9 comments/ 28515 views/ 6 favorites Caribbean Tales: Spy on Me By: AlwaysHungry In this story, you will have to suffer through some plot development before you get to the Good Parts. I think you'll find it's worth the wait. Also, please let me emphasize that every aspect of this story is purely fictional. Shanice was recruited during her senior year in college. It was not hard to understand why; she had a knack for languages, and she was studying several that must have made her interesting, including German and Russian. Plus, she was going to school on an AFROTC scholarship -- it was her ticket out of the 'hood, but it also meant that the government had made an investment in her. Long story short, she had a job with Air Force Intelligence. The fact that she was considered attractive was probably also a factor. Not that she was being groomed to be the next Mata Hari, but she had found that her looks distracted men and put them off their guard, which is occasionally helpful in intelligence work. Her mixed-race parentage provided her with an ambiguous ethnicity, a medium-brown complexion that could be mistaken for any number of different nationalities. So she signed on, and underwent extensive training. Some of it was exciting cloak-and-dagger stuff, but much of it was tedious and bureaucratic. It was like going to college all over again, but without the social life -- she didn't have time to make friends outside the organization, and fraternization was discouraged, to put it mildly. It was a highly competitive environment, and the women were a minority, determined to show up the men. During her last year of training in 2008 she was summoned to Dr. Pearson's office. Pearson was the head of the training facility, a tall man with steel-gray eyes whose military haircut obscured his baldness. "Ms. Dabreo," he said, gesturing toward a chair, "you seem to know your way around a computer. I want to talk to you about Cyberwarfare. The Air Force is preparing to compete with other branches of the defense establishment for the lead role in this emerging area of conflict. We want to give a few new agents some extra courses in this field. Are you interested?" She told him that she was. So, for the next 9 months she was increasingly immersed in the techniques of computer security, both how to strengthen it, and how to compromise it. Among other things, she studied the intricacies of Titan Rain, the successful assault on US cyber-security that was originally attributed to the Chinese, but later acknowledged to be of unknown origin. By 2009, Shanice was a qualified field agent. Oftentimes, being in "the field" meant simply being online, cultivating relationships with shadowy entities whom one recognized by their choice of screen-names but more importantly, elements of their online style. Shanice was sitting in her antiseptic little cubicle somewhere in an anonymous-looking office in Arlington, about to open an email from "Roland." Roland purported to be a cyber-security consultant in the corporate world (as did Shanice.) He stood out because of his obvious competence, and his wit. Shanice was probing to see whether he might have access to software that could be a credible threat to US government computer systems. "Hey, Rochelle," the email began. "Rochelle" was a name Shanice used for one of her online identities. The email continued. "Do you remember TR? I think I know who did it. IM me noonish." Shanice was certain that "TR" meant Titan Rain. She looked at her watch, which read 10:50 AM. She arose and walked down the hall to Pearson's office. The door was open. Shanice rapped on the door frame, and Pearson looked up from the file he was reading and beckoned her in. "What's up?" he asked. "I have a contact who claims to know something about Titan Rain. He seems knowledgeable and maybe there is something to it." Pearson looked unimpressed. This wasn't the first report of this type. "What's his profile? Do we know anything about him?" "He claims to be a corporate spook. He's smart. Other than that, he's just a screen name. But I have watched his online activity for eight months, and interacted with him for five, and he has demonstrated an in-depth working knowledge of cyber-security measures and countermeasures, including Titan Rain." "Well..." Pearson gave a perfunctory nod. "Initiate contact. But do it by the book." "Yes, sir," Shanice replied. She returned to her desk, and started a file on Roland. She assembled notes she had made on her previous discussions with him, mainly subjective observations and hunches, plus hard copy of emails and chat sessions. She made an initial attempt to trace his IP, but gave up quickly upon the realization that he was a pro and would cover his tracks. Shortly before 12:00 she composed an IM to Roland: "Hey. What's the story with TR." Then she pushed the "send" button. After about 30 seconds, a reply appeared. "There are some folks who are selling both offense and defense. Can't say more online." "What other options do we have?" typed Shanice. "Face to face," came the reply. Wow, thought Shanice. That was easy. She typed "Where?" "Check your inbox." Then Roland broke off contact. Shanice opened the inbox for "Rochelle". There