by O. L. Casper
“You’ve missed me, kajira.”
“You’re my kajira.” I smile.
“Maybe.” He doesn’t smile.
He lifts one of my legs and touches the head of his cock to my labia. He rubs it around the lips and finds the hole. I feel a surge of energy as it slides in. He pumps. I bounce, riding him. He parts the open neck of the camisk to expose my breasts, which drape in the cold air before him. He grips my breasts and squeezes and massages them as he pumps me. He is slow in every respect except for the thrust—that comes quick and hard, and I bounce in ecstasy. We lose ourselves in the waves upon waves of dreamlike current flowing through us. Any concept of time disappears. I know this can go on indefinitely. He is the master of stamina. Every woman’s dream. And I own him. Every last bit from head to toe. The height of ecstasy achieved is enough to make one think she has found the purpose of life. I struggle to stay standing and remain conscious. I tell him I can’t take it anymore standing up and he relents. Though only long enough for me to get down on my hands and knees. Then he finds the spot again and puts it in. My fluid is seeping down my legs. My breasts hang from my chest like two weights, pulling my chest toward the floor. He grabs them and pulls them up into my chest, massaging them some more. As he fucks me, I remove the camisk the rest of the way from my body, knowing my nudity will inflame his passion further. I gyrate my hips as my lips suck him and pull him in like steel to a magnet. A few moments more and I’m floating, charting a course in golden fields of bliss. Every time I am with him I feel more dominant and in control. At times—while fucking—I feel myself to be the most powerful being in the multiverse; the absolute controller of all things. It is as though a hidden power seeps in through him, empowering me wildly, exulting me above all. I am, in those times, a monster of energy—immaculate, immortal, perfect.
Stafford and I sat on the bed, still fully nude, drinking more wine and watching the stars out over the sea and an electrical storm on the horizon. I leaned over and whispered in his ear.
“We have to go somewhere out of earshot of any electronic devices.”
He nodded and motioned for me to get dressed.
Not five minutes later we were walking along his private beach in the moonlight.
“There’s something I have to tell you, but I don’t know where to start.” I broke the silence uneasily.
“You’re pregnant.” He joked.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I’ve come across something—or rather it came across me.”
“What?”
“The FBI.”
He was silent for a moment, then, “I know they spy on me. What about it?”
“But do you know how much they spy on? What means they’re using?”
“Electronic, I’m sure. That’s how you came across them, right?”
“Not exactly.”
“This is starting to sound more serious than…” He trailed off.
“One of them approached me in the supermarket in Governor’s Harbour. I had coffee with him. Then I met him again.”
“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”
“It was only very recent. You were gone. I didn’t want to attract attention over electronic communication. They’re watching that. They’re watching everything.”
“I suspected as much. That’s why I’m so vague in all electronic communication.”
“Yeah, well they find you quite the riddle. Maybe you should try to be more plain and lie outright. But perhaps it’s too late for that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve hacked into my contact’s personal computer. FBI Special Agent Glenn Carter. He’s said quite a bit about the case in a journal he keeps.”
“What specifically are they after?”
“It’s about the dead women, on the one hand. But I feel that above all it’s about your business.”
“What do they think I’m doing?”
“Arms dealing.”
He was silent.
“I don’t care what you’re doing. I care about you, and I have a…dislike for them.”
He looked at me. In the light, or lack thereof, I couldn’t read his expression.
“What kind of connections have they formed between me and the dead girls?”
“As far as I can tell, tenuous ones at best.”
“This still isn’t good. I didn’t kill them. But those cocksuckers will twist anything around to implicate someone. They want me for the money, and because they don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations,” I said in a soft voice.
“You’ve done so much for me. And, honestly, who else do I have to confide in? I feel very strongly about you, not just infatuation—which is there—but as a loyal and trusted friend.”
I was surprised by his openness and the confirmation of feelings I had suspected all along.
“What about you? How do you feel?” he asked after a moment’s silence.
“When I’m with you I feel…I feel that the world is mine, and nothing can be wrong.”
“You share my feelings…”
“Something like them.”
“Something like them.”
“No two people can ever have exactly the same feelings.”
“So you aren’t…you don’t feel towards me…”
“Yes, yes—I do. I’m just saying it’s different for me than it is for you.”
“Well, of course.”
“I just wanted to find a way around saying it directly.”
“I see. You’re embarrassed.”
“Yes and no. Yes because who wouldn’t be the first time it comes up. No because I knew you knew all along. At least, I thought you did.”
“I did. I think.”
We walked on in silence for a time.
“Shit—it must be bad if they’ve come here. How many of them are there immediately assigned to me—how many here?”
“I don’t know. At least two. Probably more.”
He grunted and sighed.
“Is there anything else you’d like to know?”
“What’s the man like?”
