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Models and Super Spies Ch. 01

By: thesoundandfury



This is the first chapter of a 13-chapter novella. All has been written and will be released over the next month, so no worries about the story coming to an abrupt end. It's been a long and wild journey to get from start to end, but I'm happy to have completed something after so many years. Many thanks to HallidayTee, who will be coming out with a few new pieces. Couldn't have done it without you.

Chapter 1: Trust and Loyalty

Trey pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He'd been staring at this database too long; the numbers had begun to run into one another in a bleary mess.

His swivel chair creaked as he leaned back and stretched. They say you're supposed to let yourself stare out a window every ten minutes or so. "Too bad there're no fucking windows in this place," he muttered. He glanced around at the gray concrete columns, bare concrete walls, and exposed piping in the gray, concrete ceiling. It was supposed to be industrial chic, or some other such nonsense, but it couldn't disguise the worker-bee aura that hung in the air like stale coffee. No amount of dressing up could cover the fact that this was still a government bureaucracy.

"What I need is a smoke," he thought after twenty more minutes at his console. No, you need a breath of fresh air, buddy. That was out of the question, of course. C.L.O.A.K. was a black ops branch of the CIA, and it just wouldn't do for secret agents – even the analyst types such as Trey – to go popping out for a stroll around the lush campus of Bank One International.

So they set up a "smoking room" instead, ventilated enough to pass government regulations (not that anyone was checking). Trey rooted through his desk, pulling out a pack of Marlboro Reds, and started for the break room.

"Holy shit, where did you get those?" he heard a fellow analyst exclaim from one of the offices. The voice seemed excited enough that Trey was intrigued.

"Hey boys, what's going – holy..."

Two guys were huddled around the flat panel monitor that currently had a picture of a nearly naked woman. Trey didn't recognize the petite redhead, but that didn't stop him from admiring her outfit: a little black thong and a lacy teddy tailed with unused garter straps.

"Oh shit, shut the damn door and keep your mouth shut," the more awkward of the IT guys groaned, minimizing the shot of the woman.

 "It's ok, Trey's cool," Ken said, an analyst who'd been with C.L.O.A.K. about as long as Trey had. The other guy, the IT specialist, had a reputation for brilliance, but Trey couldn't remember his name for the life of him. M-something.

"You can't tell anyone you saw these or Silva'll have my ass," the other techie said, pushing his plastic-rim glasses up the bridge of his nose in a classically nerdy way.

"Hey man, I'm married, I've got plenty of eye candy at home," Trey laughed, holding up his hands to show them his ring.

"It's true, man, you should see his wife." Trey felt himself preen at the compliment, but he knew it was only half true. While his wife, Alicia, was hot enough that she was a successful commercial model, you could never get enough eye candy.  

The IT guy gave him one last wary look and turned back to his computer, bringing the picture back up. And there she was again, the petite redhead clad in lingerie and very little else. Now that he got a closer look, he thought she may look a little familiar. Something about those grey eyes and the light dusting of freckles across her... well, across most of her exposed skin. 

"God, her tits look good," the two guys practically drooled. That much was true. Despite her obviously compact frame, her breasts practically spilled from the low-lined black teddy.

"Check out her... rear," the bespeckled IT stuttered, toggling to a shot from behind. Even from these stills, Trey could see she was built like a tigress, with sinuous muscles and a tight, dangerously fit body. And yes, her round ass was the marvel of youth and good genes.

"So who is she?" Trey asked.

The two guys looked at each other. "This doesn't leave this room, understand?"

"Yeah, yeah..."

"No, you don't understand. It really can't leave this room. The mission comes down from Silva, and... well, remember what happened to Kevin Bailey?"

This time, all the men exchanged nervous looks. In truth, no one knew what happened to Kevin Bailey. One day he was there, the next, he wasn't. Official word was that he was transferred, but he'd also given away the details of one of Silva's top secret assignments.

"Of course," a more sober Trey nodded.

"Well, she used to be a special agent, but now primarily trains them. Off-site, although the location is top secret, even to us. But this is a little different. Sometimes, Silva has her work undercover when none of the other agents are quite a good... fit. Silva's got her infiltrating some modeling agency. Misha Inc. or something like that. Apparently they're using their models for more than just showing off their latest line."

"Prostitution?" Trey asked.

Both men shrugged. "No one's sure on that detail, although I don't think C.L.O.A.K. would go in just to bust up a hooker ring."

"Nor would Liz here agree to something like that."

The men watched enraptured as the pictures scrolled by, showing the athletic young agent in various states of undress. She never got explicitly nude, although there was one shot of her from the back without a stitch of clothing on. She was looking over her shoulder, straight into the camera with her smoldering grey eyes and a curl on her glossy lips. Now there was a look any man would love to wake up to.

Trey walked out of the office, trying to shake that image of the red-haired agent from his thoughts by thinking of Alicia. His blonde wife was very different than the woman they called "Liz," tall and willowy with rich, tanned skin and a photogenic face and body that had already landed her some pretty successful shoots.

He sighed as he finally made it to the smoke room. This was going to be a long day...

***

Alicia took a deep breath to shake off her nerves. What the fuck was she doing? her mind screamed as she paced back stage, waiting for her cue. She pulled the long, gossamer robe around her otherwise naked body even tighter.

Mishin Modeling was the premiere modeling agency in LA. Several of their girls had just landed high profile gigs with Covergirl and one had graced the cover of last month's Vogue. When Alicia had received the invitation to test for Alexander Mishin – from none other than Alexander himself – she'd been shocked.

"You need me today?" she remembered herself asking incredulously over the phone that morning.

"Is that a problem?"

HELL NO! she practically screamed, although she replied with something a little more civil. They just wanted to do a few test shoots, and to see how she moved on the runway. What she didn't realize until she arrived later that day was that they wanted to see her move on the runway... in the nude!

"We need our models to be comfortable with their bodies," the surprisingly non-gay agency owner explained as they sat at the end of the (very) long runway platform. He spoke with a refined Russian accent, mixed with a touch of British. "And for many, there's nothing more daunting than the catwalk. So, I have all my models audition this way."

Alexander – "Call me Alex" – had the look of a designer down: frosted blonde hair with dark highlights, week-old growth of facial hair, a body as slender as a knife. But the way his sparkling blue eyes had wandered her body as he spoke – something she was used to, just not from most of the men in the fashion world – had eliminated any thoughts that this man was gay. In fact, his appreciative look had quite the opposite reaction on her. Especially when she thought about the prospect of him seeing her walk nude...

Alicia had been overwhelmed, giving him an uncertain, "OK," before being led into the back to make up by his assistant, Roy, who was most certainly gay.

She had taken a little comfort in this, stripping out of her clothes after he'd made up her face and her long, blonde hair. His eyes had worked her body like an artist worked a painting – he was meticulous as he brushed away what few blemishes she had, but there wasn't a glint of desire in them.

"Can I get you anything else?" Roy had asked with a hint of a lisp. He'd handed her a sheer robe that draped itself along the floor, even when worn on her 5'8" frame and tall heels.

"Anything else?" She'd cursed herself for sounding like another bimbo and was grateful when Roy didn't take it that way.

"Something to calm your nerves. A glass of white wine. Or maybe a little coke, perhaps?"

"Um... wine would be good. Thanks." If anything, the mention of drugs had gotten her even more nervous. It had also cemented the feeling that this was it. The Big Time. Success just down the runway.

By the time Roy had left her alone and she was pacing backstage, she'd begun to wish she had taken him up on the coke – not that she did that kind of thing. But so many girls did these days, so there must be something to it.

Then the music started, a crisp yet subdued techno beat that would set the pace for her walk. And her disrobing. She polished off the last of her wine, took one more deep breath, and stepped out before her small audience.

Alicia had done catwalk jobs before and knew how to work them; this one was really no different. So she told herself. Long strides, eyes forward, hard, no-nonsense look that set off her high cheekbones and large eyes. Half-way down the runway, she reached for the belt of her robe. The breeze from her strut ran up the opening of the covering and through her décolletage.

Now or never! She pulled it open with a quick, dramatic flourish, leaving the black silk like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. Alex's cameraman flashed enthusiastically around her as she continued her model's stride down the platform.

Alex was there, waiting for her at the terminus with a very appreciative smile. He wore an expensive black Gucci suit that fit his slim frame the way designer clothes should, but for an instant, Alicia wondered what he would look like up here, naked as the day he was born.

If her nipples hadn't hardened the moment they'd hit the cool air of the room, they would have grown hard then. Stop it, girl, you're married, her conscience berated her, although she also returned Alex's flirtatious smile.

She paused at the end of the stage, long enough to let his eyes study her nudity. Did he like her breasts? They were only a B-cup and she'd considered having them done, but Trey had talked her out of it. 

His eyes swam lower as she did a little pirouette to give him the whole package. She'd had to scramble that morning to get ready for the shoot, but was glad she'd shaved her pubic mound. The thought of this man's eyes seeing her with stubble was unacceptable.

"Very nice," he nodded when he saw her ass. She had more padding than most of her model friends, but also found that most men liked her rounder butt. It had single-handedly gotten her a couple lingerie shoots over other, skinnier models.

The walk off the runway was much easier. Alex's clear blue eyes gave her a gust of confidence like a second wind. One step in front of the other. Sway those hips. Work it.

Roy was backstage, waiting for her with another robe – this one plush cotton, something she could snuggle into for comfort. Alex came backstage to join them; he was all-smiles. "You looked fabulous out there. If I'm not being too presumptuous, I'd like to sign you today."

Alicia didn't know what to say. "Um... I'll have to call my agent, but—"

Alex shook his head before she could finish. "No agents. I don't work well with them, never have. I thought I mentioned that when we spoke earlier today." Alicia couldn't remember now. "Nevermind. In any case, will that be a problem?"

If she signed without speaking to Doris, her agent, she'd have no agent. But then again, this was Mishin Modeling. Turning this down now that she was so close would be like an actress turning down a part in the latest Spielberg project.

"No, not a problem. Where do I sign?"

Alex's laugh sent that shiver of excitement racing through her. This was going to be dangerous...

"Well, why don't you get dressed and Roy will show you to my office. But hurry please, I have a 3 o'clock appointment."

"Sounds good."

He left, and Roy wasn't far behind. "I'll be just outside. Come out when you're all set and I'll show you to Mr. Mishin's office." 

She nodded, then quickly dropped her robe. Everything was moving so fast! The call this morning, the test shoot, and now a contract! A little voice inside her head warned her to call Doris anyway, to get her to at least look over the contract she was given, but Alicia pushed it away easily. It was easy when there were things like the cover of Vogue and jobs like Covergirl to distract her!

When she was once again adorned in her short beige skirt and flimsy little blouse, she found Roy waiting just as he'd said. "I haven't seen Mr. Mishin that excited about a model since Gabrielle."

"Gabrielle Dubois?"

"Do you know of another Gabrielle?"

"No, I just didn't realize she was with Alex."

He reclined his head. "She's his star, although getting jobs is no longer difficult for her. They've become good friends." Another thrill passed through her. Gabrielle Dubois had obtained supermodel status three years ago. Her own perfume line, her own reality TV show. She was now rivaling Tyra Banks for popularity. And she started here. Did she...

Sensing her question, Roy nodded. "Yes, even the Great Ms. Dubois walked the runway nude on her first audition. Mr. Mishin is very particular with his methods, but I think you'll find them very... effective."

He stopped in front of a pair of wide, double doors. "Well, Ms. Kennedy, it's been a pleasure making your acquaintance. I'm sure I'll see you a lot more after today."

***

"He's a pig," Liz Hawkins spat as she sat in Vincent Silva's office. She'd almost gone through with it. Almost gotten her foothold into Alexander Mishin's modeling world. She did the racy photos, the naked cat walk. But she couldn't do what was required to prove her "loyalty." "A goddamn pig."

"Well, you're certainly worked up," Vincent said with a grin. Sometimes, her former partner could be a real cocky ass.

"You'd be as well if someone flat out asked you to suck his dick."

"Wouldn't be the first you'd sucked," Vincent pointed out.

Liz gritted her teeth. This was a mistake. She'd only agreed to come out of retirement because Vincent had practically begged her. She didn't need this shit. "I've never compromised myself like that, Vincent. Not for this job."

He nodded, his face blank. "Well, at least you got a tap on Mishin's security system. We'll be able to see what he sees." Vincent pondered the situation, tapping his finger on his lips as he thought. "I do have one other lead..."

Liz didn't like the way he said it. "What?"

"Bring up the feed," he ordered, scratching his goatee. When had the flakes of gray appeared there? His clipped beard had been as dark as his eyes when they were partners, five years back. 

Liz tapped a couple keys. The shades to his office closed, the lights dimmed, and the large monitor against the wall snapped to life.

"Just in time," Vincent said, turning his chair to face the flat panel monitor. "That's my girl..."

On the screen, they were looking into Alexander Mishin's office, which was best described as masculine. His desk dominated the room, all dark wood and steel. His furniture was contemporary, things made of black leather that gave the room its heavy, organic feel. High ceilings, lots of open space, and a large floor to ceiling window that looked out into the smog-choked city of Los Angeles.

Mishin was pacing the room, gesticulating grandly as he spoke to a skinny blonde who fidgeted nervously on the couch. The angle of this camera was eye level, but the feed was good. Liz remembered the room, and the floor to ceiling mirror that sat opposite the windows. The camera must have been behind it.

"Is there sound?"

"Yes, of course." Liz tapped a few more keys and the room filled with Mishin's cultured accent. 

"He still hasn't completed shook that hint of Russian..." Vincent said absently as he focused on the conversation being fed over the speakers.

"Stay with me and I promise you, you'll be up there with names such as Giselle, Tyra, Heidi, and Gabrielle. Your face will be adored by millions. Grace billboards. But I need two things from you. These things must be absolute."

The girl nodded, her stunning brown eyes distant as she fantasized about his promises. Liz had heard them herself, just a couple days ago. She'd been sitting in that very chair, listening to this very speech.

The girl had high cheekbones and shiny, golden hair. The more Liz watched, the more beautiful the woman became. Who was she? Someone Vincent knew, obviously.

"First, I need your trust. You've given that to me when you walked the runway." The model's face turned red and she averted her eyes. Mishin leaned against his broad desk and smiled. "The other thing I need is your loyalty."

It was Liz's turn to avert her eyes. She knew what came next. She didn't need to see it again. In her mind, she saw herself fleeing. And hoped the blonde was doing the same. 

When she looked back, the girl was still there, watching horrifically as Mishin carefully brought his hands to his trousers and slowly unbuckled the belt. The room was silent but for the clink of its clasp.

The girl's head shot up, terror twisting her pretty face as she realized what she had to do. "Can you show me loyalty, Alicia?" He drew the zipper of his pants down. The blonde didn't move.

"I'm... I have a husband," she said hesitantly.

"He will never know. What happens here, at Mishin Modeling, happens in the strictest confidence. No one has to know. Not your husband. Not your agent. Not even Roy out there."

The model, Alicia, gasped as he pulled out his cock, semi-erect and already impressive. "I can give you anything you want. I can make you a supermodel. But first, I need that show of loyalty."

Liz watched the girl take a deep breath as she contemplated her very hard decision. 

"Who is she?" Liz asked as the girl's brown eyes traveled the spectrum of emotion. From horrified to thoughtful to decisive. 

"Alicia Kennedy. One of our analyst's wives." Vincent was mesmerized by the monitor, enraptured as Alicia rose from the couch, smoothed out her tiny skirt, and began to cross the room.

"And you're going to what? Bring her onboard? If her husband works here, won't he object?"

"We're going to make sure he doesn't. We're going to offer him something he won't be able to resist."

"Take your clothes off, dear," Mishin ordered. He began to stroke his cock.

Alicia's breath caught once again, but she hesitated less this time, pulling her blouse up over her head and stepping quickly out of the skirt. Her bra matched her plunging thong, a satin black push-up thing that earned its title as Miracle.

"Exquisite," Alexander Mishin praised as he stiffened in his grip. "Now the rest."