was a message with the subject header "Cyber-Security Conference." She opened the email, and found an advertisement for a conference to be held in two weeks in... Negril, Jamaica. Shanice froze for a moment. Her father was from Jamaica, and she had visited Granny in Kingston many times as a girl. Could Roland know that? Was he profiling her, just as she was attempting to profile him, only with better success? But upon reflection, it seemed unlikely that Roland would organize a public conference in another country, just based on that knowledge. It was most likely a coincidence. Just the same, Shanice decided to verify the existence of the conference and the organization sponsoring it. After a few minutes on the web, she managed to do all of that, and relaxed a bit. But all this still had to be approved by Pearson. She made the trip down the hall again. The door was open, but Pearson was on the phone. Then she realized he was concluding his call. He saw her out in the hall, and waved her in as he hung up the phone. "Have a seat," he said. Shanice sat in the chair facing his desk. "Sir, I believe my contact has Titan Rain for sale." "How does he want to do it?" "At a conference, second week of July. In Jamaica." Pearson's eyebrows went up. He had read her file. "Does your contact know about your family ties?" "Sir, if he does, he didn't get it from me. The conference sponsor is a legitimate organization. And I'm thinking that if the contact doesn't know I've spent time in Jamaica, it could give me an edge. Sort of a home court advantage." Pearson thought for a moment. "OK, I'll approve the op. We'll send Kenny and Bruno as backup. But remember... by the book." "Absolutely, sir." Shanice got up and returned to her cubicle. Over the next week, she made travel arrangements and registered "Rochelle" for the conference. She met with Kenny and Bruno, two of her colleagues who had completed their training a year ahead of her. They would travel separately and take care of surveillance, plus any unanticipated problems that might arise. The two fellows cracked jokes about a Caribbean vacation. Kenny was an ambitious, straight-arrow type with aviator glasses and sand-colored hair, who seemed like he would have no idea what to do on a vacation. Bruno, on the other hand, was an easy-going Hispanic guy from Los Angeles. Like Shanice, he had come up from a poor neighborhood, and she felt comfortable with him. He was soft-spoken with a sly smile. He mentioned something to Shanice about a "hacker trap" that agency techs were devising to catch Titan Rain, using computer forensics techniques to "reverse hack" intruders. One week before the conference, Shanice sent an email to Roland: "I'll be there -- how will I know you?" Four hours later, the reply came: "Dark green suit. Cowboy hat." Well, thought Shanice. Rather flamboyant for a cyber-spook. But then again, North Americans tend to let it all hang out when they visit Jamaica. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Shanice was on board a commercial jet, flying south along the eastern seaboard. She flew coach; the Agency was cheap. Kenny and Bruno had taken a different flight, standard security protocol. They would also stay in a different hotel in Negril, but the Agency had given them a set of secure cell phones that would serve to keep them in contact. She had reviewed everything the Agency had on Titan Rain, and made further efforts to get a profile on Roland, but whoever he was, he was careful. There was no one in the Agency's database that was a clear and convincing match to him. This alone would probably justify the commitment of funds and manpower to this op; even if there were no real link to Titan Rain, it would be useful to have this guy on the radar screen and see whether he turned up elsewhere. This was not Shanice's first field operation where she was the principal agent, but it was the first time in another country. Plus, the stakes were high. She resolved to go into this with a clear head, and walk away from it victorious. Her plane landed in Donald Sangster International Airport in Montego Bay shortly before sundown, which comes early in the tropics. Shanice took her time, admiring the facility, before picking up her bags and going through customs. She knew better than to fret about the slow pace of things in Jamaica. But in surprisingly little time, she was outside the terminal, boarding the hotel van for the trip to Negril. Two hours later the van pulled into the driveway of the Carib Retreat Hotel. Shanice checked in, went up to the second floor, and had a look at her room, which was a clever mix of modern amenities and down-home Jamaican décor. Then she strolled around the hotel. There was no one in a green suit or a cowboy hat. She went back upstairs and out on her room's balcony, which overlooked the Caribbean. She sat there for ten minutes, renewing her acquaintance with the cool night breeze she remembered from her childhood. Then she dialed the cell phone that would connect her with Kenny and Bruno. Kenny answered. "Hello?" "Hey. It's Shanice." "Hey, Shanice. We've already had a look at the conference facilities. There's a spot on the second floor where we can take some pix without being too conspicuous. If your friend shows up, it would be very helpful if you could maneuver him into the restaurant over by the piano, with his back to the windows. Standing near the registration desk, facing the street would be the next best option." "All right. Let's hope he's cooperative." "And keep your cell phone with you." "No problem." Shanice was slightly annoyed that Kenny was reminding her of an obvious security measure. It was typical of him. "OK, then, happy hunting." "Thanks." Shanice went back inside, turned on the TV, watched twenty minutes of a movie she had already seen, and then went to sleep. