O. Their thrusts in and out of her were unceasing, relentless, as
she struggled to catch her breath. This was exactly what they wanted, exactly
how this erotic deathtrap was supposed to work, and Maddie knew it. But she was
utterly helpless. In fact, they began to increase the speed of their pumping
even more as she shouted "Nnnnnnhhhhh!" through her thick gag. "Mais
oui," Andre whispered in her ear, relishing the effect their
heightened tempo was having on her and turned on even more by her resistance.
Maddie's FORCE training told her to turn her thoughts
inward, but as she tuned out the grunts of the men penetrating her deeply and
repeatedly, she heard her own heart beating louder and louder. She also felt
the rapid beating in her breasts, her intricate bondage forcing her hands
against her rock-hard nipples and heightening the sensation – and the growing
fear that was visible in her eyes and captured in high-def video. Her breaths were
coming quicker and quicker as each of their thrusts into her lifted her
slightly. She tried to push downward with all her might, but it did little to
slow their pumping or break their synchronicity until Franco said, "I must
finish!" His words clearly were directed at Andre, who reluctantly replied,
"Yes, but wait for me, I am almost there."
The two then slowed their thrusting while maintaining their
rhythm until Maddie felt all four of their arms tightening around her in a
crushing embrace. Just as they both tensed and swelled up within her, Maddie's
eyes went wide and she suddenly felt herself about to slip over the edge, too.
The two men and the base of their love triangle, FORCE agent Madeleine Moreau,
climaxed as one.
The two men broke their rhythm and satiated themselves with
a series of spasmodic thrusts as they filled the beautiful woman bound between
them. Their thick, sticky semen mixed with a steady stream of her juices that
utterly soaked the bedding beneath them as all three pushed upward. Maddie was
suspended in midair between them, impaled on their shafts as her head tilted
back in a silent scream of ecstasy.
The two escorts, trained as they were, simply caught their
breath and resumed their thrusting. Their members were not flaccid, but they were
not as formidable as they had been a few minutes earlier. Maddie breathed a
sigh of relief as she tried to slow the rapid beating of her heart, but the
respite was short-lived.
"Alternato!" Franco said
authoritatively and as Andre heeded his command and placed his hands atop hers
over her trembling breasts, Maddie's green eyes widened again as she quickly
realized what that command meant.
If she had become accustomed to their synchronized thrusts
into her, now she had to contend with an entirely different rhythm of
stimulation. As Franco's thickening shaft pushed into her front passage,
Andre's longer, thinner shaft, slid out of her anal passage. Then the roles were
reversed, Andre pushing in and Franco withdrawing. Their strokes were
deliberately slow at first as they found their rhythm and watched for the
effect this change in their approach had on their victim.
They didn’t have to wait long. Madeleine's back started to
slowly arch, her legs cramping as the searing pain in her calves and thighs and
the acute ache in her pelvis and her buttocks muscles overtook the wave of
pleasure building in her loins despite her best attempts to fight it. Her heart
was racing, the throttle fully open now, as Maddie bounced between their
probing shafts and her glistening body jiggled and shook. The puddle underneath
them was now spreading as she climaxed yet again. "Si, la mia belleza, si,"
("Yes, my beauty, yes") Franco whispered as the two men smiled at
each other knowingly.
Maddie's head tilted far back onto Andre's right shoulder
and her lungs burned as the tubing cut off her air supply and her heart raced
even faster. She wasn't 't sure how much more she could take before they either
tore her apart or literally broke her heart, but she resolved that she wasn't
going to go without a fight. The auburn-haired beauty threw her head from side
to side and thrashed about as much as her bondage would allow, forcing both men
to grip her more tightly with their arms to get her under control as her hair
hit them both in the face. She was nearly there, both thought. Now it was time
to see what the Torino Triangolo could really do to a woman. And what better
woman to do it to than the auburn-haired goddess who had fallen into their
trap.
Franco started the final surge, since Maddie was still
involuntarily lubricating him. He quickened the pace of his thrusting
dramatically and Andre went with him. In a matter of moments, she was rocking
backward and forward to an entirely new rhythm and her breathing and heartbeat were
racing along with them. For every two strokes by Franco, Andre countered with
one. It was an entirely new level of stimulation for which no woman in Maddie's
position could have been prepared. But instead of fighting against the tide,
the fiery redhead decided she had one last hope. Maybe instead of them breaking
her, she could break them.
Mustering her last reserve of energy, the FORCE agent began
to push against her tormentors with everything she had and tried to match their
thrusts with pelvic thrusts of her own. She was soon pounding up and down upon
their shafts in a sexual frenzy that shook the bed and its three occupants
violently. Both men suddenly looked at each other with concern and even alarm
as they tried to keep up with her, afraid that they were losing control of the
situation and of their victim.
