by Jesse Jordan
Stephen sits quietly for a moment, and then looks up at me with an almost shy smile. “It was pretty hot when you kissed that girl.”
I laugh, he’s cute. “Stephen, me and women is a professional thing only. I kissed Claudia because I knew you’d like it, and because I wanted to teach you to look outside your limits. I don’t do women for fun.”
“And what was I?” he asks hotly, angry suddenly. “Fun or work?”
“Why not both?” I tease, smirking. He shifts, and I can see that I’m under his skin. He’s never had a purely fun fuck before, or at least he’s never been on an equal level in that regard. He’s probably been the one to seduce the woman, grow bored of her, and leave her in tears wondering why the perfect man turned out to be an asshole. It pisses me off, and I needle him because of it. “You’re still so worried about what you might become that you don’t even recognize that you already are what you fear.”
Stephen gets up, and I see that he’s actually more shaken by our conversation than I originally thought. Still waters run very deep on him indeed. “You’ve been in the corruption game so long that you’ve become corrupt yourself!”
That one hurt, but I keep my smile enigmatic to cover up. “Stephen, we’re all corrupt at some level. I’m just honest about it.”
Stephen turns on his heel, storming out of the dining room, stopping to grab a key from the hook by the door. “I’m going out.”
“Give my regards to the Congressman from New York! Tell him his Mistress says hi!” I shoot back, pissed but hiding it with kindness. It isn’t until after the door’s closed that I slam my fist on the table, wondering why in the fuck I should be so upset that a stupid American should make me so angry.
Stephen
The Mediterranean is different than the Atlantic ocean, I think as I walk along the beach. It’s bluer, or at least more of that bright classic crayon blue that you imagine oceans to be when you’re a kid and you haven’t learned how different the sea can be from place to place.
The sun’s the same though, warm just like it is back home, and I try to let it ease away my frustrations as I try to figure out just how the fuck I got myself into this situation. One day on a new mission, and I’ve already gotten my head so fucked with that I don’t even know if my own partner is on the good side or the bad side of things.
Of course, according the Larissa, there is no such thing as the ‘good side of things,’ just differing shades of bad. But more than that, I keep thinking about her. Those eyes, that smooth, tight skin and voluptuous body that distracts me even when she’s pissed at me. I’ve never met a woman in my life that can make me so angry and yet I want her at the exact same time. Last night, when we were on her table fucking (another first for me, not having sex in a bed) all I wanted to do was drive her insane with my cock. I wanted to show her who was in charge, to make her give in to my wants and needs. I wanted….
I take a deep breath, admitting the truth. I wanted to spank her, to make her whine and squirm the way the German girl did when I was taking the crop to her. I wanted to hear her call me Master, the name dripping with want and need. I wanted her more and more, because it was the best, most earth shaking sex of my entire life.
And at the same time, talking with her this morning, I wanted to slap the hell out of her for a different reason. I wanted to tell her that I’m not some fucking pervert, turned on by handcuffs and leather and going to sex club to bind people up while two gay guys fuck in the background. I’m not like that. I’m fucking normal. I’m one of the good guys. Aren’t I?
I pick up a rock and throw it into the ocean, watching as it arcs against the bright blue to splash into the water out in front of me. The hard part is, I’ve always been turned on by violence. In high school, there was a reason I played defensive end in football even though I was a bit undersized at then a hundred and eighty five pounds. It was the one position where I could get into a collision, a fight, almost every snap of the ball. I wanted to dominate, to impose my will, and later on in college I got into jiu-jitsu for the exact same reason.
And Larissa brings out both sides of me. I want her, I want to dominate her. At the same time I can’t stand her and that arrogant, knowing little smirk, her comments about my private life that so true that I swear she’s talked to some of my former girlfriends. Then again, she’s gotten her hands on my CIA file, so maybe she has.
My phone rings, and I look down, wondering who it could be. A relieved smile comes when I see the number, and I pick up the call. “Hello Vic. Isn’t it still early in the morning your time?”