No hesitation this time. She reached behind her and popped the bra off, revealing her round, scooped breasts that were perfectly proportioned to her slim body. The thong came next, her thumbs hooking into the waistband and pulling the elastic away. She did it slowly, but not out of nervousness. She was teasing now.


Models and Super Spies Ch. 01



The Russian's cock stood full and proud now, the swollen head glistening with anticipation. He nodded at her. The blonde pulled away the last bit of modesty she had.

"Yess..." he hissed. Liz caught the way Vincent shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to subtlety adjust his own erection. The naked model cocked her hip to one side, resting one hand on it as she struck a vixen-like pose.

Clearly both men liked what they saw. While she was thin, she wasn't an anorexic twig like so many models before her. She had curves where it counted: in her slender hips, in her tapering buttocks, in her excited tits. Her little brown nipples sat hard and high on their peaks, and her pussy, oily smooth from her arousal, was wickedly devoid of a single curl.

Liz felt herself grow warm, although she quickly dismissed it as nothing. While she wasn't into girls, she could acknowledge when one was attractive, and Alicia Kennedy was one of the most attractive she'd ever seen.

Which was why she hated what she was watching on film.

"Now, Alicia, show me how loyal you can be." He set his hands on his hips, relaxed into a half-seated position on the desk, and let his thick cock flap lewdly before him.

She crossed the rest of the room in long strides, quickly dropping to her knees in front of the cocky mogul. Alicia had long fingers, long enough that she was able to wrap them fully around Mishin's girth as her wet mouth descended on him.

The blonde bobbed her head with sultry efficiency, swallowing more and more of his veiny flesh between her lips with each dip. Saliva drooled down along his length and she worked it in with both hands.

"I'd say Trey is a lucky man, although I think he's in danger of losing his wife," Vincent Silva remarked with a bit of a smirk. Liz looked over at him and saw the fire of delight in the man's dark eyes.

Trey must be the analyst's name. Trey Kennedy. "You put her in this position, Vincent, didn't you? She's just trying to make an honest living."

"You see honesty. I see our 'in.'" Vincent snapped. "This is as much a result of your failure as it is my manipulation."

Liz grinded her teeth but ignored the comment. Vincent had to know she'd never go through with it, right? Still, she couldn't help feeling guilty. On the monitor, Alicia had slurped off Mishin's shaft and was busy sucking his balls, one by one. Had she put the woman in that situation?

Alicia went back to work on Mishin's stiff member, taking him deep enough into her mouth that Liz had no doubt she must be deep-throating him. Vincent's eyes danced.

"That's a good girl; just like that," Mishin encouraged. He ran his fingers through her blonde hair, holding her head like a man would a bowling ball. He took control, pulling her harder and harder against his crotch.

She choked a little as he shoved himself deeper into her throat, but he wouldn't let her escape. "Oh fuck, yeah!" He grunted, clenching his teeth and pulling her in until her lips touched his trimmed pubic hair. Her hands went to his hips to steady herself as the man erupted inside her, blasting cum down her throat.

He let her take the first two before pushing her head away. He seized his throbbing meat and jerked it, propelling one, two, three jets of pearly man-juice across her face.

She sank back on her haunches when it was over, Alexander Mishin's cum dribbling down her cheeks, down her neck. She'd caught one rope of jism in the valley of her cleavage where it made its slow, sticky way down her washboard stomach.

"My girl," he grinned down at her, "with loyalty like that, you're going to be bigger than Gabrielle. Now," he stuffed himself back into his pants and tossed her a box of tissues, "let's get that contract signed."

***

Alexander Mishin sat alone in his sumptuous office, catching his breath. His cock was still buzzing from intensity of the blowjob his new girl had just given him.

He leaned back in his plush leather chair and closed his eyes. Alicia Mishin had one of the most perfect bodies he'd ever seen. Skinny, athletic, yet without compromising the curves that made her a woman.

And she was 25 on top of all that! Most models her age were past their prime, sadly. But not Alicia. She was only going to get more beautiful and, more importantly for Alex, beauty was money in this industry.

He picked up his phone and hit speed dial. "I want to thank you again for sending that model over. She's incredible."

"So she passed all your... tests?" the voice on the other end of the line asked.

"Yes she did. I can barely feel my toes!" They shared a laugh. "The ink has hardly dried on her contract and I can already think of a few places I can use her. Thanks again."

"Any time, Alexander. Any time."

***

"Silva wants to see you." It was Emily Lester, C.L.O.A.K.'s "office manager," if that's what you called the administrative head of a black ops group. Even spies had paper work that needed seeing to. 

"You're looking good, too, Emily," he replied with a wink. Trey liked Emily. She was a breath of fresh air here. Everyone else was either too over-the-top macho (the agents) or lacked any kind of social skills (the support). Emily felt real.

The sassy blonde smiled and tipped her head to one side. "Why thank you, sweetheart. But let's not keep the boss waiting."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her patent leather pumps and started off to Silva's office. Trey let his eyes linger on her for a moment before standing. The other thing he liked about Emily – after her personality, of course – was her habit of wearing short business suits. Today's was no exception: the little pinstriped skirt stopping high on her shapely thighs. She really was looking good.

Vincent Silva had never once met one-on-one with Trey. He was more of a worker-bee than a front-liner; he didn't have a reason to meet with him.

So what was this all about? That uncomfortable lick of heat just beneath his loosened collar reminded Trey that he'd seen pictures he shouldn't have seen, that he'd been made privy to a mission he shouldn't know about. Had Silva found out about that? Was his job – or maybe something worse – at risk?

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Silva?"

"Ah, Trey, come in, please." The man sat back in his chair, scratching his salt-and-pepper beard. He seemed welcoming enough. He held out his hand for a shake.

Silva's background was a bit odd for the director of a black ops division of the CIA. More high profile than most. He'd carved out a name for himself in the LA scene as a successful investor and businessman. His name was attached to more than a few Hollywood projects, and while he was wealthy, his most powerful currency was information.

Trey stepped forward and shook his hand. He was half expecting something slimy in the handshake, something akin to that unwashed feeling of a car salesman. Vincent's grasp was nothing like that, a bit overly firm, but nothing that made Trey wish he was wearing latex gloves. 

His immediate impression of the early 40-something-year-old man was as similar as his handshake. He was looking for someone to distrust, but found a pretty ordinary guy. His hair was short and his clipped goatee touched with gray. 

Vincent Silva had a dark complexion, that of a South American, perhaps, although there wasn't the trace of an accent in his voice. "Please, have a seat," he said with a simple nod toward one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"You look nervous," he continued with a distant smile. One that didn't quite touch his eyes. "Please, be at ease. This is actually a good meeting. For your career, I mean." He looked down at what looked to be Trey's file. "Says here that you wish to be a field agent, just didn't test high enough..."

"That's right." He joined the CIA to be a spy, not to be a paper-pusher. He only stayed because paper-pushing around spies was better than paper-pushing without them. And, of course, he secretly harbored a desire to get promoted.

"Mm hm." He flipped through a few more pages. "Lovely wife," he said, stopping on whatever profile the CIA kept on Alicia. "What if I told you that we have an opportunity to put you in the field."

Trey's mouth nearly fell open. "I... um... wow... I... how? I'm not really trained for that."

"You've had some basic training." Yeah, like five years ago, Trey thought. "And we'd set you up with one of our best trainers for some basic field craft. We couldn't put you out there right away, of course, but if you proved yourself down the road..."

"I can do that! Thank you for giving me this opportunity!" It was like waking up one morning and realizing Christmas had snuck up on him.

Silva's returned smile was chilling. One that said, Here's the catch... "The thing is, we need something from you." Trey felt his mouth go dry. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good. "Actually, from your wife." 

Silva picked up a picture of Alicia – one of her headshots. "I've just learned that she's been offered a position at Mishin Modeling Agency. We've recently been trying to get an agent in, to no avail."

Mishin Modeling Agency? The one those IT guys were talking about earlier that day? The one Liz the redhead had posed nearly nude in? The one that could be a fucking prostitution ring!? What was his wife doing mixed up in that?!

"Is something wrong, Trey? You look pale," Vincent asked, scratching his scruff once again.

"No, no... go on. Sorry, just... she's never mentioned Mishin Modeling. Is it... dangerous?"

Silva laughed disarmingly. Now that felt false. "That depends on what you consider 'dangerous.' Tell me, Trey, how much are you willing to sacrifice for the sake of national security?" 

He saw the trap in the rhetorical question, but could do nothing but step into it. They were black ops; they'd chosen to live a lie for national security... "It's why I'm here, sir."

"Excellent," Silva replied. "I need you on board with us one hundred percent, Trey. I need your loyalty. This won't work without that."

He nodded, still confused. What was this man asking?

"Alexander Mishin is up to something. You'll get a real debriefing after this, but all of our preliminary intel suggests that his modeling business is a front for something more sinister. We wanted to get an agent inside, but your wife's the next best thing."

"You're going to recruit Alicia?"

Silva shook his head. "Alicia can never know about C.L.O.A.K., nor can she know of your involvement. That doesn't change. But as a confidential informant... now that's something that can be arranged."

"But if she can't know about my involvement..."

Silva nodded, seeing that Trey was finally catching on. "We'll need to use someone else as her handler," he finished.

"I don't know about this... I mean, doesn't it make the most sense for me to talk to her? Don't you think she'd trust me over anyone else?"

Silva shrugged, but shook his head. "Trust is a strange thing, Trey. Our psyche-analysis indicates that telling Alicia of your double life will have irreparable damage on the trust between the two of you. What you have is comfortable, familiar. Stable."

"And you think she'd trust some stranger over me?"

"I think she'd trust the right stranger, yes." This man had this way of talking to you that made you feel like a child. 

"Who?"

"It's not important that you know for now. But Trey, I can't have you interfering. You are to go about as you always have; maintain your cover. I cannot stress how important it is that your wife never know about us."

Trey ground his teeth in protest. Why was it not important!? Before he could voice his frustration, Silva continued, "So, what do you say? Do we have a deal? Training and field work for your compliance to work with Alicia?"

"What do you want me to say? You're not giving me much of a choice."

"Choice, my boy, is all in your head," Silva said, steepling his fingers. "There's always a choice. This one happens to be an easy one."

"Fine, sure. When do we start?"

"We'll start you reviewing some basics today. We'll see where to work from."

"No, I mean... with Alicia."

"It's best we keep that mission on a need-to-know basis. For now, anyway." Trey nodded. So he wouldn't screw this one up. Vincent stood. This meeting was over. "Good luck out there. And I hope it's everything you've been dreaming about."

Trey gave him one last weary look. Had he just made a deal with the devil? Only time would tell.

***

Alexander Mishin pulled his Benz up to the curb of Rodeo Drive and tossed his keys to the valet. How he loved America, he thought. Only here were there people to park his car when he went out for coffee. 

He was a little early, and he wasn't a man who normally liked getting places early, but today felt different. Special. He'd recovered enough from Alicia's blowjob earlier that he was ready for something more. His coffee date with Erin Small would fit the bill just perfectly.

He scaled the ornate steps to the high-end coffee barista, already thinking of his long time friend's naked body wrapped around him. She'd taken a seat outside on the patio, although Alex was surprised she wasn't alone. Even more surprising was her company: one of his models.

"Erin!" he said, putting on a wide smile as he made his grand entrance.

Erin was about his age – mid-30s – but still devastatingly beautiful in a mature way that set her apart from the models he normally fucked.

She rose from her seat, pulling her designer sunglasses away from those bright blue eyes of hers. "Alex, darling. So good to see you." They hugged, exchanging cheek-kisses like they were meeting on a sidewalk in Paris.

Alex glanced over her shoulder, where Sarah Ellis stood meekly. For a moment, the blonde reminded him of Alicia, although the younger girl – just a few months beyond her nineteenth birthday, if he remembered correctly – had shorter, curlier hair that didn't quite reach her bare shoulders.

"I didn't realize you two knew one another," he said as Erin pulled away. His smile passed between the two females.

Erin had short, glossy hair the color of sunshine in the morning. It slipped like water through her fingers as she tossed her head back – something she did when she was a little nervous. "We actually met a couple nights ago at the Green Fairy. We were just talking about promotions for that place..."

Alex glanced at Sarah. The pale skin of her sculptured cheeks went red. "Really?" he asked, taking a seat at their table.

"I was just about to leave," the blonde said quietly, making a move for her tiny purse. She was temptingly dressed in a low-rise pair of skinny jeans and an overly tight, sleeveless blouse. One thing that Sarah had that Alicia did not was a pair of tits. She had an hourglass body fit for Maxim – which she'd just been featured in – or Playboy – which she'd soon be featured in if all went according to plan, but she'd need a little help to get there. Alex was always happy to pamper his models.

"Please. Stay, join us," he invited, his eyes dropping briefly into her deep line of cleavage. "You don't mind, do you, Erin?"

"Of course not, Alex," Erin smiled. The club promoter sat down next to him, crossing her legs out before her. She had great legs, Alex thought, and loved to show them off in her short little power suits. Sexy and successful, that was the persona she'd cultivated over the years.

Of course, there were other things he knew her for, all of which were perfect in his horny state-of-mind. As if fate had decided to scoot things along, the first drops of rain left fat spots across the café table. "You know what? I'm suddenly not in the mood for coffee."

He winked at Erin, who glanced quickly at Sarah. "We'll settle our bill and we can get out of here before the rain picks up," she said, smiling coyly.

"You live closest..." Alex said as he stood. "Why don't we stop on over there? Maybe we can have some cocktails?"

"My thoughts exactly. How's that sound, Sarah? You interested?"

The young girl hesitated. Her wide green eyes were so expressive, one of the things he looked for in his models. She chewed a little on her lower lip, finally giving the slightest of nods. "OK," she said meekly, glancing from Erin to Alex and back.  

Alex still remembered her "audition," and the way she'd so tentatively sucked him off. It was like he was one of her first. He detected that same shyness here.

"I'll go get the car while you guys pay up."

Alex's cock stiffened up as he jogged back down the stairs to the valet booth. This afternoon was going to be fun.

***

"We don't know much about Alexander Mishin other than the basics. Mishin is his real name; he was born and raised in Moscow, Russia, during the Soviet era. He's 33 years old. It's rumored that his parents were former KGB, but that's pure speculation on the CIA's part. Around the fall of the USSR, they relocated to England, where he spent the rest of his youth growing up."

They were in the briefing room at C.L.O.A.K., Emily and Trey sitting around an otherwise empty conference table.

"Russian mob?" Trey volunteered. "One of the junior KGBs?" In the vacuum formed after the collapse of the communist government, there were plenty of off-shoots formed by ex-KGB.

"Nothing is certain right now. That's what we're trying to ascertain." Trey flinched, thinking about how his wife was getting mixed up in all of this. Emily saw it. "Don't worry, Vincent'll protect her. She'll be pulled at the first sign of danger."

"I appreciate it."

Emily Lester leaned forward and put her hand on his. He glanced up at her, but his eyes never made it to hers. The blouse of her little power suit was as low as her skirt was short. As she reached across the glass-topped conference table, her deeply tanned cleavage spilled out of it. He couldn't help noticing her sexy black bra that her blouse failed to conceal.

Trey cleared his throat, wanting to pull his hand away from Emily's touch but not daring to. "So, um, we don't know his background, we don't know what he's doing with his modeling agency, exactly. What do we know?"

The blonde scrunched her face up cutely and squeezed his hand. Her short, kinky blonde hair and black, plastic framed glasses fit her personality to a tee. "We know he's got a list of agents working in the country."

"What agents?"

"Ours. Or the CIA's, anyway."

"But... the CIA doesn't operate in the country." Even at C.L.O.A.K., the special agents were always flying off to exotic, foreign locations to recover this and that.

"Now you see why this list needs to be retrieved or destroyed. It's dangerous, and to more than just the agents on it."

"If the public learned that the CIA was operating inside the country—"

"Or the FBI. Or the NSA. Or anyone else, really..."

Trey nodded. "How did this happen?"

"That's something else we're trying to figure out," she responded. "Right now, we need to get that list before Mishin moves it."