Maddie's hands trembled as she could no longer distinguish
single heartbeats in her breasts. Grunts, mmmppphhhs and moans so loud that
even the Regina Hotel Baglioni's superior soundproofing could not contain them
to the room filled the air as their bodies merged into one pulsing, throbbing
mass. Higher and higher their passion rose, their bodies surging upward from
the mattress, until all three tensed and the two men erupted deep within
Madeleine. As they emptied themselves, her body shook with the strongest orgasm
either gigolo had ever drawn out of a woman. Both men sagged from exhaustion,
their flaccid members quickly slipping from within her as their chests heaved
and they struggled to breathe.
When they finally were able to move, Maddie was not. Franco looked
up at her beautiful face. The blank look in her eyes told him that they had
won, that the Torino Triangolo really could break a woman's heart, that the
throes of her greatest orgasm were also her death throes. She had fought the
good fight, taken everything they could give and then some and nearly killed
them with her own skills and her sheer will to live. But as Andre and Franco
slowly slipped off the bed and began untying the tubing from her lifeless body,
Madeleine Moreau was gone.
Gina Perini had a much longer ride from her apartment on the
outskirts of the city to the Regina Hotel
Baglioni, but she had a significant head start, so she was the first to
arrive, beating Carlo and Jessica.
When the doors to Gina’s elevator opened, she quickly made
her way down the hall toward Room 321 and saw a housekeeping cart propping open
the door. As she got closer, the housekeeper was yelling something about a body
to a couple of policemen and Gina’s heart almost stopped.
When she got to the room, the housekeeper was telling the
police that someone had called about an early checkout and asked to have the
room cleaned right away. When she saw the body, she immediately called the
manager, who called the police.
Gina waited for a moment when the policemen were distracted,
entered the room and turned to the open bedroom door to the left. Then she saw
her.
Madeleine Moreau's
body was propped up sitting against the headboard in a puddle of bodily fluids,
still gagged. Her beautiful green eyes stared into space. Her lifeless body
bore ligature marks at the neck, wrists, elbows, thighs and ankles.
The sheets were in a pile at the foot of the bed. Maddie’s dress
was draped over a chair and her thong was on the floor next to the bed beside
her designer shoes, which were sitting upright as if she had just stepped out
of them.
Jessica didn’t need to see this, Gina thought. She wasn’t
ready. But as she turned to intercept her friend, it was too late. Jessica and
Carlo were standing behind her, Carlo holding up his police ID for the uniformed
officers.
“No, Maddie! Noooooooo!” Jessica screamed when she saw the
young agent’s body.
Gina grabbed Jessica by the shoulders and pulled her out
into the hallway as her friend shouted to no one in particular, “Cover her up!
You can’t leave her like that! Please cover her up!”
Gina hugged her tightly as Jessica sobbed uncontrollably and
Carlo escorted them from the room.
Gina took Jessica back to her apartment while Carlo went
about the business of investigating the murder of Madeleine Moreau. Gina also
surreptitiously gathered intel for FORCE, but she was also deeply concerned
about Jessica.
It was a couple of hours before the fashion designer had
calmed down. Once her head cleared from the shock and fatigue, she realized she
didn’t even have Carlo’s phone number, so she couldn’t text or call him. Eventually,
a strong sedative had her sleeping in the bed in Gina’s guest room.
When she woke up early in the evening, she found a note from
Gina saying she had some business to attend to, but that she would be back soon.
Jessica suddenly felt scared and very alone. The first person she thought of
was Rachel, so she called her friend.
Rachel Sparks obviously had heard the news, but she didn’t
have much more in the way of details. She was doing better than Jessica, but
that wasn’t saying much. They shared a good cry for a while and Rachel realized
just how hard Maddie’s death had hit her friend. She struggled to talk her off
the ledge, to keep her calm until Gina returned to the apartment, but the
conversation was as much to help her come to grips with the loss as it was to
help Jessica.
"We knew this could happen to Maddie, to any of them --
even to us," Rachel said fatalistically.
"I knew something could happen,"
Jessica replied, "but not this."
"I saw the report, Jess."
"You didn't see her, Rache, what they did to
her," she sobbed. "She was so beautiful, inside and out, and to see
her body like that ..."
"I know, Jess, I know."
"She was the first agent who trusted us with her life,
who really believed in us," Jessica said through another wave of tears.
"I know we're not supposed to get emotionally involved, attached, but
..."
"We're all sisters, Jess,” Rachel said, barely keeping
it together now herself. “I know how much a death in the family hurts."
"Then you know what we have to do," Jessica said,
her voice full of anger and resolve now.
"Not now, not when it's this raw," Rachel said,
trying to defuse a potential disaster. "Give it time."
"Time won't ever take this hurt away," Jessica said
firmly. "Maddie deserves justice. If FORCE can’t give her justice, what’s
the point of any of this?"
"She'll get it," Rachel said, "but not now
and not recklessly. That just gets us killed, too.
"When the time is right, the full might of FORCE will
come down on whoever did this. Claire and Lady Alice will see to it. You know
they will. And it will be when we're ready and whoever did this is not."
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