Zillion

by Alexander Blackwood

  "Okay," I said. "If Reba isn't my date, who is?"

  "In situations like this we like to pair our X9 assets with trained CIA operatives. Your date will be one of the shop's best."

  Agent Farris hit a button and still images of a Chinese woman filled every monitor. The photos were a combination of official looking headshots and full body shots. The exceptionally fit female agent was also fiercely beautiful. Her bottomless black eyes were alluring, but with a keen, inscrutable edge.

  "Her name's Juanita Wong," Agent Farris went on. "She speaks seven languages fluently, has a doctorate in psychology, a masters in game theory, and is an expert in five forms of martial arts. If you get in a tough spot, you'll be glad Juanita's by your side." "She's also smoking hot," Wendell said.

  "Undeniably," Agent Farris said. He turned to me. "Which makes her perfect to hang on your arm at Banks's party. Juanita will meet you at your jet within the hour. You two will fly into France as a couple and check into an appropriate hotel. Everything has been arranged."

  Agent Farris killed the video screens. "Now, unless there are any questions this meeting is over."

  I raised a finger. "There is one thing you didn't mention."

  "And what's that, Mathew?"

  "What happens if we fail?"

  Agent Farris paused to take a breath, then replied without a hint of emotion. "Our analysts predict that if a pocket nuke falls into the hands of a terrorist organization it will be used within 48 hours. Death toll, one to three hundred thousand. So... don't fail."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  "I'll be honest with you," Mr. Zillion. "I'm not a big fan of the one percent. No offense."

  Five minutes after boarding my jet, formally shaking my hand, and strapping into the leather lounger across from mine, CIA Agent Juanita Wong uttered those exact words.

  I laughed and replied, "Believe it or not, I'm not a fan either."

  Her brow tightened. "That makes no sense. You're one of the richest men in the world."

  "True. But a month ago I was just a hotel doorman."

  She nodded. "I know the story. I also heard about the wild party you threw." She glanced around the plush jet. "Seems like you slipped into the lifestyle pretty easily."

  "I guess what I mean is, I understand how you feel. But I've quickly come to realize that not all wealthy people are jerks." I grinned. "Like me for instance."

  She eyed me skeptically. "We'll see."

  We kept to ourselves throughout takeoff, both watching the lights of D.C. fall away outside the windows.

  Agent Wong was done-up perfectly for her role as billionaire arm candy. She wore a sexy yet stylish designer skirt, blouse, and heels ensemble. Pricey accessories like a Hermes handbag and a Cartier Tank watch helped nail the look. Her long raven hair flowed over her shoulders like a glistening black waterfall. The final touch was her perfume. I didn't recognize the scent, but it was as bold and beautiful as the woman who wore it.

  Once the jet leveled off and we were soaring at forty thousand feet, Juanita removed a folder from her handbag and slid it across the polished mahogany table that separated us. "That file contains details about our cover story," she said. "For instance, from this moment on my name's Emily Lee. My occupation, buyer for an exclusive online boutique. We met at your party. Etcetera, etcetera. It's all in there. Study it when you get a chance."

  "Will do," I said. "Hey, will the file self destruct after I read it?"

  She regarded me with a withering look. "Of course not."

  "For the record, that was a joke."

  "For the record, it wasn't funny."

  I chuckled. Agent Wong was as cold as ice, but her standoffishness intrigued me. Since inheriting the world, everyone had been so nice to me. She was the first person who didn't seem to give a shit.

  Pushing the folder aside, I said, "I promise to read all about Emily later. She sounds awesome. But right now I'd like to know more about Juanita Wong. The real you."

  She sighed. "As far as you're concerned Emily Lee is the real me. And everything you need to know about me in relation to our assignment is in that folder."

  I frowned. "Look, if we're going to be partners don't you think we should get along? You're not making this easy."

  She shook her head. "If you want easy you should've stayed home in your mansion and threw another party, or gone on a shopping spree for a limo to match your jet. I'm not here to make anything easy for you. I'm here to get a job done. That's it. Got it?"

  Forget what I said about her ice queen act intriguing me. Now Agent Wong was just pissing me off.

