Spy Games

by Jillian Boyd

  “Must we seek or summon help? I believe we passed through a small village not too long ago.”

  Roger Williams appeared to reach some sort of decision at some cost to himself.

  “The cells need recharging,” he said. “I fear there is no means of obtaining replacements in the village as these are the newest prototype and, as such, used only by my family.” He paused, and traced the tips of his fingers across the edge of the glass panel behind what were evidently the cells he spoke of.

  “I will escort you back to the village, madame, and endeavour to find someone to transport you homewards.”

  “Is it not possible, then, for you to effect a recharging of these cells, Mr Williams?” Isidore asked. She should have been angry, she supposed. If they were effectively stranded and their only recourse a lengthy walk down unlit roads, she faced the likelihood of renewed pain from her barely-healed body the following morning. Not to mention the strong possibility that Theberton would effect his escape; thinking of the man who had in all probability tried to kill her did bring a flash of anger. However, overlaying this was the pleasure she took in Roger Williams’ embarrassment; that wicked but delightful sensation of power over another. She could reduce him to despair, or raise him to ecstasy, and he would belong to her entirely. She licked her lips and drew further on her limited knowledge. “Is it the lack of a... booth equipped with the relevant facilities that troubles you?”

  She had surprised him. He swung round to face her, his eyes wide.

  “By no means, madame. The roadcar is equipped with a portable Accumulator for situations such as these. It needs only a modicum of privacy for the driver.”

  “A modicum of privacy,” Isidore repeated. She stepped back from the roadcar and made a somewhat ostentatious display of gazing around her, up and down the road and off to either side. The moon had risen but, other than its silvery glow, there was no illumination, not even in the distance.

  “How much more privacy might you require?” she asked him. She ran her hands down her own body in a leisurely fashion, smoothing the satin of her skirt against her skin. He was staring at her, and she saw the desire and the shame blended together in his expression. Very well, she would take decisive action and allow him no time for further doubt. She moved towards him, reached out her hand and placed it firmly on his groin. Beneath the fabric of his formal trousers, she could feel his manhood already engorged, and she tightened her fingers around the bulge of it.

  “My lady... Isidore!” he gasped.

  “Begin the procedure, Mr Williams,” she said. “You do, after all, owe me satisfaction having brought us to this pass. And if we are to have any hope of apprehending Theberton, we must render your vehicle operational as soon as possible.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, then nodded his acquiescence. He bent over the vehicle, grasped a polished wooden handle and used it to raise a square panel, which appeared to be of glass wrapped in a lattice of wire, the lattice studded with tiny crystal spheres. The panel was housed in a frame not unlike a miniature artist’s easel, and he adjusted it so that it was tilted over the rear seat of the roadcar. He then lifted the handle to an upright position and rotated it several times. The panel began to emit a soft humming sound.

  “It is activated,” he said. “Now I must –”

  ‘We must, Mr Williams. We will combine our efforts.’

  It must be a dream. There could be no other explanation, and Roger Williams was conscious of a new terror - that he would awake before the long-desired conclusion of this episode. He should certainly offer no resistance to the lady’s intentions in case doing so should cause the dream to end.

  The back seat of the roadcar had, naturally, been designed with a view to facilitating the charging of the vehicle’s Williams cells should such a need arise when away from home. There was certainly ample room for a driver and his companion to embrace in comfort. That this was the first time he had done now seemed almost fitting: there could be no woman more desirable as an accomplice than Lady Isidore.

  He ventured to suggest that they disrobe, but she rebuked him on the grounds that this might take up too much time. She merely unfastened his trousers and slid her hand inside. The first touch of her cool, strong fingers on the heated flesh of his manhood made him gasp, and he heard the pitch of the Accumulator’s hum alter slightly.

  “Not too quickly, Mr Williams,” she said. “Time may be of the essence, but I expect a satisfactory performance from you.”

  “I will do my very best, madame,” he managed to say.

  She raised herself, and hitched up her silken skirt to reveal that, in the modern fashion, she wore nothing but her stockings beneath it. The sight of her womanhood was almost his undoing: he struggled to control himself and barely succeeded. He saw the beautiful cruelty in her smile and knew that she understood him far better than he had previously believed. Now she was almost upon him, holding herself poised, steadying herself with one hand on his shoulder while the other took his member in a firm grasp and trapped it at the very entrance to her sex, keeping him immobile. He could feel the heat of her, and the first traces of dewy moisture from her body rendering the head of his shaft slick and so sensitive.

  “I had thought I might have to employ a harsher stimulus, Mr Williams,” she murmured. “Some of those who have gratified me in the past have found a good whipping only intensifies the pleasure. But I think you have already suffered enough.” With those words she sank down upon him, impaling herself, engulfing him within her, and her mouth crushed down on his, her tongue thrusting inside, making any further speech impossible. He flung his arms around her and she made no objections, merely kissing him with greater determination as they both gave themselves up to the passionate rut, their gratification the sweeter for having been deferred. He had time to wonder if perhaps he should endeavour to hold himself back a little, to experience a brief wistful desire to prolong the joys of the encounters as she rode him intensely, but then her body was tensing against him and she lifted her face to look deeply into his eyes and say, “Now, boy, now, this very moment,” and he lost himself entirely, crying out her name and convulsing in the most powerful of erotic paroxysms of his life so far.

