Sexpionage

by Lesley E. Hal

  They both smiled like I was the main course on their menus instead of what the restaurant was serving. Jordan had yet to show his face, and I was beginning to feel that he wouldn’t. It was so unlike him to be late, and that worried me.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering you a special drink. Special, because it’s not on the menu.” Vicente chuckled. “A Screaming White Orgasm, and we’d love to see you have one.” This time, Antonio joined in the laugh with him.

  “That just so happens to be one . . . of my . . . my favorites.” I hoped smiling concealed my lie about the drink and everything else about my identity that wasn’t the truth. “Thank you.” I took a sip of the creamy concoction. My eyes rolled back when I took the drink from my lips. “Mmm . . . ” It was actually scrumptious.

  My eyes darted around the restaurant hoping to spot Jordan. When I didn’t see him, I paid closer attention to my dinner companions. Both men were sexy with heads full of jet-black wavy hair, intense dark eyes, and hairless faces. They looked to be in their mid to late thirties. I guess if I had to do them, I could.

  Antonio must’ve picked up on my nervousness and the fact that I was looking for “Marques” to make an appearance.

  “From the looks of it, Marques won’t be joining us tonight.” He broke the silence and tried to get me to relax by placing his hand on my leg which I removed quickly, but without seeming rude.

  “I was under the impression that he would be. Maybe he got stuck in traffic or something,” I responded to distract him from trying to touch me again and to reassure them of Jordan’s punctuality.

  Then Vincent’s eyes seemed to glaze over with yearning. “If it’s all the same to you, sexy lady, I’d like to take this meeting to our suite.”

  “Yes, we ordered dinner to be served there as well. I hope a medium steak dinner with all the trimmings suits your palate,” Antonio seconded.

  “Just the way I like it.” I swallowed hard to get rid of the lump that was rapidly forming in my throat. Now I was really beginning to wonder where the hell Jordan was.

  Antonio called the waiter over before we left. “Another round of Courvoisier Erte.”

  “Will the lady be refreshing her drink?” the waiter asked.

  I stopped the waiter before he could take away my half-filled martini glass. “No, I’m good.” Here we go, I thought as I cussed Jordan out in my mind.

  After Antonio and Vicente received their refreshed drinks, we were about to step onto the elevator when my phone rang.

  I quickly answered it. “Hello?”

  “Good job, baby.” It was Jordan.

  I tried to act as though I were speaking to someone else. “Hey, Shelia, I’m glad that you could get back to me so soon.”

  “Now listen,” Jordan said, getting straight to the point, “the food ordered to their suites will be served by me.”

  “Oh, how nice.” I smiled to throw them off. “I look forward to seeing you. It’s been awhile.”

  “Bianca, they have never seen me in the flesh before, but that doesn’t mean that they hadn’t seen pictures of me. Make sure they drink the Courvoisier that’s going to accompany their meals. I’ve injected enough Rohypnol in it to put their big asses out for the night. So whatever you do, do not drink any of what they’re having.”

  I was relieved to know that my baby was working behind the scenes. Now my confidence was through the roof. I strutted like a proud peacock and joined them on the waiting elevator to go to their suite. “That sounds like a plan. Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, dazzle them, do whatever you have to, but you bet not give them none of my pussy. You got that?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. Thanks for calling.” I grinned while pushing the “end” button on my phone.

  “I love seeing a woman smile,” Antonio complimented as the elevator doors closed.

  I flashed him a megawatt grin as the elevator made its way to their floor.

  Once the elevator opened, I allowed Antonio to lead me by the small of my back down the hall to an adjoining suite. Of course, the door was flanked by two big, burly bodyguards standing at attention. I acknowledged the two human towers with a head nod as we entered and they responded in kind.

  “Wow, this is nice.” I admired the room as I took in the pewter and topaz color scheme, with a deft blend of contemporary and traditional furnishings, and art work. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline completed the suite’s decor.

