Fashionista - Chapter 05

By Steve and Hklaw

Gina reached the room seconds before Jessica, as it turned out.  She flashed an ID card at the guard standing outside the door and walked in immediately, making the sign of the cross.  She walked about, turning slowly and surveying the room, then did the same in the other rooms before going over to the bed, where Madeleine sat propped up against the headboard, still gagged but no longer bound.

She made the sign again and exited the room, turned the corner and entered the stairwell.  A few taps on her smartphone, a few deep breaths and she waited until someone on the other end picked up.

“Gina Perini, GOLF PAPA 4501ZGP Code Black,” she said and there was an immediate pickup.  “It’s Madeleine, initiate sequence eradicate.”

Within seconds there were multiple pickups on the line, some voices sharp and alert, others surfacing from sleep but quickly becoming attuned, all unfortunately had done this before.

“I’ve got the video from Gina’s broach,” Allison said. “Tapping in, will confirm when all sequenced.”

“Acknowledged, file access granted to all authorized users, link sent,” came another voice at control.

“Tapped in,” Allison said into the call.

“Eradication in 3 2 1, now,” came the voice from control.

“Everyone knows the drill, conference room in one hour. Let’s work this people,” Claire said.

*             *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *                         

Claire walked into the room, decidedly not dressed as she usually was: jeans, black suede ballet flats and her Oldham College sweat top.  She joined Allison Janney, Intelligence Head, and Alice Hamilton, Operations Head. Each had two others with them who were busy on laptops.

“Ok, tell me where we are and what we’ve got so far,” Claire asked and looked at Allison.

“The tracking devices in her suitcase, dress bag and jewelry case were activated immediately after Gina called.  The suitcase and dress bag show no movement since then, the jewelry case shows movement, which you see on your screen. However, we also have a secondary signal coming from several pieces that are going in another direction. Again, see the screen on your laptop.  This would indicate obviously two separate carriers,” she answered.

“Why would you not put it all in one case and take it or just take a few pieces?” Claire mused.

“We wondered that, too, until we checked her phone log and found this,” Allison answered.  “A text from this number and that number belongs to this woman, Katarina Meier. Now, perhaps not so coincidentally, when we ping her phone the co-ordinates match exactly,” she added.

“Does she have the box or the pieces?” Claire asked.

“The box,” Allison answered.

“Any calls or texts on her phone that indicate that she has it or people asking if she has it?” Alice asked.

“None so far,” one of Allison’s assistances answered.

“Where is she now?” Alice said.

“On a train to Berlin, arriving in two hours’ time,” the second assistant of Allison said.  “She’s in Car 3, Seat 7A.”

“Assets are on the way to intercept her,” Allison answered before Claire or Alice could ask.  “The other pieces appear to still be in Rome, slow moving, I would presume from the speed, walking,” the first assistant said again anticipating the question.

Claire was proud of this and praise would come later for Allison and her team, but now it was total focus and intel gathering.

“Analysis and recommendations, anyone?”  Alice asked.

“Ah, based on what I see and what we know, perhaps just using pure extrapolation logic, which I admit does have logical fallacies, I would postulate the following: The person who has the jewelry box is the person who owns the phone that sent the text to Madeleine; she would be to set up person for the other two.  It is possible that she got intel off of Maddie’s phone when it accepted that text.  The hotel Maddie was staying in does allow for the guest to use their smartphone as a key to their room.  If she had this data, it is not unreasonable to infer that she would also, by means of the same intrusion software, know that Maddie made an appointment.  Knowing the time, she could simply show up, use her phone and gain access to the room.  A person who aides and abets a crime is 10 times more likely to commit a crime themselves.  She simply sees a chance to profit twice from the same crime, payment for the lead and selling what she steals.”

“And the other pieces?” Claire asked leaning forward a little.

“Probably taken from Maddie after she was killed, either as a trophy, to sell or in the worst-case scenario, the two males extracted intel from her either sell to another group or to study and see if they can use it,” she added.

“I’m really sorry. I know we’ve met before, but right now I can’t remember your name,” Claire said looking embarrassed.

“Elsa Englehardt. That is all right,” she answered.

“Go on,” Claire urged.

“Well, we know its two males because of the video Gina sent us,” Elsa continued. “I don’t want to say anything else here. I think that part is self-evident.  Historical data says that a woman enclosed by two males has a 62 percent chance of being killed. However, those odds go down to 45 percent if her height is 5-foot-9 or taller, which means that Maddie, being 5-9, was more than capable of escape. Her training records prove that.  The faint marks on her wrists, ankles, elbows, thighs and neck indicate she was bound well. That all but finished her by making her odds of survival less than 10 percent.

“She really never had a chance, but that data, again extrapolated, says a couple of things.  One, these males are not proficient in immobilization without external devices.  Two, they clearly are not confident without some kind of restraint against a female, and three, they had to drain her of strength before they started,” she said.

“How can you tell that?” Alice asked.

Elsa tapped a few keys and up came Gina’s video on the big screen.  The analyst froze the screen.

“Right here, take a look at the carpet. Then,” she said panning out a little, ”look at the carpet here. The deep pile goes just the other way slightly and in far too rectangular a pattern to be random.”

Elsa even manipulated the screen, tilting the picture sideways and comparing the two sections side by side in a cross view.  “She was fatigued here, most likely to the point where they could bind her, then she was moved to the bed. They tried to cover their tracks, but failed.”