My sister laughs, and I can imagine her on the sofa, probably still in her short shorts and tank top just wrapping up a yoga session before going to work. “It’s not that much of a time difference, little brother. It’s about ten in the morning my time. What is it your time?”
I glance at my watch, which I made sure to adjust, and I’m surprised at how late it’s gotten. “Wow, it’s already five. So how are you doing?”
“Glad that I’m just a fashion consultant and not a designer,” Victoria says with a laugh. “I had two clients call to delay meetings because they’re so far behind on their lines for the winter shows that they’re not able to show me anything. So I had a few minutes, and I wanted to call my favorite guy. How’s Europe?”
“Not as much fun as you make it out to be,” I grumble, sitting down on the sand and pulling a rock out from under my butt to throw it out into the water. “My new partner is a total bitch.”
“Aww,” Victoria hums in sympathy. “I understand. They’re wired differently over there in Europe. Maybe it’s that stupid two twenty electricity or something. What’s so bad about her? I mean, what you can tell me.”
“Just...” I start, trying to figure out what I can tell Victoria without sounding like I’m whining or the details of what was the weirdest night of my life. “Well, first off, she took me to a sex club.”
“She WHAT?!?” Victoria asks, and I can hear her swing her legs off her desk. She must be at the office. “Some slut took my man to a sex club? What the fuck did she do that for?”
“She… Victoria, the people I’m going after this time, they’re some bad people. The stuff that they’re mixed up in, a lot of it is sexual, and my partner thought that maybe by going there, I could start to understand the scenario around here better,” I sort of half lie. I mean, there is that, but also Larissa’s intense interest in opening my eyes, and then the mindblowing fuck in the kitchen. Yeah, not for my sister to hear about. “These people Vic, they’re pretty monstrous, the way my partner describes them.”
I can hear Victoria breathing hard through her nose on the other side of the phone, and she only does that when she’s pissed off. At least that I can understand. Finally, she talks again, sounding at least a little more calm on the surface. “Okay, I guess I can see that. That’s another thing different about the Euros, they treat sex a lot differently than Americans. But these people you’re trying to find, they’re that bad, huh?”
“That bad,” I confirm. “Victoria, the pictures I saw… what they did to that poor girl is sickening. And someone actually got their rocks off from it. I guess that’s part of it too, you know? Spies, intelligence gathering, all that is something I can understand. But these guys… they’re not monstrous. They are monsters.”
“And that’s why I’m here, little brother,” Victoria says, her voice soft and reassuring. “I’d fight the monsters for you if I could, but I’m just a woman. So instead, I stay here and hope that you stay safe, and when you come home I’m going to be here to hold you and soothe away your worries and fears. Don’t worry about that.”
I laugh, feeling better. “You know Victoria, you’re too good to me. How’d I get such a good big sister?”
“You just got lucky,” Victoria says lightly. “Face it Stephen, I’m the best girl in the world for you.”
“Yeah well, too bad you’re my sister then,” I remind her, still feeling better. “I’m going to
have to give you up to some special man some day.”
“Never, you’re my guy forever,” Victoria says with a laugh. “Seriously, don’t worry. You got a little shell shocked, I had that happen to me my first modeling trip to Europe. Shake it off, and you’ll be just fine.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Find some normal people to remind me what life is supposed to be like,” I reply, wondering why I didn’t think of it earlier.
Victoria hums happily, and I can imagine her smiling. “That’s my guy. Okay, well… I see one of my clients trying to call me on the voice chat, so I got to get some work done. Pay the bills, bring home the bacon, stuff like that. Gimmie a call when you can, okay little brother?”
“I will. Love ya, Vic,” I say, hanging up the call and feeling at least a little bit better. Victoria’s right, I just need to get my mind out of the gutter, go find someplace where real people spend time and not just a bunch of freaks who get off from riding crops and being tied up. Even if at least one of those freaks has violet eyes, soft skin, and….
Fuck. I need a drink badly.
