by Radclyffe
"Have you been here before?" she asked as she weaved her way around bodies, following Blair toward the rear.
"Three times a week for eighteen months."
Cam was furious. No one had told her about this place - she had no background on the members, no idea of the physical layout, and no prayer of guarding Blair effectively. How in hell had this been overlooked?
As if reading her mind, Blair commented, "They dont know about it."
"How?"
Blair grinned, an altogether spontaneous and disarming grin. Or it might have been if Cam hadnt been so angry. "They think Im at my therapists office around the corner most of the time."
"Back door?"
"Uh huh."
Cam didnt ask her why. There was no need to. She knew why. Pointing out the danger would be meaningless. Blair obviously cared less for her safety than for her freedom, and that was probably the result of having people like herself constantly shadowing her for the last fifteen years of her life. What mattered to Cam now was that something similar not happen again.
"Here we are," Blair announced, pulling back the curtain to a small cramped dressing room not much bigger than a walk-in closet. A shower stall and toilet were visible behind a rickety screen in the back. Blair tossed her bag down and in one fluid motion pulled off her shirt. She caught Cam off guard and laughed knowingly as Cams eyes flickered once to her breasts before she quickly looked away.
"You can grab sweats and a tee shirt from my bag. Theres plenty," Blair informed her as she continued to strip. She watched Cam unabashedly as she changed. She knew Cam was aware of her scrutiny, although she gave no sign of it. Cam had the kind of body Blair expected - lean and hard-muscled, a tightly coiled machine. She imagined making those muscles quiver with desire, watching Cam's rigid control break with need. The power of the image stirred a flush of arousal so keen it made her gasp. If Cam heard, she gave no sign of it. She reached for a pair of sweats without hurrying.
Blair looked at the ten inch scar that ran down the outside of Cams right thigh. It was still fresh enough that it hadnt lost the redness. As Cam pulled the pants up, Blair asked, "Is your leg okay?"
"Yes, it is."
Cam pulled on a tee shirt that said 'Ernies Gym'. She faced Blair, who stood appraising her. The Presidents daughter wore a sleeveless tee, torn off a couple of inches below her high firm breasts, and baggy sweats. Sleek well-toned muscles defined her arms and legs. Her exposed midriff was taut, and she sported a small gold ring in her navel. Untamed blond strands escaped from the black headband, wilding around her face. Her blue eyes glinted with brazen sensuality. She was a beautiful animal.
"I take it this is Ernies?" Cam remarked dryly, refusing to be distracted by Blairs open seduction. The time when the promise of a body like that might have interested her was past. The price of possession was too high.
"This is Ernies," Blair rejoined, pushing the curtain aside. She wasnt perturbed by Cams rebuff. She would have been disappointed had it been easy. What bothered her was the undeniable throbbing in her own body. Desire was a weakness, one she exploited in others, but avoided personally. There were too many ways in which other people controlled her. She would not allow another.
**********
Cams head snapped back as a kick landed along her jaw.
"Are you sure you dont want a helmet," Blair called, a hint of laughter in her voice. She moved lightly on the canvas, her gloved hands at chest level. Cam faced her, wearing no gloves or other protective gear.
"No thanks," Cam responded, gauging the reach of Blairs legs with respect. When the next kick came she stepped off the line of the trajectory and deflected it with a forearm. She expected a follow-up punch, and she blocked that as well. She stepped back once again to a middle range, trying to get a feel for Blairs tactics. Blair moved lightly on the canvass, agile and supple. Blair was a kickboxer, and used her feet as weapons in the ring. Cam was trained for the street. Blair attacked relentlessly, mixing kicks, double kicks and strikes with considerable skill. Some scored, although none would have done damage had they been full force.