  I said to her, "This attitude of yours isn't really about my economic status, is it?"

  "What?"

  "Sure, that might be part of it, but there's something else bugging you. You want me to guess or are you going to be an adult and spit it out?"

  She locked narrowed eyes on me. "Okay, rich boy. Here it is. You don't belong here. You're not trained or qualified to do what I do. The fact that X9 enables privileged civilians, like you, to play secret agent with real lives on the line is beyond crazy. And most CIA agents feel exactly as I do."

  "I don't get it," I said. "If you hate the X9 program why are you here?"

  "What's the alternative? They'll just partner you with a less qualified agent. At the end of the day, there's still a job that needs to get done in a professional manner. Basically, Mr. Zillion, I'm here to babysit you."

  Her words stung, but what she said was mostly true. My bank account and even the halo implant didn't qualify me to partner with a seasoned operative like Agent Wong. But like Agent Farris pointed out, my unique social status could, in certain circumstances, make it easier for the pros to succeed. If insecure agents like Ms. Wong couldn't appreciate the vital role someone like myself could play in their spy games, that's their fucking problem.

  Returning her stare, I said, "Okay, but if you're my babysitter so far you're doing a shitty job. If you didn't know, babysitters are usually kind and sweet to their charges. I know that's a lot to ask, but maybe you could try being just a little nicer."

  Agent Wong rolled her eyes then checked her watch. "We're wasting time." She pulled another file folder from her handbag and placed it on the table. "Flight time to St. Jean is approximately twelve hours. We should devote as much time as possible to going over mission details. Sound good to you?"

  I shrugged. "Hey, you're the babysitter."

  For the next three hours we reviewed floorplans of Banks' villa, discussed possible locations of the server, and brainstormed ideas on how to create a diversion. We also reviewed maps of the surrounding countryside in case things went south and we had to haul ass.

  I was caught off guard when Agent Wong abruptly shut the folder and said, "How about a break?"

  "Sure. Sounds good."

  She settled back in her lounger. "So, anything to drink on this flying living room?"

  Up until that moment we'd been chain drinking coffee. Earlier, I had the notion to suggest wine, but her all-business manner made me reconsider. But now, nestled upon plush leather, all that stiffness gone, she looked incomplete without a cocktail in her hand.

  A moment later one of my flight attendants stood over us serving drinks -- an ice cold Corona for me and, surprisingly, a flute of champagne for Agent Wong.

  Agent Wong thanked the attendant then stared as the woman strode away on perfect legs, her mini-shirt swishing back and forth. Agent Wong remained completely riveted until the attendant disappeared through a curtain.

  It looked to me as if Agent Wong was genuinely enjoying the view, but I couldn't tell for sure. Maybe it was just she'd never seen a babeboid before. Then it occurred to me that Agent Wong might be oblivious to the true nature of my flight attendants.

  She raised her flute. "To a successful mission."

  I raised my bottle. "To success."

  Instead of clinking we just exchanged nods then drank.

  Agent Wong moaned with pleasure. "Delicious. Best
champagne I've ever had. I'm sure it's ridiculously expensive."

  "Actually, I don't know what it costs. But I can get one of the flight attendants to find out."

  "No. You'll just spoil it." With that, she took another sip.

  "They're not real, you know. The flight attendants. Their machines. Robots."

  "You mean babeboids, don't you?"

  "Oh. So, you know about them?"

  "Of course. When I take an assignment I do my homework. You're part of this assignment, so of course I did my homework on you. I know everything about you."

  "That's not really fair, is it? You know everything about me, but I know nothing about you."

  She shrugged. "You're right, it's not fair. But that's how it's going to stay. Remember, this isn't a weekend warrior adventure for me. My privacy is vital."

  I nodded. "I guess that makes sense. So I'm guessing Juanita Wong isn't even your real name."

  Instead of replying Agent Wong just stared at me and took another sip of champagne.

  "Okay. I guess I'll take that as a no."

  Still staring at me she said, "Do you find me attractive?"

  Blindsided, for a moment I just stared back. That's the last question I'd expect from a buttoned-down G Man like Ms. Juanita Wong. Finally, I found my voice. "Yes. I think you're very attractive."