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The next morning she saw him right away. Dark green suit, cowboy hat, there didn't seem to be much doubt. He was loitering conveniently near the registration table. Shanice dialed her cell, and got Bruno this time. "Got your camera fired up?" she asked. "Roger that," said Bruno. "Aim it at the registration table," said Shanice, and hung up. She walked around to the hall by the entrance so that she could approach the table from the street side. As she walked toward the registration area, she called out to him: "Howdy, cowpoke." He turned toward her and grinned broadly. Smile for the camera, she thought. "Rochelle?" he asked. "That's me." Shanice walked slowly to give her colleagues an unobstructed view for as long as possible. As she walked, she took a long look at Roland. He was cute. He had dark, slightly shaggy hair, and eyes that matched his suit. He looked to be about six feet tall, and a healthy specimen. He appeared to be assessing her, as well, and Shanice realized that walking slowly had put a little swing in her hips. Fine, she thought. If he likes what he sees, his guard will be down, just a little. He offered her his hand. "Have you registered yet?" he asked. He had an accent which she was trying to recognize. It sounded vaguely eastern European, but it was probably a composite of five or six languages. "I was just about to do it," she replied. "I have already made my registration," said Roland. He grinned engagingly and waited while Shanice filled out her paperwork. Then the two of them entered the conference hall. The first presentation was a panel discussion on cybersecurity for industrial control systems. It was pretty rudimentary stuff. Shanice saw Roland stifle a yawn in the middle of a presentation, and he grinned at her. She grinned back. Without much small talk, they were enjoying the camaraderie of fellow IT professionals. Toward the end of the panel, Shanice excused herself to use the restroom. As she left the hall, she felt her cell phone vibrate. It was Bruno. Good, she thought, my guardian angels are watching over me. "Hey, Shanice," said Bruno. "Hey. How's it going?" "The photos could be better. The cowboy hat is a problem. Could you get him to take it off?" "I could try. I'll see if I can get him into the restaurant. I think he has enough class to take the hat off when he eats." "OK, knock 'em dead, girl." "Roger that," said Shanice. When Shanice returned to the hall, the session was breaking up. She walked up to Roland, who flashed his grin again. "Roland," she asked, "have you ever tasted ginger beer?" "Does it taste like ginger ale?" Shanice's laughter came in a short melodious burst. "No, not really. It's more intense." "OK, let's try some," said Roland. Shanice led him toward the restaurant at a rapid clip. She was thinking that, with the session over, it would fill up quickly, and she wanted to be sure to get the right table. They made it to the restaurant ahead of the herd, and she guided Roland to the back by the piano, taking the seat facing the windows so that Roland would have to face the rest of the hotel. So far, so good, thought Shanice. Now take off your hat. Roland smiled, as if acknowledging her unspoken request, and laid his had on the table. Smile for the camera, she thought again. A waitress approached, and Shanice ordered two ginger beers. After the waitress departed, Roland spoke. "You realize, of course, that we cannot speak of specifics here." "Of course not," said Shanice. "But I want to make sure you understand that this involves a large amount of money." "Certainly." "You have a large amount of money?" "No, but my clients can afford it." "What sort of clients do you work for?" Shanice smiled and wagged her index finger to and fro. "The kind that can afford it." Roland smiled back. "OK," he said. "Tomorrow we can talk about this. Somewhere else." "Where did you have in mind?" "Someplace where there are no small devices that listen. On the beach. Seven Mile Beach." "All right," replied Shanice. "There will be noise, and no place to hide anything. No bathing suits." At this moment the waitress arrived with the ginger beers. Shanice and Roland were thirsty, and they each took a long drink. Roland's eyes bulged a little. "The taste is very strong," he gasped. "Yes, it is," said Shanice with a smile. "But you'll get used to it." "You have tasted it before." "Yes," she said. She paused. "Did you say no bathing suits?" "Tomorrow is July 14. National Nude Day. No one will wear suits on Seven Mile Beach." He saw