Lesson Learned- Mission Report 1

by G J Stevens

  “Did you find yourself?”

  She laughed again, but it soon drained to silence.

  “No. Life found me.”

  “What do you mean?” I replied as I stopped chopping and turned towards her.

  “Nothing, sorry. I’m taking up your time again.”

  A knock rattled against the front door and Celina turned with a start to greet the visitor but came back to the kitchen within a few minutes with a smile replacing the void she’d left with.

  “They’re back,” she announced with a great excitement.

  “Who?”

  “The Bukia’s at fifty-six and they have an au pair now. Isn’t that exciting?” she said, her eyes wide.

  Celina was off the list, or at least greyed out. For now.

  3

  Celina’s daily trips to the tennis club got shorter. At the end of the following week she’d left the house for just an hour as if showing up just to be counted, then heading home when she wouldn’t be missed by her partner who was likely asleep in a comfy armchair.

  I suspected her comings and goings had synchronised with my schedule of shopping and errands.

  She was either monitoring me, her trust faltering when she realised I’d been over their home with a fine-toothed comb, or she was trying to get me into bed. Her persistent actions spoke volumes as to which one it was.

  After arriving home, Celina would seek me out and announce she was showering, often calling me to her room, shouting from the ensuite with some excuse; a forgotten towel or empty bottle of shampoo.

  Each time I arrived she would be in some state of undress, more flesh on show on every new occasion as if her need grew more urgent.

  Often she’d leave her drawer open with the small towel discarded to the side to show off its contents. Sometimes the long round edges of the pleasure tools would be on display across the bed.

  After the shower, and dressed in thin, silk nightwear or just a towelling gown, she’d hang around as I busied myself with the chores.

  I remained strong, despite the distraction, telling myself I had to keep removed, despite her advances. And they were distracting, leading to many frustrated nights and not just because her increased appearance hampered the investigations I shouldn’t be conducting.

  At one stage I thought her approach could be a tactic deployed to overcome me. We’d covered seduction in training, but only as a technique to use on our targets. No one mentioned how we should deal with it when used as a weapon towards us.

  Of course, she could just be lonely, or perhaps she had a thing for strawberry blondes.

  Either way, the best I could do was to keep her at bay without closing her off, storing the opportunity for later if it gave me an advantage in achieving a future goal.

  I paused at the thought. Would I do the same if she were a man?

  Two weeks into what seemed to have turned into a concerted campaign, I told her I was heading into the city. Celina offered to come with me, reducing the offer to a lift as she read the response I couldn’t hide from my features.

  In the end I decided I would postpone the trip, her face lifting when I took up the earlier offer of tennis. The club was somewhere I hadn’t been inside and I wanted to see what she got up to. Observation only.

  Later that day, we stepped into the foyer, both of us dressed in a tight skirt and vest top, mine a match she’d insisted I borrow. It took only seconds for me to agree it was a truly uninspiring place. She’d been right about the clientele too.

  Of the handful of women I saw, each were all middle-aged or more. The only men were young, overly attentive waiters swarming around the lounges in dinner jackets and ties, doing a poor job of hiding their real intent which seemed to find a sugar mummy.

  Deflecting their advances, we spent the next couple of hours on court. It was the first real moment of the assignment I’d enjoyed.

  Celina was a mean opponent, bouncing around the court, her energy taking me by surprise. She must have been spending at least some of her time on the court. I hadn’t played since school, but I could react and power the shots like I’d been playing all my life. Still I let her win, but only just.

  Skipping the showers we stopped for a glass of wine in the lounge, the place no busier or quieter than when we’d arrived. The waiters soon got the idea we weren’t interested in what they offered and we got down to chat, steering clear of subjects centring around the house and the family.

  She began by delving into my back story, its detail not tested since the interview so many weeks ago now, but keeping the conversation light I had no trouble in keeping to the script.

  ***

  Arriving home, she dragged me by the hand to the kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine and pinching the rest of the bottle under her arm as she led me to the garden.

  On the cushion-covered rattan sofa she quizzed my thoughts of Brad, the gardener, as we watched him bare-chested, his biceps tensing as he dug over the vegetable patch. She told how she’d engineered his employment and not for his horticultural skills, adding it was lucky he was so cheap or Lenart might have put up a fight.

  I asked her outright if she would ever have an affair. She sniggered, not denying it, just saying she wouldn’t rule out a bit of fun with the hired help. Turning away, I felt her gaze continue to bore into my side as she spoke whilst I poured the last contents of my glass down my throat, realising it was going down much quicker than I’d expected.

  I was storing up a problem for later in the day, but I just needed to keep it together for the next hour until the children came home.

  Changing the subject to her husband, I hoped the conversation would steer her thought away or dampen her mood, but she brushed it aside.

  She had no animosity towards him, but was brazen in her disregard for how their relationship might be affected if she strayed.

  Celina switched the subject again, this time redirecting the enquiry to my past boyfriends, or girlfriends, or both, to use her exact words. She was more than a little taken aback when I told her the truth that I had no experience with either.