Trey was used to learning things that most people went their entire lives without fathoming. He'd seen foreign governments topple because of decisions made in this office. But nothing had ever come so close to home. They needed Alicia's help; who was he to say no?

Emily again showed her empathy. "Don't worry, Trey," she said softly. "We'll keep her safe. The plan is to extract her at the first sign of danger." 

"OK, so what do you want me to do?"

"Nothing different than what you've been doing. We'll put you in touch with our trainer. And you're going to have to come up with a good excuse to be working late. The next few weeks are going to be grueling."

"OK. And will you keep me updated on this other mission?"




Models and Super Spies Ch. 01



"If all goes according to plan, you'll be helping out on it." Emily winked. Trey felt his life unraveling around him, and things just got more and more confusing.

***

Erin's house was only a fifteen-minute drive away. Which was good since Alex felt like his cock was going to tear through his expensive slacks.

Both women were squeezed into the passenger seat next to him. Erin had immediately gone for the baggy of joints he kept under the sunblind. Sarah seemed hesitant to do more than just sit there nervously until she'd had a few pulls off the joint.

As they pulled down Erin's palm-tree lined road, a smile on his face and a joint hanging from his lips, Alex knew he was in for a good time. "God, isn't she sexy?" Erin asked, running her hand along the younger girl's thigh.

Sarah tensed a bit, but her smile didn't falter and, more importantly, she didn't remove the older woman's hand. Alex agreed with Erin. "She's gorgeous. Did you see her latest spread in Maxim?"

"Of course. Read the interview, too. I loved how she said she was a 'good girl' growing up."

"Hey guys, I'm right here!" she laughed, plucking the joint from Alex's mouth.

"Yeah, some good girl!" Erin laughed, taking the marijuana cigarette from her before she could take her toke. "Here, let me help you with that, honey."

Alex did his best to keep his eye on the road, but his passengers were providing plenty of reasons not to care. With a large drag of pot in her lungs, she leaned into Sarah's lips as though for a kiss. The young blonde yanked her head away, but Erin grasped her head in her hands and pulled her close.

Sarah caught on just as the other woman opened her mouth, passing the sweet smoke from her lungs to the blonde's. There was Sarah Ellis, Maxim's "good girl," getting hot-boxed by Alex's sexy lover.

As they pulled into the driveway, Erin closed the final gap between their mouths, bringing her open mouth to Sarah's in a quick, fervent kiss. The blonde pulled away, but not before feeling the other woman's wet tongue pass between her lips.

It was raining even harder now. "Come on, you two. Let's take this inside before some paparazzi makes a fortune!" He fumbled with the latch on the door, that familiar, fuzzy feeling of being high bringing a grin to his face.

The girls giggled as they got out the other side, racing through the rain up to the front door.

***

Alicia felt the tears welling up long before they began to roll down her cheeks. What had she done? She could still feel Alex's thick cock in her mouth. The salty aftertaste of his cum lingered. She had never done that before – never stepped outside of the bounds of her marriage.

And now she did it for a stupid job?!

If she could do it all over again, she would have walked right out of that office. So she told herself now, as she drove home. It began to rain lightly. How fitting.

"Trey will never know," she said out loud, as though putting a voice to the statement gave it more validity. She'd know. And if she knew, he'd know eventually.

But what's done is done, a quiet, rational voice whispered. The milk has been spilled, might as well enjoy it. Alex had said he'd be in touch in the next couple of days, that he had some jobs in mind for her. Already!

Gabrielle Dubois had done it. "And it's not like I fucked him."

It sounded as false as it was, and she began to cry all over again. 

Alicia's phone rang as she pulled into her apartment complex's lot. "Trey?" she answered, seeing her husband's name flash up.

"Hey, sweetheart. How's your day been?"

She felt her throat warble and fought back the knot. "I got a new job," she said with as much enthusiasm she could muster. "A hot shot new agency..."

"Oh yeah? That's great!" He sounded tired. She felt tired. "We should celebrate. But... tonight I need to stay a little late. That OK?"

God, she loved her husband. Even when he couldn't do a thing about it, he asked her if it was OK. She'd been wondering how she was going to approach him. Her emotions were still a mess; maybe a couple more hours would help. Perhaps a hot bath, a glass of wine...

"Yeah, something like that. I'll call when I'm on my way home. I'm sorry, Alicia."

"It's ok. I'll see you later. And Trey? I love you."

"I love you, too."

She almost fell back into a fit of tears as she pulled into her spot. She hurried out of her car, her heels clicking on the slick sidewalk as she held her purse to her brow to keep the rain from her eyes. It was why she didn't see him standing there, at the base of the stairs, until they nearly ran into one another.

"Vince?" she asked. She stopped in the steady drizzle, her make-shift umbrella falling limply to one side. Was this some kind of dream?

"Long time, Alicia..."

***

Erin had offered to fix them all a drink as Sarah and Alex settled onto the covered patio out back. The privacy fence around the yard was enough to keep out the prying eyes of the neighbors, but it still made him wary. Photographers looking for a quick buck were very resourceful individuals.

"I'm sorry I pressured you into coming," Alex said. He didn't mean it, but being a gentleman never hurt. Sarah had fished out a cigarette – straight menthol this time – and took a teasingly slow drag off it. She seemed nervous, fidgeting as she stood at the edge of the patio, just out of the rain, and watched the raindrops make patterns across Erin's pool.

"What makes you think you pressured me?" The young girl put on a brave face. Her blonde hair had grown darker now that it was wet, and her blouse clung to the curves of her upper body. Alex could see the outline of her pink bra through the damp material. "I'm happy that you asked."

"You are one sexy girl, you know that?" the Russian commented. He could practically feel the power radiating around him. He loved that feeling, like he was unstoppable.

"Thanks," she said shyly, blowing smoke into the rain.

"No really. You've got a body that's going to make you a regular in Victoria's Secret." She'd already had a few of those catalogue shoots and he was working on getting her a more permanent gig. "Is that what you want?"

Sarah half turned to him. Even through the bra, he could see her nipples rise. She nodded. 

"You know what I want?"

She shot him a look, although it wasn't entirely that of a deer-caught-in-headlights. Her lips curled up at the ends in amusement. "I think I have a pretty good idea." She took one last drag at her cigarette and flicked it out into the pool.

Her fingers went to the top button of her blouse. "Something to do with getting out of these wet clothes?" she giggled, popping it open. Alex licked his lips, scanning the top of the privacy fence once again for guerilla paparazzi.

Sarah peeled her wet shirt off, thrusting her large tits in his direction as she did so. She stood, her already model-tall body towering over his seated form in her strappy, pink sandals. 

"You could be a Playmate, my dear," Alex said, leaning back in his chair as unzipping his pants. She unbuttoned her tight jeans and shimmied out of them. Her pink thong matched the bra.

"You could do that?"

"It's already in the works," he winked, pulling out his thick cock. "You have the body for it."

"Thanks to you," she said, cupping her hefty swells. The right strap of her bra fell from her shoulder demurely. "I still haven't thanked you for these."

"There's no time like the present..."

She laughed. "You know, I think these are wet, too," she said, sliding her right hand down into the front of her panties. He watched as her knuckles moved beneath the gossamer material, curling under. She sighed, biting her lip.

When she withdrew her fingers, they glistened with her juices. "Yeah, definitely wet..." Slowly, she brought them to her mouth, slowly sucking each in turn. "Should I take them off, as well?"

"Wouldn't want you to catch a cold," he agreed.

Sarah nodded solemnly as she hooked her thumbs into her thong. Alex licked his lips as she pulled them over the gentle curve of her hips and down over her thighs. Her cleanly shaved pussy was moist, the large folds of her lips swollen and open with arousal. No sooner had the panties hit the patio floor than she was straddling him.

His cock sank easily into her snug, buttery sex.

"Well, well, started the fun without me, I see," Erin said, coming out with a tray of drinks.

"We were just getting out of our wet clothes," Alex smiled, reached up and pulling the cups of Sarah's bra down over her large, buoyant breasts. The soft dusting of freckles covered her tits. 

"I see that," Erin smiled, setting the drinks down on the table next to them. She ran her fingers through her short, strawberry blonde locks, slicking it back in a sinfully sassy way, and began to slip out of her clothes.

Erin had a fantastic body, slender and fit from all the hours spent with her personal trainer. She'd always tanned easily, and now that it was summer, her skin was a deep golden brown. "Don't let me interrupt," the club owner smiled, unhooking her lacy Italian bra.

"Have you ever been with another woman?" Alex asked Sarah, who hadn't stopped the exquisite stroke of her pussy along his length. She shook her head. "But you're curious..." Alex could read her like a book.

"Yes..."

Alex glanced at Erin, feeling himself grow even harder inside this blonde's cunt. This afternoon couldn't get better.

The older woman stepped behind the girl, her hands sliding across her heaving chest. "How exciting," she whispered into Sarah's ear, stroking the soft lobe with her tongue. "Want to kiss me?"

Alex felt his balls shudder as Sarah turned her head in Erin's direction, meeting the other woman's lips in a loose, over-the-shoulder kiss. He always loved watching two women make out; he didn't think watching a little girl-on-girl action would ever get old.

Sarah had to tear her mouth away as an orgasm swept through her voluptuous body. Erin gave Alex a coy wink as she stood, turning her back to them as she retrieved a Cosmo from the tray. She'd kept her thong on and her ass looked fantastic – smaller than Sarah's, but there wasn't an ounce of fat on it.

"Want to see the bedroom?" she asked over her shoulder, feeling both sets of eyes on her. She held her hand out to Sarah, helping the shaky girl up off of Alex's lap.

"You're just going to leave me like this?" he asked, pointing to his glistening erection.

Sarah giggled at him as Erin leaned in and whispered, "You can take care of it yourself, but don't be long." With that, she pulled the shy blonde back into the house.

***

"You look good," Vince said, taking the bath towel from Alicia. Even after all these years, it was a thrill to hear him compliment her. 

"So do you," she said, pulling her own towel around her shoulders as she moved into the kitchen. "Tea?"

"No thanks, I won't stay long."

She shrugged, putting the kettle on for herself. "So why are you here, Vince? I haven't seen you in five years..."

He looked lost, standing there in his wet clothes. He had gray in his goatee and wrinkles around his tired eyes.

"I had to see you." She'd heard him say it before, countless times, and for a moment, she heard it through the same cocky filter she had gotten so tired of before. But this time, there was a plea to it; a weakness that didn't seem to fit Vincent Silva.

Still, even with the nearly shaved head and his receding hairline, he hadn't changed enough to make her forget. "But why now?"

He sighed. "I don't know. To apologize?"

That drew a sarcastic laugh from the blonde. "You're about five years too late. How's the wife and kids, anyway?"

Vincent gave a little smile that didn't touch his dark eyes. That was more like the man she remembered. "Karen and I are separated. The kids are with her.

"Sorry to hear that." She wasn't, although she hated the way she made it sound: like she was happy it had ended badly. No one deserved that; not even this man.

"I'm married now, you know."

He nodded. "I heard. To some banker?" She nodded, ignoring the hint of derision in his voice. She never thought she'd settle down with someone so conventional, either. "He make you happy?"

"He does, Vince. He does." And yet you just sucked another man's cock...

She looked up at him quickly. Had he seen the flicker of doubt? "I know I shouldn't have just shown up, but... I had to see you." For a moment, Alicia thought he was going to walk up to her. The memory of the way his arms used to cradle her just before they kissed came unbidden to her mind. She blushed.

"You really do look good."

"Thanks." Butterflies took off in her stomach. "What do you want me to say?"

He turned to go, but lingered at the door. "Could I maybe take you out to lunch one of these days?"

"I don't know..." He reached into the inside jacket and removed a business card. "Just in case you change your mind. Call me."

She stood alone a long time, clutching the business card as her tea cooled. She meant to throw it away. Crumpled it up, even. But in the end, she slipped it into the inside pocket of her purse. They had far too much history for her to simply toss it in the garbage.

***

The girls were furiously 69ing each other by the time Alex made it into Erin's bedroom. He'd only been a minute behind them. That didn't take long, he thought, leaning against the doorframe and watching the action.

They were on their sides, Erin's naked back facing the door. Sarah's blonde hair bounced excitedly between her thighs as the other woman returned the favor. Alex's cock stiffened up once again.

He cleared his throat. The girls unraveled, Erin flopping onto her back and staring up at him with her head resting limply on the bed. She kept her legs wide open as they exchanged looks. "I see you didn't take care of yourself, after all." Her bronzed skin practically glowed on her white, satin sheets.

"I was thinking maybe you could help me out," he said, unmoving in the doorway. Sarah looked like a goddess, stretched out languidly behind the other woman. The sinuous roll of her hip and breast were the perfect compliment to Erin's more svelte body. He almost asked them to go back to pleasing one another, but then had a better idea.

"You know, I haven't had a chance to... test run those tits since I bought them." He began to slowly stroke his slippery cock. "Erin, why don't you prepare her for me."

Before Sarah even knew what was going on, she was being pushed onto her back. Erin buried her face between her large, fake breasts, coating the valley with her spit. Alex let his cock led the way, crawling up onto the king-size bed to the girls.

Erin moved up to Sarah's lips, kissing her deeply one last time before whispering, "Enjoy it." With that, she tongued her way back down the model, settling in between her slender thighs.

Alex straddled Sarah's torso, his thick, dark cock coming to rest at last in her cleavage. Sarah knew the name of this game, clutching her full swells in her manicured fingers and pushing the tit-flesh tight around her employer's shaft.

Her brow broke out in a crease as Erin went to work on her clit. Alex watched her carefully as he slid himself along the heated tunnel formed by her breasts. She tilted her head forward to catch the head of his cock in her mouth each time it emerged.

He wasn't going to last long, that much was damn sure. He glanced over his shoulder. Erin had two fingers ramming in and out of Sarah's oily cunt, her tongue bouncing the blonde's pink clit with each pass. The girl arched her back, throwing her chest harder against his cock and balls as she cried out. She dug her head back into the mattress as she came.

Watching her writhe beneath him sent him racing to catch up. His breath caught. His jaw clenched. He reached down and grabbed hold of the model's pale blonde locks, pulling her head back as his cock went off. She screamed as he coated her neck and the underside of her chin in his cum.

Fuck, her tits felt good. He never stopped fucking them, splashing the insides of the voluminous orbs. Cum went everywhere, and as he rolled off the model's limp body, it seemed Erin was determined to taste it all.

"That was hot, you two, but one of you is going to have to recover quickly. It's my turn!" She opened her legs for them, her fingers tracing the landing strip that adorned her neatly shaved pussy like an exclamation point. "Sarah, why don't you come here and eat my pussy..."

Alex watched, exhausted, as Sarah crawled down between the other woman's thighs.

Next chapter: First Assignments



Models and Super Spies Ch. 02



Chapter 2: First Assignments

"Daniel! I'm glad I could catch you before you headed off to your shoot."

"Ah, hello, Ms. Small." Even over the phone, Erin could imagine the African's wide, friendly smile. "Please thank Mr. Mishin once again for thinking of me for this shoot."

"You're one of his best male models, Daniel. You've always been on my short list."

"So, how can I help you?" There was nothing guarded about the way he said it. That was the great thing about Daniel, he was always up front with you.

"The model you will be working with is new. So I'd… like you to make her feel comfortable…" They'd had this discussion before. The African model wasn't just disarming with Erin, but with everyone, especially the female models he worked with. It's why he was the perfect candidate for the little task she had in mind as she thought of Alicia.

"I can do that, Ms. Small." No matter how many times Erin had asked the man to use her first name, Daniel always reverted back to "Ms. Small." Erin had stopped trying now. "Like the last time?"

The former model thought of the "last time." It had started as a swimsuit shoot on the beach with this young Spanish model that Mishin had recently signed, and ended with Daniel fucking her in the foamy surf. Erin still had the photos from that session. 

"Um, no, not quite like last time. But… tease her a little."

"Got it!"

