Topless Agenda

by Lyle Christie

  “It looks like a quiet night with the twins after all. At least I know you two will never desert me,” I said, as I looked at my hands and smiled.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Morning Glory

  I AWOKE ALONE believing wholeheartedly that it had all just been a bizarre dream until I noticed the pillow draped over the chair on the other side of the room. What a night! It was hard to believe that I had a pillow fight with two beautiful, half naked women then brought it to an unceremonious end with an embarrassing boner. I felt like an idiot, but, of course, being a man meant that acting like an idiot was second nature and, therefore, meant that last night’s debacle was just another day in the life. I got out of bed and ambled over to the coffee maker, realizing that the gods of alcohol had been merciful to me, as mixing wine, vodka, and rum was usually bad voodoo and made the next morning, and sometimes the entire day, a complete waste. Quite to the contrary, I was feeling only a medium grade hangover.

  It took a few minutes for the coffee to brew, and, in the meantime, I rubbed the back of my head about an inch above where it connected to my spine. That spot always seemed to help with the headache from a night of drinking, but thankfully the coffee, my number one cure, was finally done. I poured myself a cup, and the scent alone was enough to start clearing my head. I added cream, gave it a stir, then took a sip. Heaven, pure heaven. Nothing in the world compared to the first sip of coffee in the morning.

  I went through my clothes and picked out the warmest stuff I could find then laid them all on the bed. A few more sips and my coffee cup was almost empty, so I refilled it and added more cream. Halfway through my second cup, I felt that familiar pressure in my lower abdomen and realized it was time for my morning movement. I grabbed my novel, went into the bathroom, and set my cup next to the sink. I remembered my cabin door was unlocked and went back out and locked it knowing full well if I left it open, half the plane would come wandering in while I was on the toilet. At last, everything was in place as I stripped out of my underwear and touched down on the porcelain throne. It was a small kingdom, but I was its king nonetheless. I opened my book to my bookmark and managed to read six pages, which was a miracle in and of itself, and I relished every word in the quiet confines of my lofty bathroom. Upon finishing up, I flushed, washed my hands, and had to wonder if perhaps my luck was changing.

  I brushed my teeth then walked out and unlocked my door, as I was officially finished with the critical part of the morning. Dumps I didn’t want interrupted, but showers were a different story. I always had an irrational fear that I’d slip, get knocked out, and drown in the tub before help could arrive, which was why I always unlocked the door before I showered. I walked back into the bathroom and was pleased that the ventilation system had done a proper job of circulating out the unpleasant air. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve left the bathroom thinking the air was clear and returned a few minutes later wondering what had died. Our sense of smell adapts to unpleasant odors but resets after it’s away from the offending scent. This was an important factor to consider when you were having a party and needed to schedule your dump so that the bathroom had enough time to air out before any company arrived. I wasn’t expecting company this morning, but I couldn’t rule it out considering the kind of foot traffic I seemed to attract lately.

  I turned on the water, adjusted the temperature, then stepped into the shower and instantly felt better. The first part of my hangover cure was coffee, while the second was bathing. Interestingly, moving water released negative ions, which they say improves your mood and energy. All I knew was that it made me feel a lot better, and, if I had to puke, I was at least near a drain.

  I lathered up my hair with shampoo then leaned under the flow of water and let it pour down over my face—all the while using the moment to reflect on the previous evening’s events. I had somehow managed to go yet another day without having sex, and my life was starting to feel normal again—except, of course, for the erotic pillow fight. As I stepped out from under the stream of water, I heard the sound of the shower door and opened my eyes to find Tatyana standing in front of me.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Good morning indeed. What brings you by?” I asked.

  “I felt as though we had some unfinished business from last night.”

  “It’s OK. I finished it off myself.”

  “Good thing it’s a new day then,” she said, as she stepped closer.

  She took hold of the soap, lathered up her hands, and started washing my shoulders, slowly working her way down to the critical area below my belly button.

