by Jay Aury
“Ah my dear. Why ever did you scream so loudly for? Now my crewman will know how you long for this old man’s cock.”
Audra scoffed breathlessly. “Like they didn’t know that after three days of this.”
Raphael chuckled. “Ah,” he sighed, lazily stroking her firm ass. Giving it a sudden squeeze. “How true. But it was inevitably, my sweet. For the Old Bull knows well how to pleasure your lovely frame.”
Audra flushed again. She slowly arched, nuzzling his chin and kissing him, tasting that familiar medley of hashish, rum and tobacco. Raphael kissed her back, humming with idle pleasure as his tongue wrestled with hers before dipping into her mouth. Though there were a dozen ways she could have made the trip from Spain to England, when she heard Raphael had been in the area, it had been too tempting to ask for the old Arab for a ride. A request he had been happy to grant.
For a price.
Audra sighed, rolling off him, his cock slipping from her gaping cunt and dribbling his seed down her legs. She rose, her shapely hips swinging slowly as she wandered into the shower. The sudden heat of the water thrummed across her taut, sensitive skin. She tilted back her head, embracing the shower’s pulsing water as she washed the evidence of her coupling with the heavy older man. Minutes later she emerged, pinked with the heat of the water.
Raphael still lay, naked on his bed. He rested his hands on the broad swell of his belly, watching as she dressed in a blouse, pants and long dark trench coat. Her body tingled as he so blatantly ogled her. She glanced back as she tugged on her pants, giving her firm derriere a teasing wiggle. “Like what you see?”
“Ah,” Raphael sighed happily. “To ask such a thing of me, my sweet. There is no greater vision in all the world than such a beauty of a woman. Only a shame that you must don such clothes as those, hiding your loveliness from the world.”
“Oh really?” she asked, a smile tugging at her lips as she buttoned up her trench coat against the swell of her breasts. “And I suppose you’d be happy with letting me strut around, naked but for a veil?”
“In the privacy of my home, my sweet? Ah, I would insist. Consider it, my Western Star. To remain with me, my lovely bride. Draped in jewels whose value pales in comparison to the treasure that is your wondrous form. Every day I would show my appreciation for such beauty, my sweet.”
She laughed, even as her pussy tingled with the memory of the rough fucking a few minutes ago, and with the sinful thought of a life of what he suggested. Little more than the large Arab’s sultry harem bride, sucking his cock and riding him to shuddering orgasm. It was strange how tempting it was. That taste of something so forbidden and base.
“Another time, maybe, Raphael.”
“Ah,” the old Arab sighed. “Then I shall wait, my sweet. Until you come to me once more, painful though such an interlude shall be.”
“Don’t be like that. Why not ask your wife?” Audra asked with a teasing smile.
Raphael sighed, letting his head loll back. “Ah, my sweet. How I love my dear wife. Love her and cherish her with a sea between us and her braying voice. But my cow of a wife is so distance, and you are so near. And how could I but be unfaithful to her when confronted by such a beauty of pale form? A form which sculptors would struggle in vain to capture but a hint of in their marble. Come,” he said, beckoning her, patting the bed inticingly. “Join me, and I shall shape your loveliness with pleasure.”
Audra chuckled and swayed across the cabin, leaning over him and giving the old smuggler a lingering kiss, savouring his lips and that sweet, masculine taste of his mouth. “Goodbye, Raphael.”
“Farewell,” the old Arab sighed.
Grinning, Audra left the cabin and climbed onto the deck. The sailors, rough men who had the look that they knew how to use the weapons holstered in their belts, watched her go intently, memorizing the swing of her hips and shape of her rear. She could see their interest in their eyes. She didn’t mind their blatant staring as she stepped down the gangplank and out of sight. In fact, she relished it. A strange thing in a spy, to be sure. But she was far from ordinary.