***

"You're being watched. You have three minutes to tell me how many are watching." Emily Lester and Trey Kennedy hadn't even ordered their lunches when she said it, as casually as if she'd been commenting on the weather. "Don't look around so obviously! It's important that they don't know that you know, understand? Gives you some leverage."

Now that she'd mentioned it, the man sitting in the corner kept giving them furtive glances every few seconds. He'd occasionally write something down in a journal that sat next to a half-empty glass of water.

On the second floor balcony, a suspicious looking character glanced down at them over the top of a menu that he didn't seem to put down.

Two men sitting by the window were also looking at their menus, although who does that without speaking for a full three minutes?

"Four," he said when she called time.

"Close." Emily had a wonderful smile. She'd taken him out to lunch with the pretense that she needed to go over some of the training he'd been doing the last few days. It appeared that this was yet another training exercise. "There are seven."

Trey didn't hide his surprise. "Seven?"

"You got the obvious ones. The man in the corner and on the balcony, I assume. And the two looking at their menus. That couple over there has been watching us from the moment they came in." She tossed her sassy blonde hair in the direction of a couple of business-looking types, then smiled back at me. "And of course, you missed your new trainer, although how could you overlook a girl like her?"

"Who?"

"Me," a husky voice whispered, close enough to ruffle the hairs inside his ear.

Trey jumped as the two women laughed. "Trey Kennedy, meet Elizabeth Hawkins. She'll be training you from here on out."

Trey couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the cute redhead until now, although she'd dressed the part for this restaurant of power-lunchers and corporate execs: a slim gray pant-suit that hugged her curves in a no-nonsense, sexy way. 

"Hey, Emily. Long time." The two women exchanged a hug, although there wasn't much friendliness between the two of them. Ms. Hawkins turned to Trey and extended her hand.

Then he recognized her. She was the woman in the risqué pictures. She'd tried to infiltrate Mishin's operation and had failed.

Trey stood as he accepted her hand, surprised at how short the gray-eyed surveillance expert was. She couldn't have been an inch taller than 5'2", although she certainly didn't have the body typical of a shorter woman. Trey cursed himself as his eyes drifted down into her freckled cleavage, which spilled over the top of her low-cut blouse. When he forced himself to look back at Elizabeth's pixyish face, she was smirking.

"At least he knows the important things to notice," she quipped, drawing out another shared giggle.

"Liz is one of the best you'll ever work with. You're in good hands."

"You leaving? You haven't even had your lunch."

Emily nodded. "I need to get back to the office. Take care, you two. And Liz, don't kill him on his first day." The two women laughed one more time and then Emily was gone.

"I've worked with countless agents, Trey, and never killed one of them," the short woman said as she took the vacant seat. "But from what I've read, you need a lot of work."

"That bad huh?"

"Bad enough you've earned a trip to Hawaii."

"Hawaii?"

The redhead nodded. "C.L.O.A.K. has a special training facility there. Pack your swim suit, young man, you just won an all expense paid trip to the Aloha State."

"When?"

"We leave tomorrow morning."

"But… I have weekend plans."

Elizabeth gave him a faux-sympathetic frown. "That's terrible! Well, I can let Vincent Silva know you're not interested."

"No!" Not after this past hellish week of training. "It's just… how am I going to explain this vacation to my wife?"

She shrugged. "Tell her it's for business. Tell her it's for that promotion you've been vying for. I don't really care. We'll be gone for at least a week, so whatever it is you tell her, make it good. And Trey, no matter how sunny the sky is out there, this isn't a vacation." And on that ominous note, the waiter finally decided to grace their table.

***

Alicia's first photo shoot with Mishin Inc. came just three quick days after she'd signed the contract. Roy had called to schedule it, explaining that wardrobe and make up would be provided for her on-site. All she needed to do was show up in loose clothing that wouldn't leave lines. That was common practice on many shoots, particularly lingerie and bikini ones where lines were important not to show.

Alicia normally got up with Trey in the mornings, even when she had no jobs that day and no reason to be up so early. She liked spending time with him, even if it was just reading the paper and drinking coffee.

But not this week. She'd been avoiding him this week, still paralyzed with guilt at what she'd done. She knew she had to tell him; she just needed to figure out how. He'd been extremely busy at work as well, vying for some promotion he'd explained absently over a late dinner. He seemed to be under an incredible amount of stress and the last thing she needed to do was add to that. So she delayed, and that was fine for her.

She waited until she heard the front door close before pulling herself out of bed. She hated avoiding him, but until this was all over, it was the path of least resistance.

He'd made enough coffee for her and she fixed herself a cup as she paged through the LA Times, wearing her favorite pair of silk pajamas. The back of today's edition featured a full-page color ad for Le Petite Mort, Gabrielle Dubois' latest scent. And of course, like all her perfumes, the ad prominently featured Gabrielle herself in a long, clingy evening gown.

"I know your secret," Alicia said, setting her coffee down on the supermodel's printed cleavage. She was stunning even in the newsprint's poor ink quality, her characteristic coyness coming through in those pale blue eyes. They looked so good with her glossy, dark hair.

Alicia lingered on the French model's pouting lips. The image came unbidden: Gabrielle on her knees before Alex, his rigid cock sliding in and out of her mouth, glistening wet with her saliva. She was both repulsed and excited.

His bright blue eyes had drunk her up as he loomed over her. So possessive. So dominant. She'd never felt a man flex his will upon her so strongly. And yet she remembered thinking at the time how he was at her mercy. If only for a moment. As powerful as he was, it was her mouth that he was getting off on.

"Was it a hard decision for you?" Alicia asked the printed face. The thing she didn't want to voice – the terrible thought she didn't even want to think about – was that her answer was "no, it wasn't." At the time, it had been pretty easy.

And that scared the shit out of her.

Alicia ducked into the shower, her mind still dwelling on her "show of loyalty." She hated herself for doing what she did, and yet she kept thinking about how exciting it had been. Her emotions were a confused mess of self-loathing, disgust, and unquestionably thrilling eroticism.

She'd been beautiful since she was a little girl and she'd grown used to being looked at. Her long, golden hair and slender body had made her a permanent fixture in the "cool kids" group. She'd been the captain of the cheerleading team. She'd even dated the quarterback. Yet despite the stereotypes, she was never "that kind of girl." She never slept around, never had a one-night stand, and had never, ever done what she did last Monday. 

As she soaped her body beneath the hot spray of the shower, a very wicked voice whispered, "But you enjoyed it…" It was an impish thing, that voice, one that had been with her since childhood. It was with her when she first learned to masturbate, and then later when she'd had her first cigarette, her first taste of alcohol, her first joint. It was the naughty voice that balanced out the good girl in her.

The luffah felt good as it glided along her nudity, the soapy scruff sending little electric jolts through her as she passed it over her nipples. They tightened into little points. She set it down, switching to her hands to spread the liquid soap across her curves.

She sighed with pleasure. This ritual had replaced the regular morning one she used to share with Trey. Her hands crept along her flat stomach, down into the juncture between her legs. She brushed across her swollen clit, which had emerged from her hooded sex.

"No," she sighed aloud. First she needed to take care of her necessities. She finished washing her body and moved on to her long hair. She forced herself to think of other things than getting off, like the upcoming photo shoot and what that might be. It wasn't a sunny day, so probably not a bikini shoot – they would have rescheduled that. 

Maybe lingerie. Her heart skipped at the thought. She'd only done a couple lingerie shoots, and they always made her feel exposed and vulnerable. But they'd yielded some of her best shots.

Finished with her hair, she moved on to shaving her legs. The last time she'd done a lingerie shoot – something for a local boutique in LA – the photographer had her remove her bra to "put emphasis on the lacy boy-shorts" the client wanted to market. Alicia had been pretty skeptical, almost walking out. She would have, too, had she detected even a glimmer of sleaziness in the photographer's eye. Later on, after the proofs had been returned to her, she was glad she hadn't.

The tall model lathered up her mons, careful not to touch her excited little button, and slowly shaved herself clean. She had full, puffy labia that remained tight-lipped, even when her clit was fully engorged. She liked the clean lines of her pussy and had been shaving herself bare even before it had become all the rage in fashion.

At last, her preparation done, she leaned back on the cool tile wall, yanked the showerhead from its perch, and directed the hard spray directly across her cunt.

"Ngh!" she moaned, her mind blissfully empty but for the sensations of the pulsing nozzle and her playful fingers. That was the way it had always been. When she was with a man, she thought of the man. When she was with herself, she thought of nothing.

She arched her back away from the wall as she peaked, breasts out, rolling her head back along the tiles as she cried out to the ceiling. No one was home, so she let the orgasm tear from her throat. The hot water pushed the pleasure through her like the foamy surf washing down a wide, flat beachfront.

She came down slowly, pulling the showerhead away as the last of the orgasmic tremors passed through her. She flipped the pulsing water back to "spray" and fastened it back up on its clip. Her legs and arms felt rubbery, but also relaxed.

OK, now she could start the day.

***

Vincent waited patiently in the little sidewalk coffee shop. His heart was racing like a school boy's on the first day of class, just after he'd been assigned to sit next to the prettiest girl in the room. He'd gone over Alicia "Kennedy's" file countless times, obsessing over every little detail of her last five years, and still wasn't prepared for that face-to-face meeting he'd had just three short days before.

If anything, she'd grown even more beautiful. Her face had matured from the shy 19-year-old he'd met, fresh into LA with innocent dreams and lofty aspirations.

And you chose him over me… Vincent thought under his breath. The area was heavily mic'ed; he remembered, just before muttering it aloud. He had to stay on guard. For the rest of his life, he had to keep that up. 

Vincent saw Alicia before she saw him. She looked much more confident than the girl he'd first met. In a loose, designer dress that showed off her long legs and a pair of oversized Dolce & Gabana shades, she sashayed right by him, pushing swiftly through the doors and into the coffee shop.

On the mornings of her shoots, Alicia had a routine. Vincent had been watching her for the past two weeks and she rarely strayed from it. She came here and purchased an espresso. She sat outside, read the latest issue of Hollywood Reporter, and drank half her coffee with a cigarette. The rest was tossed away.

Tailing her, arranging this meet, was necessary. Vincent would have preferred for her to call him, but she hadn't and since things were already set in motion and time was short, he had to risk it.

Alicia came outside with her little espresso mug in hand and scanned the tables behind her sunglasses. They'd filled every one of them with agents, leaving her no outs. She nearly turned to go back inside when she spotted Vincent, doing a double take.

Her glossy lips parted, but no sound came out. He couldn't read her without seeing her eyes, but did his best to look just as surprised as she must be feeling. He waved weakly as she finally uprooted herself and paced over to him.

"Are you following me?" she accused, sitting down without asking if she could. She had these beautiful cheekbones that looked even better now that her face had matured.

Vincent set the paper that he'd been pretending to read down. "I'm just as surprised as you."

"What are you doing here? Don't you live in the Hills?"

He shook his head. "Not anymore. I moved to Santa Monica when Karen and I…"

"Wife got the house?"

Vincent shrugged. "I didn't exactly make a great case for myself in court." She nodded at that. Good, he thought. If being self-depreciating was the way to her heart, then he was the next Jon Stewart. "You never called."

"You thought I would?" she snapped. Ouch, harsh.

"I don't know, I guess not." Her mouth softened. He wished he could see her behind those glasses. "You don't owe me a thing. I just thought that we could… I don't know, be friends?"

She laughed harshly. This really was a different woman. "That's right, I don't owe you. If anything, it's the other way around." Vincent faked a hurt look, glancing down at his cup of coffee. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"Don't worry about it. I deserve it," he cut her off. They sat there awkwardly for a moment.

"Vince, really, I'm sorry." Alicia slipped her dark sunglasses up into her honey blonde hair. Her rich brown eyes were filled with compassion. "I shouldn't have said that." She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. Her touch was hot. He felt his arm tingle with excited familiarity.

His phone chirped, breaking the spell. Alicia suddenly realized who she was touching, yanking her hand back as though it burned her. But neither of them could deny that it was there, and that something had passed between them.

"Hello?" he answered his phone.

"We got it," the man answered. Vincent nodded, thinking of the photos his team must have captured of this little meeting.

"OK, I understand. I'll be right there." He hung up and sighed. "I'm sorry, Alicia, I need to get going. But… it was really good to see you." This meeting had gone better than he'd imagined it would.

The blonde nodded, still confused at her own emotions. "Um, yeah, me too. Have to go, I mean. Not… well, that, too." She cursed under her breath. "It was nice seeing you, Vincent."

"Call me if you ever want to talk. You still have my number?"

Alicia nodded, her brown eyes betraying the guilty look that she'd kept his card. Quickly, she slipped her large sunglasses back over her face and retrieved a cigarette.

"See you around, Vincent."

"You too, Alicia."

Vincent Silva walked away, hiding his smile.

***

"You've got to be kidding me," Alicia said flatly, looking from the photographer – at least she was a woman but this was still ridiculous – to Alexander Mishin, who'd come out to the shoot himself, to the tall male model.

"It's what the client wants," he said in that barely there Russian accent of his. Monday, he'd been seductive and domineering. Today, he was all business.

"I don't do nudes."

He clucked his tongue in disapproval. The photographer, an attractive Latina that could have been a model herself, looked uncomfortable. She'd most likely shown up thinking this would be a routine shoot, although for Alicia, it was anything but.

Daniel, the other model, had a blank expression on his dark face. He'd been there when she arrived, already dressed in a plush white robe that made his black skin look like midnight.

"That's not what your contract says," Alex replied darkly.

Alicia's mouth went dry. She hadn't read the contract. Certainly hadn't had her agent – former agent, she corrected – read it. What was in there? "And I really can't do them with… him…"

"Alicia, walk with me a moment."

Despite the cloudy day, the location was outdoors – poolside, in fact, in a rented Malibu villa that sat right on the ocean. A friend of hers used to love to come out to Malibu to sun on the beach. They'd walk it, daydreaming about one day being able to actually enter one of the large homes that dotted the coast. And now, here she was.

Alex walked her out the way she'd come, back through the house that was furnished with contemporary nick-knacks more expensive than anything they owned, most likely.

"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly.

Of course, Alicia didn't have an answer for that. Not one he'd like to hear, anyway. This man had forced her to blow him for a job; had made her parade naked down the runway. "Yes." It was the only answer she could give.

He nodded. "What do you see out there?" He pointed to the little roundabout that led into this villa. Three cars were parked out front: her old Toyota Camry, a sporty little Mazda, and a lipstick red Mercedes SLK – Alex's sports car, no doubt, although it seemed a little feminine for the young mogul.

"Um… three parked cars. The Pacific Coast Highway. I don't know. Traffic?" She couldn't quite suppress the attitude that crept into her voice. Did the man want her to admit her car was the shittiest? Was that his point?

"Give me your car keys."

"What?"

"Your car keys. Trust me." There was that demanding tone, tempered by his civilized accent. She did as she was told, as uncertain as she was. He handed her another set of keys, polished silver and emblazoned with the Mercedes symbol. "That's your new car."




Models and Super Spies Ch. 02



"Are you trying to bribe me?"

Alex raised his dark brows. "Bribe you? Of course not, girl. This is a parting gift. You can go down there, get in your new little sports car, and drive out of here without doing a thing. But if you do that, don't bother coming back."

He paused, letting that cold sense of finality sink in. She just stared at the red automobile. It was sexy. And there were other modeling opportunities out there…

"Or you can stay and do this shoot. They're artistic nudes and I promise you, the published photos will show nothing that couldn't be shown on a public billboard. In fact, that's where one of them will run."

When she'd gone into modeling, she'd promised herself one thing: no nudes. Not even artistic ones. Not even ones that suggested nudity. But that was before talk of billboards. That was before Alexander Mishin.

She looked at him and he returned it. There was no tapping of the foot, no checking of the watch. He was patient. Patient because he already knew what she'd say.

"OK. I'll stay. I trust you."

The smile he gave her almost made her turn around and run. "I thought you would. Come, let's get started…"

***

Trey hadn't been this exhausted since he'd left the military. He thought that the drills he'd been put through earlier in the week were bad. Yet despite her small stature, Liz was harder on him than the every CIA trainer he'd ever worked with, combined.