Cam deflected, blocked and redirected her opponents efforts. She was trained to immobilize and neutralize, and those techniques were not designed for sparring. She knew she couldnt defend this way for long - there was a good chance Blair would make serious contact with one of her kicks. As a sweeping round house kick approached her head, Cam stepped forward into Blairs body, so close to her that the kick lost its force. She trapped Blairs leg with her near arm, grasped the shoulder of Blair's shirt with her other hand, and swept Blairs remaining leg out from under her. Cam held onto her to break her fall, following her down to the mat, and pinned her face down with a shoulder pin.
"Son of a bitch!" Blair muttered as she struggled briefly to lift her torso off the canvass. She stopped when the pressure on her shoulder increased slightly. She wasnt damaged, but she was effectively immobilized.
"If you tap the mat, Ill release you," Cam said softly into her ear. "But you must promise not to punch me as you get up. Rules of war."
Blair laughed as she slapped the mat. She rolled over and found Cam kneeling beside her, a half smile on her face.
"You okay?" Cam asked.
"Dandy. I suppose youll do that again if we start over?"
"I told you I didnt spar," Cam said as they both got to their feet. "Youd annihilate me."
"No, I dont think so," Blair replied softly, stripping off her gloves. "You mind showing me that technique?"
Cam glanced outside the ring, realizing they had drawn quite a crowd. She wasnt sure this was a good time for a lesson, especially when she had no one inside the building. She couldnt very well survey the people around them if she was flat on her back. Blair followed her gaze, her smile disappearing in irritation.
"They dont know me," she said flatly.
Cam saw the resentment in her eyes, and shook her head slightly. "You cant know that."
"I know," Blair insisted. "I always know." She took a deep breath, then added in a whisper, "please."
Cam swept the group leaning on the ropes one more time. "All right."
She demonstrated at half- speed several times while Blair watched intently. Then she launched a kick toward Blairs head, ready to pull back if Blair failed to execute the technique. Blair quickly countered and took Cam down soundly to the cheers of the onlookers. Cam found herself on her back with Blair above her, Blair's bent forearm pressed to Cams neck. Blair pressed her knee between Cams legs and leaned forward until their faces were nearly touching. Her lips were a breath away.
"If you dont slap the mat, I can make this feel a whole lot better," Blair whispered.
Cam gasped as Blair rocked her thigh against Cams pelvis. For a second all she felt was the fire, igniting instantly into a consuming ache. She caught back a moan, shook her head to clear it, and in one upward thrust, dislodged Blair from on top of her. She was on her feet quickly, and in the next instant had vaulted over the ropes and out of the ring.
"Shes too much for you, huh girl?" a burly man next to her said good-naturedly.
"You got that right," Cam responded lightly. She waited as Blair climbed down, then followed her into the dressing room.
"I need to shower," Blair informed her, pulling off her clothes. Cam struggled to quell the remnants of unwanted desire.
"Ill wait outside."
"What are you afraid of, Agent Roberts?" Blair taunted lightly as she stood naked before her. "I felt you, you know."
"Take your time," Cam said evenly as she stepped out through the curtain. Blairs laughter followed her even as the throbbing in her pelvis reminded her of her own weakness.
Chapter Seven
Cam slammed the office door hard enough that the glass enclosure rattled. Six agents sat slumped around the table, staring at their pens. Cam stood at the end of the table, breathing heavily, trying to contain her anger.
"How many of you have been on this detail longer than six months?" s
he asked at length, her words clipped. There was a moment of silence, then Mac cleared his throat.
"All of us, maam."
"All of you." She looked them over one at a time. "All of you."
"Yes maam," he responded.
"Obviously none of you are capable of this assignment, nor worthy of it. Blair Powell - the daughter of the President of the United States -has been criminally unprotected for months , and not one of you reported it? Even if I could overlook your lack of responsibility to her - which I cant - it is impossible to excuse your silence regarding the potential danger to national security. Were she kidnapped it would threaten the presidency." Leaning forward, both hands flat on the table, she said succinctly, "I want a request for transfer from every one of you on my desk in one hour."
