Pink Slip

by Katrina Jackson

  Good, Kierra thought to herself, now she knows how I felt these last three years. Kierra moved back from Monica’s body and missed the contact immediately. She raised an eyebrow and Monica moved to the side, pulling the door open for Kierra to walk through. And she did, rubbing her body along Monica’s one last time for good measure.

  “A goddamn distraction,” Lane said, his amused chuckle following Kierra down the aisle.

  ◆◆◆

  “Where’s Asif?” Kierra asked Kenny, plopping down in the seat across from him.

  “Calling his favorite asset to make sure she’s on her way to Berlin,” he replied, a smile arcing across his lips, as he tapped at his cell phone.

  “Favorite?”

  Kenny raised his eyes at the question. “Great thief, big ass, questionable moral compass, loves to flirt.” He tilted his head to consider her. “Actually you two would probably get along.”

  Kierra scoffed. “I don’t steal,” she said.

  He smiled. “Neither does she. She calls her heists inanimate liberations,” he said and rolled his eyes before returning his attention to his phone.

  “Who are you texting?” She asked, leaning slightly forward as if to see his phone.

  He clutched it to his chest. “None of your business.”

  “Sorry, I’m nosy.”

  “We’re spies. We’re all nosy. The trick is to not be too nosy with the people you work with.”

  “One,” Kierra said raising her index finger, “I’m not a spy. And two,” she raised her middle finger, “you should absolutely be nosey about the other people you work with if they are also spies. That’s just common sense.”

  “She’s got a point,” Asif said, moving down the aisle to sit with them. Annoyingly, he sat next to Kierra and leaned toward her. “No wonder they like you so much.”

  Kierra turned toward him with a hard stare. “I don’t think Monica would like you being this close to me.” At the mention of Monica’s name, Asif’s smile fell away and he moved to sit next to Kenny instead. Kenny watched Asif scurry across the aisle with a broad smile on his face and Kierra winked at him.

  “Why aren’t you mad at him?” Asif whined, pushing Kenny’s elbow from the arm rest between them. “We both tied you up. Besides you hated him at the retreat.”

  Kierra aimed a pained smile at Kenny who shrugged in return.

  “It was the mission,” he said blithely. “No hard feelings.”

  “He was following orders. And I thought I could trust you.”

  Asif shrugged, “Don’t trust anyone. That’s my advice.”

  “I didn’t ask for your advice,” Kierra said.

  “Okay, let’s change the subject,” Kenny cut in.

  “Yes, let’s,” Asif responded. “What’s with you and Mr. & Mrs. Smith?”

  Kierra’s face warmed. “I was their PA,” she said as if that answered his question.

  “Do PA’s normally fuck their bosses or did they have to negotiate your salary for that? And do you need a new job?”

  Kierra saw red and opened her mouth ready to bite Asif’s head off, but Kenny beat her to it. He stood up quickly and pulled Asif up by his shirt collar. “Apologize.” It was one deadly word that Kierra had a hard time connecting with the Kenny she’d just spent the last three days with.

  Asif had a small smirk on his face and Kierra was worried that he would resist and then they would start fighting. She was lifting out of her chair to get out of the line of fire when Asif’s voice caught her off guard.

  “I apologize,” he said, his eyes locked with Kenny’s. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

  Kenny let him go and then moved away from them down the aisle, his steps tense and jerking with rage. Asif turned to Kierra, his face contrite. “Honestly, some of my best friends are sex workers,” he said around a laugh.

  Kierra rolled her eyes at him. “I liked you better with the fake Irish accent.”

  Asif shrugged, “You would not be the first person to tell me that.”

  “We got a problem here?” Lane yelled down the aisle as he and Monica approached.

  Asif put his hands up quickly. “No problem. Just talking.”

  Monica stopped in the aisle and looked down at Kierra. “Are you okay?”

  Kierra licked her lips and nodded.

  Monica nodded once, turned to Asif, who flinched, and then sat in a seat across the aisle from them.

  ***

  Kierra fell asleep in the car on the way to The Agency safe house.