London’s docks were thick with ships and traffic. Honking horns and shouting men filled the streets. The sky was the iron grey of England’s legendary sullen weather as she made her way to the street and hailed a cab. As it pulled in she slipped inside. “Third and Bismin, please.”
“Right,” the heavy man in the front said, flicking the fare box on before pulling into traffic.
Audra settled back in her seat, watching the city go by. Her grandfather had often brought her to London. They even had a property a train ride outside the city. He’d had an affection for the old city, one which he’d shared with her. She smiled at the memory of the old man. It had been he who had trained her to be the spy she was now. An agent whose skill had seen her picked up by G7, NATO’s clandestine arm, and whose leader she was now off to see. She wondered what the job would be. Last time, she’d been called the Germany in order to thwart a lunatic Nazi’s efforts to bomb Europe’s capitals with chemical weapons. She shifted. The whip marks from that adventure had only just vanished recently.
It had been a tough spot, but with the help of Alistair Smith, they’d both thwarted the mad man’s schemes, and brought down his castle atop him. She smiled a little at the memory of the other spy, and his generous repayment after the mission. Her skin warmed, recalling his skilled fingers applying the cream across her back, and his cock thrusting into her. She wondered what he was up to…
She started as the cab drew to a halt. She glanced out the window to see the café The Queen’s Breakfast projecting its awning over the street. “Thanks,” she said, tossing some bills at the driver. “Keep the change.”
She opened the door, stepping out and crossing the pavement. The bell over the door tinkled with her arrival as she took in the room, scanning it with mild interest before locking on to a booth in the corner and the man inside. She smiled, sashaying across the floor and sliding into the seat opposite.
“Director,” Audra said.
The Director nodded. “Vixen,” he said. He was an older man, his face leathery from a long life, his hair and mustache salt and pepper black and grey. He had a sharp, military look to him, and Audra had often wondered just what branch of the military, and which nation’s, he had been a part of. He dressed with grim formality in a dark suit and jacket, as if he was on his way to a funeral every day.
He picked up a glass of steaming tea and took a sip. Audra glanced away and at the servers and the barista behind the counter.
“Looking for someone?” the Director asked.
“Maybe,” Audra said, recalling the first time she met Alistair Smith. The other spy had been disguised as a server and had thoroughly embarrassed her when she blatantly flirted with him. She wouldn’t be caught like that again!
The Director raised a bushy brow, then looked up as the cab driver slipped into the seat beside Audra.
Audra stared at him. Then groaned. “How?”
Alistair Smith smiled, wiping off the tan makeup he’d been wearing. “I figured you’d be catching a ship.”
“How did you know which!”
“Ah, now that is a secret.”
Audra scowled at him, but there wasn’t much venom in it. She huffed, slapping his chest, feeling the now obvious fake cushion serving as a stomach. “Of course, you realize I have to make you suffer for this,” she informed the other spy.
“If it’s anything like last time, I say feel free,” he answered softly, though his grin was wicked.
Audra, recalling how she had tied Alistair down on a hotel bed in rode him to orgasm, felt a mirror to his grin break across her face. Her eyes ran over him appreciatively. He was of average build but knew his baggy clothes hid muscles toned and strong. His face wasn’t terribly handsome even without the makeup, more average, which suited him and his work as a master of disguise. Still, he did have a strong chin she admired, and out of character, his eyes were sharp and clever. She el
bowed him sharply in the ribs, eliciting a low chuckle. “So I guess I’m working with him again?” she said turning back to the Director.
“You’d be correct,” the Director said and tossed a folder to her.
She picked it up, opening it. On the first page was a photograph showing a middle aged woman in a sun dress with brown hair done up in a bun. She was smiling at the camera, clinging to the arm of an older man.
“Christina Saman. Heiress of a French wine bottling company worth millions.” The Director said as Audra turned the page to another photo showing a dusky, dark haired woman in a shining dress as she walked down a red carpet, smiling lightly at the cameramen. “Mina Vasia. German actress. You’ve likely seen some of her movies.”