I start off, looking for something, and I see what looks like a resort up ahead. It’s not much, even if the sign out front calls it five star, but the hotel is close to the beach, and the sign out front says that it has a night club. I might as well use these new threads that I got yesterday. It might be a bit early, but it's still a resort, the party has to be going all the time.
I go into the club, seeing that it’s actually busier than I thought it would be. I guess that while Kalamata’s a pretty city, the nightlife isn’t much for the tourist trade. I head to the bar, where the bartender looks me over. “What you drink?”
Okay, at least he speaks a little English. “Ah… you know a margarita?” I ask on a silly whim, and the bartender gives me a thumbs up. “One margarita then.”
“No tequila. Rum okay?” he asks, and it’s my turn to give him a thumbs up. He turns around to make the drink and I turn to look at the club, which is playing Top 40, not too bad I guess. The dance floor has quite a few people on it, and I see a few pretty girls when the bartender puts my drink down in an old fashioned tall glass, and I hand over a ten euro note. Expense accounts are made for a reason.
I’m about halfway through my margarita when I sense her looking me over, and I glance over. She’s pretty, with long red hair that hangs most of the way to her waist with creamy pale skin that screams she’s got some Irish and of course, green eyes. She's even got a sprinkling of freckles, not too many but just a few, on her cheekbones, and plump red lips that don't need much lipstick at all. “Hello.”
“I saw ya over here, thought you might like some company,” she says, her accent definitely placing her in the Emerald Isle. “I’m Emma.”
“Stephen,” I reply, giving her an inviting smile. “And I’d love some company.”
Emma talks, and after a little while we go to dance as apparently her favorite song comes on. Whatever, I have no problem dancing to just about anything, but as we move on the dance floor, I can’t help but feel bored by this woman. She’s got a nice body, and her accent is sexy in it’s own way, but in listening to her talk about her job as an office worker in County Wicklow, I’m just bored out of my mind as she prattles on and on about inane bullshit.
“So what do you do?” Emma asks over my second margarita which she bought for me. “I feel like I’ve been talkin’ your ear off.”
“I’m a secret agent here on a dangerous and deadly mission in the service of my country and the safety of the free world,” I tell her, a line I’ve used before without fail. Nobody ever believes the truth. Emma is the same, laughing.
“Ach, you American men, always jokin’!” she says, giggling. “Well then Mr. Secret Agent Man, are you on the case now?”
“Of course. But I might be able to find some time for some relaxing activity,” I say, the implication clear. “It could be very dangerous though.”
“Mmm, dangerous can be exciting on the other hand,” Emma purrs, sliding closer to me and putting a hand on my thigh. “I canna know if I could handle such a situation.”
This is just too easy, and I’m bored already. I can tell she’s playing her little fantasy on her two week holiday before she goes back to County Wicklow and her nine to five job in the office answering phones and creating spreadsheets for her bosses. I wonder though… “Well, if you can’t, I might be very angry. I’d have to tie you down and spank you then, see if I could make your backside as red as that hair.”
Emma gulps, then shakes her head. “I’m sorry Stephen, I’m not into that sort of thing. I'm a good Irish girl.”
I shrug, and toss back the rest of my margarita. “Well, it's not everyone’s cup of tea. Listen, I think I’ll get going, it was nice meeting you, but perhaps better that we go our separate ways. Have a good holiday, Emma.”
“You too,” Emma says, swallowing nervously as I slide off the bar stool and head off into the now dark night. As I walk, I keep thinking that the whole time, what I wanted wasn’t Emma. She would have wilted underneath me, and I would have been bored, unfulfilled as I always am with sex partners. Well, except for one, who I want to fuck and want to tell to fuck off just about equally.
Two drinks isn’t a lot, and when I get back to Larissa’s townhouse, the key she gave me works and I head up to the penthouse, not feeling much more than a great desire for something more in my life than boring sex with office workers who can’t handle the full depths of what the little voice inside me that woke up last night wants to do.