As Cam turned toward the door, Paula Stark stood abruptly. "Commander!"
"Yes?" Cam questioned.
"I dont want a transfer, maam. I want this detail."
"Really? And why is that?"
Stark took a deep breath. "Because she is my responsibility, and because I can do what no one else can. Ive spent months following her through half the gay bars in this city. I am recognized, and Im accepted. I can go where most of the others cant. You need an inside person, and thats me."
Cam regarded her silently.
Paula met Cams penetrating gaze. "I should have filed a report sooner. We lose her regularly, and its always because were never informed of her route, or she changes it, or she intentionally lies to us. Were all frustrated - but thats no excuse."
"Youre right. Thats no excuse for what you all have been participating in. Regardless of Ms. Powells duplicity, it is your sworn duty to guard her. If you dont have what it takes, you dont belong here. I dont want anyone on this team who doesnt want to be here." She looked over the group. "Ill see that there are no repercussions if you request transfer now, but I guarantee I will see you posted to an embassy in Somalia if you fuck up on my detail."
An hour later, Mac knocked on the door to Cams eight by ten office.
"Comander?"
Cam studied his boyishly handsome face. His blue eyes were serious.
"Are you staying or leaving, Mac?"
"Im staying if you want me. Two men want transfers - theyre bringing the paperwork. Im sorry I fucked up. If you dont trust me"
Cam stopped him with a raised hand. "I need a good coordinator, Mac. We have an uncooperative target - nothing is going to change that. We are going to have to be able to readjust personnel, vehicle placement, even motor routes at a moments notice. I need to be with her - consistently, persistently - until she figures out that we are not going away."
She saw the look of disbelief he quickly tried to hide. She laughed, the tension easing from her shoulders for the first time since she left the gym. "Yeah, I know. Im dreaming. Youll be the desk jockey most of the time were here, and the communication center when were not. Are you in or not?"
He favored her with a brilliant smile. "Im in."
"Good - then find me replacements for the two who are leaving. I dont even want to see the files until youve been through them. And Mac - we both know what the problem has been. If theres even a hint of homophobia, I dont want them on this assignment. Blair Powells lifestyle is not our concern, and shouldnt affect the way we do the job. I want that clear."
"Yes maam. I understand."
"Good. Well brief for the trip to Washington at 0700."
As soon as her second in command closed the door, Cam leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She didnt want to think about her response to Blairs blatant sexual overture at the gym, but she had to. She could not afford to be distracted, and there was no denying the effect Blair had on her. Fortunately, it was purely physical, and they would be in Washington in two days. She could satisfy the insistent demands of her body then.
**********
Cam was the last one on the plane. The cabin space was small, and Blair sat alone near the rear. Three other agents had boarded earlier and occupied the area just behind the cockpit. Cam nodded to them as she moved toward the rear, finally settling in the seat across the aisle from Blair. She stretched her legs into the aisle and pulled a stack of memos from her briefcase.
"Do you have plans for tonight, Agent Roberts?" Blair asked. She liked the semi-casual look of Cams pressed khaki chinos and matching blazer over a cotton broadcloth shirt. The only way she liked her better was in the tight faded jeans she wore when she was off-duty. Blair remembered very well how good Cam looked in those. In fact, every time she thought about that night in the bar she wanted nothing more than to get her hands inside those jeans. For the moment at least, that seemed unlikely.
Cam smiled, shaking her head slightly. "No plans. Happy Birthday, by the way."
Blair flushed slightly, then reminded herself the agent was only being polite, like most of the people in her life. She leaned forward, lowering her voice as she spoke. "Why thank you. I dont suppose a birthday kiss is in the offing?"
Cam glanced at her, aware of how attractive she was, then back at the papers before her. "No."
They did not speak for the rest of the flight.
Cam accompanied Blair across the drive to the private entrance to the White House. She stopped at the door as a guard opened it for Blair.