He was sore in places he didn't know could get sore, and all he could think about as he went home was a hot bath. His muscles screamed for it.

Yet despite how brain dead he felt, he had to pack. And somehow deal with Alicia. How was he going to explain missing tomorrow night? They'd been planning it for weeks. Tomorrow would be five years…

He sighed. First, you need to pack. Then deal with that other shit, he told himself. She'd be at her shoot for another few hours. Plenty of time to get his suitcase full and soak in the tub…

***

The male model had a beautiful body. He was tall and toned with rich, ebony skin that smelled like coconut and felt as soft as freshly washed cotton.

And he had a huge cock. It wasn't something Alicia purposefully checked out, but as they posed together, their naked bodies slathered in oil and rubbing against each other, she wasn't about to miss the African model's large endowment.

"I don't want you to think of yourselves as sexual creatures," Isobel, the photographer, explained as she took her first few test shots. "I want you to think of yourselves as innocent babes. Your vulnerability. That's what I want."

Those orders were much harder said than done, particularly when Isobel had Daniel wrap her up in his arms, holding her from behind as he rested his lips on the side of her neck. She could feel the soft flesh of his manhood against her taut backside. Like herself, the man had shaved himself clean and the smooth effect it had on her was surreal.

"Perfect, perfect…" Isobel encouraged in that husky Spanish accent of hers as she clicked away, crouching to get shots from below, standing on a step ladder for shots from above. "Daniel, I want you to cup Alicia's breasts," she ordered as she paced around them, capturing their naked bodies full on.

I'm an innocent babe, Alicia focused her mind on, even as her nipples came alive in the African model's hands. She'd worked with other male models before, but they were typically gay and never naked. She felt Daniel's cock stir against the crack of her ass. Oh God, he was feeling it, too…

"OK, stop, that's good you two. Let's take five…"

Isobel checked her camera, pacing back to the resting area. Alicia and Daniel pulled on their robes, but not before the blonde was able to check out his semi-erect cock. Innocent as a babe, my ass.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" The man spoke with a heavy African accent and would probably have been blushing was his skin not the shade of dark chocolate. He ran a large hand across his shaved scalp. Daniel had beautiful, high cheekbones and large, expressive eyes. "You're just… very beautiful." Beu-tee-ful. Too many men with pretty accents in her life, Alicia thought.

"Thank you."

He said no more and the two waited patiently as Isobel swapped her lenses and did whatever else it was photographers do. It wasn't an awkward silence. More like a pleasant one, punctuated by the occasional smile or the shift of a body.

"OK, kids, off with the robes."

It was easier this time, Alicia thought. She kept her eyes on the ocean this time, rather than looking for anyone's particular reaction. It also helped that Alex had left sometime in their last session.

"Let's start with you sitting in that lounger, Daniel. And Alicia, I want you to sit in his lap… no, the other way. Facing him." Alicia felt her body tingle and her sex begin to moisten. Innocence… calm down… "Closer, dears. We're all friends here."

Oh, God… Alicia's mind sighed as she felt Daniel's cock slip across her smooth vulva. His radiant eyes apologized as he began to grow at her touch. Isobel began to click away, giving them instructions as she buzzed about. "Tilt your head, Alicia. Like you're going to kiss him." Or, "Daniel, put one hand on her hips. Yes, like that. And put the other behind her neck. Great! Now hold it."

And so went the rest of the afternoon. At one point, Isobel had them both jump into the pool to get wet, then had Alicia drape her naked self over Daniel's prone, muscular body.

By the time she redressed in the loose clothes she'd worn to the shoot, she was on fire. The morning session with the showerhead felt like years in the past, and she needed to feel her husband's cock or she'd go crazy.

"It was very nice working with you, Daniel."

"The pleasure was all mine." His sing-song intonation had her crawling up the walls of her mind. Her attraction to the man was irrational enough that she could easily keep it at bay, but that didn't do a thing to calm her raging libido.

Neither did her ride home. The red Mercedes sports car purred as she pulled it onto the PCH. Cars and big engines had never been her thing, but as she tore up the LA streets, she began to rethink her tune. She kept the windows down, letting the wind whip her long blonde hair, and jammed her way up through the gears.

When she reached a comfortable cruising speed, Alicia dropped her right hand down between her thighs. She was glad for her short, loose dress and lack of panties.

The model nibbled on her pink tongue lightly as she rubbed her middle finger up and down her soft slit. Her nostrils flared as she sucked in air. She loved that smell of new leather. It reminded her of a pair of pants she owned that always made her feel sexy. And the scent of Vince's leather sofa the first time she'd gone down on him.

Oh God, where had that thought come from?!

Alicia pulled to a stop at a red light just as the slippery bud of her clit emerged. She pushed her head into bucket seat's headrest and sighed through her glossy, parted lips. There… right there…

"Need a hand?"

Alicia's eyes shot open as she looked around in confusion. Some sandy-haired surfer guy was grinning down at her as he hung out the window of a battered looking Jeep. He gave her a wink when their eyes met.

"Um, no… no thanks," Alicia said, her voice wavering.

"Follow me and we'll take care of you." His friend leaned into view and waved.

The light turned green. Alicia gunned it, leaving the two leering guys in a cloud of dust. Thank God for this new car!

She kept her hands to herself for the rest of the ride home, although she had to keep rubbing her thighs together to keep her mind clear. "Oh, thank God!" Her husband's car was in the driveway. It was the first time he'd been home earlier than 7 all fucking week!

***

Alexander Mishin loved his Los Angeles home. Located high up in Beverly Hills, the price tag would have made even his parents' eyes bug out. The mansion had been built by some movie star in the 60s to mimic a Spanish villa and he'd fallen in love with it the moment he saw it.

He could smell her as he passed through the sumptuous living room. Le Petite Mort. The seductive scent was unmistakable. He let his nose lead him out the French doors to the Olympic sized pool that overlooked the Hills.

"Your plane arrived early," Alex said to the bikini-clad female on the lounger. He came up behind her, rubbing her bare shoulders. She glanced up at him, wearing a pair of ridiculously oversized Gucci glasses. Gabrielle always managed to look very French.

"It did, darling. Does this upset you?" Her skin was burning to the touch. He looked down the perfect landscape of her body – a body that had made him millions. 

"Of course not. I just was expecting you later on."

"If you have other plans, I can entertain myself."

He crouched behind her, his hands continuing to slowly work her neck and upper shoulders. "Of course not. Let me call and cancel them."

"Ah, you remember your promise to me?" An arched brow rose over her glasses.

He leaned down. "To drop whatever I was doing for you? I'll never forget it." Alex would have liked to tell anyone interested that kissing a supermodel was like kissing your wife, or girlfriend. But it wasn't. He'd never felt lips so soft; never brushed against a tongue so wet. And despite all the women he'd been with, none of them made him gasp and think, "This is Gabrielle Dubois. This is the Gabrielle…" 

***

Trey was in the bedroom, packing when Alicia walked in. Damn it, she was early. He looked up when he heard the door, letting her know where he was when she called his name. When she walked in and paused in the doorway, his breath caught. He felt like he hadn't seen her in months. He'd practically forgotten how beautiful she was.

"You're home," she said simply. She tossed her long blond hair back over one shoulder. It was wavy; she'd been driving with the windows down.

"Yeah, packing for my trip." She saw the suitcase open on the bed for the first time.

"You're going somewhere?"

Trey sighed. He could see the hurt in her warm brown irises. "It's for work. I just found out about it today."

"But… the ballet… our night out."

It was their special anniversary. They'd been planning it for months. "I know. And we can reschedule…"

Her mouth tightened. He watched her jaw set as she grinded her teeth. "It's too late for a refund, Trey, the show's tomorrow! And… and… I can't believe this!"

"I'm sorry, honey…" He didn't know what else to say.

Alicia was fuming. She'd come into the room looking frisky, and now he was afraid she was going to slap him. "Don't go."

"Honey…"

"Don't 'honey' me, Trey. I don't want you to go."

"That's not an option. I have to for—"

"For some promotion?! You'd skip our day for some fucking promotion?!" Alicia had to be really steaming to use 'fuck' and right now, she looked like she was about to blow a gasket.

"I have to, Alicia. Please try and understand."

She turned, her high cheekbones and bright eyes looking fierce and defiant. She opened her mouth to say something, to protest, then stopped. She took a deep breath, let it out. She closed her eyes. She shook her head. He'd seen this before. She was regaining her composure.

"Alright," she said quietly. "OK, go if you have to. If it means that much to you, go." She shook her head again, still speaking to the doorframe rather than her husband. "But you're going to make it up to me."

Trey as already nodding his head, thinking just how much he'd need to be making up to her after this month was over, when she reached behind her and unbuttoned the clasp of her dress. "And you can start right now." The loose garment pooled fluidly around her heels and she threw her long, glossy hair back as she thrust her breasts outward. In profile, it looked magnificent.

He just stood there, stunned, a pair of boxer-briefs clutched forgotten in his hands. She turned to him and collected her apple-sized breasts between her long fingers and said, "You need to get more naked, honey. And I better not hear a word of protest." Her bare pussy was already damp and, like his cock, her clit was waiting at attention.

Trey barely had time to pull his shirt up over his head before she was upon him, shoving him back on the bed and practically mauling his face as they kissed.

Alicia's breasts felt warm and wonderful against his chest. It was something he'd marveled at when they first were together; something he'd started to take for granted. Whatever this girl did to keep her skin as baby-soft as it was, she'd kept it up through their marriage.

Together they fought to get him out of his pants. Alicia flipped his leather belt end-over-end into the dresser as he sat up on his elbows and shimmied out of his slacks and boxers. Foreplay wasn't necessary at this stage – it had been too long for both of them.

Alicia lifted herself over him and encircled his hard-on. "Where have you been, Trey?" she moaned as she rolled her hips, caressing his cock's underbelly with her swollen labia. Trey groaned; how could he leave this for his work? How could he let this happen?

His wife rubbed her clit with the crown of his cock, using him like a dildo as she prepared herself. "Trey, I love you, I love you."

She pulled him one last time across her silky skin, then set his rigid cap against her pussy and took him inside. "Ah…" they both gasped. His wife's familiar sex was more slippery than he'd remembered in months. He sank ball-deep in her with only two passes.

Trey opened his eyes at last, languidly stroking her model-perfect body with his eyes. Her tawny skin was already covered in a thin layer of sweat, from the caps of her tender breasts to her slim, flexing thighs. The full lips of her cunt stretched nearly obscenely around his girth, and while he hadn't always been a subscriber of the bald look, the clean lines of her sex made him a lifetime member now.

"God, you feel good, baby," she whispered huskily. She stretched her slender body over him, running her fingers through that luxurious hair. Trey stilled her bouncing tits, squeezing them gently at first, just the way she liked it. "Pinch them, Trey. Harder."

She had nipples that grew long and hard out of her small areola and he learned early in their relationship how sensitive they were. But pinching usually came later in the night, when she was close. "God, yes!" she whimpered as he squeezed the spongy buds. "Harder, baby! Fuck me harder!"

Trey grunted as he jerked up into her, meeting each powerful downward undulation. Their bodies rippled and panted. Alicia came suddenly, tossing her hair as she cried out. "NGH! AH!" She snapped her head and body back quick enough to pull her breasts from his hands, clutching her ankles as her orgasm ravished her.

Somehow, Trey didn't cum, despite all the swelling and ebbing sensations that swirled around his cock. Alicia's breathing was heavy at first, catching each time his erection shifted inside her, sending a mini-tremor through her body. Gradually, it evened out, although she remained bowed backwards over him.

"That was good, honey." Her voice cracked. She sighed heavily. "I needed that." She sat up on him, holding herself up with her outstretched arms on his shoulders. "I really, really needed that." She kissed him lazily, shifting her hips. They both gasped as his cock shifted with her.

Alicia pulled at his shoulder, signaling for him to roll over. She wanted him on top, and somehow, he managed to change positions without pulling out. "You sure you can't stay this weekend? At least for Friday. Maybe fly in Saturday morning?" 

"I can't." He began to pump his hips, easing his cock out of her until only the tip was buried in her wetness. "I told you, I can't."

"Ah!" she cried as he stroked back into her. His pelvis clashed with hers. He did it again. Why had Liz and C.L.O.A.K. been so unyielding on that point? It was almost like they knew the importance of tomorrow; like this was yet another test.

He pounded into his wife harder as his thoughts turned to anger. "AH! God, fuck me!" Alicia's voice became strained. She wrapped her long legs around his back, pulling him closer with each thrust.

Had she already been approached by her mysterious handler? Was she aware of how dangerous Mishin was?

"Fuck me! Fuck my brains out!" Alicia tossed her head left and right. Her blonde hair was fanned out across the pillow like a pin-up model. Her eyes were shut as she neared her second orgasm.

Maybe he could still call this all off, before she was sucked in. It wasn't too late, right? The doubt seeped in like poison. He held himself up on arms that burned.

"Cum, baby! I'm so close! Are you?"

"YES!" he shouted. He looked down at her beautiful face, tight and twisted as she came. Would they be able to get her out in time, or would another man one day pay to see her like this? To empty his balls into her smooth cunt?

"AHH!!!" His shout started loud and ended louder. It tore at the back of his throat. His passion was primordial. His orgasm, bestial. His sack smacked against her juice-slick ass, grew tight, and exploded.

"HA! HA!" Alicia hissed as he filled her velvet hole with his seed. She dug her fingernails into his shoulder blades and her heels into his back, clutching him so hard she actually lifted her lithe frame from the sheets. He pumped in and out, just once, throwing all his weight against her. His wife. His beloved.

They didn't speak for a long time after. They hadn't shared such an animalistic fuck since their honeymoon. Both were too hot to cover themselves. Trey thought about grabbing a cigarette then dismissed it.

"Wow," Alicia said at last, her voice scratchy.

"I'm… I don't know what got into me."

Alicia let out a throaty laugh. "Well, whatever it was, you should let it get into you more often."

"I love you, Alicia. I'm sorry about this weekend."

"I love you, too. And I wasn't kidding; you're going to make it up to me."

"I will. I promise. And… we always have the morning."

"Fuck the morning. We have tonight."

Next chapter: Going Out



Models and Super Spies Ch. 03



This is the third chapter of a 13-chapter novella. All has been written and will be released over the next month. For a greater appreciation of the story as a whole, I'd suggest reading the previous chapter. Many thanks to HallidayTee for helping me put this story together, and please make sure to vote!

Chapter 3: Going Out

"Here's your mission dossier." Liz reached into her carry-on and pulled out an orange folder. The captain had just announced cruising altitude and the two were settled back comfortably in first class.

"This is a mission?" He carefully opened the folder, seeing a picture of himself pasted to the upper left corner of a page. The rest outlined his address, what his job supposedly was, where he lived.

"Training mission, yes." Liz smiled and sipped her vodka tonic through the little stirring straw. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're a long way from ready for a real mission."

Trey looked down at the files, skimming through them quickly. "But... this is just my file," he said, a little confused. The address on there was his address. The job that was listed was "Accountant, Bank One." Not his real job, of course, but the one he'd been passing off since joining C.L.O.A.K.

"We didn't want to make it too much of a challenge," the petite redhead giggled. She'd transformed herself for this "mission." Gone was the business suit and severe bun. Her coppery orange hair was gathered back in a bouncing ponytail. It seemed to take years off her age. Not to mention her outfit, a much-more-casual pair of tight jeans, black tank top, and short khaki jacket.

"But you did miss a kind of important detail."

"What?"

She pointed at his name. 'Tom Geffen.' Not Trey Kennedy. "Details, Trey. They're important. Start learning to spot them."

Shit, how could he have missed that? After the photograph, it was the first thing on the dossier. "Anything else I'm missing?" he asked, humbled.

"Well, I'll summarize. You're not married and right now, you're dating me. We've been together for only one month, so we're still in that puppy-dog love, fucking-every-second stage of our relationship."

