“Last one,” she said, holding out her hands.
“Anything,” Monica said, all serious and deadly just like Kierra liked her.
“I want my old job back,” she breathed warily.
Kierra held her breath in anticipation until Lane burst out laughing, the sound of it washing over her like joy. “That’s it?”
“What do you mean, ‘that’s it?’”
But he turned to Monica and gestured toward Kierra. “Can you tell her now?”
Kierra turned to Monica who seemed to be fighting a smile. “We might have forgotten to process your resignation. Just in case.”
“Just in case what?” Kierra shrieked.
“Just in case you ever wanted to come back to us,” Lane said, matter-of-factly as if he was making sense.
“But I- In Serbia, I said I didn’t want to leave.” She threw her hands up into the air. She didn’t know if Chanté and Kenny were still around to hear this and she didn’t care.
Lane watched her with amusement in his eyes. “How would you know if you really wanted to be here if you never left?”
He asked the question so simply that she wanted to punch him. It was a good question. And he was right.
If they’d asked her to sign a ten-year contract in that stairwell in Club Ménage she would have done it without a second thought. She’d been so hopped up on the excitement of the experience, especially the parts having to do with sex, that she’d have blindly followed them to the ends of the earth. But she’d never have known if that was truly the right decision for her.
“We owed you that at least,” Monica said.
Kierra rolled her eyes and walked past them out of the kitchen. “Well you still could have sent me a postcard or something while I was unemployed.”
“We’ll remember that next time,” Lane said.
“What next time? It’s going to take an act of Congress for you two to get rid of me.” She turned to smile at them over her shoulder.
They followed her up to the room and watched as she threw the few toiletries she’d used back into her suitcase and zipped it up.
“And just so we’re clear,” she said as they threw their bags into the car. “You’re still not allowed to touch me until I say so.”
“Yes, boss,” Lane said and pulled away from the safe house. The night was still dark. By the time morning came they’d all be in different countries, using different aliases. But she, Lane and Monica would be together at least.
And that was more than she’d let herself hope for in years.
◆◆◆
They were supposed to go out and be extra touristy. Monica and Lane had been to Paris more times than they could remember, but only ever on missions. So this unexpected vacation was a chance for them to see the city for the first time as normal people. They were just a regular Canadian couple –per their new identification- enjoying a holiday with their American girlfriend. But it had been raining all day so they were holed up in their hotel suite pretending to consider a vast array of options for their indoor amusement over room service breakfast.
Kierra was on the phone with Maya, reassuring her that she was fine and had just decided to travel around Europe for a little while after the writer’s retreat.
“The retreat was great,” she lied.
Monica turned to Lane with an arched eyebrow.
“Yea, I wrote so much, caught up on my sleep.” She paused and listened, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. “Okay well it’s a turn of phrase. I slept a lot. Better?”
Monica stood from her chair. Lane’s eyes drank her in as if he were a starving, dehydrated man. And in many ways he was.
She stopped behind Kierra’s chair and massaged her shoulders. Kierra tilted her head back to look up at her. Technically, they still weren’t allowed to touch her yet, but he could see the end of that prohibition on the horizon.
Now that she had Kierra’s attention, Monica raised a hand and slowly beckoned Lane to her with one crooked finger. She smiled at Kierra and then walked toward their bedroom.
“Hey Maya I have to go. I think my cell company charges like a dollar a minute for these calls.”
Monica turned around in the room and Lane pulled her to him, crushing his mouth to hers. Kierra rushed into the room after them. They turned to look at her and he wanted to laugh at her wide eyes as if she’d never seen them kiss before. She was panting already.
“Since we can’t touch you yet,” Monica paused to see if Kierra would correct her. She didn’t, so she continued, “It looks like I’m going to have to fuck him instead.”
Kierra nodded, but he was sure that she didn’t understand. And the coming surprise of it thrilled him.
He stepped back and untied the silky robe covering her naked body. His hands skimmed the tops of her breasts and her strong shoulders before pushing the fabric off of her and letting it drift delicately to the floor.
“There’s something in that bag behind you. Can you bring it to me?”
Lane licked his thumbs and circled Monica’s nipples gently until they hardened. He lowered his head to suck one into his mouth and smiled around the soft flesh when Kierra gasped.
Now she understood.
“Really?”
“Don’t forget the lube,” Monica gasped and cupped his head.
Kierra rushed back to them, Monica’s harness and dildo and the lube clutched tight to her chest. “I take it back. You can touch me. You can do anything you want to me.”
Lane stood up straight and grasped Monica behind the neck. “After,” he said and then pulled her into another kiss.
◆◆◆
She was gentle with Lane. Gentler than he normally liked. But this time wasn’t just for the two of them.
Monica penetrated his ass slowly, enjoying the way he gasped and groaned for more, and the way Kierra’s hands smoothed along his back, soothing him, her eyes locked on Monica’s dildo sinking into his body.
“Does it hurt?” She whispered the question and Monica was unsure if she meant it to be heard and expected an answer.
