Double Agent

by J. P. Nicholas

  "I'll believe that when I see it."

  "You don't believe me?" She shakes her head. "Well, then, you’ll see it with your own eyes tonight. I am personally inviting you, Ms. Nicole Parker of the Daily Yorker Gazette, to attend the gala I am hosting at the Prestington tonight. It starts at six. See you then."

  I watch as her facial expression turns from I-got-your-lying-ass to what-the-fuck-just-happened. I have to admit that I enjoyed the challenge…for once. Finally, a worthy adversary.

  Chapter Three

  Nicole

  Step 1: Meet the King Philanderer himself.

  I cannot believe what just happened. He personally invited me to attend his party. I never would have guessed that in a million years. And he's engaged? Where the fuck did he pull that from?

  If he is really engaged, this will be harder than I thought. However, I couldn't help but notice the way he stared at me. He was eye-fucking me for sure. Maybe I can still pull this off. He may have changed, but I can change him back. My mother always told me: once a player, always a player. And Aaron Hunter was the biggest player of them all. Men don't change, they just get tired of pretending.

  On the cab ride back to my apartment, I call Sherri and fill her in on what just happened.

  "Are you fucking serious? Engaged?"

  "Yeah. And now I have to go to his gala tonight." Sherri screams in excitement.

  "No press is allowed at that party. We’ll have the exclusive scoop, for once."

  "Any chance I can get the promotion based on that?"

  "Sorry, babe. No chance of that. You know he wants dirt. Something to destroy him."

  "I know. It was worth a shot. Can you believe it? I was invited as his guest."

  "Girl, I know. This shit be cray-cray. What're you gonna wear?"

  That's when it dawned on me that I hadn't even thought about that tidbit.

  "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

  "Do you need me to come over?"

  "Thanks, but I think I'll be fine."

  "Well, I've gotta go. Wear something elegant but sexy. Something that says I'm classy but I still want to fuck you." I erupt into laughter, making the cab driver jump.

  "I'll do my best. Bye"

  I hang up the phone as the cab arrives at my apartment building. I pay the fare, along with a way-too-generous tip, but hell, I'm excited so I let it slide.

  I dash to the elevator, trying to catch it before the doors close. Success. Once the elevator stops on floor four, I exit, make my way to apartment 4B, and unlock the door.

  * * *

  I glance into the mirror, feeling satisfied with all my choices. I am wearing a sapphire blue off-the-shoulder fishtail gown and silver high-heels with small sapphires embedded by the toes, giving off a nice blue shine. I am wearing my grandmother's pearl necklace and earring set, and accenting the dress with three silver Alex and Ani bangles: hope, strength, and love. My chestnut-brown hair is styled in an elegant and classy fishtail braided updo. I look classy as hell. To complete the look, I grab my blue clutch that only has enough room for my cell phone, my apartment key, my driver’s license, a few twenties, and my antique rose lipstick.

  Feeling content and prideful that I was able to come up with this look in only three hours, I exit my apartment.

  I hail a cab pretty quickly in this outfit. I tell him to take me to the Prestington, and we're off.

  Excitement settles in as I imagine how affected Aaron Hunter is going to be when he catches a glimpse of me. I might just unravel his lying ass tonight. If only I'm that lucky.

  I watch as limo after limo arrives at the front of the Prestington. And here I am, arriving in a taxi.

  When my turn finally arrives, I hand the taxi driver his fare, open the door, and exit nonchalantly.

  I start to hesitate when I see everybody handing the bouncer at the front door a gold invitation. Maybe he was joking about actually inviting me. Maybe he just said that because the press was present. In that case, I did all this work for nothing.

  I stand in the line extruding from the front door as person after person hands him their invitations. Now comes the moment of truth.

  "Invitation please." I stare at him with a blank look on my face. I'm half-tempted to say no hablo Ingles, but I don't think I would get away with it. He repeats himself as I suck in a deep breath.

  "I…um…don't have one. But…um…Mr. Hunter invited me earlier at the press conference. I'm sure you can just go ask him."