“Carter…he’s very unusual, half-Peruvian. He’s odd, very quick, observant, suspicious of everyone. He’s got a unibrow like Bert from Sesame Street. He shaves it in the middle but the shaved bit is slightly grown out.”
He laughed. The wind kicked up and thunder cracked in the distance.
“We better get inside soon,” Stafford said, observing the horizon. “No talk of this inside of course—seeing as they might have bugged the fucking villa. Those stupid motherfuckers.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I’ll give it a night to think it over then we’ll take a stroll in the morning and discuss it. What do you think I should do?”
“You’re a powerful man—the extent of your powers I don’t fully know…”
“Going on what you do know…”
“Find a way to turn the investigation back on them. A way to flush it out for good.”
“Let’s argue this briefly to see what our options are.”
“Go for it.”
“To turn the investigation back on the individual agents involved would just result in the FBI resorting to other agents, would it not?”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly. What other possibilities are there in that scenario?”
“You publicly embarrass them. Make it look like they are needlessly harassing an upstanding citizen. Also make sure it is impossible for them to get anything on you. Make them bungle their case. Then publicly embarrass them about that too. Make it political.”
“I like the way you think, Sophia.”
“Thank you.”
“I couldn’t ask for a better partner…”
“…In crime?”
“I better tell you some things.”
“I don’t need to know what you do.”
“You can probably already guess.”
“That they’re right…?”
“I need you to figure out what information they’re actually going on. Can you do that for me?”
“No problem.”
“You sound like you have a few cards up your sleeve.”
“The fact that I can go through Carter’s journal is a major one, I’d say.”
“That’s awesome. But I need to be sure you’re on my team. How do I know you’re not working for them? Or at least playing both sides…?”
“You don’t. But you will. Believe me when I say…we’ll crush them together.”
“That’s exactly my feeling.”
“I do feel in a position of strength, but at the same time—we can’t underestimate Carter and his team. He’s an intelligent man. And to underestimate him could be to hand it to him.”
“You’re exactly right. Like I said, I’ll think on it tonight and we’ll discuss it in the morning.”
Special Agent Glenn Carter’s Journal
November 9, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas
While I feel Ms. Durant is a tough nut to crack, I also feel that she will unwittingly point us in the right direction. The truth is on our side, so to speak. Mr. Stafford’s business will go on, there will be more clues, and events will unfold, however miniscule, that will point us in the right direction. Remember, no detail is too small, nothing is insignificant. Ms. Durant will lead us to hard evidence of what is reported by various sources to be Mr. Stafford’s unfortunate line of business. STF will connect the nodes, determine their interactions and therein discover the illicit details of the trade that leads to more unwarranted bloodshed than any other. For now I need to devise a scheme to get us closer to his operations, something Ms. Durant can be a part of. I have a few possibilities in mind. I will narrow them before next time I see her.
Thinking of her, I find her highly desirable, very attractive, but I will push this to the back of my mind while I deal with the problem at hand. Ms. Durant, you will not be expecting the puzzle I put you up to next.
Sophia Durant’s Diary
November 10, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas
I found the last enigmatic entry one sunny morning while sitting down to a hot cup of coffee in the kitchen. The weather outside was cold and dark, and I hunched over the table as I read through Carter’s latest musings. What was he going to put me up to that I would not be aware of? How did he intend to ensnare me? What was this puzzle he mentioned? Also, what did STF stand for? All I could come up with was Stafford Task Force, but I couldn’t imagine them using a moniker as corny as that. As I contemplated STF, my phone buzzed with a new text message. To my surprise, it was him.
GLENN: I would like to meet you at a location of your choosing at the soonest possible convenience.
SOPHIA: How’s the famous beach with the pink sand in two hours? You know the one I mean…?
GLENN: Dunmore Town?
SOPHIA: Correct.
I walked in the pink sand perhaps overly cautious of my every move. I knew I was being watched in one form or another and it gave the distinct impression that I was an actor in a film. It was an international crime drama in which the stakes were very high, a secret battle was being waged between a criminal mastermind and the top agents of the FBI. My character was a node, right in the middle of it all. Not far from the truth, I thought. I knew that outwardly I would have to appear to be abiding by the law in every sense or risk getting tripped up in a court case later on. At the same time I resolved to help Stafford beat the FBI at every turn, out-maneuver them with every move. I came down from the fog of these lofty thoughts to see Carter approach me on the beach. I found his trench coat absurd. It made him stick out like a sore thumb. The wind was pounding us and I cupped one ear in an effort to hear him.
“Can we get inside? This weather is crazy.”
We sat down for coffee in a restaurant called Pink Tuna. I’d noticed a shadow in a similar trench coat to Carter’s following us. He didn’t come inside the restaurant at first.
“Are you just going to leave your shadow out in the cold like that?” I sneered.