  Monica roused her almost awake when they arrived with a gentle hand on her cheek. Kierra unconsciously rubbed her face into the palm of Monica’s hand. She’d missed her touch desperately. But then she remembered her own rules and startled fully awake.

  Monica’s eyes were amused and aroused but she moved her hand. “We’re here.”

  The safe house was actually more of a compound disguised as an American suburb on the outskirts of Berlin. It was an odd base from which to launch covert operations; hidden in plain sight. As she walked from the car to the front door, she looked up and down the street. While it seemed as if the townhomes were occupied – cars parked on the street or in driveways, toys abandoned on lawns –

  the night was a little too dark, too quiet. Kierra had the feeling that they were either completely alone out here or the other inhabitants were purposefully making themselves scarce and it made her shiver.

  When she walked through the front door Kenny called, “Clear,” from the top of the staircase. Kierra moved further into the small living room just off the entrance. It was sparsely decorated with a sofa, coffee table and tv on a small, cheap stand but nothing else. No artwork on the wall, no plants –real or otherwise – nothing to indicate that someone actually lived here. Because, of course, no one did. Kierra recognized this unique brand of lived in sterility from other safe houses she’d visited over the past three years.

  Asif was sitting on the couch, a laptop open on the coffee table in front of him.

  Lane and Monica walked through the front door behind her.

  “External cameras are in place,” Lane announced to Asif. “Send the feed to me when they’re up.”

  “You got it,” Asif murmured, his attention focused on his computer as he typed rapidly.

  “When will your asset arrive?” Monica asked him.

  “She’ll be here bright and early tomorrow morning,” Asif said.

  “We’ve got a weapons cache in the city,” Lane said to Kenny.

  Kenny nodded and headed to the front door. “I’m on it. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “Be careful,” Monica said and Kierra noted the slight wrinkling of her eyes and realized that she was worried about him. That surprised her. In three years she’d never seen Monica worry over anyone besides Lane and her.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a charming smile Kierra had never seen before and a salute. And then he breezed back out the front door.

  “Surveillance feeds sent,” Asif said, slamming the laptop shut. “I’m going to run down some potential intel at a classy little strip club I know. Anyone wanna tag along. The guys at this place are very flexible,” he said. Kierra rolled her eyes, but twenty-four hours ago that smile might have worked on her. So much had happened in so little time.

  “No? All right. Well you,” he said, smiling at Kierra as he finished the sentence, “three have a lovely evening. I sure will.” And then he followed Kenny out into the night.

  The sound of the front door closing seemed to echo in the dimly lit room. Kierra turned to Monica and Lane. A few minutes ago she’d been asleep, exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. But now her blood was pounding in her own ears as three months of pent up sexual frustration unfurled slowly, like a languid cat waking up from an afternoon nap.

  “Where am I sleeping?”

  “There’s a room upstairs,” Lane said, that easy smile on his face.

  “Where are you two sleeping?”

  “There’s
a room upstairs,” Lane repeated.

  “Good,” Kierra breathed, turning toward the staircase. She heard the sound of their shoes thumping on the floor behind her. She could feel their eyes running over her body as she moved toward their bedroom. She couldn’t help but turn to see them over one shoulder. Their gazes were hungry. She could relate.

  When she walked into the bedroom she found her suitcase and two small duffel bags that she knew were Monica and Lane’s at the foot of the bed. She bypassed them and walked into the bathroom.

  Kierra turned to look over her shoulder again. “I need someone to unzip my dress,” she said, even though she was perfectly capable of taking it off on her own. Her eyes locked on Lane. “Will you help me?”

  “Any time, sweet girl.”

  He moved forward and reached out toward her. His knuckles grazed the back of her neck. She shivered. Monica moved to stand in front of her.

  “Are we allowed to touch you?”

  Kierra’s lip was clenched between her teeth. The sound of her zipper releasing as Lane’s fingers traced the bared skin at her back, lightly, so lightly he could argue that it was an accident, made her nipples harden. She watched Monica watch her dress fall to the floor at their feet. “Do you want to?”

