Escapades of an Erotic Spy - Part 1 A Spy is Born

by Lexington Manheim

  Each morning, when I awoke in that army cot, I wondered whether that would be the day Lieutenant Ricci would tell me the whole thing was off. That I just wasn’t up to the task. That they found someone far better suited. That it was too important a mission to rely on me. I didn’t only wonder about that, I expected it. Yet, each day began the same as the previous—morning toiletries, breakfast, and back to the drilling.

  German numbers…

  Eins, zwei, drei…

  Picking them out of sentences about trains…

  Eisenbahn…

  Mentioning supplies…

  Zubehör…

  Particularly ammunition…

  Munition…

  Traveling on specific days…

  Montag, Dienstag, Mittwoch…

  “Suisse!” called out the conductor. Our train was entering neutral Switzerland. Soon we’d be changing trains and heading north into Germany.

  I hated to wake my traveling companion. He looked so peaceful sleeping, and I suspected he was as exhausted as I was following the grueling training he’d put me through. Perhaps it was even more fatiguing for him, trying so hard to be patient as he drilled me. I kept apologizing for not being better equipped for that type of study. He’d respond by telling me to focus on the subject matter and not waste time on apologies. It was easier said than done. Struggling to cram things into my head, I felt so brainless. I was certain I was a constant source of frustration to him—an ignorant girl, thrust upon him by circumstance, with none of the skills expected of someone in his profession. It wasn’t until the fourth day of my training that I heard the first encouraging word out of him.

  “Excellent.”

  That’s all he said after I repeated back in English the key words of a long sentence he spoke in German. He didn’t put any emphasis or enthusiasm into his enunciation of that single word, but it thrilled me just the same to hear a positive assessment. Finally, I was making progress. Perhaps I wasn’t so stupid after all. Maybe I really was capable of fulfilling the needs of an important assignment. Maybe Lieutenant Ricci wouldn’t think of me as just a…

  Well, much as I hated to wake him, I thought he should know where we were.

  “Lieutenant…. Lieutenant.”

  He grunted as he stirred and rubbed his eyes. Then he coughed to clear his throat.

  “What?”

  “We’re in Switzerland.”

  “So?”

  “So are there any last-minute instructions before we get to Germany?”

  “We’ve still got to change trains in Bern,” he yawned. “We won’t be in Germany for hours yet.”

  “I know. But, I thought, while we’ve got the compartment to ourselves…”

  We had shared a compartment with a married couple from Paris to Dijon. Now we were alone, and I was concerned that it might be our last opportunity to communicate confidentially before entering German territory.

  “I’ve told you everything you need to know,” he said. “Besides that, I’ll be in the next room at the hotel in Strassburg. If something comes up, you know how to reach me. For now, just try to get some rest. We’re going to be pretty busy once we get there.”

  He closed his eyes and nestled into the cushioned seat.

  “Lieutenant?”

  “What?” He didn’t bother to open his eyes this time.

  “Maybe we could go through the German drills? Just a refresher?”

  “Hundert Artillerie Kanone sind am Samstag aus München Versand,” was what it sounded like he muttered.

  “Something about ‘a hundred cannon’ and ‘Saturday’…and ‘Munich’?” I translated as best I could.

  “You’re as ready as you’ll ever be,” he concluded. “Relax.”

  I was anything but relaxed. How could I be? Would any girl be able to relax knowing what was waiting at the end of those railroad tracks?

  “What if he doesn’t find me attractive?” I squirmed restlessly.

  “Oh, please!” huffed my companion. “What man in his right mind wouldn’t find you attractive?”

  The compliment pleased me. Our relationship for the past week had been so intensely businesslike that I wasn’t sure Lieutenant Ricci even thought of me as being female, let alone a desirable woman. Still, I had my doubts.

  “In America,” I sighed, “there were those who didn’t think a woman of color was—”

  “We’re not in America,” he interjected. “Attitudes are a little different here. I’m not saying this guy’s Frederick Douglass. But, as far as women go, he’s about as liberal minded as you’re going to find. So don’t worry. We get you in the same room with him, he’ll notice you.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then there are some things I can’t teach you, Miss Foxxe.” There were those dark eyes again—staring at me with an austere expression. How I hated being judged by those eyes.