Trey's face instantly went red. He couldn't do that! "But I'm... married. And—"

"Not this weekend, you're not. This weekend, you and I are lovers." She held out her hand, palm up. "Which reminds me: your ring, please."

Trey's mouth opened and closed like a fish. He didn't know what to say. He suddenly looked at Liz in an entirely knew light. She was definitely a pretty girl, her freckles and pale skin diffusing some of her beauty, disguising it in an innocent cuteness.

She blinked her large grey eyes at him as though to emphasize that adorable quality of her. Then burst out into a hail of laughter. "On paper, Trey, on paper. It's the mission. We need to convince others that we're a couple, while not actually being a couple. When I'm sent into a mob boss's villa pretending to be the rich daughter of a real estate mogul, I'm not actually the rich daughter of a real estate mogul. Got it?"

Trey breathed a sigh of relief. "Who are we fooling, exactly? I mean, how are we going to know if we're successful..."

"Oh, that's the other part of this weekend that I need to brief you on. Tonight, we're staying with my younger sister, Kathy. She's sort of... your litmus test." Trey didn't understand. Liz went on. "We've been competitive since we learned how to crawl. With grades at first, and in sports. Later in boys... Whatever I have, she wants. You understand?" 

"I think so." Trey didn't want to come off as stupid, but he still wasn't getting it.


"When I show up with my new boyfriend, if she believes us, she's going to try and steal you from me."

"But... that's so wrong."

Liz smiled cutely and cocked her head to one side. "I guess you could see it that way. I just see it as a little friendly competition."

Trey blinked at the surveillance expert, trying to comprehend a relationship like that. He'd been pretty competitive with his brother, but when it came to relationships, they'd always respected one another. If his own sibling went after Alicia, he'd hardly see that as friendly.

"Anyway, she'll be picking us up at the airport, so we need to get our stories straight."

"Wait, wait... has this happened before?"

"You mean has she slept with one of my boyfriends?" Liz shrugged. "Yeah. When we were living closer, she probably slept with half of them." Trey just stared at her. "I kind of saw it as a compliment. Kath giving approval of them. And... it's not like I was always the victim."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this."

Liz seemed amused at her companion's perplexity. Her grey eyes seemed to dance with it. "Don't like what you see behind the curtains, Trey? If this bothers you, I'd suggest getting out before you see more."

The smile faded, along with the playfulness in her voice. It was replaced by a solemnity that threw Trey off at first. He'd worked with C.L.O.A.K. for close to four years; he'd read and reported on things that had shocked him, but he knew that he'd seen only a little of what really went on.

"Um..." Trey desperately wanted to change the subject. "So you've never been in a serious relationship, have you?"

"Define serious." The playfulness returned.

"You've never been in love."

She laughed. "Define love."

Trey rolled his eyes. Now she was just playing word games with him. "I wouldn't have to if you've ever experienced it. But one day, a guy will come along that you won't want your sister to sleep with. And then, you'll understand..." The line came off sounding cheesy, but he stuck by it.

They studied each other like two strange animals meeting in the wild. Neither could figure the other out. A flight attendant came around to take their drink orders, finally breaking up the stare down. Trey immersed himself in his fake-not-so-fake life as Liz stared out the little circular window, thinking about who-knows-what.

***

Alicia's morning "routine" in the shower didn't leave her satisfied. Since her photo shoot the day before, she felt like she had an itch she just couldn't scratch. Not last night's fucking session with Trey, nor the continuation this morning.

Part of it was frustration. That was for sure. Her husband was going away on business on the fifth anniversary of their first date. Of course, he couldn't know just how important the day was for Alicia. For her, today also marked the day she'd broken it off with Vince Silva for good.

The blonde would never forget that day. Until that moment, she'd been living her dream. She was young and beautiful, just breaking into the world of modeling, dating a successful older man. The future, which had been so frightening to her when she made the decision to drop out of school and move to LA, was suddenly so much brighter.

Then the bomb dropped. Vince was married! Not only that, but he had two kids. She suddenly went from the girl-in-love to the "other woman." She should have called it off the second she discovered it, but she was young and naïve. She actually believed that Vince loved her – that he planned on leaving his wife for her.

It was only when she spotted him with his kids, one Saturday afternoon at the movies, that she knew it would never work. She'd never felt so low. And then, out of the blue, Trey walked into her life.

Only now, it seemed like he was walking out again. Despite the carnality of last night, she'd never felt so distant from him. They should have been happy: he was in line for some promotion; she'd just been signed to a major agency. And yet neither of them seemed it. And now, he was gone.

Alicia turned over the crumpled business card, flipping it over and over in her long fingers. Her stomach felt light every time Vincent Silva's name came into focus. She should have thrown this thing away, but she hadn't. Truth was, she was curious. A lot could happen in five years. What had happened to Vince? Had he changed?

"Alicia?" his voice asked uncertainly after three long rings off her mobile. She'd planned on calling and hanging up, not counting on Caller ID to give her away.

"Um, hey Vince." She felt like she'd just stepped in front of an audience and forgotten her pants.

"You called!" his surprise made him sound even more pathetic. This really was a different man than the one she'd known five years before.

"I guess I did." She closed her eyes and suppressed her smile, even though he couldn't have seen it. Each line was followed by an awkward pause, as though both of them were unsure how to proceed.

"So what's up?"

"If I asked you out to dinner – as a friend – would you respect that?" Oh God, was she really doing this? She rushed on. "It's just that I have two tickets to the Baryshnikov tonight and Trey is out of town and I'd hate for them to go to waste." She had to pause to take a breath. 

"Yes, absolutely. I'd love to go."

"As a friend."

"Of course. That's all I want. I promise."

Alicia felt her heart thumping against the inside of her chest. "Um, ok, great. Pick me up at eight?"

***

Trey and Liz touched down in Honolulu around 3 o'clock local time and were greeted at baggage claim by the redhead's perky, younger sister. Like Liz, Kathy was petite and freckled, although where the surveillance specialist had shiny red hair, her sister's was dark brown, highlighted with textures of lighter browns, coppers, and blondes.

She also had larger breasts that practically overwhelmed her lime green halter-top. Trey had to force his eyes up to her face, where she smiled in that same, mischievous way as her sister.

"Lizzy! It's been too long!" The brunette nearly smothered her sister, giving her a bear hug that immediately sent some lewd thoughts through Trey's hyper-sexed mind. "And this must be Tom."

Trey almost corrected her when Liz cut in, "Keep your hands off this one, Kath. Tom's special!" 'Tom,' right. His cover name. Kathy's grey eyes glittered with playfulness – she didn't appear to have caught his slip.

"He certainly looks special, doesn't he, sis? You two already planning on making a bunch of red-haired babies?"

Liz shoved her sister and laughed. "You know that I'm saving myself for marriage," she said sarcastically.

Kathy hadn't taken her eyes from her sister's "boyfriend." "Don't worry, not everyone in the family's a prude."

Trey looked a little uncomfortable, glancing at Liz. "Come on, take us to your car before Tom decides to jump back on the plane and head home."

Kathy gave Trey a wink, then turned on her corked heels and led them to the parking garage. He looked at Liz, who smiled and winked, mouthing, "Doing good so far."

***

Kathy lived in a large beach house about three hours south of the city. Trey spent most of the trip staring out the window, watching Hawaii's coastline slide by. The sun sparkled across some of the bluest water he'd ever seen. It reminded him of his first days in the military, which in turn reminded him of what today was.

The sisters chattered in the front of Kathy's silver convertible. They hadn't seen one another in a couple months, ever since Kathy moved out here permanently. Apparently, the house was owned by their parents, who'd passed away when they were younger.

And from the looks of the "beach house," their parents had been pretty wealthy. The flagstone paved driveway circled around the bronze, inactive fountain of a mermaid sprawled out on some rocks. Terracotta tiled steps and a pair of etched glass doors marked the entrance of what Trey would consider an "estate" over a mere house, something he was used to seeing in Beverly Hills. Beach houses, to him, were small, shingled homes that dotted the coast of Cape Cod, not this winged extravagance.

"Why did I ever let you claim this place?" the redhead said as she hopped out of the convertible. 

"Because you're the stupider sister." The two short girls pushed and shoved one another like a couple of kids as they walked up to the front door.

"Come on, let's get your things inside, get dressed, and grab something to eat!" Trey's stomach grumbled. He couldn't agree more.

The interior of the home was airy and spacious, huge windows let in the sun and a view of a white sandy beach dotted with palm trees. Trey looked at Liz, raising his eyebrows to show how impressed he was. "Why did you let her take this place?" he mumbled.

She tapped him affectionately on the nose and smiled. "And give up my job? And leave you?" She giggled. "Come on, let me show you our room." He'd nearly forgotten about their ruse and he hadn't considered the lodging situation. Of course they'd be expected to sleep together.

***

Alicia's stomach fluttered when she heard the hard knock at her front door. She checked her reflection one last time. The cream-colored evening gown had been intended for her husband's eyes, but it wasn't so scandalous that she couldn't wear it anyway.

She spun around, looking at the way the silky material molded to her backside. "OK, so maybe a little scandalous," she giggled. From the front, the dress hung loosely from a high, haltered neck; but from behind, it swept low and backless, gathering loosely at her waist in an uneven – and quite short – hem.

She'd gathered in blond hair up into a fancy twist to give her bare back even more impact. When she turned quickly like that, the effect was even more dramatic. "Going to have to watch that," she said to herself as the side of a pert breast peaked out around the loose front.

Good thing she'd started drinking, she thought, placing her empty wine glass on the nightstand. She probably would have changed outfits a long time ago. Maybe called the whole thing off. 

The knock came again, just as firm. Too late to now. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, grabbed her purse, and headed for the door.

"Wow," Vincent said, standing open-mouthed in the doorway. Alicia blushed. She couldn't help it. She knew that she was a married woman, that this was just an outing with an old "friend," but she couldn't help feeling the first-date jitters. And looking at Vincent in his tuxedo brought back some powerful memories.

"Ready?" she asked, composing herself quickly. Watching her old boyfriend struggle to keep his eyes on her face was making the situation worse. She felt her nipples harden, positive that they were quite visible through the thin silk. He seemed to not hear her. She rolled her eyes playfully and shouldered past him. "Come on, let's get a move on."

Alicia felt his eyes follow her as she walked to the stairs, her heels echoing on the landing. She smiled a little, wondering what reaction her backless gown had on him, or the shortness of the hem? She felt warmth between her thighs. Get yourself under control, girl!

She decided to keep her mind on Trey, but no sooner had she thought about her husband than her anger began to boil. She'd planned the whole night out: dinner at LA Prime, the ballet, a room at the Hilton. They'd celebrated the "first date" night every year (although she'd never managed to tell him the real significance of the day), and this night, their fifth, was meant to be over the top. Only now, it seemed like Trey's career had gotten in the way...

"Something wrong?" Vincent asked as he drove them to dinner.

She laughed a little. Here she was, sitting in the car of a former lover – one Trey didn't even know about – going on what would be seen to anyone else as a date, and she'd found some way to blame that on Trey. She hated it when she saw other women do that and she hated herself for it now.

"No, just... I don't want you to get the wrong impression, Vince. Things are different. I love my husband—"

"You don't have to keep saying that. I know it. And I know I missed my chance. I'm just glad we can be friends."

She shook her head in disbelief, but left it at that. Was this really the same man? Was he really this genuine? She wanted to believe it, but...

"This is incredible, Alicia!" Vincent said as they walked into the rooftop restaurant. The view of downtown LA at dusk was breathtaking. Sure it was a mish-mash of office buildings in a sea of smog, but that didn't diminish the sunset.

Trey would have loved it.

That sad pall fell across her as they were seated. This time, Vincent didn't ask and she was grateful. Instead, they spent a good part of the meal catching up on the past five years. 

They danced around Vincent's divorce – and anything that brought up their painful history. He talked about the movie projects he'd been involved with. They talked about silly things like celebrity gossip and rumored Hollywood projects. She excitedly told him about Mishin Inc. – realizing for the first time that she hadn't had anyone to really gush to about the signing.

"It's like a dream-come-true! Alexander Mishin is like the golden boy of the modeling scene right now."

Vincent nodded. "I've heard the name. That's fantastic. I think that deserves another round of wine." She'd already had two glasses in addition to the ones she'd downed before he even showed up, but that didn't stop her from heartily agreeing. "So when's your next shoot?"

"I'm not sure about the next shoot, but I have a runway show Sunday."

When the wine came, he toasted her. "From the moment I saw you, I knew this day would come. Cheers, Alicia." He sounded sad, lost in his own nostalgia.

"How are things, Vince?" When she asked it, they both knew it wasn't just about his career. They'd left the silly questions behind.

"They could be better. Karen and I..." He shook his head. "It was over long before the ink was dry. But you know that."

She blushed at the first mention of their love affair that evening. "Are things... friendly?"

He laughed, although she could tell the wound was deep. "I wouldn't say friendly, but I can see the kids now. They're taking it better than I could hope."

It was weird, thinking about him with kids. For the majority of the time they'd been together, she never even knew about them. He didn't strike her as a "father."

"She's planning on moving to New York. Taking the kids with her."

Alicia nodded. She was beginning to understand why he suddenly showed up on her doorstep. Was Vincent Silva, playboy extraordinaire, feeling lonely? "And how do you feel about that?"

He shrugged. "I'm the one who screwed up, and she's a better parent than I. It just... sucks." He laughed at the word and Alicia had to smile at that. "I just wish things had turned out differently."

"You would have stayed with her?"

He looked up at her, his dark eyes filled with emotion. "Not with her..." Her stomach fluttered. They were quiet for a long time, although it wasn't exactly an uncomfortable moment. The check arrived and the blonde sighed. It was a shame to spoil such a wonderful dinner on that note.

Vincent paid it, despite her protests. He came around to her side and pulled her chair back like a gentlemen. As she stood, she brushed her hand along his chest and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Thanks for a wonderful evening." She didn't know why she did that, but it just felt like the right thing to do.

And as she stood, she felt the rush of alcohol run along her slender body. He held her eyes, staring down at her. It would have been the most natural thing in the world for him to put his arms on her hips, to bend down, and kiss her over one shoulder. But he didn't do that. He stepped away and let her by. "The evening has just begun. We have Baryshnikov's masterpiece yet."

***

"Just pretend you're on a date," Sarah Ellis reminded herself as she straightened up in the swanky bar's restroom. It had been Erin's advice to her earlier that day, when she tried to get out of it.

She locked the door and fumbled with her purse. She tried to ignore the fat envelope filled with money; the one her date – a hot-shot producer who went by the name of Carlos – had handed her as he slid into their booth. Half of that money was hers and in the morning, she'd take comfort in that. But right now, it was freaking her the fuck out!




Models and Super Spies Ch. 03



The 19-year-old quickly laid out a line of coke on the countertop, brushing her blonde hair back behind her ears before rolling up a twenty-dollar bill. Erin had also given her the white powder to help her get through the evening. She'd done it at a few parties with her model friends, but this was the first time she'd done it alone.

She didn't hesitate. All it took was the thought of the handsome stranger waiting in their booth and she eagerly snorted the line. She needed all the confidence she could muster – even the chemical kind.

Carlos had been pretty gah-gah over her. That helped. He kept talking about seeing her in Maxim and Victoria's Secret, and how he couldn't believe they were on a date. That was the kind of escort Erin provided – the kind that only a lot of money could buy.

Sarah shivered at the thought of being called an "escort." It was so against the good girl she'd been raised as – then again, she was a long way from her small town in Indiana. The thought of this man paying to have sex with her was more thrilling than she'd expected it to be.

Before exiting the bathroom, she quickly reached under her short skirt and pulled off her thong. She'd give him a little gift, a hint at things to come...

***

"To Hawai-EE!" Liz squealed as she threw back her fourth shot of tequila of the night. They'd gone straight from a light dinner (too light for this much drinking) to the clubs, and while she put on a front of having a blast – when tequila was involved, it was never much of a front – inwardly, she knew she was too old for this.