  Monica swallowed and croaked, “Yes.”

  “What do you want to do to me?” Monica raised her head and reached for Kierra’s face, but she shook her head. “Use your words.”

  Monica let her hand fall back to her side, her fingertips ghosting down Kierra’s stomach. She’d let that slide this time, but only because she was so very horny.

  “I want to taste you,” Monica announced.

  Kierra smiled wide and leaned up on the balls of her feet to whisper in Monica’s ear. “Taste him instead.”

  They both turned their eyes to Lane, whose ears had gone bright red.

  Monica turned her head to Kierra, their mouths close. Kierra thought she would speak and it was probably a good thing that she didn’t. Because if Monica had said something in that deep raspy voice that always made Kierra’s sex shiver, she might have broken her rule and let them touch her anywhere they wanted. For as long as they wanted. And where was the justice in that?

  Monica moved forward into Lane’s waiting arms. They embraced each other and pressed their mouths together. Kierra moved just in time to watch Lane’s tongue slip into Monica’s mouth and she moaned at the sight.

  Kierra walked behind Lane and reached out to run her hand up his back and down Monica’s arm. She moved to Monica’s back and pressed her breasts against those firm muscles that she’d once spent what felt like hours kissing and licking and kneading in a state of pure bliss. Monica moaned into Lane’s mouth.

  Kierra rested her cheek on Monica’s shoulder, breathing them in after so long apart, as she watched their mouths move together. Her hands rubbed Monica’s hips, her fingers slipping just under the hem of her t-shirt, scraping her skin. And then she moved to press her mouth to Monica’s ear.

  “I want to watch you suck him,” she whispered loud enough for Lane to hear. He grunted into Monica’s mouth.

  Monica broke their kiss and turned to look at Kierra. “Kiss me first,” she demanded in the hard tone that she knew Kierra liked.

  “After,” Kierra replied with a smirk.

  “Jesus,” Lane laughed.

  “That’s our girl,” Monica said, as she lowered herself to her knees in front of him.

  Kierra followed her to the floor, still at her back. They both reached up to unzip Lane’s pants.

  He was unsurprisingly hard and ready. Monica grasped him firmly by the base. Lane moaned. Her tongue swiped across the head, collecting the beaded pre-come there. But then she stopped and turned to Kierra.

  “How do you want it? Fast or slow?”

  “Do I get a vote?” Lane groaned, his voice tight with arousal.

  “No,” Monica said firmly, her eyes never leaving Kierra’s.

  “Slow,” Kierra answered as she wrapped her hands around Monica’s body and cupped her breasts.

  “Anything you want, sweet girl,” she said and then slowly lowered her mouth onto Lane’s dick.

  Kierra leaned forward and whispered against Monica’s cheek. “I want it all,” she said, lifting her eyes to watch Lane’s face. His eyelids were drooping, but he fought to keep them open, to watch them.

  Monica hummed around Lane’s shaft, her mouth moving up and down at an excruciatingly slow pace. Kierra kept her hands on Monica’s breasts, slowly massaging them, rubbing her thumbs over the nipples that were hard enough to jut prominently through her bra and shirt. She’d had a very vivid dream exactly like this once. Reality was better.

  “Fuck I’m close,” Lane whispered after a while.

  Monica began to move her mouth faster. Kierra slipped her hand down Monica’s abdomen and into her pants. Her sex was warm and slick and welcomed Kierra’s fingers easily. She kept her eyes on Lane’s dick disappearing and reappearing between Monica’s lips and began to circle her clit.

  Kierra had felt many things in the three years she’d worked for Lane and Monica. Sexy, self-assured and capable were high on the list. And during their brief affair in Serbia, she’d added wanted to that list. But as Monica sucked Lane to his release and she drove Monica to orgasm, she decided that powerful was also a pretty good descriptor now for sure.

  Lane’s hands moved to cup the back of their heads. His hips thrust forward in jerky motions and he came in Monica’s mouth.