  "Okay. How about sexually attractive?"

  I almost dropped my beer. "What?"

  "It's a simple question. Do you or do you not find me sexually attractive? Just answer."

  "Okay. Yeah. I mean, you're amazingly hot. But come on, you already know that."

  She shrugged. "You never know. People like different things. I just wanted to be sure."

  My brow tightened. "Why?"

  She drained her flute and set it down on the table. "Because it's time for us to get back to work. And I think we should start with intercourse."

  "Wait. What?"

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Despite the subject, Agent Wong spoke matter of factly, as if explaining how to operate a dishwasher.

  "Mr. Zillion, you and I are about to attend a party as a couple. At all times we'll be under intense scrutiny from the host, other guests, and from trained security. There are subtleties in behavior between a man and a woman who have known each other intimately. Subtleties that some might pick-up on subconsciously and as a result view us with increased suspicion. I, of course, have been trained to counter this phenomenon, but you have not. And since it would be foolish to risk this entire assignment on your ability to act, we need to compensate.

  "By screwing?"

  "By engaging in intercourse. Yes."

  My mouth suddenly dry, I drained my Corona.

  Agent Wong's eyebrows drew together. "You said you found me sexually attractive, and I know about you're sexual exploits at your recent party, so I assumed this wouldn't be an issue."

  "It's not," I said. "A little odd, maybe. Wait. How do you know so much about my party?"

  "As I told you, I do my homework." Agent Wong stood up. "Shall we move to the bedroom."

  "Whoa. You really want to do this right now? Shouldn't we wait until we get to the hotel?

  Agent Wong shook her head. "By then it will be too late. Because of who you are, the moment we deplane in St. Jean we will be observed and assessed, and you never know who's watching. It's better not to take chances and take care of the intercourse right now. Okay?"

  Agent Juanita Wong loomed over me, waiting. Perfect body, beautiful face, flowing hair, and she smelled so damn delicious. Why the hell was I still sitting down?

  I led Juanita into the bedroom at the rear of the jet. Clever design and decor made the paneled and mirrored room deceptively spacious. A king-sized bed took up half the room, the rest occupied by a fully stocked wet bar, a desk, and a state of the art entertainment center.

  Wasting no time, the instant I locked the door, Juanita began to unbutton her blouse.

  "Hold on," I said. "Mind if I dim the lights? It will help with the mood."

  She sighed. "Mr. Zillion, we aren't about to make love."

  "I know. But, as hot as you are, I'm not a machine."

  "Fine. Dim the lights."

  As I slid down the dimmer switch, she went back to work on her blouse. With only two buttons left her black bra was now slightly exposed.

  "Wait," I said again.

  She froze. "What now?"

  "Let me do that?"

  "Do what?"

  "Undress you?"

  She cut her eyes at me.

  "It'll really get me in the mood," I said.

  "I thought dimming the lights was supposed to do that."

  "It's a combination thing. You know, soft lights and soft music while I slowly peel off your clothes."

  She crossed her arms. "Music? You didn't say anything about music."

  "Just a little something to drown out the jet engines."

  My Gulfstream 3 was well insulated, reducing the interior noise to barely a rumble. Still, as unobtrusive as the rumble was, it wasn't the best mood-setter for bedroom action.

  I keyed my remote control and soft R&B began to play. "Better, right?"

  She made a face. "A little corny, no?"

  "Corny? What's corny about it?"

  "Forget it. It doesn't matter." She dropped her arms to her side. "Undress me if you like."

  "Wait," I said. "What kind of music do you play when you make lo- I mean have sex."

  She eyed me for a moment, then deflated and said, "Actually, I prefer sounds."

  "Sounds?"

  "Atmosphere. Like falling rain, or surf on a beach."

  I hit another button on my remote and the rumble and crack of a distant thunderstorm filled the room. "Like that?"

  Agent Wong closed her eyes and listened a moment, then nodded. "Exactly like that."

  I tossed the remote on the bed and crossed to her. Reaching for the buttons on her blouse, I whispered, "allow me."