“The movement has stopped on the individual pieces. Sharing the coordinates and a street view,” said the other analyst.

“Your recommendations, Elsa?” Claire asked.

“Grab the woman on the train, but do it so no one becomes suspicious. Take her to a safe house where we can ask her for intel,” Elsa responded, then added before Alice could say anything.  “And if she doesn’t cooperate, we ask her not so nicely.’

“Then what?” Claire asked.  She already knew, but wanted to hear what this very bright young woman would say.

“We act on the intel, gather more, then formulate a plan and, yes, we kill her after we’ve wrung everything we can out of her,” Elsa stated.

That outcome surprised some people in the room, but not Allison. She knew her team. They felt the loss just as keenly as did the others and wanted revenge as well, but revenge with logic applied not emotion.

“As for the two that have stopped, I’d recommend the self-destruct on the jewelry once they are indoors and relatively isolated. It should set off a fire, which will allow us to get in with the fire department and extract more intel, and if we’re fortunate grab someone from the group responsible for this. Perhaps in the confusion we could inject one with a drug and sweep them out and into our confines.”

“Anyone else have anything to add, for or against?” Claire said and saw nothing but smiles all about.

“Excellent, Allison. You’re point on this, but Elsa this is your show. You execute the plan, and don’t be afraid to ask for help or resources.  We’ve all been through this before. We know what to do. Let’s make it happen,” Claire said and the meeting broke up.

Just as fast, Elsa was on her phone and typing away on her laptop. Things were well in motion.

Claire left the room confident in results sooner rather than later.

*             *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *             

Jessica slowed and stilled in the Forearm-Stand Scorpion Pose, an extremely difficult position for yoga, but not for her.  She closed her eyes and let go of concentration, her body doing its job while her mind meditated. Her naked form dappled in the early-morning sunlight of New Delhi streaming in through the penthouse windows of her hotel room.  She was nearly there, a deep meditative state, when it flashed and was gone in an instant, her mind alive with the world around her.

“Damn!” she said under her breath and slowly lowered herself in an Eight-Angle Pose which she held and then transitioned into a Firefly pose and finally into a Lotus Position where she tried again and failed.

“Come on Jess, it’s been two weeks. It’s not like it was a long relationship, just a night. You should be over this already,” she remonstrated to herself as she opened a bottle of distilled water and took a pull.

 

Jessica Collins, Fashionista to the Spies as the agents had started to call her as a sign of respect and inclusion,  knew it was not her terrific night with Carlo and the fact that see missed him.  No, she knew she would see him again. Or at least she hoped she would, but after how it ended she wasn’t sure even of that.

It was the other life-changing event that had happened in Rome from which she was still reeling.

Jessica and Carlo had just finished what was for both of them the most exotic position they had ever tried and were resting in each other’s arms. She remembered just touching and light kissing, hands exploring each other in sweeping warm caresses.  She had just started to fondle his ample manhood again and felt it respond. They smiled at each other and she rolled on top, straddling him, the silk sheet sliding off the contours of her beautiful body as her hands skillfully played with his ever-solidifying stem. Jessica leaned over to kiss him a few times and prepared to guide him in for the final session of their glorious tryst when her phone shifted on the night table as it buzzed in announcement. 

Jessica remembered looking at Carlo and then the phone and back at him. She was unsure what to do, pleasure or business.  She remembered she never made a decision; she simply gracefully slipped off of him, grabbed the phone and sat on the edge of the bed. 

The title of the message simply read “Ripped Seam”, her code for an emergency with an agent – and not a fashion emergency.  Jessica didn’t realize it at that time, but the mere fact that she slid off the man she passionately wanted to couple with again and that she had been included in FORCE’s high-level security made her more of an agent than she knew.   She got up and walked away from the bed casually and entered the special code to read the message, when Carlo’s phone went off.  He sprung from the bed upon reading it and threw on his clothes as quickly as he could.  Hopping on one leg and her pulled on the other, he came over and gave Jessica a kiss, explaining that he had to go. It was police business and seeing the shocked look on her face, which he interpreted as hurt, he showed her the text.

“A murder,” he said.

 It was then Jessica’s heart sank. The address was a nearby five-star hotel. She didn’t need to be a Field’s Medal winner to put two and two together. Then something else happened and her mind started to formulate a lie to tell Carlo.

“I … I have a friend staying in a nearby hotel, a former model of mine. We’re quite close. Could I get a ride over there with you,” she said, not really acting.

“Of course, bella, of course. I’m sure she is fine,” Carlo answered as Jessica pulled on her clothes as well.

The acting came in the car. Carlo tried to reassure her that everything was fine. Yes, it was a nearby luxury hotel, but the chances of it being her friend were very small.  She cheered up to fool him, but knew all along what awaited her. The pre-dawn Rome sped by in a blur of lights and forgotten conversation.  The memory faded as she remembered Gina appearing for a bit, then disappearing, only to appear again and take her back to her place.

Carlo called for her the next day. She wanted him, wanted to feel his warm reassuring body against hers.  They tried, but Jessica just couldn’t. The lovemaking was all her idea and at her insistence, and when she pulled away just as they were about to join she could only imagine what Carlo must have been thinking.  Instead, he understood, which just made it harder and made her feel more guilty.  They couldn’t after that and hadn’t tried, better put she couldn’t and hadn’t even tried to overcome it, instead she just sunk deeper down the rabbit hole until it was mercifully the day she had to move on to her next stop.

