by Julie Huleux
There had been too many emotions over the past twenty-four hours, too much at stake, She felt fierce and powerful. Her blood was molten, her body tense like a bowstring. She was the arrow, she had the intention of killing and the desire to attack. God did she want sex! There, now! The French spy had made her white hot. So had the peril of the mission.
The unravelling was close. Control hung by a thread, that of her voluptuous kisses on the body of the target, that of her burning thoughts and torrid desires.
For four months she had faked love, she admitted she had enjoyed it on the way… When she suspended her lips a centimetre from those of Il-Sung, her gaze planted in his somber eyes, she felt her heart pinch. The man was handsome, vigorous, and he had treated her like a princess. Like a doll too, that he owned. Possessive and naturally dominant. Here, he felt at ease and was letting her have her way, and Eve’s success was complete.
She kissed him with renewed fervour. One last kiss, one last time. One last passion as a goodbye.
He reacted to her momentum, not understanding the reason behind it. Their fingers intertwined, mixed, while she kept his arms pinned down either side of his face.
She laid down little by little, suggestively, and controlled the sliding of her naked body over her lover’s. She nibbled his mouth to punish each of his impatient moans. Eve meant to lead the dance… Then she guided the long-awaited penetration with devilish slowness. Down to the shaft.
She then straightened, savouring the sensation of fullness in perfect immobility and placed an imperious index finger on the tiger to keep him at bay.
Il-Sung squinted, his features stretched by his holding-back. The need his body felt to move inside her, that violent impulsion to take back the upper hand that it contained. He guessed it was in that suspended moment that his orgasm would come…
Finally, she moved. A tiny undulation with her sublime hips. She rode him, magnificent and mysterious, and the man dared not even approach his hands.
Her hands in her long, undone hair, Eve began the rhythm with a progressive back and forth.
The waves came stronger and stronger in an incessant swell. The moans that echoed were music to her ears. Her lover had closed his eyes, transported by the pleasure he felt rising. He had gripped the sheets like a shipwrecked sailor, but gave each of his hip thrusts the energy of desperation.
Eve felt beautiful. Conquering. Looking for her own pleasure, with no pity nor remorse. She would not accept to go hungry, and the slightest of her movement repeated this. She slid on the penis raised in her honour, and rubbed against the skin offered as a sacrifice. She was a Goddess that evening…
Although she was reaching for abandonment, she knew exactly where she was and why. Number Six was in the room, taking the diversion as an opportunity to carry out his mission, and he heard everything. Knowing that increased her pleasure.
When she spotted him moving in the chair’s shadow, sign that the spy was about to leave, she suddenly lay on her lover to stop him from seeing the door opening. In this more fusional position, Il-Sung embraced her strongly and the rhythm of their lovemaking became furious.
Her attention focused on the door, Eve kissed her brave lover impetuosity.
Fake love, real orgasm.
Their screams united, blaring out into the corridor and covering the sound of Six’s footsteps as he walked away.
11
Although South Korea was nicknamed the Land of Morning Calm, some mornings were calmer than others. Eve thought so as she stretched like a cat in the sheets of the large bed where she had spent the night. She was alone, but the cotton had kept the shape of the entwined bodies. The young woman inhaled a pillowcase with pleasure before throwing it nonchalantly on the ground.
D-5 before the release of the new Seuta Electronics smartphone. And all her missions were almost complete.
She had already gotten her hands on the important information about the new cellphone. Her clients were delighted. She was only missing a small detail about the technology of the battery, and she would have finished.
The French had gotten what they wanted. She thought Six was a good enough guy to respect their part of the contract. That was a dossier at Interpol that could disappear opportunely, no?
Only one more day or two to unearth the missing information and arrange her escape. She would have to find an event to justify her leaving. To cause a violent argument between lovers, for example. They would think her capricious, gone to sulk in a luxury spa in the centre of town while waiting for reconciliation. Meanwhile, she would be on any plane, ready to cross the border. Her cover and her life both save. She felt that this time, however, she would have to change identity…
Eve was finished, almost ready and she was proud. She would have only one small regret from the whole operation: not having had time to taste Number Six. His immense body, his troubling eyes, his full mouth and each square centimetre of his skin… She would love to try it for real. No games. And to leave for her next mission with the smell of his cologne on her. Damnit! She was still searching for its name!
She sniggered as she dressed and opened the door to the bedroom, majestic and light, perched on her favourite heels.
She expected to find Six, standing to attention in the corridor. No one. She frowned quickly, before resuming her walk towards the main rooms, swinging her hips as she went. She passed into front of a mirror and stopped to reapply her lipstick with care, lending a careful ear to the sounds of the villa. But there were none, precisely. Not a vacuum cleaner, not a butler, not a bodyguard. Would the French spy be gone, now that he had a copy of the hard drive? At the risk of compromising everything! A henchman that did not answer to morning roll call awoke a lot of suspicions… She could not believe that the French secret services would have done something so radical. The extraction of their undercover agent should be carried out as softly as the escape she was planning. Whether working freelance or for the government, people in information did not like to make noise.