"Ill see you in the morning, Ms. Powell," she said. The door swung shut with no response from the Presidents daughter. The White House Security staff would be responsible for her welfare from this point until she was ready to leave the next day. Cam was looking forward to a day off, and a relaxing evening.
chapter eight
Cam stretched out on the couch with a drink and watched the traffic below on Pennsylvania Avenue. From her highrise apartment she could see the White House in the distance. She wondered fleetingly how Blair was faring, then put the thought from her mind. Tonight she did not have to worry about her. She reached for the phone and dialed a number from memory.
"This is number 38913," she said as a female voice answered. "Id like to confirm my arrangement for tonight." She waited for a moment as her client ID number was verified. "Yes - eleven o-clock at" She hesitated as her beeper went off. "Just a second," she added, checking the number. It was the White House. "Ill have to call back. It may be later. Yes, keep it open - Ill take care of the time. Thank you."
She pushed the other line, keeping the scrambler engaged. "Roberts," she said tersely when the phone was picked up.
"Commander? Its Mac - Im sorry to bother you, but I thought youd want a call."
"Mac?" she said in surprise. "What are you doing there? Whats going on?"
"Im not supposed to be here. Shes gone, Commander. They lost her an hour ago. The commander here didnt want anyone to know, so when it started getting late a buddy of mine called me on the sly."
"Goddamn it," she cursed. "Who else knows?"
"Just the inside team here. They havent a clue where to look."
She understood his message. "Right - we cant very well call out our own people. Were not even supposed to know about this. There are a few places I can check. Listen Mac, theres a floating club - it travels around from one venue to another all over the city. Very trendy, only people in the know have the address. Find it for me. Ill call you in an hour."
She interrupted his protests. "I dont know how youll find it, but Im sure you will."
Two hours later he called her with the address. Cam arrived at the warehouse close to midnight. She had been to every gay bar she knew of, and several Mac had come up with. It was New Years Eve. The bars were packed with exuberant men and women in various stages of intoxication and undress. She hadnt found her. For all she knew, Blair was tucked away in bed somewhere with a girlfriend they didnt know about. Cam hoped so.
It was worse than she expected. Wall to wall people, jostling bodies, smoke hanging in clouds below the dim spotlights, the air heavy with sex and booze. Cam pushed her way into the shadowy depths of the long room, hoping that each blonde she saw w
ould be Blair.
Blair watched her drawing closer. She stood leaning against the wall in the narrow passageway leading to semi-private alcoves and niches which women were using for quick assignations and frantic couplings. She had been watching a young tough in tight black leather pants swagger about at the bar, trying to impress her friends with her bravado. Blair thought she might be fun to toy with. It was always so satisfying to humble the butches, and she made a bet with herself that she could make this one beg. She was about to go over when she caught sight of Cam. Taller by a head than most of the women, she cut a swath through the crowd like a sleek cutter through the sea. In a light windbreaker, dark polo shirt, the signature faded jeans and boots, she should have looked ordinary, but she was easily the sexiest woman in view. She moved with certainty and grace, lithe and powerful, a hunter searching its prey. It was only the darkness in the hall that gave Blair the advantage. As Cam moved closer, Blairs pulse quickened. This time the hunted would have the hunter.
Cam stepped through the archway into the hall just as the countdown to midnight began. People were crushing in around her, searching for that elusive partner to claim at the dawn of a new year. Blair caught her by the arm and spun her against the wall, pressing into her, her hands around Cam's waist. Cam was momentarily stunned. Blairs breasts were soft against her chest, her breath hot on Cam's neck, Blair's thigh tight into her crotch. Cam hadnt been close to a woman this way in a year and her body surged with reawakened sensation. She caught her breath as a stab of desire pierced her. Her clit swelled, hard and ready in an instant.
"Happy New Year, Commander," Blair breathed into her ear, grasping Cams head and pulling her down into a kiss. Cam gasped in surprise as Blair pushed into her, fusing their bodies in the press of the milling crowd.