The townhouse is dark when I get in, and I see on the fridge a note from Larissa. Had work I have to do. Went out to handle it. Help yourself to the red pot in the fridge, microwave is pretty strong so watch out for burns. L.
The one person I can think of who isn’t boring in this town, and she’s at work. I don't even know where her office is, she's got at least two clubs, maybe more. I sigh, and open the fridge, where I see the pot of what looks like beef stew but is probably lamb sits waiting for me.
Well, it’s better than nothing. And maybe Larissa’s got a book around here I can read before I go to bed.
I wake up before Larissa this morning at least, I have no idea what time it was when she got home, and she looks slightly surprised when I greet her with a cup of tea on the outdoor patio of the townhouse. “Well, I see you’re over your jet lag.”
“I adapt pretty quickly,” I agree, pouring her a cup of tea for herself. Maybe what we need is just a chance to reset, to try and approach this with calmer heads. “The girl, she doesn’t speak English, but I got the impression this is your type of tea?”
“That’s the British in me, I can’t start without a good cuppa,” Larissa agrees, inhaling deeply. “Mmm, heavenly. Thank you. So how was your day yesterday?”
“I did a lot of thinking… and a little more,” I admit, sipping at my own already half finished cup. “When your staff is gone, we can talk about it.”
The staff girl comes back, and Larissa gives her a few orders, gesturing to me a few times, and the girl nods, giving me a smile before disappearing inside. “What did you tell her?”
“To bring you a big breakfast,” Larissa says with a chuckle. “Elena’s a good girl, she knows that I’m in The Network but doesn’t quite know much more than that. Big heart though, and since what I pay her allows her to put her brother and sister through college, she’s very loyal.”
“Does she-?” I start to ask, and Larissa shakes her head.
“No. She knows I’m into it, I have a small area in the townhouse set aside here for personal use, but most of my fucking I do outside the house unless I'm training a new submissive. More convenient that way.”
Breakfast comes, and Larissa gives Elena a few more orders, which the girl takes in with a smile and a happy nod before leaving us again. “I told her to take the laundry with her to her home or a local laundromat and take the rest of the day off,” Larissa explains as I look over the monster breakfast.
“So, think that’ll fill your stomach?”
“I think if I let Elena cook for me every day I’m going to gain twenty pounds before this is all over,” I say in amazement as we dig in. For a blissful ten minutes, there’s no sound other than spoons and forks scraping against plates, and when I finally push away, my stomach at least is satisfied completely.
“So… what did you think about?” Larissa asks after breakfast is finished and we clear the table. “I hope it was helpful.”
I nod, taking a deep breath. “First off Larissa, I want to say I’m sorry for blowing up at you yesterday. I don’t know if you’re totally correct on what you said, but I am in no position to criticize you on anything. The fact is, you’ve been Deep Cover for nearly as long as I’ve been in the CIA, and that takes guts and brains. And if you’ve been chasing these people for years and you’re not able to get them, then I’ve got no chance without being willing to admit I don’t know everything and that I need to learn.”
Larissa studies me for a moment, then actually gives me a smile. It’s different than the smiles she’s given me before, which have always been challenging, teasing, or seductive. This is a different smile, and it stirs something inside me to see genuine pleasure on her face. “Thank you. For being strong enough to apologize, and for being strong enough to admit that you need to learn. Stephen, regardless of what we did, and like I said you’re a great fuck, there’s more you need to learn. It’s not about getting your rocks off, it’s about a mindset, a freeing of your true self.”
I nod, thinking for a minute. “Last night, there was this girl. Irish chick, I could have had her. But then I just realized that it would have been boring. Ha, maybe I just was too picky since I’d just gotten… well, you already know you’re a great fuck too.”
Larissa actually looks like she blushes for a moment, and I wonder why, then she smirks. “Yeah well, I can’t exactly teach you while you’ve got your cock jammed inside me, so most of the time I’m going to be standing aside and watching, giving you guidance while you work with some of my girls. So after sampling the best, you’re going to have to train with the rest. Top flight, but still the rest.”