A detour to the kitchen reassured her. A member of domestic staff gave her a luminous smile and offered to serve coffee in the dining room. With Sir.
“Good morning my love,” she exclaimed as she crossed the threshold of the room.
Il-Sung lifted his eyes from the Wallstreet Journal to rest them on her. A crooked smile as a welcome. Their age difference was obvious at these moments, when she was so lively and he so calm. Their difference in temperament too.
“Sleep well?”
“Like a kitten!”
He raised an eyebrow, she came to kiss him with the tips of her painted lips.
It was when she sat at the table close to him that she noticed the atmosphere. All the security men were in the room… The room was of large dimensions, it could not attract attention, but for Eve it was noticeable at first glance. They were all there. Six too. And it was shady. The Frenchman did not let anything show, as stone-faced as the others in his work outfit. His tie was as impeccable as usual, his features cold and his hands behind his back.
The sounds of the megapolis were filtered, the morning air almost enabled one to hear the sounds of the birds leaving minuscule traces in the zen garden under the patio door.
It was the characteristic sound of the hammer of an automatic rifle that broke the facade of silence. The barrel was pointed at Six, but the man still did not move. His gaze followed the weapon and he stared down the one holding it.
Eve remained stupefied at this reversal of the situation. She could not allow herself to overplay the frightened kitten and take the risk of things getting further out of hand. She widened her eyes, a hand pressed against her mouth to not scream.
“Are you sleeping with him?” Il-Sung asked with mortifying calm.
“Huh?”
“That one. Have you slept with him?”
“No. Of course not my love!” Eve cried. “Why would you think that?”
“The camera, and an intuition…”
“I promise you,” she
said, wiping the tears that had begun to roll down her cheeks. “I promise you, my love, that I have never slept with this guy. After last night,” Eve hiccupped, stretching out a begging hand towards him, “how could you think that I want another man?”
“Unarm him,” the Korean ordered one of his men.
Six lifted his hands in surrender, while his gun was taken from its holster under his jacket.
“There is a mistake, Sir,” he then said in his deep voice. “I have never given in to the Miss’ advances.”
“Well, well…”
The Asian man raised an eyebrow. Eve bit her lip strongly to not betray herself.
The bastard! He was turning things back on her, but she had no clue as to his plan. She had planned to cause an argument, true, but not straight away and not like this. This could get out of hand!
She rose her tear-filled gaze to Il-Sung, then glanced over at Six with disgust. And that was where she saw it. The slight twitch he had at the French Embassy when he had interrogated her! That way of chewing the inside of his cheek. It was brief, sober, but it could not be a true twitch! If she was perceiving the message correctly, that guy was even crazier that she was and it would cost them their lives.
She took a second to weigh up the pros and cons. The time it took to evaluate the forces that were present and her own interests. Should she help the French agent or leave him to be slaughtered like a dog and finish her industrial espionage mission quietly before fleeing?
The following second, she dove onto Il-Sung with one of her shoes in hand and pressed the thin heel against his neck at his carotid artery.
The henchmen drew their guns, shouting. Seven of them were threatening her with the barrels of their loaded weapons, while the last hesitated whether to move his gun from Number Six’s temple.
“Tell your gorillas to lower their calibers,” she ordered the boss she was holding by the throat.
He made a brief hand gesture and his bodyguards let go of their automatics.
“You’re not serious?” the man said ironically with a dangerous voice. “With a shoe?”
“Darling, I love these shoes, I would hate to ruin them. But believe me, I am deadly serious,” Eve answered with a venomous smile.
She pressed a little harder with the heel to make him grimace.
“It’s almost as good as a sashimi knife, no?”
“You won’t get out of here alive. And nor will he…”
At the moment Il-Sung took out a blade to plant it in the young woman’s thigh, Six took the Sig-Sauer that had been aimed at his face so far and shot at the Korean.
The men drew again and the bullets showered. Eve leapt to join Six, she took out the small Smith & Wesson he was still wearing at his ankle. They both smiled at their complicity, although they were in a bad position. Back to back, surrounded by armed men.
They had taken three out, but Il-Sung, wounded, had the rage of a warrior. The Korean grabbed an ancient katana displayed on a wall and held it with his good arm. He had a dark, determined look and blood dripping from his left shoulder.
Eve held out her gun to her partner, who pointed both weapons on different guards, He frowned when he saw the young woman balance herself and position her arms in defence like a boxer. Ready for hand to hand combat.
Il-Sung accepted the invitation, delighted to put his well-trained legs into practise, as well as some specialities of Taekwondo to take vengeance on the affront. He threw the katana to the floor and charged at Eve in his stride.
And as Six looked on in admiration, the beauty fought back.