All Carlo got for his troubles was a kiss on the cheek and a weak hug. He didn’t mind, his tender touch to her cheek saying more than any words could.  She wiped a tear from her eye as she recalled it, then pushed to the surface and reality once again. 

It was what psychiatrists called “survivor’s guilt.” Jessica simply could not get over the fact that while she and Carlo had been “romping around like college kids,” as she put it, Madeleine was being slowly executed. Or, as Rachel had told her in this profession and with this means of death, “sexecuted.”  Whatever you called it and no matter how hard she tried, Jessica still felt guilty as hell about it and she’d avoided dealing with it even though help had come her way in the form of other agents who knew what she was going through.  The emails always had the same title, something along the lines of, “I remember the first time someone I was close to was killed.”

Jessica looked up and then over to the sofa where her laptop lay with the emails she had so far refused to open.  She walked over, powered it up and began to read them.

*             *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *     

       

Rachel was staying at a villa in a resort at Orient Bay on the English side of St. Maarten.  The drive from the airport was fine. The view, especially in the suped up Mini she’d rented – with 226 Hp under the hood – was nothing until you crested the ridge in the middle of the island and saw the azure ocean spreading out before you. Rachel had to stop the car and take a few pictures with her cellphone.  The drive down to Orient Bay was beautiful on the twisting road and uneventful. She checked in and was escorted to her villa, passing by the pool where she noticed people giving her a look.  She smiled at them all, even the ones, mostly women, who were none too happy with the sudden uptick in competition she provided. 

“Funny, a few months ago I never would have thought of myself as competition for anyone, but I belong here. If I was that kind of woman, they would need to be worried,” she thought as she walked along, her white cotton dress still somehow smooth and crisp in spite of the ride.  It clung to her in all the right places, defining her shape, showing her tantalizing outline to the onlookers. 

He heels clicked a little more as she walked. The men noticed her body and style, the women picked up on the heel clicking as they recognized the secret code it transmitted.

Rachel was shown about her villa, a luxurious main room, with a Bang and Olufsen sound system, a 60-inch flat-screen smart TV, instant internet connectivity complete with direct voice link portals for room service and housekeeping facilities, a bar, sink and fridge, fully stocked,  done in beautiful mahogany.  The valet led the way into the bedroom, just down a small hallway.  The room was all sliding doors on one side, light streamed in, bathing the space in a warm glow and the breeze moved the white gauze curtains in a slow, waving motion.  Those windows looked out onto the beach just a short distance away as the land fell down to the turquoise water.  There was a private patio, complete with a semicircular section of four double-seated benches for lounging and a magnificent water/flame centre piece.  The valet explained both could be run at the same time and showed her how to use the remote.

He gestured to the inside and Rachel followed back into the bedroom to fully take in its extravagance.  The king-size bed, complete with a very ornate wrought iron black headboard, sat against an angled wall to the windows, allowing the sleeper to control the amount of breeze allowed in via a console that opened and closed the windows and sheers from a bedside table.  It was explained that if the silk sheets were unsatisfactory, she could change then to any other kind she wanted.  The room had several comfy chairs, a love seat that faced a built-in wall fireplace that the valet explained generated no heat but a very nice ambiance.  A desk, a vanity and a massive walk-in closet finished the space.

Off to the side was the bathroom, in a size Rachel had never seen before. 

The space just looked so inviting.  In the corner was the consummate shower.  Above a series of six rows of multi-headed openings, Rachel guessed maybe 120 or more in total, allowed water to tumble onto you.  Jets at the front, back and side just added to the experience.  A master control on the inside allowed the user to control the water temperature, the types of water distribution, from mist to rainforest to downpour mode and everything in between.  The control panel allowed the user to set individual jets to various distributions; it even had a radio with presets for types of music.  She was shown how to use it and secretly the spy could not wait to try it.

They exited the room and Rachel watched as the valet set up her suitcase and travel bag and started to open them. Part of the service was completed patron care, including unpacking and packing.  Rachel stepped in a stopped him with a polite smile and a very generous tip to cover the moment.  Two things she knew from training: always unpack your own things and tip generously – one for obvious reasons given the exotic nature of some of the apparel and accoutrements they carried and the other because it set you up with the staff and you never knew when you might need a favour.

Rachel opened her travel bag first and began arranging things on the vanity and into the lockable drawer.  Into it went her gun, a Beretta 21A Bobcat, as well as the extra clip.  She followed that with her more esoteric jewelry, all courtesy of Alvice.  She locked it using the keycard for her room and moved on to her cosmetics, which she arranged neatly on the vanity.  She remembered wondering aloud during her training why these would not be locked up given the rather dangerous nature of some of them. 

“Yes, it does seem strange, but given that they are all genetically imprinted to you and activate only when in contact with your skin they pose no danger to others and more importantly no value to an enemy,” she recalled Adele explaining to the class. 

All those girls had gone on to careers as agents, all except her.

“Well, not any longer Rachel. Here you are back in the game, well at least on the verge of it,” she said opening her suitcase.

A smile came over her as she picked up and read the note on top.