  "No invitation, no entry." His monotone voice was really starting to get on my nerves.

  "So, it's like that, huh? You're not even going to go ask him?" He shakes his head.

  "Next!" Oh, so that he decided to get a tone for. Go figure.

  I step aside, but I'm not giving up just yet. There has to be some way I can get inside without an invitation. I mean, the guest of honor fucking invited me personally. I know of twenty-four other witnesses who could vouch for me. Unfortunately, none of them are here.

  I take this time to sit on the bench by the lobby doors and people-watch, one of my favorite things to do.

  All these rich people show up in such dull colors: white, black, navy, and gray. Gold was the only exception. Even then, it didn't sparkle enough for my taste. If you're going to wear gold, wear it right. My motto has always been to stand out from the crowd. Well, that and don't fuck with me just because I'm petite.

  I rest my elbow on the arm of the bench and prop my head up as I watch the long line diminish before my eyes until I am the only one that remains. Well, me and the asshole who wouldn't let me in.

  I wait for an hour before I decide to finally stand up and leave.

  "Excuse me, has a Miss Nicole Parker shown up yet?"

  "I'm over here. He wouldn't let me in." I throw the bouncer my best told-you-so-asshole look, grinning as Aaron links his arm around mine and escorts me through the lobby doors.

  "I do apologize for that, Ms. Parker. I did inform him to let you in without an invitation."

  He sounds genuine, so I just might believe him…this time.

  "No worries. I'm grateful for the invitation." He laughs and my nipples instantly harden in response to it. What the hell is that about?

  He leads me down a long corridor, stopping just in front of a gorgeous mahogany door. He unlinks our arms, allowing mine to fall back by my side. And, to my surprise, he puts both hands on my shoulders, his golden-hazel eyes staring into mine.

  "I wanted to personally thank you for being a worthy adversary at the press conference today. So many of them were too afraid to ask what you did. I know they were dying to know the answers. So few times in my life do I get to enjoy a challenge, and I just wanted to thank you for making today one of them."

  I am caught completely off-guard. Maybe there is more to Aaron Hunter than meets the eye. I mean, he is thanking me for calling him a philanderer to his face. Who the hell is this guy?

  "You're welcome?" I say, unsure of how I should respond. He seems content with my answer as he releases his grip on my shoulders, making me feel weightless without his applied pressure.

  "You missed dinner. But I can have the kitchen staff scrounge something up for you if you'd like." There he is sounding genuine again. Just yesterday, I wouldn't have even thought he was capable of being genuine. But there he goes surprising me again.

  "No, thank you. I'm not that hungry." He squints at me, seeming unconvinced.

  "Are you sure? I swear we aren't eating rich people food. No caviar, escargot, or any other type of animal other than cow." I grimace at him, unsure of how to act in this situation. This is uncharted territory.

  "Veal or steak?"

  Does it fucking matter? You’re famished! Just eat!

  He laughs again. The sound alerts my nipples once again of his presence. Sure, he is sexy as hell with his muscular frame, devilish grin, panty-dropping dimples, rugged five-o'clock shadow, thick brown hair, and golden hazel eyes, but I am not going to be another bimbo who
falls for his charm.

  "Steak, but I can get veal if you want it."

  "Steak would be lovely. Thanks."

  Lovely. What the fuck did you use that word for? Don't forget why you are here: to destroy him in order to get the promotion.

  "Coming right up."

  Aaron catches some waiter who exits the ballroom and enters the corridor and asks him for a steak cooked medium-rare, just how I like it. That has to be a coincidence. The waiter rushes off in a flash of urgency.

  "Right this way, Parker."

  Aaron opens the mahogany door that we've been standing in front of for quite some time now, holds it open for me, and gestures for me to step inside. I do so and he quickly follows.

  We appear to be backstage. To my left, I can see the podium where he is going to give his speech in just a few minutes. Somebody taps my shoulder, bringing me back to reality.

  "Parker, I would like you to meet my fiancée, Marcia Gonzalez."