  Kierra slipped two fingers into Monica’s pussy and began to pump them fast, her thumb gliding over her clit. Monica moaned, releasing Lane’s cock, wet and glistening. And as if he knew exactly what Kierra wanted, Lane turned Monica’s face toward Kierra’s. Kierra’s lips pressed against Monica’s, her tongue slipping into her wet mouth. She moaned deep in her throat at the salty taste of Lane’s orgasm and she pumped her fingers into Monica’s pussy faster. Lane kept a soft pressure behind their heads, not that they needed it. Monica was panting into Kierra’s mouth. She kissed and licked at Monica’s lips, tasting Lane with every breath.

  Kierra moved her thumb to circle Monica’s clit, putting constant pressure there, and she screeched. Kierra has missed that sound. Monica came in a wet gush on Kierra’s fingers, her eyes rolling back into her head. Kierra waited for Monica’s vision to clear before bringing her fingers to her mouth. She kept her eyes locked to Monica’s as she tasted her.

  Lane’s thumb stroked Kierra’s cheek gently. “We really have missed you, sweet girl.”

  She smiled in return. This didn’t heal the wounds of the past three months. But it was certainly a start.

  fifteen

  Kierra woke up alone. But not in the same way that she’d been alone for the past three months or the three years before that. She had vague memories of Monica and Lane whispering their goodbyes to her, their mouths coming close to her ear and cheek, but not quite touching. And the distinctive smell of their bodies mingled on the sheets around her, promising that she was alone, but only momentarily.

  The sun was filtering in at the curtain's edges. Even though the room was dark, Kierra could tell that morning had well and truly come. She turned on her back to stare at the ceiling. She considered searching for her cell phone and calling Maya. But if Monica and Lane were right and Stepanov was having her followed and had already made at least two attempts on her life, she didn’t want to involve her best friend any more than she already had. And also how was she supposed to explain the ridiculous turn of events that had brought her to Berlin instead of the mild-mannered Irish writer’s retreat she’d paid for.

  The reminder that she’d been swindled out of a few thousand dollars by Monica and Lane suddenly pissed her off. She might have had a small nest egg after working for them, but she was still a broke grad student at heart and she made a mental note not to let either of them get anywhere near her again until a refund plus a bonus for her troubles had been deposited into her bank account.

 
Kierra angrily pulled the covers back on the bed and stood. She walked over to her suitcase, opened it, and pulled out the first shirt and pair of jeans she found. She stomped downstairs to the kitchen barefoot, but she pulled up short when she saw a woman in a large t-shirt – her long, brown legs bare – dancing around the kitchen to music only she could hear.

  “Who are you?” Kierra asked.

  The girl jumped slightly and swiveled her head, but when she saw Kierra she just smiled and kept dancing. “Morning,” she said in that slow Midwestern way that Kierra always associated with her first college roommate. And it was not a good association since that girl had had a nervous breakdown after their spring semester midterms, trashed their dorm room and defecated in the communal showers before the paramedics showed up and took her for a psych eval. Kierra sincerely hoped that girl had gotten the help she’d needed, but she was still traumatized from six months living with her and this stranger’s doe eyed welcome momentarily brought those memories back.

  “Who are you?” Kierra asked again, beginning to panic.

  The girl turned fully around and walked toward her. “You don’t remember me?”

  Kierra started to shake her head and then gasped, backing out of the kitchen. She had a flash back to the day of that strange car accident and the girl who bumped into her and smiled, just like this girl was smiling right now. The feeling that something wasn’t right returned. She also realized in that moment of recognition that there was a very large knife in the girl’s hand. And since she now knew that Stepanov had been aiming to kill her that day, Kierra turned and ran toward the living room. She didn’t make it far and collided with the large expanse of Kenny’s bare chest.

  “Ow,” he said, stumbling back. “Can you watch where you’re going?”

  “Kenny, oh my god. There’s someone in the kitchen,” she hissed.

  He reached out immediately to grab her and pulled her behind him, his eyes shifting from lethargic to sharp, which made Kierra realize just how effectively he’d assumed his identity as the most annoying social director ever. They both turned back toward the kitchen just as the girl walked to the threshold, knife in hand.