“I replaced a few of your outfits, namely a cocktail dress, a gown, a nightgown and BOTH your bikinis.  Come on Rache, you have an eye- popping – and hopefully other parts will be popping, if you get my meaning – body.  What are you doing covering them up with conservative choices?  I replaced both with less.  Have a good mission and let the bikini do the work!” – Jessica

Rachel allowed herself a small smirk as she put away her clothes, looking at the choices her friend had made for her.  She picked out one of the bikinis. She had time to freshen up a little and make it in time for lunch.  The freshened-up product took one final look in the mirror.  Her topical print bandeau bikini, a Jessica pic, hugged

her in all the huggable places.  Her white wedge sandals just elevated her already spectacular legs to stratospheric heights.  The spy turned in the mirror, her head craning over her shoulder as she giggled and danced a little, her firm butt and thighs wiggling and rippling respectively from the motion while her calves flexed and displayed a hypnotizing dance.  This was the best she’d ever looked – cool, confident and dangerous, if need be.  She blew a kiss into the mirror, picked up her towel from the chair back, confidently swung it over one shoulder, picked up her small bag and left to join the others poolside.

Eyes bounced in heads as she turned the corner and entered, the muscles in her thighs snapping with each step, her small wiggle catching the group – both men and women – in their thrall.  She smiled and greeted everyone, making introductions all round, then joining the line at the buffet as chivalrous men offered to let her go in front of them and multiple males offer her a plate.  Rachel knew the truth, they all wanted the unseeing freedom to stare at her ass rather than be caught staring at parts she could see them doing.  This was all new to Rachel and she lapped it up.  She’d been in on agent debriefings and tales the agents themselves told about how they commanded the room or drew looks from everyone.  She always kept quiet during those tales and hoped she faded into the background where she thought she belonged.

The foreground feels pretty good, she thought as she smiled at a male guest who offered to put some fruit on her plate. And I belong in it, she told herself before dropping her towel at her feet and bending over in full stretch to pick it up effortlessly.  Behind concealing sunglasses men narrowed their focus and then closed their eyes as she came up to full height, a few even had to turn away toward the buffet table to conceal their arousal.  Rachel, her feminine training and her spy training noted the moments just as she had noted and catalogued everyone at poolside.  Her training was indeed coming back, she noted, as she sashayed off to an empty lounge chair.

“Hope this one isn’t taken?” she said to man lying in the lounger beside the one she now stood over.

He looked up, Rachel noted directly into her eyes, and answered with a polite smile that it was not and got up as she came round to his side and, legs firmly together, lowered her petite and lovely shaped bottom down onto the chair, swung her legs up, again together, and down onto the lower part of the lounger with just the slightest of bend of them at the knee giving the set a tense, toned look.

“David Jacobs,” he said, extending a hand that she took with a smile. 

His handshake was firm but soft. “The way it should be with a woman,” Rachel noted.

He was in his late 20s, she surmised.  Five-foot-10, with black hair styled in a Wall Street business fashion.  Just from his brief introduction Rachel could tell he was from New York and his manner indicated professional and used to dealing with women.  He wore swim trunks, nothing like a Speedo, that many “punters” as she called them wore.  No, his were classic, well-fitted European ones, the kind that confident men wear and are not concerned by what other people say.  He did have on a loose, oversized, classically bad Hawaiian shirt.  Don Ho will never die, Rachel thought.  What she could see of his body, arms and legs indicated he took very good care of himself.  Runner’s legs, she noted.

All this happened in a flash, her training, long dormant, was reawakened and she slipped into it without a second thought.  She picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of pineapple bringing it to her mouth in a slow fashion as her mouth opened just enough to allow her lips to slip over it.  She smiled as she tasted the sweet and sour, her eyes fixed on him and what he had on his plate.

“Ironic or silly, we come to an island in a tropical paradise and neither of us can enjoy  a great deal of what the sea has to offer,” she said, her fork piercing a slice of mango that slid inside her mouth, her tongue circling about to catch the last droplets of nectar on her lips.

He looked up from his magazine with a glance that told her he heard what was said but was unsure how to answer, so Rachel picked it up for him.

“Oh, come on, it’s obvious, but since you’re going to make me spell it out, OK, I’ll play along.  Neither one of us has any shellfish – you know, crab, lobster, shrimp, oyster – on our plate and the buffet is full to overflowing with all those items prepared at least five different ways.  Plus, the fact your last name is Jacobs, oh, yes and sorry, I’m Rachel Sparks,” she said.

“OK, Miss Sparks, I’ll play along. This is interesting and the company is better, more so than this magazine,” he said, giving a glance to the discarded item now beside him as he turned to face her.  “What makes you think that was my first plate. This may have been my second or even third time around the buffet. You know when it’s all-you-can-eat, people tend to over indulge,” he said in a light way.

Playful, she thought but let on no outward sign to that effect.  “Oh, no, you do not get toned legs and arms like that from too many trips to the buffet line.  Now as for the rest of you, I cannot tell, but I will concede that shirt certainly could hide any cocktail sauce stain or any other kind of stain and no one would be the wiser.”

Rachel gave the shirt a look and then right to his eyes went hers, meaning she expected a response, It was a challenge most people could not resist and he proved no exception.

“A guilty pleasure. Ever since ‘Magnum P.I.’ I always wanted one. This, unfortunately, was the only size they had in the shop, but it does have its upside. It keeps the sun off of me, as I misplaced the sunscreen and the store doesn’t have any until tomorrow.  But short answer is your initial assumptions were correct. Are you a detective and where can I go to get arrested by you?” David answered with a smile and a laugh at the end to indicate a joke.