  Marcia's mocha skin is complemented by her sleek black hair and dark brown eyes. I like her yellow gown; it's not something I would wear personally, but it seems to fit her. And it's not a dull color. Her size thirty-two-B breasts are not up to his usual standards. There is no way he is fucking her for life.

  I give her a good once-over before I stretch out my arm and shake her hand.

  "Nice to meet you."

  "Likewise. I’ve heard so much about you already." Her accent is thick and possibly Venezuelan.

  "Oh, really?" I say to her before I shift my gaze over toward him.

  "You talked about me?" I say, clamping my hands together in front of me, lifting my left leg into the air Princess Diaries style, crooking my head toward the left, and batting my eyes at him like a little girl who’s asking her daddy for something.

  He exhales through his nose, trying to fight his laughter. I am grateful for that because my nipples didn't respond to his exhale sound. Apparently, only the sound of his laughter arouses them.

  He opens his mouth to respond but gets interrupted by the thunderous sound of applause. That's his cue. Time for the speech.

  I watch from the sidelines, next to the future Mrs. Hunter, as he walks onto the stage, confident and proud, as if he has already won the election. He stops at the podium and takes a deep breath.

  "Good evening, everyone. You all probably know what I’m going to say, so this party is kind of pointless. Unless you are here for the free food, then there was definitely a reason for you to come." He pauses, allowing the abrupt laughter to dissipate before he continues.

  "As you all know, I made an impromptu announcement earlier this evening. I just couldn't sit there and let a reporter call me a womanizer when that's not who I am anymore." He looks at me while he says this, then he returns his gaze back to the adoring audience.

  "So, without further ado, I'd like to introduce you all to my better half. Ladies and gentlemen, my fiancée, Marcia Gonzalez."

  Marcia walks out onto the stage, princess-air-scoop waving to his constituents, and possibly future campaign investors.

  Aaron takes this opportunity to sweetly kiss his new fiancée before he continues.

  "Please excuse the red lipstick I probably have on my lips now." They burst into laughter. "On that note, I would like to officially declare that I am running for the Senate. And I would like to be the next senator of this great state of New York. Thank you and have a great night."

  The crowd erupts into loud, thundering applause. Aaron wraps his arm around Marcia's tiny waist as he escorts her offstage. He plants a kiss on her cheek before she abandons him and heads through the mahogany door.

  My stomach growls loudly, causing Aaron to laugh uncontrollably. My nipples, once again, harden at the sound. But this time, a shiver runs down my spine and a tingling sensation rests between my legs. My own body is betraying me.

  "I don't know where the hell that steak is. But I do know that I owe you a dinner. Tomorrow?" I hesitate and he notices.

  "C'mon, I'll let you pick my brain. No question is off limits. You can't possibly resist that opportunity and free food, can you?" He raises both of his rakish eyebrows simultaneously. I sigh.

  Dammit. He’s right. My journalistic nature won't let me turn him down. Quick, think of something smart and witty. Nothing. Thanks, brain.

  "Are you serious?"

  He chuckles again. Damn that fucking sound!

  "I want to make up for the fact that you waited outside for an hour and missed dinner. Is that so shocking?"

  Silence falls upon the room. Neither of us says anything. We just stare at each other, wondering who is going to break the silence first. I guess it will just have to be me.

  "Fine. Pick me up at seven." I turn away and quickly walk through the mahogany door.

  "Wait! Where do you live?" he calls out from the other room.

  "Use your rich people resources; you'll find me!"

  If he cares enough, he’ll track me down no matter what obstacles stand in his way. Good job, Nicole. Make him want you. Score: Nicole-one, Aaron-zero.

  Chapter Four

  Nicole

  Step 2: Interview his Army of Bimbos.

  I walk into the room and quickly survey the ten ex-lovers, ex-girlfriends, victims…whatever they call themselves…I call them bimbos.

  They all are of different ethnicities: Asian, African-American, Caucasian, and Hispanic. He doesn't discriminate, I'll give him that. They all have relatively large breasts. Rat-bastard. And they all have had sex with him only once before he left. No surprise there.