  The shock in her expression only just matched the undercurrent of excitement. A sudden fear hit me she’d scrunch up her face and pinch at my cheeks.

  Emptying the bottle into each of the glasses, she turned to the side, waving as Brad put his hand up in our direction with his top back in place. He’d finished for the day. Now we were alone and in the sprawling garden we may as well have been in the middle of nowhere.

  I checked my watch, only minutes to go.

  “Well I better shower and get the dinner ready,” I said. “The children will be back soon.”

  I watched as she held back words she seemed desperate to voice, closing her mouth before she could make a sound.

  4

  The restless night that followed helped me focus, forging my resolve. I wouldn’t get into that situation again unless my assignment required the result.

  I worried I’d already lost my way, distracted by her pretty face and the simple thoughts she seemed to force into my brain.

  Although I shouldn’t have been investigating, simple observation my explicit instruction, I was still a long way from crossing the husband off the list.

  The next day, a Tuesday, was always set aside for shopping. I rattled through my chores, leaving the house before Celina could get me alone after avoiding her attempts to lock eyes over the breakfast table.

  Out in the driveway I watched a woman not too far from my age, with long brown hair running down below her shoulders, leave the house next door, the house only reoccupied the week before after the builders had finished. She spotted me and waved in my direction.

  I guessed she was their me, in one way at least. I waved back and couldn’t help watching out of the corner of my eye as we both climbed into ours cars.

  After following her to the squat supermarket, I was sure she hadn’t noticed me right at her tail for the entire journey, or so her surprise read as I parked at her side in th
e large car park. After regarding me with her brow furrowed, we broke into laughter and our hands descended to shake before swapping introductions.

  She was Alarica, from Berlin, although her accent could well have been native. She’d been in the country for four years studying.

  For now I was Catarina from just outside London.

  She spoke perfect English. I quipped my German was basic, but surprised her as we continued the conversation in her native tongue. I was, after all, on a gap year following my studies, a recent language graduate.

  She was on a journey to find herself, she said, laughing, soon admitting she had no idea what that meant. She’d been with the Bukia’s since they’d moved out from the city an hour away; three months now.

  She was a helping hand to the family, the mother unable to do all she needed to run the busy house. Alarica was part cleaner, part carer, part mother and part chauffeur. The father of the family didn’t drive. He had a driver, but sometimes he wasn’t around.

  We chatted as we walked, picking from the shelves, switching to English when the stares of the natives fell in our direction. She told of the kindness from the family and how the parents and the children got along so well.

  I told her I was yet to grow a strong bond with mine. It was still early days, but they were very nice, letting slip that I hardly ever saw the father and the children, their lives too busy. Celina, however, was always around and keen for company.

  “Too keen?” Alarica said with a smile across the shelves. I let a small grin escape as my reply. “I’ve got a lot of friends in this business and it happens. More than you’d think. I bet no-one told you that before you signed up?”

  “No,” I replied, busying myself with bright boxes of breakfast cereal.

  “It’s the dads or the sons most of the time, but the wives do it, too. Especially when they’re not the mother.”

  “Step mum,” I said, nodding and Alarica replied with a smile. “What about you?”

  “Never happened, and this is my second family. I don’t think I’ve the attributes.”

  I laughed as I looked over her plump tits, lingering on the full lips telling the lie.

  Alarica laughed along, realising the obvious. I could already see her confidence coming through; she couldn’t hide those tells. A tinge to her smile, that look away at a key moment. I’d known her for only ten minutes, but each of her words, each movement of her body, calibrated my natural senses.

  She was sleeping with the father, or the mother; which one wasn’t clear. The father was the more likely and in a few more conversations it would be as obvious as if she’d stamped it across her forehead.

  We split after the extended trip, adding a coffee in the diner and proposing a catch up on her day off. She had two each week and told me I should speak to my family about getting the same. We agreed we’d sort something in the next few weeks, but she mentioned we’d catch up at the party at the weekend.

  “Oh, haven’t they told you about it?” she said at my stone-faced response.

  “No,” I replied. “They probably just forgot.”

  “Lenara, that’s Mrs Bukia, said you were more than welcome.”

  “I’m sure they’ll mention it,” I said. We left it at that.

  Arriving home, the meeting had muddled my day. I’d planned to be out of the house, finding any errands until I could leave it late to come home. Realising only as I pulled up in the empty drive, I waved goodbye to Alarica as she headed into her house.

  I took the shopping into the kitchen without even thinking about when I’d need to put my guard up. Celina would be at the club and I hoped she’d resume her normal routine.

  Those thoughts dashed as I heard a car roll up the driveway. It was her, dressed in tennis whites but with no sheen of sweat; instead, like a homing missile she found me in the larder loading the cupboards.

  “I didn’t get a chance to speak with you this morning,” she said, standing in the doorway, her voice sounding wounded. “Were you avoiding me?”