“No, sorry, not a detective. Just like seeing how much I can surmise about people and their lives from the evidence in front of me, a game to keep my mind active.  I’m an agent for a resort conglomerate and I have the very hard job of checking out places such as this and other rough spots to see if we’re interested in adding them to our group.  Yes, it,s hell, but I somehow manage,” she smiled and laughed back.  “So, I can’t arrest you, but perhaps I can help you with your other problem,” she said reaching into her small bag and pulling out a bottle of sunscreen.  “That shirt has got to go. Either that or I have to get darker sunglasses.”

“You just want to see what’s underneath,” he added as he removed his shirt.

Rachel was not disappointed; she knew she wouldn’t be.  He had a classic runner’s body and he worked out. He was lean and muscled just enough, but too much, not like some agents she knew who were workout fiends.  No, David Jacobs was just perfect, his body having the slight V configuration, but not stark.  His chest was smooth and his stomach muscles did show when he tensed or moved from side to side and it was flat.  His shoulders and arms trim and well-defined.

“I see I got here just in time.  Any whiter and they’d been hanging you up with the laundry.  Tell you what, I’ll do your back if you do mine,” she said with a sly smile. 

“Who could refuse that?” David said as she turned her back to him and he very gentlemanly did her back, his hands never straying.  Rachel was secretly hoping for just a little stray, but in the end she was happy it didn’t happen and instead she contented herself with how smooth and stronger his application was. 

“So what do you do in the real world?” Rachel asked as she bent forward, tensing her back for him to see and the implicit invite to slide his hands down. 

“I have the newly invented job title of Data Scientist.  One day I hope to become a Mad Data Scientist,” David said with a smile as she turned around to face him. 

“A numbers man, or should I say a numbers-within-the-numbers man.  What is your specialty?” Rachel asked.

“Exploratory data analysis, with specific regard to asset management, vertical and horizontal integration and future market trends,” he answered.

“In other word, acquisition, both long- and short-term,” Rachel responded, causing him to raise an eyebrow. 

“I have an MBA,” she offered.  “As I would say so do you, but to continue our detective game let me speculate and say you also have at least a B.A. in Math, mostly likely in statistical analysis and I’m just going to say, purely speculation here, a master’s in Applied Science heavy on the analytics.”

He leaned away and looked nervous, Rachel sensing she may have gone too far but knowing that any move toward him or to allay fear would just exacerbate the situation.

“You do know that statistically what you just said is into the tens of thousands of being right. How do you do it?” he finally said.

Rachel was relieved. His response meant she hadn’t blown it and he was, like her, intellectually curious and had to know in spite of the wariness.

“It’s very simple.  Your magazine, Intellectual Games and Theorems, kind of gives away the math angle.  I know that publication and you have to be at least an honours math major to do it, and most of the puzzles and problems are stats-based as they tend to mimic the real world.  Simple extrapolation that if you are an honours math graduate, why not do the one more year for the master’s as it’s worth, what is it something like 20 grand more in starting pay?  You actually gave me most of the clues when you told me what you did for a living. Deductive reasoning as Holmes would say,” she added and got up came over and sat beside him.

David didn’t move away.

“I promise no more of that.  Let’s just eat our lunch and talk and maybe do a few things this place offers. After all, I have to remind myself I am here to work, but work can be fun if you have the right partner,” she said looking at him.  “Would you care to help me evaluate this place? The more data the better and what better data than an actual guest,” she said.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, there’s parasailing this afternoon and a snorkeling session after that and then, of course, later there’s dinner and dancing,” she explained.

“You need to find out how good the guest’s dancing skills are?” he asked, a grin crossing his face.

“My organization expects a thorough report of all my interactions with this facility,” she offered, the unspoken intention filling the space between them.  “Now show me how to solve one these problems,” she said, picking up the magazine from behind him and moving a little closer to him.

The parasailing and snorkeling sessions were fantastic. They both had a great time and never ran out of things to say to each other, Rachel recalled, as she prepared for dinner.  She liked him, but that hadn’t prevented her from checking him out with FORCE.  He came back fine; everything about him Rachel had divined was true, she was happy it was. Would have been just my luck to strike up a relationship with an enemy agent, she thought as she finished her makeup and gave herself a final look in the full-length mirror next to the vanity.

Rachel knew she’d picked the right dress when she saw David’s eyes dilate the second after she opened the door to her villa. It was a white cotton/linen blend strapless fit-and –flare number that fit her perfectly, thanks to the exact digital measurements she and Jessica kept on file for every FORCE agent. It also had a unique feature, the kind for which Jessica’s outfits had become known. Even though the dress was strapless, the back was open from just below a bandeau-style strap to the top of her exquisite ass, which she noticed David checking out as she turned to kiss him on the cheek. A pair of silver ankle-wrap stilettos completed the look perfectly.

 She scooped up her clutch and slipped her hand into his and they made their way along the path, skirted the pool and moved along the ocean walkway, feeling the lovely off-shore breeze and enjoying the smell of gardenias, alpinias and hibiscus that grew alone the path’s edge. They came to a large gazebo-like structure with pergolas that ran off it at each of the six sides.  The centre main structure was the dance floor with the dining area off of it.  The lighting was provided by fairy lights and gaily-coloured bulbs, giving it a kind of refined carnival feel.  Potted and hung plants of citronella added a delightful lemon scent with the added bonus of keeping away the insects.  Their table was off in a corner, tea lights illuminating it.