  Vicente was not one for words once the door was closed. He pulled me into him and went straight for my breasts.

  “I have to have some of your sweet American poussie.” Suddenly, it was like I was being attacked by an octopus. His hands were everywhere. His breathing was labored, but he managed to moan and flick my ear with his slimy tongue.

  Totally grossed out of my mind, I shimmied out of his grasp. “Damn, can a girl finish her drink and at least have some dinner first?”

  Antonio seemed to be the voice of reason between the two. “Yes, Vicente, treat her like a lady.” He licked his lips hungrily. “We have plenty of time to enjoy her later.”

  Thank God that the doorbell rang interrupting them when it did.

  “Room service!” was announced from the other side of the door.

  Antonio went to let Jordan in. His facial features were disguised around the eye and nose areas, but he still looked damn good. He was followed by a glamazon of a woman. The bitch was playing that Arabian goddess role to the hilt, with that horsetail swinging behind her and that thick-ass mascara enhancing her emerald-green eyes. I almost blew his cover when the green-eyed monster, better known as jealousy, surfaced.

  Antonio led me to an exquisitely decorated table to be seated for dinner, but I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off of Jordan, as he played his role of waiter.

  When he went to pour the Courvoisier, Vicente placed his hand over his glass.

  “Is there something the matter, sir?” Jordan asked with a British accent.

  “I still have a glass in the parlor that I have yet to finish. I’d hate to waste a good drink by getting another,” he explained.

  Never one to let them see him sweat, Jordan spoke up. “Well then, please allow me to go and get it for you, sir.”

  The woman took over serving us. Jordan returned less than a minute later with the drink Vicente didn’t want to go to waste.

  “Here you go, sir.” Jordan handed the half-empty glass to him upon his return.

  Vicente took a generous gulp from his drink the moment it touched his wandering hands. Once everything was served, I watched as Vicente and Antonio dug into their steaks savoring each bite.

  “Umm,” Vicente moaned as he flirted with me with his free hand under the table. “I don’t know which is better.” He looked my way displaying a mischievous smile on his ruddy face.

  “Ahh!” I jumped when Vicente’s fingers found their way inside my panties.

  Jordan’s head whipped around so fast that I thought he was going to kill Vicente on the spot. “Is everything all right, Ms.?”

  My eyes indicated for him to point his direction under the table. Jordan understood what I was saying and gritted his teeth. His mystery woman snickered quietly to herself, but I caught the bitch in action. I’d deal with her ass later.

  “Is there anything else you gentlemen would prefer?” She put thick emphasis on the word “anything” and probably meant it—job or not.

  This whore evidently didn’t know who the fuck she was pissing off, I thought as I seethed silently while plotting her demise.

  Vicente looked her over taking in her long ponytail, hourglass figure, double-D breasts and bronzed complexion. The walking buffet teetering around on the legs of a supermodel gave him an instant hard-on that he placed my hand on top of. It was nice and bulky. Had it been under any other circumstances, and had I not known what it was like to be with Jordan, I would’ve given him a whirl.

  “Are you on the menu?” He laughed, evoking an even heartier one
from Antonio.

  Jordan lightly expressed amusement in the statement, so not to draw suspicion to himself. He then topped their drinks off, while they went about finishing serving us our meals and left.

  “I know you were expecting Marques to join us, but he wanted us to take a load off tonight, if you know what I mean,” Vicente hinted flirtatiously.

  They roared with laughter as they made a toast to the evening we would share, and the business they’d discuss the following day with Marques. They gulped their drinks down and refilled their glasses. After knocking back the refills, they both tried to shake off what had gotten ahold of them.

  “I . . . I feel—” Before Vicente could finish his sentence, he fell facedown into his steak dinner. Antonio tried to come to his aid, but collapsed flat on his ass before he could even take a step.