  My training involved almost no talk of sex. A curious omission when you stop to think about the key purpose for which I was chosen. About the only thing sexual I can recall being discussed was a birth control method, and that only came up after I raised the concern. The lieutenant assured me there’d be no problem about fitting me for a diaphragm. I must say I was shocked to hear him use the actual word rather than some well-chose euphemism, as was more common in the United States. However, that was another occasion when he reminded me we weren’t in America.

  “This is Paris,” he had quipped. “You can practically buy ‘em on every street corner with a crepe Suzette.”

  Apparently feeling our conversation had come to a close, he shut his eyes again and began snuggling into the seat. I wanted to allow him to sleep, but my mind was racing.

  “Lieutenant?”

  “And another thing…” He shot up straight, a stern tone in his voice. “Stop calling me ‘Lieutenant.’ On this mission, I’m a Swiss businessman, and you’re a single woman from Africa. That’s what our papers say. So let’s not contradict them. Don’t breathe a word about my rank to anyone. They find out I’m in the U.S. Army, and… Well, I think you know what that means.”

  “So what should I call you?”

  “Why don’t you try calling me ‘Faust’?”

  I laughed. It struck me funny. Leaning in with clandestine mischief, I smirked, “Is that your code name?”

  “No!” He furrowed his brow. “It’s my real name—Faust Ricci.”

  “Oh,” I gulped with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

  “At least it’s an actual name,” he snapped. “Where’d you pull ‘Dexeter Foxxe’ out of—Grimm’s Fairy Tales?”

  “I said I was sorry.”

  “Sure, you’re always sorry about something,” he grumbled.

  He pursed his lips. I could tell he was annoyed with me again. It seemed like I was forever disappointing him.

  Finally, he huffed, “So what were you going to ask me...before?”

  Oh, those piercing eyes.

  “Nothing,” I exhaled.

  While my companion settled back into his bench, ready to resume slumber, I looked out the window. Anything to get out from under the glare of those eyes. It was a lovely alpine landscape beyond the compartment window—snowcapped mountains, trees, rivers, and the occasional chalet. However, I wasn’t enjoying any of it. I felt like crying.

  My companion must have snuck a peek and detected my mood.

  “What is it?” He straightened up in his seat.

  “Nothing important.” I kept my focus on the passing countryside.

  “Come on,” he insisted. “You look like you’re about to pass out. So tell me.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I’m not as savvy as you are,” I blurted. “I’m really out of my element here…and just a little nervous. More than a little. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  “Yes, I can understand it.” He squinted at me. “Now there’s something you need to understand. Once we enter Germany, we’re in enemy territory. And what we’re doing’s called espionage. You know what the pena
lty is for that. I’ll do my best to keep you as safe as I can, but there are no guarantees. So, if you don’t have the intestinal fortitude—no, let me rephrase that, Miss Foxx. If you don’t have the guts to do this, then say so now, before a whole lot of people put their lives on the line.”

  I went rigid. Even he had never spoken to me in that tone before.

  “Well,” he continued, “what about it? Are you in or out?”

  I swallowed hard. “I’m in.”

  “All right,” he said. “Try to have a little confidence in yourself. If I didn’t think you could do it, I wouldn’t be here with you. It’s risking my life as well. And my life’s kind of important to me, Miss Foxxe.”

  Just hearing him say that, I felt a little better. In fact, I felt a lot better. He had confidence in me. Up till then, I hadn’t thought he did.

  “Maybe you could call me by my first name, too,” I said, suddenly feeling more amiable. “I mean, as long as I’m calling you by yours. You could call me Dexeter…if you want.”

  “Dexeter,” he repeated as though trying it on for size. “It’s a bit long. Would it be all right if I called you Dex?”

  “If you like.”

  “All right,” he said. “From now on, it’s Dex and Faust. Pleased to meet ya.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Do me a favor, Dex. Wake me when we get to Bern station.” He turned sideways and tried to find a comfortable position in which to rest. “Is that my code name?” he sneered under his breath, shaking his head as he went back to sleep.

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  Escapades of an Erotic Spy

  Part 1 - A Spy Is Born

  Copyright © 2015 Lexington Manheim

  Cover art by Kayden McLeod

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are eighteen or older.

  Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, New Dawning Bookfair