  Agent Wong remained stock-still as I undid the final buttons, slipped the silk blouse from her shoulders, and let it billow to the wooden floor. Her bra was lacy and decidedly sexy, and I wondered if she'd chose it knowing I'd stare at it the way I was at that very moment. Next, I reached behind her and unfastened her skirt. It dropped and puddled around her high heels.

  Farris's photos didn't do her body justice. If Agent Wong ever got kicked out of the CIA she could be a Sports Illustrated bikini model. I suppose with all her diplomas she could do something more cerebral, but what a waste that would be.

  Next, I unfastened her bra, exposing perfect teacup breasts. I was pleasantly surprised to see her bubblegum pink nipples were erect. And even more so to hear her whimper slightly when I gently glided my hand over one.

  "Does that feel good," I asked.

  She looked at me like I had asked if her name was Frank. "I'm a healthy adult female, Mr. Zillion."

  "Yeah... I can see that."

  "Get on with it please."

  "Like it that much, huh?"

  Thunder boomed on the speakers as Agent Wong glared at me. Even she couldn't resist cracking a slight smiling at the perfect timing. Then it was gone and the ice queen was back. But, now, something in her eyes seemed a bit softer.

  "Let's try to stay focused," she said. "Please."

  Her panties matched the bra -- black lace and sexy as hell. I tugged them down her legs and she stepped out. Her black pubic hair was trimmed into a short-cropped triangle. It was so neat and perfect that it almost looked painted on.

  Agent Wong said, "Something wrong?"

  "Not at all. I love it. Is it always so neat?"

  "Of course."

  "This might be an odd question considering the circumstances, but do you have a boyfriend?"

  Without missing a beat, she replied, "Emily Lee does not. No."

  "I find that hard to believe," I whispered. "You're absolutely gorgeous." I reached out and began to slowly run my hands over her entire body. Agent Wong shut her eyes
as my touch drifted from her flat belly to the curves of her hips, to her pouty buttocks. When my fingertips traced her spine up to the base of her neck, she trembled and I felt goosebumps rise.

  Suddenly her eyes snapped open. "Wait. Shouldn't you get undressed?"

  "Not yet," I whispered.

  I slid my hands down to her slender thighs, eased one hand between her legs until the edge of my hand brushed her vagina. The warmth and moisture I felt made my member stir.

  Agent Wong made a pleasurable sound and her eyes were closed again.

  Gently, I wedged her legs slightly apart then slowly teased and rubbed her to dripping wetness. I slid two fingers into her and she moaned deeply. My hardness now straining against the inside of my pants, I moaned in reply while thrusting my two fingers in and out. She squeezed my shoulder and thrust her hip in rhythm with my hand.

  Agent Wong gasped when I abruptly withdrew by soaking fingers and took a step back. "Now you undress me," I said.

  Panting, she nodded then quickly unbuttoned my shirt. I noticed an impressed look on her face when she took in my cut, muscular physique. It was as if a voice inside her head said, "I had no idea."

  After removing my pants and underwear, her eyes widened at the sight of my erection. Hell, my eyes widened too. I knew Dr. Kazue's enhancements had added a few inches, but I hadn't yet seen my love muscle at full attention.

  "Wow," she said. "You really do have it all."

  "Touch it," I said.

  She wrapped her hand around my shaft and without prompting began to stroke it. I reached out and caressed her breasts, and she stroked faster.

  "Put it in your mouth," I said.

  Agent Wong paused and looked at me as if about to protest, but then sank to her knees. I groaned as she took me into her mouth. She swallowed me deeper and deeper, enhancing the wet warm pleasure with licks and flicks of her tongue. That wonderful, tingling pressure in my loins swelled rapidly. As I reached the euphoric verge of exploding, I said, "my turn." Leading Agent Wong to the bed, I laid her on her back and buried my face between her thighs. I began tenderly, the lightest flicks of my tongue searching for quivers and moans. Then I focused on the ideal spots, flicking and gently sucking. At first she remained quiet and still, and I feared that I'd misjudged my efforts. Then she let out a long gasp and tensed, and pushed my head down.