by Lexi Duval
“But, before we go, I'd like you to do me one more favor.”
At least he's called it a favor this time, rather than just ordering me...
“Yes?”
“I'd like to see you in those earrings...but only in those earrings.”
A smile runs up his face, and he steps back to give me some space, and just like the last time I saw him in his officer, he's asking me to strip.
But this time, I feel no animosity to the request. He's just offered to give me jewelry worth two million dollars. He deserves to see what they look like on me with only my skin as company.
So I do as he says once more, and I slide out of my long black dress, the crimson interior becoming visible as the fabric drops to the floor.
Once more, I have no panties on below, no bra. Just my soft skin and sensual curves.
“You look even more stunning like that,” says Sage. “You are truly irresistible, Night Panther...”
He comes toward me, slipping out of his tuxedo jacket, and I can see that familiar fire lighting in his eyes.
Not now...
“We shouldn't, Sage. I need to keep my mind on tonight...”
“Tonight will be fine. I'm sorry, but I can't help myself.”
He's working on his pants now, undoing them quickly, almost feverishly, kicking off his shoes, unbuttoning his shirt.
I watch, naked, as he undresses, revealing his tight and toned body, his swelling cock. And almost in the blink of an eye, my own reservations are crushed, and I can feel myself giving in.
“Just don't mess up my hair or make up,” I say.
“I won't kiss you...and I won't touch your hair. Just lie down, and open up. I haven't seen you for ten days...this one won't take long.”
I fall onto the bed, feeling the soft mattress take my weight, and lay myself bare to him once again. This time, there's no foreplay, no build up. He just clambers right onto me, sitting up, widening my legs, and plunging his dick deep into my vagina.
The sharp stab hits me and then melts into something more pleasurable, but I'm still dry and tight and the penetration is mildly uncomfortable. He spits down onto his dick, rubs the saliva along the shaft, and continues to slide in and out until he's fully lubricated.
He's right about long it takes.
After only a few moments, he's changing position, lying down onto me in classic missionary style, and pumping like the world depended on it. Tonight he's driven by a need to get himself off, more than one to prolong the sex and build to a crescendo.
I lie with his weight between me and try to keep my mind on tonight. Try to keep it off him and his raging libido. I don't want to orgasm, don't want my mind to be clouded. I just want to maintain my focus and get through the night.
But it's hard. And my hormones and lust won't let me. The connection of his cock inside me, the rubbing of his groin against my clit. It all transpires to make me get lost to him once again.
Thankfully, though, it's short.
He pumps, and pumps, and fucks me like I'm the last fuck he'll ever have. Like it's stress relief, or he's on a time limit, charging into me like an animal until his body is heaving and twisting and I can feel the rush of come spurt right into me.
He breathes heavily once he's done, before sliding out of me and returning to his clothes.
“Go clean up. We're leaving in ten.”
No kissing, no tenderness. Just an insatiable need to get his end off.
I go to the bathroom, clean myself out, and return to the room to dress. By the time I'm back, he's already looking sharp in his tuxedo once again, everything straightened out and in order, as if we never fucked at all.
Thankfully, he made good on his word not to kiss me or touch my hair, because my look is generally in order. And now, with diamond earrings still sparking in my earlobes, we walk out together toward the chauffeured car waiting at the bottom of the mansion's steps.
“Let's make tonight memorable, shall we Kristen?”
I look at him and smile, my game face back on.
Oh, it will be memorable alright...
“Whatever you say. You're the boss.”
Chapter Five
We arrive at the party at 6 PM, at a time when the sun is just beginning to disappear below the horizon.
The night is cool, but not as bitterly cold as it has been, and as we pull up toward the gate I can see the wealth of cars already lining the pathway, ready to pull in.
We fuse in behind, and are ushered along with the convoy, a security guard checking us over and waving us through as soon as he's satisfied.
The mansion towers high as we get closer, and I find myself comparing it with Sage's. He seems to know what I'm thinking, and turns to me with a question.
“Which do you prefer? His or mine?”
I give a cheeky, ambiguous smile, and shrug.
“I'd have to see the interior before I can make a judgment.”
In truth, there's little to choose on the outside. Both have stunning gardens and fountains and other natural features, and the mansions themselves look as through they could have been built from plans by the same architect they're so similar.
We continue toward the front, where the well dressed guests are stepping out of their cars and gazing around at the estate. Soon, it's our turn, and Sage steps out first before leaning in and lending his hand to mine.
He pulls me out, and I step gracefully before Sage shuts the door behind me. It strikes me that, in different circumstances, he might be quite the gentleman and quite the catch. Unfortunately, all I am to him is temporary property, hired help used to fuck him and steal for him.
I guess you reap what you sow...
We step up toward the mansion, and have our ticket checked by additional security outside the door. Already, I've counted several guards, dotted here and there, my keen eyes always on the lookout for such men, and even women.
We enter, and I see for the first time in the flesh the interior I've imagined so many times in my mind. I know the layout so well, understand exactly how to get to any room of the house from where I'm standing.