that Shanice looked perplexed. "Is that a problem for you?" "You're kidding, right?" said Shanice. Roland shook his head. "It is important negotiation. We need extra security." He smiled ironically, or at least it seemed ironic. Maybe it was mocking, or flirtatious. Shanice was trying simultaneously to read him and to decide how to handle this situation. And, she realized, she liked his smile. His eyes were easier to see without the cowboy hat. They were a sort of jade green. He had a light, European complexion and an aquiline nose. Roland continued, "There is much money involved in this. It is necessary to always change security measures." Shanice nodded skeptically. "I think you are a nice woman, but we know very little about each other. Forgive me that it is necessary to be careful." Shanice looked doubtful. "I normally do business with my clothes on." "We don't have to do business. Maybe I find someone else that wants to do business." "My clients are very interested in what we discussed." "OK then, no problem, right? We celebrate National Nude Day with a thousand other tourists, and we talk business then." Shanice swallowed, then nodded. She thought to herself that Pearson had said "by the book." She didn't recall reading about this scenario in the book. She put on her game face. "So. When and where?" Roland handed her a folded sheet of paper. She opened it and saw a map, depicting a section of Seven Mile Beach with helpful landmarks indicated, including a drawing of an oddly bent palm tree. "One P.M., OK?" "One it is," replied Shanice. "OK, Rochelle, I'll see you tomorrow." He put his cowboy hat back on, grinned, tipped the hat, and walked out of the restaurant. Shanice watched him recede. She realized that she felt attracted to him. In college she had dated mainly black guys, and since college... nobody. But there was something very appealing about this guy, with his shaggy hair and sparkling green eyes. She brought herself up short. This is an unhelpful distraction, is what it is. Shanice sat in on the next conference session for a while, but it was all material she had seen before at the Air Force training facility. She left early to go out and get a meal. As she left the hall, her cell phone rang. Bruno was on the line. "How's it goin', Shanice?" "Well... the good news is that we have an appointment tomorrow to talk business." "We've got some news, too, and it ain't good." "Oh?" Shanice walked out the hotel doors onto the street, seeking a more discreet environment in which to talk. Negril in the daytime looked very rustic. There were gaily painted buildings, some with new paint, some with old, interspersed with palm trees. She walked along the shoulder of the road, as an occasional car or minibus beeped in warning or greeting. "We've got facial recognition on Roland. Thanks for those shots in the restaurant, by the way. His real name, or at least one of his real names, is Adam Masek. The intel we have links him to the Mossad." "Is that a problem? I thought Israel was a close ally." "Well, yes and no. Do you remember Jonathan Pollard?" "He was a little before my time. I know he was convicted of spying for Israel." "But a lot of the material he gave the Israelis was sold to the Soviets within days." "Ouch. But there are no Soviets now." "Yeah, things are complicated in other ways now. I can tell you that Dr. Pearson is suddenly a lot more interested in this op. We need to find out as much as we can about who runs this guy." "There's one thing I can tell you,' said Shanice with a bit of trepidation. "He's very paranoid about security. He's worried about bugs. He insists that we meet on a nude beach." "Give me a break," said Bruno. Then, with a trace of mockery, "Are you sure he's not just trying to hook up?" "I don't think that's allowed on the beach here. Just nudity." "Hang on a second --" Shanice heard Bruno relaying this information to Kenny, who snickered audibly. Bruno came back on the line. "You realize that we've got to take surveillance photos, right?" Shanice sighed. "Right. Just keep it professional." Caribbean Tales: Spy on Me "We will. You won't have your phone, so it will be very important to stay in visual contact. We'll need to check out the place ahead of time to know where to position ourselves." "I'll send you a map when we hang up." "Copy that," said Bruno, and hung up. Shanice took out the map, photographed it with her phone, and sent the photo to Bruno. Then she walked down the street, looking for jerk chicken. Negril was a small town, and although the local vendors charged much more than Shanice thought they ought to, they sold the same traditional foods and local products that she remembered from her childhood. She finally spotted a snackette where she knew jerk chicken would be found. She went inside and soon she was sitting under an awning, eating and watching a light afternoon rain come in from the sea to sweep the town. Her childhood memories blossomed anew. She recalled visiting Kingston during carnival as a teenager, and being shocked and intrigued by the open displays of eroticism. Perhaps that was what inspired her, later that summer, to surrender her virginity to a Jamaican boy in the dark corridor