Audra nodded slowly as she continued to leaf through the pages. More women on each. All quite lovely. Or had been, in some cases, their beauty still evident though the hard lines of inevitable aging, some crudely plastered over with plastic surgery.
“So what do they have in common?” Audra finally said.
“None of them have been seen in public since returning from a particular resort.”
Audra arched a brow. She leafed to the last few sheathes of paper, a name stamped in red ink.
“The Mambo Resort?” she said.
“I’ve heard of it,” Alistair said. “It’s supposed to offer a potent revitalizing treatment for women. Make them look ten years younger. Minimum.”
“Precisely,” the Director said, sipping his steaming tea. “And it also means they’re extremely secretive and private. No reporters. No investigation. And no one who goes there does so officially. You know how private the stars are? Well, this place demands it. Based on a private island bought in the Pacific, it can be as circumspect as it likes. The French had intended to use the place for nuclear testing, but never got around to it. They sold it to the Mambo Corporation, who then built the resort. Prime real estate, and under no one’s jurisdiction but their own.”
Audra nodded slowly. “And women have gone missing there?”
The Director slowly took another drink. He put down the cup. “No.”
Audra glanced up. “No?”
“Those in your hands are the ones we know who visited the resort and didn’t come back. But we have no official leads that they were there. Only hearsay and a few unofficial statements from friends. But others have returned. Most who go do, raving about the place and the effectiveness of its treatments. Other go, come back, and have barely been seen since.”
“What do you mean?” Alistair asked.
“It appears a number have gone into seclusion. Not taking any guests. And their assets, it should be noted, have either shrank substantially, been taken over by their husbands, or they’ve taken on certain financial advisors who are being very quiet about their work,” he said grimly.
“That is a bit unusual,” Audra said.
“It is. But information as to what’s happening is damn near impossible to find. No one is talking, certainly not the women, and getting anything useful out of the island has been an exercise in futility. Some agencies have sent in a few agents. This sort of a treatment is ripe for corporate espionage, but none have come back with anything useful.”
“But that’s not all, is it?” Alistair said.
The Director grimaced. “It’s not,” he agreed. “The truth of the matter is, the Mambo Corporation has a lot of money, but more, a lot of influence over people who have a lot of influence. It would be tricky for the director of the CIA to order an investigation when his wife went there for treatment a year ago.”
“Cover up?” Audra asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Or something like it. That’s why we’re sending you two in. We already have your covers all outlined. A married couple. John and Jane Avera. You’re in the shipping business out of Florida.”
“Seriously? John and Jane?” Audra said. “Why not just have our last name as Doe?”
“Mister Doe is on another assignment,” the Director said drily. “Any other questions?”
Audra sighed. “When do we leave?”
“Tonight. Enjoy your flight.”
Tours
The sun. The beaches. The clean, fresh air. All the things Audra had so desired in a vacation.
The mission? Not so much.
Audra stepped off the boat, clinging to the well muscled arm of Alistair Smith. The man who was to pretend to be her husband had a slight tan and a strong jaw. He wore a light jacket open at the front baring the beginnings of a sculpted chest.
Audra, by contrast, could never adopt the same sorts of disguises. Her full figure with breasts that swelled against the wrapping about her chest, shapely hips and a rear that acted a perfect counterpoint to her upper assets, was something that opened far more doors than any fake moustache ever could.
Audra knew she was a beauty. Knew it with the analytical certainty of her own profession. She wasn’t vain about it (okay, maybe a little). But more than merely being attractive, she knew how to use it.
The dock was made of white stone that shone under the blazing Pacific sun. At their backs, a reef surrounded the island, a pale white ring beneath the stunning ocean blue. The Mambo Spa and Resort climbed out of the beach, half embedded in the volcanic rock that formed the small island. Bungalows jutted out of the rock, trailing paths down to semiprivate bars. The white wings of sails for surfing boards littered the beaches, and near the far shore, overlooking the thundering waves, was a gash in the sharp stones and the curving face of a window. Some sort of board room Audra had to guess. She spotted Alistair’s eyes flicking to the sight and knew he had drawn the same conclusion.