  When Isidore recovered herself enough to adjust her clothing, she realised that the rear of the vehicle was now emitting a powerful gleam of light. Young Williams, who had been slumped back in the seat with an expression of near-stupefied delight, noticed this almost simultaneously, and sat up, his hands at once occupied with restoring himself to something approaching decency.

  “I believe our efforts have paid off, Mr Williams,” Isidore said, and completed the job of smoothing her short red hair. No one but she would know the control it had necessitated to prevent her voice from trembling. He twisted round, leaned over the back seat and adjusted the Accumulator so that it slid back into its niche, making the glow from the array of now-charged cells even more noticeable.

  “Madame,” he said respectfully. “I concur, and I would venture to suggest that you yourself have considerable, ah, potential with regard to Carnality Pulsation.”

  Isidore allowed herself to register this, but not to react. She should, perhaps, have suspected the likelihood that she would take after her great-aunt in such a respect, but now was not the time to pursue the matter.

  “I suggest, dear boy, that we continue our journey with no further delays,” she said. She got out of the car in order to resume her position in the front passenger seat without another word. As swiftly as if she had directly commanded him, Roger vaulted from the rear of the vehicle in order to close the boot, and then climbed back behind the wheel. The roadcar started as instantly as it had done when they first embarked, and they sped through the still-undisturbed and empty countryside.

  ***

  Isidore would later describe the end of the adventure to her friends as anti-climactic, though only thos
e closest to her would be allowed to perceive the ironic twist with which she deployed the phrase. She and Roger Williams had arrived at the cottage where Theberton had been concealing himself to find the man unconscious in the front garden besides a modified sky-yacht which bore signs of recent damage. She had made use of a coil of rope from the yacht’s storage compartment to bind Theberton hand and foot and then she and Roger had driven to the nearest village, arriving shortly before dawn when the single local constable had barely arisen from his bed.

  They had initially speculated that someone other than themselves had been on Theberton’s trail with vengeance in mind, but subsequent investigation on behalf of the upholders of the law had brought forth a simpler but more satisfying truth - Theberton’s process of propulsion necessitated the admixture of chemical compounds in precise proportions. In his haste to depart on that fateful evening, Theberton had been careless in his preparations, causing a small explosion in the yacht’s engine which had incapacitated him long enough for his plans to be foiled.

  If the friends to whom she was relating the tale were sufficiently bold, or sufficiently mischievous, they would sometimes suggest that Isidore must be disappointed that the Theberton method was now proven to be less efficient and more dangerous than Williams Carnality Pulsation. Isidore, unless Roger Williams was actually by her side - which was more often than not these days - would retort that it was a lady’s privilege to change her mind.

  Playing with Mr. Rhymes

  Ella Casias

  I looked at the mirror on the other side of the bar; once again checking to see if everything was in its place. Silky red dress hung low on my shoulders, emphasizing my cleavage. Just the way it was supposed to be. My target was a breast man, or at least my contact claimed him to be. I didn’t mind showing a bit of skin to get what I want. After all, the orders were clear: “Do whatever you need to do.” That’s also why my natural honey-coloured hair was now midnight black; another thing I did in order to capture his attention. He was supposed to be there already, at the fund-raiser. A man who sells weapons to terrorists is one of the greatest benefactors in donating for children’s hospital. The irony of it almost made me want to roll my eyes. Almost.

  I sipped my martini as my gaze travelled among the people. Most of them I knew from the television or newspapers. A blonde woman in a Versace dress, giggling over something her date said. I recognized her as an actress who got caught last year for drunk driving. Judging by the way she hung on her partner’s arm she hadn’t learned from her mistakes.

  A few feet away, a man dressed in five thousand euros worth of suit drooled over a barely legal girl; they’d married the month before. I remembered his name was Richard and he was a real-estate mogul. The girl was his third wife and I didn’t doubt for a second that in a couple of years I’d be reading about his divorce and she’d be trying to take a huge bite out of his cake. That’s exactly what happened with his ex-wives.

  Then, there was a football player who was checking out my crossed legs and didn’t even have the grace to look up as I uncrossed them; he just kept looking down with a smile on his face. A woman in a tight black dress approached him and tried to gain his attention so I moved my gaze toward the entrance, where my target finally appeared.

  Pictures didn’t do him justice because William F. Rhymes was one hell of a man. Seeing him dressed in a perfect, dark blue suit with black hair tussled as if he just got out of bed made my heart go faster. I could feel my inner thighs getting damp. The man was simply gorgeous.

  Unfortunately, so was his date. I’d been informed that the woman accompanying him was some girl who became a star in one of those reality-shows everybody seems to watch lately. No- one told me I’d be competing with a blonde, long-legged beauty.

  I searched for my partner, Ian, and after a few seconds found him not too far away, checking up my target’s date. He lifted his gaze and his eyes found mine. He rolled his eyes and winked, assuring me I still hadn’t lost and that I should continue as soon as the chance came up. I hoped he was right and this Barbie wasn’t going to wreck the plan.