of a dance hall. They did it standing up, which had always remained a favorite position for Shanice. She remembered the loud, muffled sound of the band, vibrating the wall from the other side, and the couples passing by in the dim light. There had been a Jamaican girl who walked by with her boyfriend, and then turned to grin at Shanice. Shanice had grinned back, and then closed her eyes and cried out as her climax erupted. Now, back in the present, it came to her like a revelation that she had actually been celibate for two years since starting work at the Agency. Her cell phone vibrated. It was Bruno. "We checked out the site," he said. "There's a sort of a knoll there. Make sure you stay between the knoll and the highway, so that we can keep our eye on you." "Roger that. Don't forget, keep it professional." Bruno chuckled. "Don't worry. We keep everything professional." The call came to an end. Shanice wandered down the street, past some little shops. She heard reggae music coming from many of these establishments, but from one she heard a calypso tune that she recognized. Shanice's mother, who was born in India but raised in Trinidad, used to speak the Trinidadian dialect around the house when Shanice was growing up in Brooklyn. Shanice picked it up enough to decipher the naughty lyrics on the Mighty Sparrow records her mother collected. She knew what was meant by the "big bamboo": I gave my woman a sugarcane, a sugarcane Very very sweet, I must explain, And she gave it back much to my surprise, I really, really love this flavour but not the size Well she's ready for, bamboo, grows out from the ground, bamboo It's so big and strong, bamboo, stand up straight and tall, bamboo Please it's what I want, bamboo. She looked at her watch. It was time to take care of a few necessities. She began to walk back toward the hotel, until she reached the car rental establishment where she rented a Toyota. She drove for a few minutes around the back streets, practicing her driving on the left side of the road. Then she parked the car and headed back to the hotel. She went upstairs and opened her laptop so she could review her briefings for the meeting the next day. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The tropical sun had retired early, as usual. Shanice went downstairs to grab a meal in the restaurant, then returned to her room and showered. She donned her flimsy nightgown, sat down in front of the TV, and commenced channel-surfing. She stopped at a program which puzzled her; there was a room full of upscale, white, liberal-looking women, who seemed to be an audience in what appeared to be an art museum. In the middle of the room was a slightly raised platform with a number of nude or semi-clad women. Some of the ladies from the audience would venture toward the platform to kiss or fondle the naked women, who encouraged this behavior and beckoned to the others. Shanice stared at the screen, trying to figure out what was going on. It appeared to be an opportunity for bi-curious women to experiment with exhibitionism, under the rubric of performance art. One of the society ladies from the audience had actually taken off her top and knelt on the platform, while one of the naked girls, with an impudent smile on her face, reclined on the floor, reached up her foot, and sensually squeezed the audience lady's nipple between her toes. These people need to get a life, thought Shanice, and turned off the TV. She felt strangely unsettled by the program, and restless. She felt like going out on the balcony. She peered out of her window to see whether it was safe to go out while wearing only her nightgown. Satisfied that it was too dark for anyone to see her, she opened the door and went out to sit in the armchair, overlooking the ocean. It was a lovely night. The moon and stars were muted by clouds that scooted across the sky at a leisurely pace, shepherded by a gentle, amiable breeze. It occurred to Shanice that tomorrow she would see Roland naked, an idea that she found strangely stirring. She tried to banish the thought from her mind; she didn't need that sort of distraction. She needed to be on her game, her reflexes sharp, her mind focused. But to be fair, out on the balcony, in the dark, she wasn't on the clock, and maybe it were better just to get it out of her system. The image of naked Roland wasn't responding to her attempts to banish it. Her fingers had found her nipples through the diaphanous fabric, and the nipples responded vigorously. Shanice sighed. The breeze riffled the hem of her nightgown, and she reached down and hiked it to her waist, giving the breeze full access to her long-neglected womanhood. Before long, her fingers visited that place as well. Shanice had not masturbated since college, and it never had seemed nearly as exciting as it did tonight. She made it last and last, and when the orgasms started, they just didn't stop. After an hour or more had passed, Shanice returned to her bed and fell into a deep, untroubled slumber. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was July 14. Shanice didn't spend much time selecting her wardrobe, since it would all be coming off anyway. She settled on khaki shorts, a plum-colored blouse, and sandals. No makeup. Makeup on a nude beach seemed perhaps a little slutty. Besides, Shanice was a young woman with smooth, smooth, cocoa-colored skin. Makeup was superfluous. She had a light lunch downstairs, and a cup of espresso. She was preparing to do what she had been trained to do -- to extract the maximum amount of information from the contact, while revealing the minimum herself. And at the same time, she was running a sting. If she won his confidence, and if he actually had Titan Rain, she would try to set up a buy. He would be wary. And naked. She got in her rental car and drove carefully on the left side of the road down to the beach, where she found a parking spot with some difficulty. Then she dialed her cell phone. Kenny answered. She reported that she was on site and proceeding to the meeting. Kenny, in his typically annoying way, reminded her to stay within eye-shot. Then he wished her good luck. Shanice put the cell phone in her purse, and the purse under the seat. Then, with her heart beating just a little too fast, she removed her garments and sandals and placed them on the seat. She locked the car and hid the key under the frame. With high resolve she made her way toward the beach. She was headed into combat with only her wits to arm her. The Shakespeare quote came to her mind: "...naked to mine enemies." As she emerged from the parking lot onto Seven Mile Beach, she was dazzled by the pristine white of the sand and the brilliant azure of the Caribbean, as well as hordes of naked bodies as far as the eye could see. They came in all shapes, sizes and colors, although because this beach was a Mecca for a certain kind of tourist, they were mainly young and attractive. She noticed that there were no children. And then she noticed something else -- her notion that there was to be no sexual activity on Seven Mile Beach was definitely mistaken. To her left, a thirty-something black woman with a dancer's body was passionately blowing a younger Hispanic man. Two other men stood nearby, watching and stroking their cocks. Farther down the beach, a buxom young white woman was being kissed and fondled by two Jamaican men, as she moaned her encouragement. Shanice felt her nipples stiffen. Not good, she thought. She wanted to control the information that Roland could glean from her, and visible arousal was not what she intended. She needed to cool herself down, or find a way to conceal it. Hundreds of men were checking her out with frank admiration, and that was making things worse. She discovered that it was making her feel deliciously lewd. She was aware of her juices spilling onto her thighs, which would be visible also. This was not going to work to her advantage. In the distance she saw the bent-over palm tree that corresponded to the rendezvous spot on her map. She needed to get her act together. As she struggled to focus her thoughts, a solution came to her mind. She took a detour into the surf. The cool water could account for the taut nipples, and the moisture from the sea would camouflage her own juices. She swam a few yards down the beach, and then emerged from the waves, looking like a brown Venus, near the spot of the rendezvous. She checked to make sure that she would be visible to her surveillance team. She wondered how her colleagues were reacting to the public displays of sexuality. Then she spotted Roland. He was standing near the appointed spot, but not exactly upon it, because a large crowd of what looked like college kids had taken possession of the intended rendezvous area. Shanice glanced quickly back toward the road. In her estimation, it was unlikely that the surveillance team would be able to get a clear line of sight to her meeting with Roland. There were too many naked bodies in the way. She would have to find a way to maneuver him toward the road. Roland had spotted Shanice coming toward him, and waved to her. His chest was hairless except for a fringe around the nipples. His arms and shoulders were well-developed. And his cock was tumescent. Well, thought Shanice. That's a slight advantage for me. Shanice made eye contact. She was close enough now for Roland to speak. "Hello," he said. "It's noisy here." The college students were carrying on with a boom box, dancing and flirting. "Let's move over there," he said, indicating the knoll that Bruno had asked her to avoid. Shanice had no pretext ready with which to refuse his request, so she walked with him toward the knoll. His cock was now fully erect, and gorgeous. She forced herself to tear her eyes away. "I'm sorry about that," said Roland, grinning sheepishly. "I didn't expect you to look so hot without your clothes." "Yeah, right," replied Shanice. She lowered her voice. "So, you are selling Titan Rain?" "Let's just say that I know the people who are selling it. And it is not cheap. Probably a half million U.S." "If it's the genuine article, it's worth every penny." "So for your clients, the money is not a problem?" "No, it's not." The group of students was moving their way. One of the girls was doing an erotic dance, cupping her breasts in her hands and pulling her nipples. The others were hooting and cheering her on. Shanice