David envied the waiter as he held the chair for Rachel to slip into. He satisfied himself with watching her elegantly glide into it.

 

They did the usual, had drinks, made small talk and ordered, both very selective about what they ate, keeping to light, healthy foods and nothing heavy. Both had fresh fruit for dessert.

Now comes the hard part, I can feel it building, David said to himself, his thoughts screaming at near-panic levels as he watched the meals of guests around being finished and the final dishes being cleared away.  Then the music started.

“I think we need to be the ice breakers,” Rachel said as she looked at the desolate dance floor.  “Come on, I’m not that good, either,” she said, seeing the look on his face as she took his hand and he followed doing the best he could to make it look like he was in charge of the situation. Just as they got onto the floor the music changed to a slow beat.

Great!  OK, don’t panic, keep a friendly distance and work out some problem in your head while smiling and enjoying yourself, he thought as Rachel came close, very close and his strategy disappeared. 

While he was wondering what she thought of him, Rachel was thinking what she had done to cause this reaction.  She was a spy, of course, but she had been out of the game for so long and not thought of herself as the classic, desirable female fatale.  Her training as a spy and a woman, however, kicked in. Her face gave no indication of it, even though her lower region could feel the very ample hardness against it. 

“You lied. You’re a very good dancer,” she said looking at him before placing her cheek next to his.

David drank in her perfume and remembered nothing until the dance ended except how wonderful she felt next to him. 

The rest of the evening was passed in a similar manner, and soon they were walking back to the villas hand in hand as they had begun the evening.  She could sense he was nervous about what would happen next. She was unsure, as well.  It had been a while since she’d been with anyone. Work with Jessica had pretty much swallowed up every free minute, and she didn’t regret a single moment of that because it had led directly to this – her chance as an agent – and that’s when it hit her.  She had business to complete. Granted, it wasn’t until two days hence, but it was business before pleasure, Rachel told herself.

“Would you like to go for a run with me tomorrow morning?” she said as they stopped in front of her place.

When he answered in the affirmative, she quickly added.  “Excellent, I’ll meet you at the gate at say 8 a.m.”

The simple answer accomplished its goal. They weren’t sleeping together tonight.

He never pushed or tried to change her mind, and Rachel was thankful he was a true gentleman, because she knew if he had she would have gone willingly, even eagerly, and his behavior just made her want him more.  She gave him a very disappointing, for both of them, kiss on the cheek. 

“Stupid fucking rule!” she said when the door had closed behind her.

*             *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *    

        

Rachel smiled as David approached. She’d just finished her warm-up stretches and was ready to go.  David, for his part was now sorry he’d done his warm-ups in his suite instead of with her. Rachel had on short, white spandex shorts and a matching halter running top. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was pulled up and tied with a sea green scrunchie. The last fleeting glimpse of her bending over as he rounded the corner was almost enough to illicit a lie of having not done his stretching yet, but he ruled it out and instead greeted her with a smile.

“How far do you want me to push you?” she teased a little.

“I usually do 10K,” he answered, unsure if she was teasing or serious.

She had the body of an athlete, and in the back of his mind there was a growing fear that maybe she was out of his league, in more ways than one.

“Today is not a usual day.  Come on, try and keep up,” the spy said as she started off.

David soon found out she wasn’t kidding. Rachel set a brisk pace on the flats and even worse a faster pace going uphill.  He kept up, but barely for almost the whole way. The last half-kilometer was all hill as Rachel pulled away and he tried to up his game, but his rubbery legs had other ideas.  Still, he consoled himself, the view wasn’t so bad, her tight ass and wonderful lytoned shoulders and arms made the pain he was enduring worth it. He staggered to a stop in front of the gates of the resort several minutes later, just in time to watch Rachel doing cooli-down stretches of her lovely body.  He slumped over, hands on knees, his body hot and heaving and very limp.

“You must be on PEDs,” he said, a smile coming across his face as he straightened up to face her.

Rachel laughed.  “Come on,” she said as she took his hand in hers and led him into the resort, through the lobby and out into the pool/lounge area, where a magnificent breakfast was in full swing. They moved quickly around the perimeter of the tables where people stopped mid-meal to gawk, Rachel offering a turn of the head now and then and a smile coupled with a few good mornings and great day before she opened the door of her villa and disappeared inside with David. 

Some rules are made to be broken and some need to be smashed to bits, she thought as the door closed behind them.

Some couples around the table smiled. Others looked away and a few others looked at their spouse, one partner’s eyes getting that momentary dazzle in them that transferred to the other.  A few assorted excuses later and breakfast ended early for more than a few. 

“This is the first time this has ever happened to me,” David said, just a trace of alarm in his voice.

“That’s OK, I remember my first time, I’ll go easy,” Rachel offered as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“No, not that first time. I mean, this is the first time this situation has ever happened to me,” he countered and seeing she didn’t quite understand. “I mean you’re insanely beautiful in so many ways and well, I’m just me.”

“Then just be you with me, because that’s what I want,” Rachel said as her soft lips touched his, once, twice and then a third and final time as the two embraced fully.

 They parted reluctantly, looked at each other and made their way to the bathroom.  David turned on the shower and adjusted the various heads, the top, front, back and side a fine warm mist before he removed his clothes. Neither was disappointed at what they saw, although David was a little dismayed that he came to attention so quickly.