“The good kind of hurt,” Lane said and then groaned as Monica was finally fully inside him.
She locked eyes with Kierra, their hands meeting as they both rubbed his back in soft sweeps.
“But if you’re worried about me,” Lane continued, “you could get on your back and let me taste you.”
Monica smiled. Leave it to Lane to be full of Monica, his hips trying to writhe on her dick, but still managing to seduce Kierra. She couldn’t blame the other woman for blushing as she laid back, welcoming Lane’s head between her thighs.
Kierra’s hips jerked when Lane’s mouth settled over her pussy, which Monica saw as a sign that it was time for her to move. Kierra grasped her breasts, one in each hand and rolled her nipples. Her eyes drifted closed and then sprung open again. She didn’t want to miss a thing. Monica’s smiled widened and she ground her hips into Lane just a little bit harder.
He lifted his head to groan loudly.
Kierra moved one of her hands to the back of his head, directing him back to her sex. She was always great at keeping him on task.
Monica kept her pace slow so that she could drink in the scene before her and keep Lane balanced on the edge of wanting; teasing him to draw out his pleasure the way he was stringing Kierra’s desire along.
She couldn’t see but she knew how he liked to work, light touches of his tongue interspersed with hard sucks and a finger or two before he retreated again, his panting breaths on wet sex ramping up his partner’s arousal. She’d come undone more times than she could remember from the ministrations of his skillful mouth.
When Kierra came, her back arched and she pinched her nipples hard between her fingers, as she chanted “oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.” Monica was so enraptured by the sights and sounds of it that she only just caught the movement of Lane's hand, probably wet from Kierra’s orgasm underneath his body, surely grasping his dick.
“Fuck. Let me come
,” he moaned. “Please.”
Monica kept her eyes on Kierra’s breasts as they bounced while she panted, her body settling after her orgasm. Monica started to fuck Lane in earnest. He had wrapped his arms around Kierra’s legs, his face flat against her stomach, holding her close as he came apart. Monica’s fingers dug into Lane’s hips and she fucked him in sure, long strokes just like he liked it until he was a sweaty mess between her and Kierra, begging for her to stop.
This was how she wanted every day to be.
◆◆◆
Kierra was lying in their hotel’s king sized bed wondering a few things.
First she was wondering if she should create a pen name for the erotic poetry that she had just now, while watching Monica fuck Lane into a stupor, decided to write. She’d hate to think that her aunt would be at the local bookstore or browsing online, see her name, buy her book and then settle into bed with a hot cup of tea and suddenly find herself reading the sonnet she planned to write about Monica’s breasts or the haiku about the way Lane tasted on her tongue.
That felt wrong.
And then she was thinking about what it might feel like to have Lane and Monica inside her at the same time.
But it was the third thought that she said aloud, “So am I eligible for a raise?”
Lane laughed weakly and Monica smiled as she took off her strap on and settled onto the bed next to her. She trailed her finger up Kierra’s naked torso, just barely touching her. That whispered touch felt like electricity.
Kierra arched her back trying to get closer, to have more, but Monica moved her hand away.
“You have to submit the request in writing,” Monica said.
Lane crawled up the bed and collapsed on his back next to Monica. “We’d have to send the request and our recommendation to HR.”
“Wait, The Agency has an HR department?”
“Of course it does,” Monica said. She dragged her index finger around and around Kierra’s left nipple and then moved to do the same with the right.
“Well how was I supposed to know? I mean I have been dressing and acting very unprofessionally for three years. I just assumed that since I never heard from HR that it didn’t exist.”
“That’s actually a fair assumption. And technically we’re going to get written up once we tell them what we’ve been doing with you all over Europe,” Lane breathed.
“And what we plan to do to you once we get back home,” Monica added.
Kierra shivered at her words and also because that same index finger was tracing its way down her rib cage, circling her stomach and drifting through the soft curly hair atop her mound.
“If you get the raise-”
“Which you probably will,” Monica interjected.
“It’ll come contingent on applying for higher clearance and increased responsibilities.”
Kierra moaned and opened her legs as Monica dragged that one finger up and down her sex. “Like what responsibilities?”
“Nothing big,” Monica said, swiping her tongue across Kierra’s nipple. “Unless you want to be trained to handle more sensitive intel. If you did that you’d be tier two administrative support and you’d see a very significant pay raise once that was complete.”
“Am I tier one now?”
“Technically no,” Lane said, turning to his side to watch Monica play with Kierra’s body.
Kierra blew out a breath and then her hips jerked as Monica slipped two fingers inside of her.
“If you take the course, you wouldn’t be just our PA anymore. You’d become vital support staff,” Monica said.
“Normally they recruit for that. They like graduates with strong computer skills and law enforcement training.”
“I’m just a poet. Oh fuck,” Kierra said, her sex clenching around Monica’s fingers as the orgasm washed over her.
Monica waited for Kierra’s breathing to return to normal before continuing. “After Serbia we had to debrief. You handled yourself really well for someone with no espionage training. You’re not the usual recruit, but you’re more than capable,” Monica said.