He looked over his shoulder and saw the man standing outside. He punched some buttons on his Blackberry. His friend outside received the message and walked inside, eventually taking a window seat nearby.
“Are you sure you haven’t worked for the government before? Perhaps as a spy…”
Carter smiled a half-smile.
“The shadow’s blatantly obvious; if this were a movie nobody would find either of you believable.”
I figured I’d take some control of the situation by calling him out.
“But, then again, we knew you would expect him and definitely notice. We are not trying to hide him. It’s a matter of—”
“—Protocol. I know.” I cut him off.
“Of course. Nobody else here suspects anything.”
“Nor would it matter if they did.”
I looked around the restaurant. It was fairly empty at quarter past nine in the morning.
“Unless, of course, any of them worked for Mr. Stafford.”
“What’s the urgent matter you got me out of bed for?”
“We apologize if we have inconvenienced you.” His manner said the opposite.
“I don’t give a flying fuck either. So let’s come off it and get to the point, shall we?”
“No need for hard words, Ms. Durant. First, I must ask, are you alright? Do you feel your person to be in any danger?”
“No. I’m fine. You don’t have to like me. I’m just doing a job.”
“True. But you seem agitated. I need to know if there is anything on your mind…anything you need to tell us…”
I shook my head.
“I just want to come to the point. You probably already realize how awkward this is for me. I’m sure you know it adds certain pressures to my life that were never there before.”
He appeared sympathetic as he looked down into his coffee, stirring it slightly.
“I realize this can and will be difficult for you. I understand it adds, possibly, extraordinary pressures in your life. I cannot imagine how it is to be in your position. I’m not sure I could do it. I know few who could. And you’re free to get out at any time.”
Somehow I found this little speech of his uplifting. It furthered my resolve to “help” him. If I had missed my calling to a life of international intrigue, this would more than make up for it. If I lacked the skills for such a life, I would soon find out—and, of course, if that were the case, I could opt out whenever necessary. I decided I would go on playing the part of vulnerability and turn it to my advantage when I could. I certainly did feel vulnerable—but for far different reasons than he probably imagined.
“I…” I stumbled as I began, playing my part to the hilt, “I…I need to know. Can I count on you? When the going gets tough—if I proceed with this—can I rely on you to help me out and extricate me from the situation should the need arise? If my life were suddenly in danger?”
“As long as you work with us and abide by the law then I can say yes. You can. We will help. Don’t worry. Of that you can rest assured. But, on the other hand, if you cross us—and, if you do, we will find out—then you will be beyond help.”
“I’ll be a node outside of its charted circles.”
“You know your intel vocabulary,” he said slowly, almost suspiciously.
I winked.
“I do read, you know.”
“Apparently so. Apparently more than I do. I think I need to catch up.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, but I cannot guarantee I’ll be able to provide a sufficient answer.”
“Is there a task force involved? With this case, I mean.”
He hesitated, looked around, and leaned in.
“That I cannot confirm nor deny.”
“There is.”
“I have to comment once again, Ms. Durant, at the risk of repeating myself—you are impressively sharp, im
pressively well informed. In no way am I confirming or denying what you have asked.”
“Ten people, twelve…”
I thought I might as well try to build a rapport with him, to gain his trust, if we were going to get anywhere in fulfilling the purpose of the relationship—namely, my pulling the wool over his eyes.
“Ms. Durant…”
“—Sophia,” I corrected.
“Sophia…again you have succeeded wonderfully in diverting the conversation from the matter at hand. In answer to your question, what is this all about? Why did I get you out of bed? as you so aptly put it.”
I gave him my full attention.
“We have received word from a source that Stafford is about to take a little trip away from Eleuthera for a few days.”
“Where to? Or can you say?”
“The Seychelles.”
“That’s quite a little trip.”
“Indeed.”
“You want me to find my way aboard the plane he travels on…” I speculated.
“Precisely. He will be staying at the Four Seasons Resort. It is unconfirmed whether he will be flying his own jet or a commercial airliner, but he usually uses his planes when he travels.”
“A trip that far would require a rather big jet.”
“He does own a Boeing 767 that he uses on longer trips.”
“I didn’t even know that.”
“We didn’t expect you to. We know you flew on one of his Gulfstream jets.”
“Yes, on trips to and from Eleuthera.”
“We ask you to find your way to the Seychelles and to take something with you.”
He removed a small audio recording device from his trench coat.
“You want me to wear a wire?” I said, affecting distress.
“The Bureau feels…”
“I’m not gonna do it. There’s no way. You can use the audio off the mic on my phone if you want to get audio, but no—not that—I refuse.”
“While we probably could devise a way to get the audio from you phone, we prefer you to wear this. The sound quality is much higher. But you refuse. That’s that. Allowances will have to be made.”