  I hurriedly left the table, grabbed my phone and called Jordan. “It’s done.” I disconnected the call and went in search of their belongings. I saw the Louis Vuitton Calypso GM messenger bag like the one that Jordan had earlier. A laptop was sitting by a desk in the living area just off of the dining room. I opened it to see if it password protected, and it was. I’d let Jordan worry about that. I reached inside the messenger bag and pulled out a manila folder, a vintage 1953 Playboy with Marilyn Monroe on the cover, a newspaper, breath mints and a few flash drives that I set on the desk along with the computer.

  There were two thuds heard out in the hallway. Shortly afterward, Jordan, and his bitch, entered the room.

  Jordan immediately pulled out a device and went for the flash drives that I’d retrieved. He looked at the computer, and took another device out of his pocket. It resembled a flash drive and after examining the computer, he put it in one of the outlets on the side. The computer lit up and numbers started scrolling with a password invalid warning popping up every so often.

  “What about the guards?” I stopped looking through the messenger bag and asked.

  “Handled.” Jordan’s sidekick hollered over her shoulder as she pulled Vicente’s face out of his plate and cleared his airway passages so he wouldn’t suffocate. She then proceeded to check the pulses on both men to ensure that all was okay.

  The green-eyed monster reared her ugly head again, and I had no control over it. “Jordan, who is this bitch, and why couldn’t she be the one you had to run interference?”

  Jordan looked at me as though he couldn’t believe that I was questioning him—something he’d told me there was no room for on a job.

  “Bianca, now is not the time to let your insecurities get the best of you. Help her drag those goons in here, so I can get what we need uninterrupted. You’ll know who she is, soon enough.”

  Reluctantly, I did as I was told and helped her haul those heavy-ass men inside the suite, which was no easy feat by far. By the time we were done, we were both sweating profusely, and if that wasn’t bad enough, my back was aching something awful.

  “They, too, were given some of the tainted Courvoisier Erte. They thought they were getting a taste of their bosses’ expensive liquor without them being the wiser, while on the job,” she explained with amusement in her voice.

  This . . . BITCH! I wanted to scream out loud. “How did you convince these apes to take a swig?” I asked instead, and surprisingly, with a calm demeanor.

  “Oh, you know Jordan can be quite persuasive when he needs to be,” she answered nonchalantly.

  No this bitch didn’t! Damn the pain in my back. “And how would you know that?” I questioned, now standing with my hands on my hips ready to rock and roll.

  She laughed. “Hmmm, wouldn’t you like to know?”

  This bitch was trying it, and just didn’t know her ass was about to be traced in a chalk outline in five . . . four . . . To hell with the bodyguards we’d just dragged in. “Bitch, don’t play with me.”

  “Ooh, I’m so scared.” She laughed again and turned her back to me. Big mistake.

  I grabbed that long-ass, horse-hair ponytail, swung her around, and covered her mouth so that Jordan couldn’t hear us. She put up a good struggle; I’ll give her that. Only she couldn’t break the hold that I had on her, thanks to the martial arts classes my parents made my sister and I take three days a week when we were kids. Unfortunately for her, I never stopped training throughout my adult years.

  “Now, I’m going to ask you one more time, you insufferable cunt: who are you, and what are you doing with my man?”

  “We work together from time to time. That’s all. I swear.” She choked back tears as my grip tightened.

  “Is everything okay in there?” Jordan called out from the room of the suite where he went to search through their things while the files downloaded.

  “Yes, honey, we’re fine,” I answered back and yanked down on her hair harder, threatening to pull all her weave out as my grip tightened. “Tell ’em you’re all right.”

  “We’re tying up some . . . some loose ends,” she managed to squeak out.

  I released my hold on her hair. She stood, and gasped for air like I’d been choking her.

  • • •

  Agent Garza stopped the recording. “So who was this other woman? We don’t have any females in custody in connection with the Taran—er . . . I mean, Jordan Lei.”

  My attorney gave me a look.

  I cleared my throat to buy me a little time. “I never got her name,” I lied.