Kierra was floating, hearing what Monica was saying but not quite processing. But then Monica’s head listed forward and she pressed her forehead to Kierra’s shoulder. She turned to see Lane wrapped around Monica from the back, their bodies slowly rocking together. She shifted, turning to her side and reached a hand down between Monica’s legs.
She circled Monica’s clit with her fingers and placed soft kisses on her face as Monica cried out. Lane began to fuck her faster and harder.
When Monica was close, another question came to Kierra. “How big is the raise exactly?”
“Yes yes yes,” Monica yelled, pulling Kierra’s body closer to hers as she bucked through her orgasm.
Kierra wasn’t sure if those yeses were some sort of answer to her question but she leaned forward and kissed Lane as Monica trembled between them.
She’d find out eventually. There was absolutely no need to rush.
epilogue
The safe house in London never struck Kenny as particularly fortified at first glance. From the street it looked like an old, brick squat house, slim and deep and vertical like all of the other houses surrounding it. It was set in the middle of what used to be a working class neighborhood in East London, but was chock full of displaced workers from all over the city just barely holding onto city dwelling before being pushed out of the capitol once and for all. Littered amongst them were wealthy hipsters mostly living off of their parents’ wealth while trying to stay forever on the wave of the newest, trendiest places to live.
And then there were The Agency’s two safe houses.
Kenny nodded minutely at Mrs. Wilde who was pretending to water the fake plants in her front garden as the sun set behind them. He lifted the keypad on the door and pressed his thumb against the keypad and waited for it to beep. He then input his personal pin and the front door unlocked.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of cloves, which meant that he had just missed Asif. “Coward,” he muttered under his breath.
He did a quick scan of the bottom floors of the house, opening every door, checking every window, making sure that it was a secure. As Monica said, “No safe house can protect you from your own stupidity.” He’d had to wait six hours to jot that down in the notebook he kept of whatever brilliant piece of knowledge she offhandedly offered him because they’d been on a stakeout at the time. But it was seared in his head, like almost everything she said or did.
Asif would have called it a crush and he would have been wrong. It was professional adoration, pure and simple. Kenny didn’t want to sleep with Monica – not least because Lane and Kierra would probably maim him if he tried – he wanted to be her.
Besides, she wasn’t his type.
He took the small, shallow stairs two at a time up to the attic room that he used when he stayed here. He closed and locked the door behind him and tried to pretend that it was only the exhaustion that had his heart beating fast against his chest. He pulled his fitted gray t-shirt over his head and checked his watch. He had half an hour before his appointment. He pulled off the rest of his clothes on the way to the bathroom.
The shower was scalding hot and fast. He swiped at the foggy mirror while he brushed his teeth. He turned his head left to right and considered if he had enough time to shave, which was foolish but he considered it anyway. In the end he decided that there wasn’t enough time.
He sprayed himself with his cologne, which also felt stupid, but again, he did it anyway. Tonight was special. These appointments were always special.
Kenny moved across the room, naked, and rummaged through his luggage.
“The key to being a good spy is to be comfortable traveling light.” That was another thing Monica had once said and Kenny had imbibed the message as if it were gospel. He’d heard it first when she gave a talk to his recruitment class five years ago. He’d been cocky, green and desperately searching for a mentor. And then
there she was, standing in front of him looking deadly and bored. She hadn’t known it, but Kenny had decided right in that moment that she was the kind of agent he wanted to be and he’d unofficially adopted her as mentor, life coach, and role model.
Granted, the last three months had revealed that just because it sounded good, didn’t mean that it was truly reflective of real life. Because what had their most recent mission been if not the definition of Monica, Lane and Asif – three of The Agency’s best spies – having too much baggage? But Kenny was not the same person today that he’d been five years ago. He liked to think that he was wiser and more experienced. He was certainly more built.
And he was also dumb as rocks. Because five years ago Kenny would never have let himself get into this mess.
He fished his laptop and a bottle of lube from his bag and then settled in the middle of the bed.
It had been a long two weeks. After leaving Berlin, he and Chanté had meandered to Amsterdam. But it had been less like a buddy road trip and more like babysitting - as he’d tried to stop her from grifting and thieving just because she could – with the occasional therapy session, since she’d spent every night dancing away her heartbreak before crying herself to sleep around four in the morning. When they’d finally split up, Chanté had seemed hollowed out; a ghost of her normal self. He’d put her on a plane back to her family in Chicago, hoping that the time away would rejuvenate her.
His hatred of Asif had grown exponentially.
He’d just entered the UK when he’d received a message that it was time to get back to DC and attend to his other missions. And there was actually a lot he needed to do. He was running some passive surveillance ops on the arms and drug trade out of Serbia, Chechnya and Albania that were pressing. And he still needed to file a mission report from Berlin, although every time he’d tried to work on it, it either turned into an erotic romance-thriller or a half-page list of Agency resources used with no narrative. He couldn’t figure out how to lie, without lying, or if he even needed to lie.
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