  “It appears you’ve got a morning boner,” she said.

  “Technically, it’s just a boner.”

  “It’s morning isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not the same. This thing has nothing to do with the morning and everything to do with your presence in the shower and thorough washing technique.”

  “Well, either way, I think we should put it to good use.”

  “Are you really sure you want some potentially meaningless sex with a confirmed, though not entirely rehabilitated, man-whore?”

  “Sex is only as meaningless as you make it, so let’s make it meaningful.”

  I noticed that Tatyana had the same look in her eyes that she had last night during the pillow fight—the eye of the tigress. She was on the hunt, and, if her lovemaking skills were anywhere near her pillow fighting skills, this would be a very satisfying shower. No sooner had that thought crossed my mind that she pushed me back against the wall and kissed me, her lips tasting of sweet mint. Not wanting to be left out of the action, I reached up and ran my hands through her hair as we slid our soft slippery tongues together—every second making my heart pound ever harder in my chest. After a time, I had to pull back and take a moment to make sure this experience wasn’t just some elaborate wet dream.

  “Yep, you’re definitely here,” I said, as I took hold of her breasts and felt their full weight in each hand.

  “I certainly am,” she said, pulling me in for another kiss.

  Tatyana, like a hungry tigress, wouldn’t be denied her next meal, but this impala had some plans of his own. I cruelly broke free of her mouth and slid my lips down her neck, following the gentle slope until reaching her breasts, where I used my tongue to make sure each nipple was equally tended to and fully erect before continuing my southerly journey.

  “Where are you headed?” she asked.

  “Breakfast. I thought it would be fun to eat out this morning.”

  “I hope you like a hot meal.”

  “I do, as a matter of fact.”

  I kissed her toned stomach then eased my lips downward and set upon her little friend below the rise, or in laymen’s terms—her clitoris. She let out a soft gasp and arched her back as I made several exploratory circles then gradually increased the pressure and pace until her entire body started to shake as she approached an imminent climax.

  “Oh—fuck! Oh—fuck! Oh my God—fuuuuuuck!” she called out, as her head rolled back and sweet release enveloped her and caused her to writhe in unbridled ecstasy.

  She continued to convulse in pleasure until I finally withdrew my mouth and allowed her to take a breath and recover. She brought her gaze to mine and smiled as she pulled me up and kissed me, her tongue seeking mine like a wild, angry serpent. With our mouths entwined, she reached down and took hold of my manhood with her steely paw and pressed the tip unto her essence. With the docking initiated, I slipped my hands behind her buttocks, lifted her up, and leaned her against the wall and pressed deep inside until our bodies were touching at the hip. She held on tightly, digging her fingers into my back as I moved in, out, up and around, a loud gasp escaping our lips at the pinnacle of each thrust. We were adrift in a stormy sea of passion, my hips moving like waves rolling up a shoreline—every second cresting faster and faster, and I could feel she was approaching release. She arched her back and pulled my mouth down to her taut nipples, and I ran
my tongue over each one before returning to her lips for a kiss. I was soon forced to pull free, however, as we quickened our pace and moved with the determination of a sprinter in the final stretch. We began calling out as we crossed the finish line and set forth unto climax, reveling in selfish ecstasy until I eventually lowered her back down to the floor, so that we could bask and relax under the cascade of hot water. After a moment of quiet reflection she kissed me then pulled back and smiled.

  “I’d really like to do this again sometime,” she said.

  “Not a problem, as I shower every day—sometimes twice.”

  We exchanged another kiss, then she gazed intently into my eyes and smiled as she spoke.

  “Honestly, I think Lux fucked up when she married Corn,” she said.

  “I don’t know—I’m pretty sure he showers every day too.”

  “Yeah, but not like that.”