  Fortunately for me and my cause, the similarities end there. The goal of this Bimbo Inquisition is to find out just what Aaron likes in a fuckmate. I will use that information and all their experiences to become irresistible.

  I take my seat at the head of the long conference table, conjoin my hands and place them on the table, clear my throat, and get this thing started.

  "Good morning, everybody. First off, I would like to thank you all for coming here today. Do any of you know why you are here?" Everybody shakes their heads. Of course. Why would they? Since I didn't tell them, that means they would have had to deduce it for themselves. Something I'm not sure they are even capable of.

  "Well, you all have one thing in common. You were all lovers of a Mister Aaron Hunter." It took a lot of self-restraint to say lovers instead of bimbos; I pride myself on that.

  The women all look around at each other, judging their competitors. Each with a disdainful and hateful expression on their face. Some even appear to recognize each other.

  "Now that I have your attention, I would like each one of you to answer a few questions. Starting with: how did you first meet Mr. Hunter?" I gesture to my left to let Bimbo number one know that it is her turn to speak.

  "Hi. I'm Luthiana Lopita, LuLu for short. And I've been fucked by Aaron Hunter."

  "Hold on," I wave my hand in the air to stop her from continuing. "This isn't an Aaron's ex-lovers support group. This isn't like an AA meeting. The purpose of this meeting is to just gather intel on a candidate who is running for the Senate this year. You can remain completely anonymous if you want to. You can continue, LuLu."

  "Okay. So, I totally met Aaron at work. I work at Lanny's Tavern as a bartender. I served him alcohol and he returned the favor by serving me his cock." She licked her lips as the word cock flew out of her mouth. This whole meeting might be fucking useless.

  "Thank you, LuLu. Feel free to get into a little bit more detail about when you met. Next."

  "Hi. I'm Athena, like the goddess, and I too have been fucked by Aaron 'Hot Bod' Hunter."

  Oh, for the love of God. I roll my eyes and rest my head on my arm, which is now resting on the conference room table. Athena flashes me an oh-how-rude face. Which causes me to try to play it off. I pick up my arm and run my fingers through my hair, all before resting them on the table again.

  "Anyway. I was at one of Aaron's killer parties. It was Halloween, a couple of years ago. I was all
cute in my slutty dolphin costume. My boyfriend and I were having sex in one of his spare bedrooms. When I was riding him up and down like a stripper pole, that's when Aaron walked in." She stopped her story there.

  "And what happened next, Athena?"

  "Oh, I thought I was done. Well, anyway, my boyfriend was kind of so wasted. Maybe from the thirteen beers he drank at the party. So, he passed out." Passed out or died? What the fuck? "So, then, I hopped off him, rolled him off the bed, and looked into Aaron's golden hazel eyes. I rolled onto my back and asked him, 'Do you wanna finish?' flashing him my cute little pout."

  "Oh, God. He didn't?" She shook her head.

  "No. We ended up fucking a year or so after that. I doubt he even remembered my dolphin costume." Athena seemed saddened by him not remembering her stupid costume.

  "So, what happened next?" Bimbo number five asked.

  "I hopped back on my boyfriend, who was on the floor now, and kept riding until I came." Bimbo number five nods, satisfied with Athena's response.

  One useless story after another. In other words, one useless bimbo after another.

  "How many of you have gone out to dinner with him?" This is a personal question. No hands are raised. Interesting. He doesn't even have to buy them dinner to get into their pants. He's got this down to an art.

  Things did get a little interesting and heated when Bimbo number six started pointing fingers at Bimbo number seven. To which numbers seven, eight, and five started doing the same.

  "You're the whore he left me for!"

  "So what? He fucked me and then went on to you!"

  "You bitch! He left me to go fuck her!"

  I let the bitch calling last for about a good seven minutes before its entertainment factor wears off and I decide to intervene.

  "Ladies! Look at yourselves. Is any man worth this?" They all bow their heads in shame. My curious spirit gets the better of me. I try with all my might to contain it, but ultimately fail to do so. "Was sex with Aaron really that good?"