At the end of the dock stood what could only be the one woman welcoming committee.
Audra stared at the woman, marvelling at her breathtaking curves. Full breasts fairly burst out of her trim white jacket, upper buttons open and revealing with a sharp V the hint of her curvy, perfect bust. Her short skirt clung to her rear and her hair was a vivid red and falling in a wave down her back. She beamed, green eyes sparkling with delight.
“Hello! I am Capria Eisen. Head of the Mambo Isle Spa. And you must be John Avera and his wife. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
“Likewise I’m sure,” Alistair said brightly, taking Capria’s manicured hand and shaking it firmly. Audra felt a slight twang of something unpleasant in her chest. Heartburn? Odd…
“And you must be Mrs. Avera,” Capria said, turning to Audra.
“Please,” Audra laughed lightly. “Call me Jane.”
“Well, Jane. Let me be the first to welcome you to our spa. I can see we have a lot of work to do, and I’m so looking forward to it!”
Oh you bubbly bitch, Audra thought, her smile straining despite all her years of training. Audra didn’t believe in love at first sight. But hate? Oh yes. Yes she did. “Oh,” Audra said, fluffing her bouncy blonde locks, “well, my husband doesn’t think I need it. He says I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. But I simply insisted! After all, you can never be too beautiful.”
“What a lovely thing for him to say,” Capria said brightly, her smile so shiny Audra wanted to knock every one of those pearly teeth out. Capria glanced at Alistair. “I am sorry, but I’m afraid your husband can’t accompany us inside the spa itself. It’s strictly confidential beyond here. Just us girls. But we have an excellent room all set up for the both of you to share! And there’s certainly an ample number of activities to keep him occupied.”
Alistair sighed dramatically. “Oh, very well. But do look after her,” he said, stepping up behind Audra and squeezing her firm bum. “She’s the only wife I’ve got!”
Audra flushed in pleasure, eyes lidding as she watched Capria Eisen smile dutifully. “Of course!” the red head said. “We pride ourselves at our excellent customer service. If you’ll follow me please.”
Audra, with a wiggle of her fingers and a wink to Alistair, turned and walked after Capria and through the sliding glass doors of the spa.
>
The hall beyond was slightly rounded, its walls curving and made of the same sterile white tiling as the floor and ceiling. The floor ran in a single straight corridor, branching out here and there, while clear glass showed massage parlors with women laying down under the skilled hands of masseuses, coffin tanning beds, all in the same glaring white, slightly rounded architecture which seemed to define the whole place. It all reminded Audra strikingly of the futurist ideas in old science magazine from the sixties where they described moon colonies and Martian babes, with skin-tight white space suits and glass helmets like fish bowls.
“As you can see, our facilities are second to none,” Capria said lightly as she gestured at the adjoining rooms. “We have tanning beds, spas, salons, and a buffet carefully calculated to the calorie to help our esteemed guests shed those unwanted pounds and regain the youth they lost.”
“Fascinating,” Audra said.
Her guide smiled. “Isn’t it though?”
“Yes!” Audra said. “Why, I’ve seen the exact sort of facilities in the Hawaiian islands. We own a wonderful place there.”
Capria’s eyes narrowed a little, her smile never fading from her lips. “How wonderful. I imagine you must use it quite often.”
“I try.”
“I’m sure you do.”
Audra sincerely hoped the woman was up to something. She dearly did. It would be so good to have an excuse to shoot her.
They came up to another pair of the white doors at the end of the hall. Capria produced a thin plastic key card
“Now, these are the labs. Our own personal facilities of course. And where the real prize of our spa lies. The treatments within are strictly hush hush,” she said, putting a finger to the confiding smile on her lips.
“Oh I’ll be sure not to tell anyone.”
Capria laughed. “I know you will, dear. I know you will.”