"How you doing?" she asked Trey, nudging him roughly with an elbow. He looked pretty rough. His pale face was sweaty, catching the blue and red laser lights of the disco floor in a very unflattering way. Then again, she could practically see two of him, so maybe it was her.

"I'm going to be a mess tomorrow!" he yelled, barely audible over the thumping bass.

"You'll survive. Come on, let's dance!" Kathy said, grabbing Trey's hand and yanking him out onto the dance floor. Where did that girl get all her energy? The redhead chuckled and turned to the bar, buying a bottle of water and putting it on her sister's tab.

Liz leaned heavily on the bar and regarded the crowd. She felt good. Swimmy, but good. Kathy was doing her thing, grinding her little body against Trey like a stripper on a dance pole.

He's not a bad looking guy, she thought. The water tasted heavenly. Redheaded guys didn't have the same mystique as redheaded women, but Trey seemed different. He was a nice guy, although not really in the dweeby way most analysts she knew were. There was a passion that was there, buried deep down. Probably what won him a girl like his wife. And ambition, too, although she figured he was just realizing it was there himself.

"And you're never gonna get into the field, my friend," she muttered, pushing herself off the bar. She didn't care what kind of deal he'd made with Vincent; analysts never made that transition. Not successfully, anyway. He was being played for his wife and Liz was helping that along. She didn't like it any more than she liked her boss.

Fresh air hit her as she pushed out the door into the Hawaii night. She could smell the hint of sea salt in her nostrils and breathed it in even harder. She loved it out here; it was one of the main reasons she'd insisted on locating the C.L.O.A.K. training facility so far from LA. It gave the agents a time to relax, to focus on what needed to be done without distractions.

Liz flipped open her phone. It was getting on two in the morning. The ballet would just be getting out. She hit speed dial and let it ring twice, then hung up. Thirty seconds later, her own phone rang.

"Looks like tomorrow will be rainy. Should I bring an umbrella?" she asked without a hello.

"I heard sunshine." Liz breathed a sigh of relief. "Sunshine." All was going according to plan.

"Are you secure?"

"Of course," the voice sounded impatient. "I wouldn't call otherwise."

"I'm sorry. I've had a little to drink." As if to prove her point to herself, she wobbled a little in her tall heels, steadying herself on the railing of the club's balcony. 

"Have you taken care of his phone?"

"Battery dead. Yes." She'd switched out Trey's completely charged phone battery with a drained one when he wasn't looking. "He won't be calling home tonight. You shouldn't be interrupted." She still hated herself for being party to this.

"Good."

"Has phase 2 begun yet?"

"Not yet. But soon. And you?"

"My sister can't seem to help herself. She's practically fucking him on the dance floor."

"And you think that will translate into the bedroom?"

Again, she felt disgusted. "I think so. I don't know. She's making a pretty tempting argument." Kathy's club wear consisted of one of the lowest-sitting jeans Liz had ever seen, coupled with a sequin-lined halter top that left her back and midriff tantalizingly bare. Trey couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Keep us posted. Check in tomorrow." The phone went dead with no further salutation. Liz flipped it shut, finished off the last of her water, and then reopened it.

***

Carlos did as he was told, practically tearing his clothes off as his "date" freshened up in the bathroom. Sarah had reserved a suite at the Hilton, a far cry from the cheap motel he'd been envisioning when he set this up last week.

His cock was rock solid as he thought about what was about to happen. He'd fucked a few B-list actresses in his time, but he was modest enough to admit that the model he'd just finished dinner with was out of his league. Then a friend of a friend introduced him to Erin Small and the madam had made his wildest dream come true.

This was the second "date" he'd gone on through; his first had been fantastic, the call-girl was classy and smart and did everything just right, but she'd been a call-girl. When Erin inquired if he was interested in something a bit more exclusive, he jumped at the chance.

Tonight had floored him. Sarah was incredible. In addition to being the blonde bombshell right off the glossy pages of her lad's magazines, she turned out to be an incredibly sweet girl. When they talked about her background, where she grew up, what brought her to LA, he found himself stuck to every word. She was the girl-next-door. She exceeded his wildest dreams.

"I see you can follow directions," Sarah said, interrupting his thoughts as she sashayed into the room. "I like that." She giggled at his open-mouthed reaction to her outfit: a bra and panty set of black lace that contrasted wickedly with her creamy skin. She spun, giving him a glimpse at the way the boy-shorts clung to the firm cheeks of her buttocks and the imprints of her gluteal dimples, low on her back.

This was the outfit she'd worn for her Maxim spread, from the lacy push-up bra to the open-toed stilettos. Even her belly piercing was the same: a string of colorless stones that matched those that dangled from her ears.

She posed for him in the doorframe, one arm raised above her, the other resting on her cocked hip. "Ready to fuck the Hometown Hottie?"

Carlos's mouth went dry. Was this really happening? And when was he going to wake up? He nodded quickly.

Her full, glossy lips curled up in a devilish smile. "Tell me, Carlos, have you masturbated to my pictures?" His heart skipped a beat. He nodded again. She seemed to unravel from her pose in the doorframe, like she was stepping out of a magazine, and slowly sauntered toward the bed. "Show me," she whispered huskily.

Carlos's hand automatically started to stroke his cock. He'd do anything to please this girl – no, this woman. She licked her lips as her eyes drifted down to his member. Good girl or not, this blonde wanted cock.

She crawled onto the bed. His eyes zeroed in on the deep crease formed between her tits. When he shifted back to her face, she looked amused. "Want to see them?" she asked as she edged in between his legs, bringing her just a foot from his jacking hand. "Want to fuck them?"

"Oh God..." he groaned, feeling his balls shiver.

The blonde inched forward. A bead of pre-cum formed on the tip of his cock. Sarah lapped it off. Carlos closed his eyes as he felt his orgasm rise. Her wet mouth descended over him, her swirling mouth quickly shoving him over the edge. She swallowed his cum like a pro, tugging at his balls to get it all out.

When he was spent, she pulled back, sitting on her shapely haunches, and wiped her mouth. "Delicious. I may be a good girl, but I've always loved that taste." If she kept talking like that, it wouldn't be long before he was ready to go again.

"I have a little present for you." She reached into the cup of her bra and drew out a tiny blue pill. "Actually, it's kind of a present for the both of us."

"Oh, that's not necessary," he said as she placed the Viagra tablet on her tongue. He'd never needed help to keep it up with a girl before, and there was no way in hell Sarah was going to be any kind of exception. But as she leaned forward and planted her mouth against his, he was forced to accept it.

"You have no idea what kind of night you're in for," she winked, leaning back once again. She reached behind her back, thrusting her chest forward as she popped the clasp. Her tits looked huge on her slim build, although whoever did them did a very good job.

Sarah pushed him back with her fingertips, then crawled up along his body. Her skin was smooth and warm where they touched. She dragged her breasts along him, letting her hard nipples scratch their slow path up. "I've been horny all night long. It's my turn for a little fun..."

She shimmied out of the lacy panties as she moved higher up his chest. He felt her silky wetness as it passed along his semi-erect member, making a damp trail across his stomach and chest.

"I like to both give and receive, remember?" she winked as she settled on his face, her lithe thighs clamping on either side of his head. It was a quote from her magazine interview, one that he'd read and re-read again and again. At the time, he fantasized about giving. Now it was actually happening! A thrill shot through his body as he bent his neck forward and ran his tongue across her clean-shaven pussy.

"Yes!" she cried, grinding her clit down onto his lips. He curled his arms under her thighs, groping at the taut swell of her ass. He felt her muscles flexing as she rode his face. Her moans gave his cock new life.

"Fuck, baby, so good!" She leaned backwards, resting one arm on the bed as the other circled his bouncing erection, still wet with her saliva. She jerked him in time with her hips, giving him the best handjob of his young life. "Ngh! Cumming!" 

Sarah crushed him between her thighs, drowning his mouth and nostrils in soft, quivering flesh. The blonde didn't wait for her body to recover from her orgasm. Still half delirious, she swiftly moved back down his body. His cock slipped easily into her snug sex.

"God, I love cock," she cried, kissing him on the lips. Her breasts felt full and warm as they pressed into him.

"Well, you have mine as long as the night lasts."

"Mmm..." she smiled, a lock of blonde hair falling across her face. "Don't worry, I plan on putting it to good use."

***

Trey's ears were ringing. It had been that way since they'd left the last and final club of the evening. He smelled like booze and cigarettes and sweat; the tinny music off the cab's radio sounded flat and far away.

He rocked his head back and looked out the back of the cab, upside down. The stars were so bright out here. The air so clean.

"Fuck, I'm drunk!" Liz said, rolling the windows down and shouting her proclamation to the Hawaiian night.

Her sister giggled on the other side of Trey. She'd been flirting with him all night. The fact that she was probably only doing it because she thought he was Liz's didn't really bother him. He was married, so this was only sightseeing, anyway. What did it matter if this particular sight was an attractive, freckled brunette that liked to rub her taut young ass against him as she danced?

When they pulled up to the palatial beach house, Liz slipped out first, throwing a bunch of bills into the front of the cab. As Trey moved to follow, he felt Kathy's hand on the inside of her thigh. She slid it up against his crotch, where he immediately began to stiffen.

She brought her lips right up against his ear and whispered, "You know, my sister's about to pass out. I've seen this before. I know you're able, but are you willing?" She nipped at his earlobe.

Color flooded Trey's face. He wriggled away from her, jumping out of the car and quickly adjusting himself. Liz gave him a little smile, seeing the action. Maybe she wasn't as drunk as she was claiming to be...

Kathy giggled behind him as he stumbled toward the door. He needed to get to bed. He suddenly felt very tired. This whole day had been too much. And to make matters worse, his phone had somehow run out of batteries. Alicia was going to kill him.

There was no getting ready for bed. They hadn't even unpacked and Trey was in no shape to go rooting through his stuff for a toothbrush. He followed his "girlfriend" into their bedroom, where she'd flopped down onto the bed and thrown off her heels.

"My feet are killing me!" She said, beginning to rub them. The redhead was wearing a pretty short skirt and tank top combo, and as she crossed her legs, the skirt rode up her thighs. Trey couldn't help himself, his eyes zeroing in on the shadow between her legs.

To snap himself out of it, he sat down beside her and took her foot into his hand. He used to do this with Alicia when they had gone out dancing – that felt like so long ago. 

Liz seemed hesitant at first. Guarded. She'd flirted and acted like his girlfriend all evening that the distance seemed strange now. At first, even insulting. "Come on, let me help."

He pulled her foot up into his lap and rolled his thumbs along her arches. She had such little feet, he thought, but then again, she was little herself.

"You have fun?" she asked, reluctantly letting him continue. She sat back on the bed, resting her unworked foot on the ground. Trey made sure to keep his eyes either on her foot, or on her face.

"Yeah. And I think we were pretty successful in convincing Kathy."

"Mm... yeah, maybe. She's a pretty big flirt. What did she say to you in the cab?" Trey related what it was and was surprised to see her jaw set. That wasn't jealousy, was it? Maybe this competition thing went both ways... "You want to fuck her? I won't tell anyone if you do. I'm sure she's out there, waiting."

Yeah, she was jealous! Trey blinked, unsure of what was going on. "No!" he whisper-shouted, worried that Kathy might be listening outside. "I didn't say that at all."

"Then do you want to fuck me?" Her smile was playful as she cocked an auburn brow. She shifted her foot forward, digging her toes into the seat of his pants. "Mm... who's that for? Kath? Or me?"

He pushed her off and stood so fast that all the blood rushed to his head. He nearly passed out. What kind of surreal world had he stepped into here?

He blinked, his vision widening from the funnel he'd been in. And she was there, standing right up against him. Staring up at him with those swimming grey eyes. And right now, they were swimming with lust.

"No one needs to know, Trey," she whispered, her parted lips hovering just under his. Her freckles were cute, offsetting that sultry mouth.

His mind warred. Go, stay, kiss, run! She smelled good. Some kind of spicy perfume. And her lips were moist. Kissable. Get out! Do it! Go! Like a roulette table, his thoughts spun and spun. Settling on... on...

Before he could slow his thoughts down, she reached behind his head and pulled his mouth against hers. Their tongues swarmed and devoured one another with a surprising, fresh passion he hadn't had in many, many years.

As quickly as the storm came, it was gone. Liz backed away and giggled. "You're a good kisser, my 'boyfriend.'"

She coyly turned her back on Trey. "There are some extra sheets in the closet. The sofa's pretty comfortable, supposedly." She waved her hand about, encompassing the off-white sleeper sofa under the window and the bank of closets next to the door. "Or," she said, looking over her shoulder at me, "we can share the bed, but I warn you, I sleep in the nude."

With that, she pulled her tank top over her head and tossed it to the floor. She hadn't worn a bra all night – something Trey had definitely noticed – and now, he could see the pale slopes of those wonderfully full breasts on either side of her slender torso. The little wrap skirt went next, leaving her naked but for her g-string. He managed to look away before she doffed that article, too.

Women, he muttered. First his wife acting crazy the night before, then these two sisters. He groped around for a sheet to cover him and threw himself onto the sofa. It was lumpy and smelled a little of mildew, but it would do. There was no way he was crawling into that bed. Now, if sleep would only come quicker...

***

"What are you doing, girl?" Alicia asked as waited for Vincent to return from the bathroom. They'd moved from the ballet to a swanky lounge named Pop, just a few blocks from her apartment complex. She'd passed it nearly every day and had never been in. When Vincent suggested they check it out, it seemed like a great idea at the time.

Two cosmos into the evening and she had to admit that she hadn't had this much fun in a while. She had a few friends in LA, but she spent most of the time with her husband and they'd stopped going out for drinks years ago.

Also, true to his word, Vincent didn't try anything inappropriate with her. Not that he really had to. Just being around him sent her back to her first few months in LA. Like then, it felt like everything had a fresh coating of gloss on it.

The ballet had been even more magical than she'd read in the reviews. As they left, it was strange to talk to a man who shared her love for Baryshnikov. Trey was a wonderful man and had been patient enough to take her to the ballet in the past, but it was for her. She'd forgotten that Vincent actually enjoyed it.

She checked her phone as she waited for him. 12:30 and no message from Trey. On their night. It must have been late in Hawaii. Had he forgotten to call? Or was he still out?

A sharp jolt of jealousy tingled through her. Her husband wasn't capable of having an affair, right? And how did that tickle of doubt get there? She'd never had it before. Maybe it was her own guilt...

Alicia glanced again at the restrooms. Where was Vincent? Left alone, reason began to creep into her. She shouldn't have accepted his invitation for drinks. She should have ended the evening on a high note. Now... now, she didn't trust herself.

She glanced at the bartender. He was busy shaking up someone else's drink. She could just leave some cash on the counter. She could do that really quickly and get out of there...

"Sorry that took so long. Got a call on my way there," Vincent said, returning.

Alicia sighed. Too late.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Trey hasn't called yet is all. And... tonight was supposed to be special."

"I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation. Maybe his phone ran out of batteries. Did he pack a charger?"

Alicia laughed, her mood lightened by this strange new Vincent. "You really are different, you know that?"

"A nasty divorce'll do that to you." It was good that he could joke about it.

"So what happened?" It was a question she wouldn't have been comfortable asking earlier in the night. Even now, she couldn't believe it came out of her mouth, but there it was.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 03



Vincent shrugged. "You?"

Alicia stared at him, a little confused, but not enough that her pulse didn't quicken. Had she misheard?

"Jesus, I'm drunk. I shouldn't have said that." He ran his hand across his scalp. He looked good with his hair cut short like that. More distinguished, somehow. "I swear I'm not coming on to you, it's just that... I was never the same after we broke up. When you were gone, I realized what I'd lost."

She felt weak in the knees. Was she swooning? She thought she was one of those women that didn't do that kind of thing... Still, she liked hearing it. "Go on," she said flirtatiously. Warning bells were going off in her head, but she ignored them.

"You're the complete package. Not only are you drop-dead gorgeous, but you're smart and funny. You love to do things like go the museums and the ballet, and... I think I realized I was falling in love with you."

Wow. Bombshell. She had to catch herself on the bar top. Now she was swooning. "Um... I..."