  Unfortunately, I hadn’t noticed the man who came to sit next to me, until he touched my shoulder. I turned to see the football player who was checking me up moments before, and I knew I had get rid of him before he ruined the whole operation.

  “Your father must have been a thief,” he started, and I closed my eyes and prayed to God to stop sending me fools to interfere with my job.

  “Tell me you did not just come on to me with that terrible excuse for a pick-up line,” I bit out and his smile faltered but it wasn’t enough to send him running. For a moment, I was tempted to tell him the truth and that my father is a world-famous terrorist, but it wouldn’t do me any good.

  How I ended up as an agent is another story, but I am, and always will be a black sheep in my family.

  “Oh, I’ve got a better one,” the persistent man replied. “How about... go phone your mother and tell her you won’t be coming home tonight?”

  Really? What was with that man and family members?

  “Funny, that’s exactly what my doctor said after telling me I have chlamydia.” I replied with a smile. That did the trick. The footballer spilled the wine was just taking a sip from. His eyes were so huge it was comical and I tried really hard not to burst out laughing.

  “That was a joke, right?” He asked after he managed to compose himself.

  “Nope. Those were his exact words.” I smiled reassuringly. I just loved to play dumb.

  “You know, I just remember I have to-.”

  I didn’t give him the chance to finish.

  “See you later?” I asked and observed his now red face as he mumbled something while turning his back on me and walking away.

  My partner was now on the other side of the room, looking at me with a big smile on his face. He knew me well enough to guess what I did to the man.

  Ian was six-two and eight years my senior. His short blond hair and boyish smile made him look a couple of years younger. We became partners five years ago when I joined the agency and I wouldn’t trade him for the world. Ian had saved me numerous times and there wasn’t another person I would ever trust in the way I trusted him. He was like an older brother, always guarding my back. There was a time when I thought we could be more than partners, but the problem was that we were too much alike. We both lived for new adventures and any kind of a relationship would make us feel caged. In that way we understood each other perfectly so we never tried to have something more besides partnership.

  A man stood in the middle of the room and called for attention. He asked all of us to follow him to another room where dinner will be served. I hoped I could talk to William Rhymes before the dinner, but luckily the agency had planned for everything. There were dozens of round tables everywhere and Ian and I were seated at the same one as Mr. Rhymes and his date, together with an older couple I knew were the owners of one of the Britain’s biggest newspapers.

  Ian came to me and offered a hand so he could accompany me to the table.

  “Are you going to get rid of the blondie?” I asked and made him smirk.

  “Don’t tell me you have doubts? When have I ever disappointed you?” Ian replied, making me just a bit less nervous.

  “Never.” I whispered and he gently squeezed my hand.

  As we were nearing our table, I noticed Mr. Rhymes sizing me up, starting from the bottom. When he licked his lips I knew I had him. We were seated at the table, and Rhymes introduced himself and his date, Kendra. Ian sat on her left and that left me on the opposite side of my target. I liked it better that way; it gave me a direct view.

  “So, Miss Jones,” Rhymes asked, looking straight at me. “I don’t see a ring. Does it mean you and Mr. Summers aren’t married yet?” Ian halted his chat with Kendra and answered in my place.

  “Oh, we aren
’t a couple. Our mothers are sisters and since my dear cousin got dumped last month I kindly offered to accompany her tonight.”

  “Oh dear girl, how terrible. You must have been devastated. A woman your age losing a potential husband. See, my John and I met when I was nineteen and have been together ever since.”

  I pressed my lips tight not to burst out laughing, but she must have thought I was angry because she bowed her head and murmured some kind of an apology. I mean, really? A woman my age? I was twenty-seven, for God’s sake!

  “I think there’s nothing wrong with not being married at that age. Miss Jones will have plenty of time before settling down.”

  I looked over to Rhymes and mouthed a thank you.

  When they brought over dessert, the same man who called us to dinner announced there will be a speech regarding the hospital the funds were being raised for. Ten minutes later we listened to Rhymes giving a touching speech about needing to help the young ones. After all, they were the future of our world. I watched the people clapping after he finished, some even standing up. And I thought about what they’d say if only they knew that the man they admire so much is a criminal, smuggling weapons to terrorists and that the money he gave to the hospital was dirty.

  Music started playing and my partner took Kendra to the dance floor, making his move. The older couple followed, leaving me alone at the table. When Rhymes returned, he sat next to me. The game was on.

  “Lovely speech, Mr. Rhymes,” I cooed. “Your parents must be so proud of you.”

  I knew they were. Mr. and Mrs. Rhymes praised their son pretty much everywhere they went.

  “Thank you. Why don’t you call me Will?”

  I smiled and offered him to call me Mel.

  “So what is it you do, Mel?” He asked a couple of minutes later.

  “I’m the owner of CyberTech Startup.” I lied. “Actually, I inherited it just recently. I’m still trying to work myself in. I’m afraid I don’t know much about software since I spent the last couple of years mostly traveling around the world.”