It's something I do with all my jobs, my fastidiousness always ensuring that any home I invade is like my own; somewhere I know like the back of my hand and can escape without a second's thought of where to go.
Music fills the air inside, and we're quickly ushered through into a large banquet room where people gather and mingle and chat between themselves. Waiters and waitresses drift here and there, holding trays of champagne. Sage takes a couple of glasses and passes one to me.
“Have you ever been to an event like this?”
“Once or twice,” I say. “You're not the only millionaire I've encountered on my travels.”
“And what about billionaires,” he says, correcting me with a semi smug smile.
“Then you're my first.”
Across the room, a middle aged couple come charging, setting their sights on Sage. He glances at me.
“Friends of my parents,” he mumbles, before greeting them warmly and introducing me as his guest for the evening.
That happens regularly, but always he sticks to the plan and tries to keep the attention off me. The more anonymous I am, the better, and the easier I'll be able to get on with my job.
To maintain the illusion, I play the shy girl, nothing more than arm candy for a man known to enjoy the company of women. People feign brief interest in me before Sage draws their attention back to a topic that my character can't hope to understand.
It's the same when the host, Morgan Trayfoot, arrives. He swans through, speaking to people as he goes, and eventually settles in front of Sage.
“Sage, how are you my old friend.”
“Very good, Morgan, very good. Happy to be here to celebrate with you and you new fiance. Now, where is the fine woman?”
He scans the crowd, and I can already sense the tension between them.
“She's...somewhere out in the masses. I'm sure she'll turn up soon
er or later.”
“Well, I'll look forward to meeting her.”
There's a slight cut to Sage's voice. It's incredibly clear that these two don't like each other, no matter the affability of the conversation.
“And who's this you're here with?”
Morgan takes my hand, and kisses it, his puffy red cheeks wobbling as he does. He looks at me like I'm a piece of meat, and I'm half tempted to break character and slap him across the face.
“Love the earrings...” he says, making me think he knows the history behind them.
“This is my date for the evening,” says Sage coldly. “Now, if you'll excuse us, there's somewhere we need to be.”
Sage takes my hand off him and quickly leads me away.
“What was that about?” I ask.
“It doesn't matter. The guy's a piece of shit. Come on, let's get another drink.”
“No, Sage. I need to know what you've got against this guy. Why you're so intent on...” I lower my voice to a whisper. “...on taking his necklace? What did he do to you?”
Sage's face screws up and he leads me out of the main hall and into a quieter adjoining room.
“He was the reason my marriage broke down. He...he slept with my wife, OK. And now I'm going to take his fucking necklace.”
Shit...that makes so much sense. So this is all about his wife.
“Look, it doesn't matter what's gone on between us, Kristen. You're here to do a job, and the details don't matter. So, shall we get to work?”
“Sure. Let me do what I do best. I'll get that necklace for you, Sage.”
We return to the main hall, and take another glass of champagne each from a passing waiter. The evening is yet to truly get going, and only when it does will the meat of the plan be put into action.
It will be during the inevitable speech from Morgan that I'll make my move. As Sage has informed me, the host is an insufferable raconteur who adores the sound of his own voice. When he starts speaking to a crowd, he never stops for at least 20 minutes.
During that time I'll escape out the back, unseen, and go to the bathroom. I'll turn my dress inside out, quickly lighten my make up with red lipstick, and put on my wig and contacts.
When I emerge, and no one will be around and, if they are, they won't recognize me. From there I'll navigate my way to the study, where I know the secret location of the safe. I'll use my glasses to detect the code, swipe the necklace, and return to the bathroom to change.
Before the speech is over, I'll be back by Sage's side, ready to depart with the spoils in my handbag.
That, of course, is all in principal, and is plan A. There are contingencies in place for any obstacles I might face, such as locked rooms or patrolling guards. The sort of things I couldn't have fully known about or prepared for.
But right now, things are going to order, and we continue to let the night pass by as the crowd gets more drunk, the music gets a little louder, and the entire mansion grows with a jovial spirit.
And then, just as Sage predicted, Morgan calls all the guests to the main ballroom, where he proceeds to step in front of everyone and prepare to give his speech.
Slowly, I slink toward the back, ready to put my plan into motion, until something stops me right in my tracks. Puts a dagger right to the heart of my plans.
Because for the first time tonight, I see Morgan's wife-to-be as he drags her up onto the small stage with him. And immediately, I see Sage twist around to look at me, his brow furrowed with a look of concern.
Because around the woman's slender neck is the necklace I'm here to swipe.
And I know right there and there that tonight, we won't be getting our prize...
PART THREE
Chapter One
Holy fucking hell, she's wearing the damn necklace...
I pace forward, slipping back through the crowd, until I'm back at Sage's side. Up on the stage, Morgan continues his speech, his fiance by his side, the beautiful, shining, five million dollar necklace draped around her collar.
Sage glances back as I near him, and we stand together, bodies tensed, just watching Morgan continue to bore the crowd with his oration. When he reaches a joke, and the congregation reward it with a roar of undeserved laughter, I grip Sage's arm and bring his eyes down to me.