and Roland backed away from the hubbub, moving up onto the knoll. Shanice tried to calculate the probable line of sight to her team. She needed to put Roland under stress, and probe to find out what motivated him. If it was simple greed, he posed no problem and could easily be converted into an asset. If he was running on loyalty to someone, or to an ideology, he was a potential threat. Which would be a shame, thought Shanice, because he looked so scrumptious. "Your clients," said Roland, "must be in the sort of business that would be a target for TR. Defense contractors, maybe?" Shanice looked him steadily in the eyes. "I don't want to comment on what sort of business my clients are in." The crowd was still moving in their direction. Three of the girls were now dancing in a sort of conga line, grinding up against each other. Shanice and Roland retreated further, so that they were now on the far side of the knoll. So much for staying in eye-shot, thought Shanice. "Look," said Roland, "this is risky business. I need to know something about the people I'm dealing with. Are your friends perhaps with Lockheed Martin?" He was negotiating aggressively. Shanice needed to regain the initiative. "Listen," she said, "You don't need to ask that. Do you hear me asking you if you work for the Mossad?" Roland's lovely green eyes widened just slightly. "The Mossad? That is ridiculous." His elbows moved perceptibly closer to his body and he reached up to scratch behind his right earlobe. He was lying. But in the same instant, Shanice realized she had made a tactical mistake. She was revealing more about herself, about the capabilities for intelligence-gathering that she represented, than she had gained by probing on this topic. "I'm just speaking hypothetically," she said, adopting a reassuring tone of voice. She stepped closer to be heard over the partying students. "I don't need to know who you work for." She glanced down again. Even under stress, he was still fully erect. And so appealing. Roland chose to play the injured party. "You shouldn't accuse me of being a spy. I am trying to do business. We can both make some good money on this. I mean..." Thank you, thought Shanice. She was running on instinct now, mixed with lust. She had silenced Roland by reaching out and caressing his cock. It felt big and warm and hard in her hand. His green eyes closed, and his mouth fell open with a look of shocked bliss. After a moment, with his eyes still shut, he said, "Oh my god, what are you doing?" "Hey, it was your idea to get naked." "But 'getting naked' is not the same as 'getting busy.'" "Maybe not. Now, listen -- my clients will need a demonstration that you have the real Titan Rain." Shanice was stroking him slowly. Roland swallowed. His eyes were still shut. "All you have to do is create a dummy facility with full security and give me an IP address. The demonstration will take place." He smiled with pleasure despite himself. "We have already set up such a facility. I'll give you the IP number when we part company today. How's your memory?" She stroked just a little faster. "My memory.. is good..." The trio of college girls who had been rubbing up against each other now approached them. One of them called out to Shanice, "Go on, girl, suck his cock! He's got a nice one." Shanice smiled to the girl and called back, "Do you think I should?" But the question was for Roland's benefit. He nodded weakly, as the three girls hooted enthusiastically. Shanice planted her knees in the warm, soft sand and ran both hands up and down the length of Roland's cock. It was big and rosy-hued, in contrast to his pale thighs. Then she leaned forward and took him into her mouth. She heard him sigh, "Rochelle!" as she began to suck him. She lost herself in the act, gripping his ass with her hands, pulling him close. She felt his hands in her hair, and the urgent motions of his hips, and she heard his groans of pleasure, moving upwards in pitch until she knew his orgasm was imminent. She quivered in anticipation and silently begged for it it. Then it came, and she swallowed his seed with real hunger. She became aware of lusty cheering from the student contingent. Shanice recovered her composure before Roland did. She rose to her feet and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. "I've got to go. Let's meet back here at 9:00 tonight." Roland nodded his consent. "Are you ready for that IP number?" He nodded again. She recited the number to him, he committed it to memory, and then she walked swiftly back toward the parking lot. She passed numerous couples and even trios that were having sex as she moved through the crowd. She was fascinated by them and had the impulse to stay and watch, but she knew that she was most likely once more under surveillance, so she kept walking. When she arrived at the car, her pulse was still racing. She found the key, let herself in, and then retrieved the cell phone from her purse under the seat. She dialed the number, and to her relief, Bruno answered. "Hey, you know, we lost you in the crowd." "Sorry. There were too many people, I couldn't control the situation." "That's OK. Do you have anything to report?" "Yes. I think I can confirm the Mossad connection. And I set up a test for our dummy network." "Good work. We're on it. What's next?" "I'll see him tomorrow at the conference." "Roger that. Talk to you tomorrow. By the way, the few photos we got of you heading into the crowd turned out really nice." Shanice giggled despite herself and said, "Shut up." Then she rang off. She took a deep breath, then sat quietly for a moment in her car. She looked around and saw no people in the parking lot. She leaned the seat back, placed her feet wide apart on the dashboard, and quickly brought herself to a shuddering orgasm. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Shanice left the hotel at 8:00. She left the light on in her room and her cell phone in the pocket of a jacket in the closet. Then she slipped out the back way, and walked quickly to a side street where she had parked the car. She drove along the dark streets back to the beach. This time she parked easily. Again she removed her clothes, left the car and walked down to the beach. The sky was clear, a steady breeze ruffled the palm trees, and the moon illuminated the beach with a vague, magical glow. The crowd had diminished, but there were still plenty of people, and the ambiance was charged with eroticism. Shanice walked slowly through the crowd, feeling the climate of arousal as if it were a wet dream. She passed a tableaux where a white man was wantonly taking a white woman from behind, as the trembling woman in turn buried her face between the thighs of a black woman who lay sprawled in the sand. As she drew near, the black woman beckoned languidly to her. Shanice smiled but kept walking. She found her way to the knoll, walked up it, and as she started down the other side she saw Roland, waiting for her. He was clad in bathing trunks. As she approached he smiled and said, "The test will be done tonight." She put her finger to her lips to indicate silence, and simply walked up to kiss him. As their tongues met, she abruptly pulled his trunks down and seized his cock, which sprang to life. He groaned and kissed her harder. Perhaps it might be fair to say that she used him for her gratification. She made him lay in the sand as she knelt over his face, allowing his lips and tongue to bring her to a pinnacle of pleasure. Later he found himself standing in the gentle surf, holding her close as her legs and loins meshed with his. Roland moaned into the night breeze as she slowly and inexorably took her satisfaction, before finally granting him his own. Later, when they parted company in the parking lot, Shanice spoke for the first time. "There's a little jerk chicken joint with a red awning, a quarter mile from the hotel. Meet me there at noon tomorrow and we'll discuss payment and delivery." Roland agreed, gave her a leisurely kiss, then walked to his car and drove away. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The next morning at 9:00 she received a call on the secure cell. It was Kenny. "Worked like a charm," he said. "They hit the dummy network at midnight and walked right into the trap. It looks like it was the real Titan Rain, too. We had teams at two homes in Delaware at 5:00 AM and we bagged about a dozen operatives. They're being interrogated as we speak." Caribbean Tales: Spy on Me "Good," replied Shanice. "What does Pearson have to say about Roland?" "He's a known quantity now, so we'll want to keep him in the mix. I imagine you have worked up something of a profile on him?" "I have," said Shanice demurely. "Good, just write it up for Monday. There's a return ticket waiting for you at the airline -- flight leaves at 6:00 PM. You might as well play the tourist for the rest of day." "Awesome, See you on Monday." Later that morning, Shanice walked to a different stretch of beach, closer to the hotel, where people wore bathing suits. She swam in the Caribbean, allowed the sun to darken her a little, and collected her thoughts. Then she went back to the hotel, showered, and slipped out the back door again to go down to the jerk chicken place. An ethereal mist came down from the skies. Shanice felt refreshed by it as she walked to the snackette. She ate her lunch under the awning, looking at her watch, and when 12:45 came and there had been no sign of Roland, she slowly arose and returned to her hotel room. Did the hotel have Wi-Fi? Of course they have it, thought Shanice with a wry smile, they just hosted a nerd convention. She turned on her laptop and logged into the email account for "Rochelle." There was a message from Roland: "Have to take a rain check. I had a lovely time. I wasn't entirely honest about my relationship to M, but I assure you that it's strictly business -- R." Shanice composed a reply: "Catch you on the rebound -- R," and hit the "send" button. She closed her laptop, gazed out the window for a moment, and then went to her luggage, where she fetched her MP3 player and selected Sparrow singing "Big Bamboo." She went out on the balcony, made herself comfortable in the armchair, and gave herself to the breeze as the big, bright afternoon clouds came sailing grandly in from over the sea. Dear reader: this is a contest entry. Please give me an awesome vote. Thank you so much.