  We left the warm, moist confines of the shower then toweled off and did the usual after bathing routine of putting on deodorant, face cream, and, in my case, cologne. Tatyana, however, managed the last step for me by spraying some onto her hands and rubbing it into my neck and chest. It was an oddly domestic moment and even more so when she finished up with a friendly kiss. We headed out of the bathroom, and I couldn’t help but stare in wonder as she removed her towel and got dressed. Visions of such a beautiful woman as Tatyana would fill many lonely masturbatory moments for years to come—so to speak.

  “Are you enjoying the view?” she asked with a smile, as she finished buttoning up her shirt.

  “I am. In fact, I’m saving it to my spank bank at this very moment.”

  “Good, though I hope you know you’re more than welcome to come back for a refresher at any time.”

  “Refresher of what?” John asked, drawing our attention over to the door, where he had suddenly appeared.

  I guess he knew the established policy concerning my privacy and had walked in without so much as a knock, and, judging by his expression, he was more than a little taken aback to see Tatyana in my room.

  “A refresher of me, obviously,” Tatyana answered.

  Just then, Corn walked in, dressed for the day wearing a blazer and slacks, and he was holding a cup of coffee. He was clearly hung over but had pulled himself together nicely. Typical Agency man.

  “Morning, sunshine, how are you feeling?” I asked Corn.

  “OK, but I don’t think my liver is ever going to speak to me again,” he said.

  Lux appeared behind him a moment later, saw Tatyana, and eyed us suspiciously.

  “What did I miss?” she asked.

  “Nothing. We were just discussing last night’s excessive drinking,” I said.

  “Speaking of which, I had a strange drunken dream, and all of you were in it,” Corn said.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah, and as crazy as it sounds, Finn—you, Lux, and Tatyana were having some kind of pillow fight.”

  “Strange. I had a very similar dream as well,” John added.

  “Then I suppose you two will be interested to learn that there’s a known phenomena in which people engaged in excessive alcohol consumption have been known to share a kind of mass psychosis,” I said.

  “I’ve read that as well,” Lux added.

  “Yeah, so, there’s really no point in dwelling on it, Corn-holio.”

  At that moment, Brett’s voice came over the intercom and thankfully interrupted Corn’s discussion of his apparent dream.

  “Good morning, passengers. I hope you all had a good night’s sleep considering that unusual turbulence we hit around midnight. We’ll be landing in Zurich in about an hour and a half, and the current temperature is 43 degrees Fahrenheit, so be sure to dress warmly. Breakfast will be served in ten minutes in the lounge, and aspirin and Tums are available by request from your plane’s steward. If you’re feeling airsickness or the ill effects of a hangover and have the urge to vomit, please use one of the easy to find sanitation bags located in the lounge lavatory.”

  In the silence that followed, Corn let out a belch that sounded just shy of vomiting.

  “Corn!” Lux exclaimed loudly.

  “Sorry.”

  “We better get going. I think Corn might just need to brush his teeth again,” Lux said, as she grabbed hold of him and steered him out the door, which was a smart move as he smelled only a couple of belches short of a full puke.

  John exited next, leaving Tatyana and me alone.

  “I’ll see you at breakfast,” she said, giving me a lovely departing kiss.

  It had been a hell of a night followed by a hell of a morning, but I had a French arms dealer and a treasonous little sister to apprehend, and I, therefore, needed to clear my head. Exercise always helped me focus, and, while I’d probably gotten more than enough in the shower, I decided to drop down onto my back and do fifty sit-ups and fifty leg raises. After that I rolled onto my stomach to do some pushups, only to have my door open a moment later.

  “Nine hundred and ninety-nine—one thousand. Whew!” I said, as I stood up.

  “Only a thousand? Pussy.”

  “Yeah, I only had time to do half my workout—what’s up, Puke Skywalker? Were you looking for a Tums?”

  Corn looked oddly uncomfortable and was avoiding eye contact, which made me oddly uncomfortable and also avoid eye contact, the result being that both of us were looking at everything else in the room except each other.