“She's wearing the necklace, Sage,” I whisper. “It's over.”
He nods, calmly, and returns his gaze to the stage as the laughter dies down. Moments later, another amusing anecdote is offered and the crowd go into hysterics again. By this point, it's clear that most have had a little too much champagne.
“Then figure something else out,” comes Sage's voice now, whispering sharply into my ear while trying to maintain a smile.
He then joins the laughter, not wanting to appear distracted at all, and I wait for the next bout of applause to provide my retort.
“I don't have a contingency for this, Sage! I didn't expect her to be wearing the damn thing.”
“You're a professional. Figure something out.”
He begins clapping with everyone else, and for the rest of the speech we both pretend to be fully engaged with it.
But I'm not.
Inside, I'm now working away feverishly to find a solution to this problem. My MO is not to work on the fly, and usually in this sort of scenario I'd pull the plug and figure out another time and method to extract the prize. Or, if needs be, I'd turn away from the entire job.
This time, though, I can't do that. Sage has me cornered, and he needs me to do this tonight. And for me, the promise of those two million dollar earrings is incredibly appealing.
Most likely, if I don't succeed, he'll retract that offer...
So I begin thinking of a solution, my analytical mind working through the options. And just as I'm making some headway, the speech comes to an end, Sage turns to me and smiles casually, and he walks me away from the gathered audience and into a quieter corridor.
“Do you have a plan?” he asks hurriedly, his voice low.
“Part of one,” I say. “But I'm going to need your help.”
He nods with an air of resolve.
“What do you need?”
“A distraction. I need you to bring Morgan and his fiance to us. He'll do the introductions, no doubt, and I need you to make a toast to the happy couple. Make sure she has a drink, and wait for my signal.”
“Which will be?”
“A light cough. Then give the toast. Got it?”
“Got it.”
We return to the main hall, the crowd now riding high on the flood of alcohol constantly passing through the room. This crowd of elite aristocrats is more jovial than I'd have expected. More inclined to get down and get drunk and have a good time.
Certainly not the uptight, stuffy affair I'd anticipated.
Across the room, lit with a warm lighting and filled with the sound of relaxing classical music, I spot Morgan, doing the rounds with his fiance.
“There,” I say, taking Sage's arm.
We walk toward them, and catch them between greetings. My eyes dart over their hands, and I note that both of their glasses are freshly dry. I glance almost imperceptibly at Sage, who's thankfully on the same page.
He winks at me to show he understands the look I'm giving him.
“Morgan, great speech, very amusing,” begins Sage, cutting a line toward him. “And, finally, we get to meet your beautiful bride to be. Congratulations to both of you.”
He takes the woman's hand, and kisses it gentlemanly.
“Sage, meet my fiance Ellen. Ellen, this is Sage Dalton, an old friend of mine, and this is his date for this evening.” He turns his eyes to me. “Sorry, my dear, I didn't get your name before...”
“Kristen,” I say, putting on the slight New York accent I've been adopting all night.
“Nice to meet you both,” says Ellen, who's, frankly, far too pretty and young to be with a man like Morgan.
She's tall, elegant, and slim like a supermodel. They look
quite the unusual couple, although I'd assume his billions of dollars has something to do with her interest.
“Ellen, you look stunning,” says Sage, laying on the false charm, but doing so in a way that seems natural.
She smiles and half blushes under the gaze of this handsome billionaire. Morgan, meanwhile, seems a little perturbed by the reaction of his future wife.
Come on Sage, don't lose them...
“I hope you two will be very happy,” continues Sage. Then he glances at their hands purposefully, and lifts his fingers to clip for a waiter.
A waiter arrives, and Sage promptly passes them each a fresh glass of champagne.
And that's when I make my move.
As Sage turns to Morgan for a bit of friendly banter, I take my opportunity to speak directly to Ellen.
“And how did you two meet?” I ask, delivering the typical question when meeting a new couple.
She turns to me, and we fix our gazes on each other.
“We met through my father,” she says. “He's a colleague of Morgan's.”
“I see. Well, you make a lovely couple,” I say, glancing over toward Morgan.
Her eyes follow mine, and I take my chance, quickly reaching forward the short space between us and dropping a tiny pill into her drink. One of a small store I keep hidden in a secret compartment of my bag, intended to incapacitate potential hurdles to my goal.
And Ellen is now the hurdle.
We turn back to each other, and she smiles.
“Thank you, that's very sweet of you to say.”
In her drink, the pill dissolves quickly, and that's when I take a sip of mine, pretend as if the bubbles have caught in my throat, and cought lightly.
Sage hears the cue, and I immediately hear his voice sounding.
“I'd like to propose a toast.”
The words are music to my ears. He's only an amateur, but he's playing his part well.
He lifts his glass, and I follow.
“To the happy couple. May your marriage be long and prosperous!”
He takes a sip, and so do I, and I watch as the host and his fiance follow.