“What a splendid compliment,” was all Rachel said as they stepped into the shower and the inviting water, their lips never parting until David broke the embrace.

He reached up with both hands and pulled the scrunchie slowly off her hair, Rachel savoring every second of it.  David tossed it over the glass, then spread her hair out with his fingers as tiny mist droplets formed on the strands.  Their lips came together again, Rachel pushing her tongue into his receptive mouth and finding his searching and connecting with hers and a jolt of electricity surging through them both.  The couple turned about the large enclosure, the warm, pleasing water wetting them in droplets like morning dew as he reached for her soft cloth and body wash.

Rachel closed her eyes as the soapy filament caressed her back in slow widening circles, David’s free hand spreading the lubricant down her well-defined back.  The spy kissed his chest and up about his neck, nothing too distracting to deter him, but passionate and full of future promises.  Languidly his arms crossed over each other and moved the soap down her sides, his hands sliding down the inward curve of her back then out and around her small, perfect ass, cupping it and swaying it. Rachel gave audible gasps of delight and small yeses escaped into the air.  She held his erect and rapidly throbbing stem between her firm inner thighs, a slow roll of her hips sending its pulsations into overdrive.

She slackened her arms about his neck, he taking the cue and bringing his arms up the inside of her stomach, the water drizzling between them and cascading down over her firm, round orbs, off her stiff and very sensitive nipples before landing as small droplets on his hands.  Rachel craned her neck as her mouth found his again, her tongue dancing about, finding his and delighting in it.  She captured his full attention for a few seconds, her lips and tongue having seized the momentum and took full control; she rocked his cock in her grip as she controlled the dance.  David nearly succumbed to the temptress, but there was more he wanted to do and he resisted the urge to let her guide him in as she relaxed her thighs.  Instead he willed his hands up and slowly around her perfectlyround, magnificent mounds.

 Rachel twitched at the contact, the smooth caress of the cloth and then his hands as the cloth fell between them.  She made small, almost incomprehensible noises as his fingers slipped over top of her nipples, popping them up as each slipped pastthem, toying with them amongst his fingers.  He was so gentle and yet so forceful that she was lost to the paradox and nearly came before being jolted by his lips and tongue washing over one of them.

David felt her whole body tense, her eyes widen and look into his with a passion and wanting he’d never seen in a woman.  He could sense her body releasing just enough to rear back and drive his prong into her, but he wanted this to continue, he wanted to touch and feel more of her. His mouth found her other orb and broke her spell.  She quivered in ecstasy as teeth slipped over her receptive nipples, her head resting against the back of his, small tender nips to it told him she loved his actions.

“Oh, God, no,” she slowly moaned aware of his intention as hands stroked over her mound, embracing in warm strokes and fondles that circled about her hips and back again.

David released his mouth from her nipple freeing it from the rapturous prison it had been enjoying.  Rachel pulled her head away from his, expecting this would be the moment of coupling. Only his head began to kiss down her hard, flat stomach.  She tensed everywhere, her hands affectionately playing with the back of his neck and his hair. Her legs opened just a little, the magic key that was his kisses turning the bolt.  Touches to her mound and small delicate nips trembled her body before his tongue, wet and hot, circled about her gates.

Rachel ran her hands through his hair, then stiffened and held fast and her hips pulled in slightly and a long, slow “Yes” filled the shower, the drops of rain doing nothing to dampen it.  David’s tongue had turned the bolt and inserted into her willing keyhole.  Arms instinctively cupped and held her ass, Rachel giving in to his commands.  She could sense he needed no guidance to find her, and she was right a second later as his tip flicked and feathered her clitoris, lapping and coddling it as she spooned her body to unheard music.  The room became silent for her, only his body and hers and the passion between them could be felt and heard.  The spy’s breathing began to shallow quickly as his pace, so perfect, so incredible welled up inside her the release she wanted.

 

David could feel her closeness, his body so connected to hers. As her swaying slowed, her breathing became small pants and then she stopped for the briefest of seconds, like a shudder, then the air was filled with a joyous release of Rachel’s passion.  Her climax ignited her movement. She tried to pulled away, but David had anticipated and held her firm and close, his tongue imprisoning her as it searched and probed and kindled the fire, exploding new passions that rocked her. She weakened, but her lover, ever protective, held her firm and safe until she very slowly stilled thinking he’d finished.  He turned his mouth and darted his tongue inside her. Rachel exhaled and gasped as a series of aftershocks ran through her body like a train, a nearly endless locomotive of carnal pleasure until he decoupled.

David, not finished yet, picked up the cloth and finished with her legs. He watched the soapy effluent cling to her wonderful pins before he let the water rinse them, his hands trailing up them as he rose and they locked about each other for soft tender kisses.

Rachel slipped her arms down and took his root in her hands; he was insanely huge and ready.  They kissed as she placed him.  She was surprised and more than pleased when he didn’t immediately push inside her. Instead they worked him into her paradise together with languid rocking and tilting of her hips until she fully engulfed him.  Rachel didn’t flinch when maybe four strokes later he exploded inside her.  Instead she held him tight, took control and delivered.  She turned and swirled her hips, hammering back and forth, rubbing his wand against her walls to heighten his pleasure.  She nipped his neck and used her tongue about his ear and he pushed and jerked his hips, she syncing her motion to his until he had spent himself, or so he thought.  She turned, rocked, shimmied and pulled her hips, drawing out the last of his pleasure, she supporting him at the end before he recovered. 