  “No, I wanted to say I’m sorry about the whole Lux thing,” he said, finally looking my way.

  “Water under the bridge.”

  “Not exactly. I didn’t tell you the entire truth. We got together a week after you were shipped out. I felt terrible, but not so terrible that I stopped seeing her.”

  A week? I didn’t even masturbate for a month after I left. Motherfuckers! I took a few long, deep breaths and forced myself to relax and make a conscious decision to be nice, as, ultimately, there were no innocent parties at the moment.

  “It’s not important anymore. Life moves on,” I said.

  In a fucking week, apparently.

  “It sure does,” he added.

  “Now, let’s get some food in that stomach of yours,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder as I led him towards the door, all the while resisting the urge to wrap my fingers around his neck and choke the life out of him.

  He abruptly stopped short, looked around nervously, then continued speaking.

  “There’s more, and it’s related to what I mentioned at the bar last night,” he said, quietly.

  “Oh, the thing you wanted to discuss in private. What’s up?” I asked.

  He took a moment to gather his courage then spoke.

  “Um—well—it concerns the unfortunate act of adultery.”

  Uh oh. I was getting the feeling that the shit was about to hit the fan, so I reached over, closed the door to my cabin, and prepared to duck.

  “Care to elaborate?” I asked, nervously.

  “I cheated on Lux—or, more accurately, I am cheating on Lux.”

  That wasn’t the answer I was expecting.

  “Are you fucking serious?” I asked.

  “Yeah—I’ve been having an affair for almost a year.”

  No wonder he had been power drinking last night. All our talk of the old days and relationships was obviously weighing heavily on his conscious, and he had been trying to drown his feelings.

  “But, why the hell are you telling me? Shouldn’t you be telling Lux?”

  “Yeah, but I haven’t found the right time—or the courage, if I wanted to be completely honest. The reason I’m telling you is that I just needed to get it off my chest.”

  “So, why me? We haven’t even seen each other in years.”

  “You’re all I’ve got at the moment.”

  “What about John? He’s a good guy, and possibly a good listener.”

  “I think it’s better for his career that he doesn’t know anything. Adultery of senior staff doesn’t
bode well for a successful political career.”

  “I see your point.”

  “And face it, man—in this line of work, there really isn’t anyone I can talk to,” he said, meekly.

  He was right. Working for the CIA meant that you didn’t have a lot of people you could talk to, let alone confide in, in any meaningful way. An agent with marital trouble was vulnerable and, therefore, a potential threat in the Agency’s eyes, which meant you generally kept your shit to yourself.

  “So, who’s the lucky girl?”

  “Someone at work, and, as you probably know, it’s hard to do the job we do and maintain a normal home life. Lux and I are always traveling or working, so we’ve hardly even seen each other the last few years. It seemed like only a matter of time before something happened, and even worse, the woman in question is my assistant. Lux jokingly calls her my work wife and, ironically, has no idea how correct she actually is.”

  “So, Lux doesn’t know anything?”

  “I don’t think so. You’re the only person I’ve told.”

  “Jesus. That’s some heavy shit.”

  Of course, it was even worse, as I now held two very delicate and uncomfortable secrets for two very close friends, who also happened to be married to each other. It didn’t get much more fucked up than that.

  “Yeah, it certainly is, and obviously this is for your ears only.”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be our little secret.”

  “Thanks, I really appreciate you taking the time to listen, and man, I have to say—it really does feels better to talk about it.”

  “Yeah, I bet, but what are you going to do now? Break off the affair or leave Lux?”

  “Break off the affair, tell Lux, and then take it from there, I guess.”

  I patted him on the back and led him out of my cabin and into the passageway, where the heavenly smell of breakfast was being carried on the plane’s ventilation system.

  “It’ll all work out for the best in the end,” I said.

  “What will?” Lux asked, as she came around the corner.