  “Of course not,” I replied, trying not to catch her gaze. “I just wanted to get the shopping done early.”

  “Great. That means we’ve got the rest of the day to ourselves, and we’re all invited to a party next door at the weekend.”

  “Oh, but won’t I just get in the way?”

  “No. Lenart is on a trip with some chums, so you can be my date.”

  I coughed into my fist, hurrying to push away the cartons of juice.

  “You could take Brad. He’d look so much better on your arm.”

  “A little obvious, don’t you think? Who takes the gardener to a house warming?” She paused and gave a little laugh. “I could invite you both. That would make an interesting evening.” She paused again.

  I didn’t look up, but I knew she was trying to gauge my reaction and she soon broke into laughter, which sounded more than a little forced. “That would be silly, yes. You’ll come though, won’t you?”

  “What about the children?”

  “They could come too, but that might spoil the night. No, I’ll arrange for them to stay with friends. This will be so much fun.”

  I had no out. She’d taken them all away. Although I wouldn’t be working all the time, I couldn’t say no. Plus it might be an idea to get to know the neighbours, I told myself.

  “Okay, I’ll come,” I replied and went back to being busy in the cupboards.

  “Great,” she said. “I’m off for a shower. Come up as soon as you’re ready and you can help me choose what to wear.”

  5

  My observation reports grew as I summarised the ongoing saga with Celina.

  I left out irrelevant details, like the challenges I faced. I didn’t mention how I had to hold myself back as she spent an hour undressing whilst I sat in her bedroom chair, each dress or skirt or blouse requiring different knickers, a different bra. The changes made in the orbit of my personal space so I could be under no illusion how much she enjoyed herself.

  When she insisted I try clothes on too, I left to dress in my small room, trying each on and only returning to twirl for her amusement in the long dress I’d chosen for how much of my body wasn’t on show.

  She didn’t hide her disappointment when I chose a skirt which stopped just at my ankles. I picked long sleeves covering even my wrists, a collar buttoned tight under my chin; the fit loose and flowing, hiding every contour.

  My report contained none of this but put the case of how Celina could be of use as an asset and that I’d already formed a plan to leverage her in any way we saw fit.

  My reports on Lenart were still thin. The children’s non-existent.

  I added Alarica to the list, making it clear she was sleeping with at least one member of her working family.

  I didn’t react when I got the usual response.

  Instructions:

  Observe. Report.

  ***

  The day of the party started with Lenart already out of the house, the tyres on the gravel driveway waking me early. I pulled myself from under the duvet to look out of the window, only to lock eyes with a smile from Celina as she walked back to the house, a taxi heading into the distance at her back.

  Dressing, I left my room, not wanting to be cornered in the small space and by my bed. By the time she’d risen the stairs I was heading in the opposite direction.

  “Just the kids to send on their way, then it’s our weekend,” she said in an excited whisper.

  I forced a smile, taking a deep breath as I passed her on the stairs, heading to the coffee machine.

  She didn’t join me for another hour; instead, she followed the children as they thumped down the stairs for the breakfast spread.

  She made a big deal about the food I’d prepared, but the children barely acknowledged its existence.

  Seeing the annoyance in Celina’s expression, I volunteered to drop them both at their separate friend’s houses, knowing each was the opposite side of the town; it would buy me at least an
hour away from her attention.

  Arriving back, I found the table spread with a feast; bread and cold meats, fruit and salad. Vapour fizzing from a bottle of champagne stood next to two tall, thin glasses. It was the most effort I’d seen her make for anything.

  Still standing in the doorway to the dining room, Celina appeared through the door on the other side. She’d changed from her thick pyjamas into a thin pink negligee. I could see a hint of her body underneath, even with the silk dressing gown hanging either side.

  Despite not staring, still I made out the darker skin around her nipples and the pink line where her legs met.

  I took a deep breath as she looked up, feigning surprise as she put the tray of croissants on the table and wrapped the gown around her, with little effect.

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said in a soft voice. I kept quiet, watching her smile at my silence. “Did the children get away okay?”

  A gulp of air forced into my throat as I went to speak, my voice coming out a little hoarse.

  “Yes, fine.”

  “I’m sorry they were so ungrateful this morning. I think they were excited for their day.”

  “It’s fine. I remember what it was like to be a teenager.”

  We both stood in silence. She looked at me with a smile in the corner of her mouth and I was looking anywhere but in her direction, whilst trying to concentrate on the table. “You shouldn’t have done this, but thank you.”

  “You deserve it,” she said. “Sit down and dig in.” She pulled a chair out from around her side and I noticed she’d grouped all the food on the table, blocking all but two places where she’d set the mats next to each other.

  “Let me freshen up,” I said, using a phrase I’d never found the need for before.

  I rushed up to my room and dropped off my coat, but rather than heading to the bathroom, I sat on the bed taking slow, deep breaths.

  The party wasn’t for another five hours. I had to think quick, but nothing came. I’d been gone too long already and with my breath settling, I headed back down the stairs.