“I don’t have words for that,” Rachel said and he added. “Then don’t.”

They stayed together. He softened just a little, but their Tantric stillness and her skills soon returned him to hardness.  Rachel was thinking about the bed when he slowly began to pump his hips, his hands scooping under her ass.  She took the cue and tightened about his neck as her legs wrapped around his waist and drew tight.

They kissed slowly, he effortlessly supporting her as she pulled and pushed her hips up and down on his shaft.  He slid in further and she was fully impaled, the tilt forcing her clitoris onto his thick steel pole to maximum effect.  He was encased by a wall of gripping and sliding bliss that was taking him on a pleasure ride that would end soon.  Rachel was soon resting against the shower wall for support, both very close, his thrusts insistent and unrelenting as were her deep drafts of his shaft.  They kissed then stilled, intuitively closing about each other as they climaxed simultaneously, both caught in joy and pumping frantically to give the other total pleasure and in the end both getting it.

The aftershocks were incredible and neither wanted to separate, but knew they had to.  They finished the shower and dried, he powdering her in scantly lavender and she drying him very thoroughly.  Rachel and David kissed all the way to the bed, fumbling with the sheet before falling into the soft inviting silk.

They kissed for a few minutes before she maneuvered herself on top.

“Now it’s my turn,” Rachel said as she slid down his body.  “I hope this villa is sound proof,” she added before her soft lips closed about his obelisk.

*             *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *            

“It’s amazing what a phone, a tablet and a laptop will tell you once, of course, you break into them,” Claire said placing each item on the desk in front of a very terrified Katarina.  “You’ve been a very busy girl over the past year. Why It’s incredible that you had time at all for your real career. But then again, this one paid so much better,” she added in a very menacing tone as she sat opposite Katarina.

The German trade assistant’s eyes darted about the small room they both occupied, not more the 8 x 8 feet.  The door had a small window about two-thirds of the way up with thin wire mesh, the kind school classrooms always have.  Behind Claire was a large panel that, of course, was a two-way mirror. Anyone who’d ever seen a police procedural knew that.  What Katarina didn’t know, among other things, was who was behind the mirror, where she was, how long she’d been here or who these people were.

“Please tell me where I am, Frau,” she said.

“Why? What good would that do you?” Claire answered casually and again with a hungry grin. “No, I think we’ll stick to me asking the questions and you providing the answers for now.

“Your bank account, your unofficial one – you know, the one in the Caymans that you thought you hid so well on your laptop with the pictorial, its call Steganography in case you wanted to know. A good code breaker – and I know some of the best – found it.  You do seem to have a lot of regular deposits to it for nice sums, nice all-the-same-amount sums. That seems a little too coincidental,don’t you think?  Well, so did we and again, if you know the right people you can find out anything, like where they came from even if the person wishes to try and wash it through dummy sites.  Why, if you’re good you can even trace it all the way back to the IP address of the sender. Imagine that.”

Katarina looked really scared and worried, her mind was playing out where this all was going and none of the scenarios ended well for her. She started to blubber a little.

“Please, I’ll tell you anything you want, just ask,” she choked out between gasps for air.

“How do you know I don’t already know everything I need to know?” Claire answered.

“Because you haven’t killed me yet,” Katarina said between sobs as she hid her face.

“Now, that is thinking for once, and two, the operative word is ‘yet,’ ” Claire answered.

“No, killing you would be too easy and such a waste of time and talent when I can get your friends to do the whole thing for me and I get them as well.  No, Frau, you are going into the lion’s den.”

Katarina looked up, tears in her eyes with a total look of terror on her face.  “They will kill me.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?  Tell you what. I’ll give you a choice, choices actually.  You can do as we ask and maybe, with luck, you can survive,” Claire said in a flat tone.

“And the other choice?” Katarina asked almost afraid of the answer.

“Would you like an open or a closed casket?” Claire said, her words and eyes boring into the woman whose face fell in defeat.

“No? Good, here’s what you’re going to do.  Contact your friends and arrange a meeting at which you will tell them that it’s been great doing business with them but you want a bigger fee if the relationship is to continue. Let’s say double the current one.That’s sure to provoke their ire,” Claire explained, seeing the look of horror grow on the woman’s face which she let fester for just a few more seconds before continuing.  “That’s the stick, here’s the carrot. The Eurozone Monetary Meeting in Geneva two weeks from now.  So many powerful and lonely women, as well as women who work for these powerful and lonely women, and you are their ticket to all those contacts.  They won’t like your demands, but this group works for money, not power. If it was power, they would not be blackmailing the women they are for the relatively small change they’re collecting.  Someone else is behind this, an organization who cares nothing for money at the moment. They want the connection, the ‘in’ to the corridors of power and decision makin. Once they have that, then the money comes naturally. Whomever is behind this is playing a long game.”

“Once I give them those names they will surely kill me!” Katarina said, the tears coming.

“Don’t give them all the names at once. Tease them and in the interval find out as much as you can about them and who’s behind them.  As long as you have names to give, they’ll keep you alive. It’s the last day of the meeting you need to worry about. That’s when you become useless to them and that’s when you’ll be expendable and they’ll make their move,” the spy said.

“I really have no choice if I want to live, do I?” Katarina said wiping away the last of her tears, resigned to her fate.

“Look on the bright side,” Claire said with a smile that was not at all friendly. “If you’re lucky, you’ll die in mid-orgasm.”