  Garza pushed his chair back and went on a tirade. “Do you expect me to believe that as dependent as you were on Jordan, that you didn’t get the name of the lady that helped you in that hotel room that night? That’s bullshit and you know it! What are you trying to hide from us, Ms. Brooks?”

  Aliyah spoke up. “That’s exactly what she’s telling you, Agent Garza.”

  It was Garza’s turn to get smug. “Attorney Talal, it was per our agreement that Ms. Brooks would tell us everything that she knew. Withholding any information kills the deal. I think it would be within her best interest not to try and dick us around.”

  Aliyah, not to be outdone, also stood. “Agent Garza, your assumption would be correct if my client wasn’t cooperating. Ms. Brook, is giving you very pertinent information that if it doesn’t give you Jordan Lei’s whereabouts, it will definitely give you more ammunition against the others that you already have in custody. Let’s not forget, that she just gave you two more most-wanted list criminals, Vicente Valdez, and Antonio Martinez. Both are ruthless drug lords and they dabble in the same rip-off business as Jordan Lei.”

  Agent Garza turned another shade of red. “But this isn’t about the others, Valdez, or Martinez. I want that damned Jordan Lei like I want my next breath, and she’s withholding information trying to protect that arrogant S.O.B.!”

  Aliyah sat back down and entered some information on her laptop. Once she was done, she looked up to address him.

  “Agent Garza, I understand that you’re a possible appointee as director of the FBI, the coup de grâce of your career pending the outcome of this case. If you accomplish the capture and conviction of The Tarantula, it would catapult your chances of accomplishing that goal. While I admire your tenacity, it’s not my client’s duty to see that you get a golden parachute to ascend into that position. Now, unless you want this interview to end abruptly, meaning before I finish this sentence, then you’ll refrain from the threats. My client has just given you two men on your most wanted list. Now, if that’s not cooperation, then I don’t know what the hell is. It would be a shame for me to let the current director know that you’re bypassing pertinent information on other high-profile criminals just to get your hooks into one. Now, wouldn’t it?” Aliyah was stern and from the looks of it, Agent Garza knew not to fuck with her.

  Agent Garza, not wanting Aliyah to make good on her promise, relented. It would take too much time to get orders from a judge. By the time he did that, I could have been long gone and he knew it.

  “Ms. Brooks, I hope you would accept my most sincere apologies.”


  “I accept.”

  Chapter 8

  Once we left the hotel, Jordan had me follow his car to a house that I’d never been to. It was nestled in a well-to-do gated community that you had to get clearance from security in order to gain entrance. We drove for another few minutes before stopping at two grand, black, wrought-iron gates opening to an astounding, French country chateau.

  Jordan jumped out of another of one of his many candy-apple-red and black sports cars and opened the door for that bitch, while I sat in my Range Rover fuming. The fucked-up part about it was that he didn’t even bother to extend me the same courtesy. It wasn’t until he was damn near inside the house that I decided to get out and run to catch up with them.

  Instead of explaining himself, he hit a button on a remote that was on his key chain. The walls parted like the Red Sea, revealing a secret room that resembled a CIA command center. There were all types of computers and gadgets, enough to put any electronic store to shame. For the first time, what I was involved in took root and finally hit me.

  To make matters worse, the bitch I wanted to strangle went to work right away. Oh yeah, she was very familiar with the way things worked around there. That reality, in itself, really took my fucked-up attitude to a level of detonation. They went about their business on the computers as if I wasn’t even there. I enviously watched as they worked in synch with one another. Their movements were sexually motivated—well, at least in my mind, they were. The body language. The closeness. The intimacy. The glances. The smiles. It all made me nauseous as I stood there like a useless, and desperate, attention-seeking fool. Who was this bitch, and why was she all up on my man like I wasn’t even in the vicinity? I could only imagine what the heifer did when I wasn’t around.

  I was feeling myself about to combust as . . .“JORDAAAAAAN!” leapt from the bottom of my being, and burst forth through my lips creating a piercing, foreign sound that chilled me to the core.