The henchmen were also surprised by the show. Without lowering the barrels of their guns from the Frenchman, they were glued to the scene of their revered boss at odds with this stunning opponent. Her black skin revealed by the favor of movements. The flight of her hair when she fell back onto her feet. The grace of her legs and the audacious choreography of her fists. But above all the strength of her attacks: she fought like a lioness! A panther, Six thought as he knocked one of the guards distracted by the show with the butt of his gun.
Il-Sung was the only one that her fervour did not surprise. Perhaps he had sensed it during their lovemaking. From sex to war, sometimes there is but one step. She loved like she fought, and the idea excited him. He ripped his shirt, revealing the splendid tiger tattoo, and wiped the blood on his shoulder with the back of the fabric. Eve smiled at him, her lips bloodied, and her breath halting.
Second round. They threw themselves at each other like enraged animals.
The four remaining bodyguards rushed at Number Six with the same deadly energy. Inspired by the example of ether chief, they preferred to use their hands to control the traitor. Six was unsettled only a moment while an uppercut hit him square in the jaw. Red spit on the wooden floor. He immediately dropped his small revolver and hit one of the attackers with an elbow, placing the automatic gun back in its holster. He cursed his jacket and finally got rid of it, using it to blind one of the guards before giving him a good knee in the stomach. The others did not see it his way, strength being in numbers, and charged again, yelling like savages.
A vibration.
Faster and stronger and stronger.
Outside, the tiny pebbles of the zen garden turned in a disorganised whirlwind.
Then the patio door exploded into thousands of shards due to the shattering entrance of the men belonging to the special forces, in a commando gear and with assault rifles.
The smoke of a tear-gas grenade opacified the room but the shots still rang from all sides.
Six removed himself from the battle without hesitation. The bullets flew though, it was difficult to distinguish opponents. But he did not need the infrared goggles of his colleagues that had come as reinforcements to recognise the dark and savage body of his partner.
He caught Eve by the waist and held her so tightly against him that she felt the air leave her lungs. She wanted to protest in a hiccup, but the duo was suddenly ripped from the floor and flew into the air, suspended to a rope.
The noise of the detonations still ringing in her ears, the young woman did not understand at first. She had to lift her head to stare at the black helicopter they were tied to. She looked into the void, and saw the skyscrapers and streets of Seoul unfurl under their feet.
When she looked at Six, whom she was holding onto, she found the paleness of his eyes. The adrenaline pulsed through their veins. The wind whistled around them. The world was far away. And they wanted to kiss each other so much.
Eve did not feel that their cable was being pulled up to the helicopter, and only realised when she saw men pulling them towards the open door of the craft. Six and Eve hauled themselves inside with the soldiers’ help. The door was closed shut as soon as they were both in the cockpit.
“Mission accomplished?” the red-haired woman of the French secret services asked at the top of her voice, heading the operation.
Six bent to reach the heel of his leather shoe. He took out a USB.
“Mission accomplished,” he shouted back, covering the din of the helicopter’s motor.
“Nice work.”
She put her helmet back over her ears and tucked a small lock of red hair underneath, as if to fix it.
“Let’s go back, Mickaël,” she said to the pilot.
Eve’s extraction was not planned…
Number Six and the young woman looked in different directions at the cockpit’s windows. The military men paid no more attention to them.
Their fingers brushed in the darkness and finally intertwined. Eve and Six did not say a word, but shared the same feeling. Something between relief and frustration.
12
A discreet apartment, somewhere in the middle of Seoul.
In the living room, several armed agents were watching over the safety of the two spies that were in transit, before being extracted out of the country. One was a colleague of the secret services, the other was an unknown undercover agent.
The men
did not doubt that in the silent bedroom, one last danger was afoot…
Six closed the door, and Eve’s body pressed against his. Burning memory of a morning interview.
“Where were we?” she asked mischievously.
He slid a hand into her silky, straightened hair, fascinated for a moment, before kissing her. She answered his kiss with intensity, her fingers on his cheeks, and her skin begging to be touched. She did not want a troubled softness or even the admiration she read in the pale eyes of the Frenchman. She wanted him fully. Harshly and completely. She did not want him to love her like a fragile thing, like some damsel in distress that he had valiantly saved. She backed away, left his mouth with a delicious taste, and then took of the t-shirt that the DGSE had given her after the debriefing. She unbuttoned her jeans slowly, raised an eyebrow provokingly at her partner, and savoured the pleasure of seeing him flash a smile.
He caught her by the waist and flattened her against a wall. He took her mouth again in a more demanding kiss, and she sighed under the assault.
“We were about here, I think…”
“Almost,” Eve agreed in a breath.
Six also took off his shirt before sliding his large hands on the naked skin of his partner. He ran them across her back, down to her kidneys in a long caress. She would have been thrown off by the softness of his touch if their kisses were not so passionate.
She took her breath again, ablaze, and looked at Number Six with a fresh perspective. The man was torrid, that was undeniable. But something else had changed, making him even more desirable. Something was emanating from him that was not visible through his usual seriousness. He was expressing himself without holding back, in his softness as much as in his passion.