"Don't know what to say?" he finished for her. "Don't say anything. It's in the past."

She tossed back her Cosmo once she had confidence that she could stand on her own. "Another, miss?" the bartender asked. Of course he'd show up now, Alicia thought.

"No thanks. I think I've had one too many."

Vincent nodded at him. "I'll pay my tab now." The bartender nodded and retreated. "I guess that's why I had to see you. I had to get that off my chest."

"Feel better?" she asked, still feeling shell-shocked.

He laughed. "I do, actually. It's a lot to get off my chest." He looked down at her, reaching out to rub her bare arms. Her skin shivered as goose bumps formed at his touch. "Don't worry, you're married. I know. I'm not going to—"

Alicia surprised them both by leaning forward and kissing him hard on the lips. Even with her height and her heels, she had to pull him down into her. It was a thrilling feeling. Their mouths opened to one another, their tongues danced. Even after five years, he felt familiar.

"What was that for?" he asked when she stepped away. He was breathless; her chest was heaving.

"For the past," she said coyly. "Thanks for this evening, Vince... It was good seeing you." She nodded, unable to help herself from smiling.

"Can I drive you home?"

"You better not. I can walk from here." She picked up her purse and turned to the door. "See you around."

She felt giddy as she stepped out in the warm summer night. She looked over her shoulder in time to see Vincent wave at her through the window. She took a long, deep breathe, feeling the goose bumps form on her arms once again.

Her phone chirped, half way to her apartment. It was from Trey. "I love you; sorry again for not being there tonight."

A wave of love and nostalgia for her husband overtook her. She loved him so much, she wished he was there, but she knew that things were different now. They'd been changing for a little while. She slipped her phone back into her purse without replying. In the morning... in the morning...

***

Trey couldn't sleep. He was too drunk and the couch at Kathy's was too stiff. The bright moon in the cloudless night sky didn't help, either. He'd checked on Liz. Her breathing had been slow and steady, her face serene. The woman was beautiful.

He'd fuzzily made his way outside, grabbing his recharged cell phone on the way out. It was beautiful here, he thought again, the fresh air on his face helping him get over his initial nausea. Alicia would love it here. He imagined the two of them sitting on these steps, looking out at the ocean as it swallowed the stars. Here, they could work things out.

He picked up his phone and sent her a text. She was most likely sleeping. Hopefully she wasn't pissed. Hopefully his text helped a little.

"Can't sleep?" a woman's voice asked behind him as he finished sending the text.

"Not inside," he replied, turning around to see Kathy standing over him. Unlike him, she'd changed into her sleep attire: pink, skin-tight boy-shorts and a matching camisole top that barely contained her large tits. "You?"

The brunette took a seat next to him, shaking her head. "I can't sleep when I'm horny." His gaze, which had been centered on her full, freckled cleavage, shot up to look her in the eyes. They were the same eyes as her sister's: gray and playful. 

"Um... so how long have you been living here?" he asked awkwardly, ignoring her dancing eyes, or the way her fingers traced the delicate strap of her top.

She shook her head and looked out at the ocean. She kept smiling.

"What?" he asked. He studied her a moment longer. She was just as pretty as her sister; younger, now that he really looked at her, but she also had that cute-sexy thing down.

"Nothing. Just... I had a lot of fun tonight." Whatever it was that she was going to say, that wasn't it.

"I had fun, too."

"So who are you texting?"

"My brother," without a moment's hesitation.

Kathy cocked her head to one said, her highlighted dark hair sweeping across one shoulder. "If you're cheating on my sister, I'll tear your balls off."

Trey's mouth fell open. That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. She giggled. "I'm just playing with you. You know, you seem different than the guys she normally dates."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

Kathy shrugged. "I don't know. You seem less... impulsive. Like you think more or something. About stuff." He sighed. She was right. It was one of the reasons he wasn't out in the field. He had the mind of an analyst. That would have to change if he was going to make it.

He looked up, catching a twinkle in her grey eyes as she leaned in. Her kiss took him completely by surprise. He opened his mouth in protest; her tongue flooded in. Her kiss was much more aggressive than her sister's, much more impetuous.

He felt a hand between his legs. Reason begged him to stop, but his cock had been tortured enough that night. The dancing. The kisses. The teasing. Kathy broke the kiss and smiled. "What's this we've got here?"

"We shouldn't..."

"No, we should. Don't think, Tom. Kathy's going to teach you about being impulsive..." She gave the front of his pants another squeeze and kissed him again. His body put up little resistance.

The swelling waves almost covered the rasp as she lowered his zipper. Almost. "No, no, no," he mumbled, pulling away from her full lips in protest. She didn't say a word; just smiled and sank down between his legs, resting on her knees a few steps down.

She fished his cock out of his fly. It flexed in her hand. She looked up at him, stared him in the eyes, and swallowed it halfway into her mouth. "Nooo..." he groaned, not really meaning it. Her mouth was small and unfamiliar. It was wet and tight and erotically so different than Alicia. His wife. "Oh, stop, stop!" he cried, feeling his balls tingle.

Unbelievably, she did, pulling her sensual mouth away with a pop. She slid up along his body, whispering, "Come on, baby. No one has to know." She peppered him with little kisses as she tempted him. "We're all alone out here. You're hot, I'm hot. We're both horny..." She pushed her tongue back into his mouth and found his slick cock with her fingers.

"Just... stop... thinking." She whipped the tight cami over her head, leaning back enough to give him a good look at her naked chest. Her breasts were full and juicy, the freckles gathering in the valley and leaving the rest of her pale flesh unblemished.

She smirked at his slack-jawed reaction and sank back down to his cock. All he could do was lay back on the stairs and watch her dark tresses bounce enthusiastically in his lap. But it wasn't right. It didn't look right at all.

He reached down, meaning to push her away. Her freckled skin was so soft – so hot to the touch. She misinterpreted his signal, slurping off his cock with a smile. Her fingers made quick work of his belt, yanking his pants open and down his thighs.

"Yes," she hissed. "I knew you'd come around." Her tight body crawled back up him, her back arching forward to let his shaft drag through her cleavage. She swallowed his groan in another hard kiss.

Without letting up, she nearly tore his shirt open, rubbing her supple tits against his bare skin. They felt so wonderful, so full and soft. He pushed her off him; this needed to stop.

Athletically, she used the momentum to twist them around. He ended on top of her. She laughed as she pulled his head down into her chest, shoving his pants down his legs with her heels.

Feeling a nipple invade his mouth, he clamped down on it, suckling it. Biting it. This girl was insatiable. She moaned loudly as he brutalized that hard, spongy nub. "Yes, yes, bite them! Fuck!"

She shifted under him, shimmying out of her boy-shorts. Suddenly, his naked cock was rubbing directly against her velvety smooth cunt. She rolled her hips, stroking him with her slick furrow. "Put it in me, Tommy. Fuck me!"

The tip of his cock sank into her and she groaned. It was like sinking into liquid sunshine. She felt good. Really good. Too good.

He rocked forward, sinking deeper into moaning girl. Her heels found purchase on his buttocks, pulling him down into her. "Jesus, Tommy. You're bigger than you look!" she whispered in his ear.

He looked up the stairs, catching their reflection in the panes of glass of the French doors. The woman beneath him wasn't his wife and he could no longer pretend that she was. Her breasts rose full and firm off her chest as her dark hair broke across her pale shoulders. He was about to fuck another woman! About to cheat! Alicia—

"No!" he cried. He pulled himself away from her clutching limbs, her sexual, naked body. He almost succumbed again as his eyes raked down her nudity. The brunette had a bikini-bottom tan-line of even paler skin, barely large enough to cover her hairless mound. The swollen folds of her sex had blossomed where his cock had touched and teased. All he'd have to do it kneel back down and he could be ball-deep in her.

"No," he repeated, more for himself than for her. He reached for his pants, but she kicked them away.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?!" she snapped. "You need to finish what you started!"

"I'm sorry... this shouldn't have happened. A mistake... a mistake..." He stepped away, licking his lips like a wild animal. Kathy was blocking his path back into the house.

She spread her legs wider, clutching her large tits in her tiny hands. "You didn't think it was a mistake when I was sucking on your cock! You didn't complain when you chewed on my tits." 

He grabbed his clothes, but didn't bother putting them on. He had to get out of there now, before things got really ugly.

Kathy threw her head back and groaned in frustration. As he passed her – careful not to actually look at her – she said, "I'll be in my room if you change your mind. Just follow the sound of my vibrator if you can't find it."

Trey swallowed, feeling his cock twitch, and then pushed back into the silent house.

Next Chapter: Gabrielle Dubois



Models and Super Spies Ch. 04



This is the fourth chapter of a 13-chapter novella. All has been written and will be released over the next month. For a greater appreciation of the story as a whole, I'd suggest reading the previous chapter. Many thanks to HallidayTee for helping me put this story together, and please make sure to vote!

Models and Super Spies

Chapter 4: Gabrielle Dubois

"Rise and shine, Tommy dear."

When Trey opened his eyes, he had two questions: where was he, and why was the sun so bright? "Alicia?" he asked. The brightness was translating itself into pain in a very efficient manner.

"Not today. Get up, Trey. We need to get on the road."

The hues of orange and yellow resolved themselves into a smiling Liz. Her red hair was wet and she smelled fresh. "You have time for a shower if you want, but we need to be out of here in 30."

He vaguely remembered last night. His mouth tasted foul, vaguely of tequila, mostly of morning breath. His body felt even worse, although a shower would help.

"What time is it?"

"One o'clock. Which means you've gotta move!"

In the shower, memories of what he'd done began to return to him like partiers straggling in after a long evening. The dancing. The kisses. Liz's sister's mouth as it slid along his girth. 

He emerged from the bathroom, more tattered than he'd gone in. He felt sick to his stomach, and when a chipper Kathy offered coffee, he nearly lost it.

She was still in her night clothes – a delicious little pair of boy-shorts and a cami top that had tempted him the night before – and was sitting on the couch with her long legs pulled up against her full chest.

"I can't believe you watch this reality garbage," Liz told her little sister as she fixed herself a cup of coffee. Trey shook his head when she held the pot in his direction.

"This is quality TV!" the younger brunette argued. Trey rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on what they were watching. The couch looked so tempting, if it weren't for Kathy's tight little body. "It's so much better than America's Next Top Model…"

"It's the same thing, only with a French model instead of an American one!"

Kathy ignored her sister, thrusting her nose in the air as she went back to the 50-inch plasma.

Apparently there was a marathon of the last season of Supermodel. Alicia watched it on occasion, so inevitably Trey had caught a few episodes. It really was a bit smarter than Tyra Banks' show, although only because Gabrielle Dubois was less of a diva than her counterpart. Otherwise, it was your standard reality show: 12 girls picked at the beginning; each week one is eliminated after a couple challenges that involved some silly bit of modeling; a lot of camera time devoted to the inter-personal relationships between the girls.

The famous French model was the host and one of the judges, although she was pretty hands-off other than introducing each episode and wrapping it up.

As Trey leaned against the island counter in the sisters' sun-filled Hawaiian beach house, watching reality television off a screen that wouldn't fit inside his living room, the surrealism of the moment struck him like a flash of lightning. What was he doing here? Was this really what he wanted? Was this the life of a spy?

Kathy did a good job pretending that nothing had happened the night before, although he'd catch her grey eyes sweep down between his legs when she thought he wasn't looking.

Thankfully, Liz moved things along, getting them out of there before the episode of Supermodel had run its course. "I had fun," Kathy whispered as she hugged him, making sure to push her full breasts against him. Despite his guilt, he couldn't help it when his cock stirred to life. Leaning close enough that her sister couldn't hear, she added, "Next time, I won't let you get away."

As they drove out, Liz asked, "What did she say?" Trey just shook his head, feeling his face fill with color.

On the road in one of Kathy's spare cars – a new Mustang convertible with the top down – Trey finally began to feel like his former self. "I don't think I'm cut out for this work," he said after a long period of silence. The redhead turned to him, her expression blank behind her over-sized sunglasses. 

"What, my sister didn't try to jump your bones when you went outside last night?" Busted. Trey felt his stomach drop out. She knew… "Yeah, I saw. Hope you had fun last night." Was that sarcasm? Was that jealousy?

"N—nothing happened."

She barked a laugh. "If getting your cock sucked then sticking it into her is nothing, I'd love to hear what you think is something." Now she was teasing him.

"We didn't fuck…" was his only weak defence.

Liz shrugged. "Point is, she fell for our ruse. You passed, 'Tommy Geffin.'"

Trey sighed. "I guess that's the point. I don't think I'm cut out for this…" Could his wife ever forgive him for what he'd done? Would he ever be able to tell her? Just the thought brought a blush so hard to his face it felt like he'd dunked it in boiling water.

Liz watched him out of the corner of her eyes as she drove, finally saying, "You made your choice before we got on that plane. There's no turning back now." 

Eventually, both receded back into their private thoughts.

***

It was well into the afternoon and Alicia still hadn't talked to her husband, other than that quick text the night before. He hadn't called her and she hadn't worked up the nerve to call him back. Her thoughts were a maelstrom of confusion, and she was still trying to resolve what was at the center: Alex or Vincent, Trey… herself?

She spent most of the day running chores and working out. An hour in the tanning booth, three at the gym, another half hour swimming. Anything but doing nothing.

Her phone rang at around 4 and for a moment, she froze up. Was it Alex? Could she have that conversation?

The number was blocked. "Hello?"

"Ah, so good to hear you again." Alexander Mishin's smooth, lightly accented voice greeted her on the other line.

"Alex!"

"Expecting someone else?"

"No, not really. How can I help you?"

"Well, my dear, actually, we can help each other. You see, I have a certain visitor in town that would love to meet you. Gabrielle and I are going to the Green Fairy Lounge tonight, say around 11:30…"

"Who?" Things were coming too fast. This conversation felt like she was having it in a dream.

Alex laughed, half-covering his mouth piece as he said, "She asked who you are, honey. Here, you give it a try."

There was some fumbling and a new voice came on. A female voice, heavy with a French accent. "Alicia, oui? Alex has talked so much about you. I am only in town for the night, but I would love for you to join us."

Okay, now she knew who "Gabrielle" was. There was no mistaking the voice of Supermodel. It was unmistakable.

"Um… sure!" Alicia said, hesitantly excited. She couldn't very well say no to the woman she's looked up to for the past couple of years. Gabrielle's astonishing success was what all models aspired to. There was nothing sleazy about it, no spreads in Maxim or even Victoria's Secret. The woman was a classic star, the likes of which the fashion world hadn't seen in a while.

"Magnifique. Alex will have a car sent tonight!"

She'd never heard of the Green Fairy Lounge, but anywhere that Alexander Mishin and Gabrielle Dubois were going to hang out at must be both exclusive and discreet. "What should I wear?"

"You are a sexy woman, Alicia." The woman pronounced her name "Alisia." The blonde liked it. "So dress in something sexy. I look forward to meeting you in person!"

Alex came back on and gave her some directions on what the car would look like and how to get into the club. She half-listened, glancing at herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror that reflected back at her. She was still in her tight work out clothes, sweaty and exhausted. Her mind was already racing through her wardrobe. Nothing would do. She'd have to go out shopping once again. 

"I'll see you tonight."

***

The training facility was actually located on an island a few miles off the coast. Liz garaged the Mustang in the boathouse and they climbed into a speedboat for the last leg of the journey. It was nearing dark when they finally arrived.

"I thought it was just you and me?" Trey asked. A single light illuminated the otherwise dark set of low buildings, as though accidentally left on. Another boat was moored to the dock as they tied up.

"Me too," Liz said, producing a sidearm from God-knows-where. "Follow closely, but stay quiet."

She moved with deadly efficiency, quick and soundless. Was this the same woman who'd been falling down drunk just the night before? They crouch-ran along the path leading up to the side building, where the light was coming from. They went in through the back, only the muffled click of the lock ringing out as they infiltrated in.

 Trey tried to keep up, but for him, moving silently was a bit more difficult. Once they were inside, the redhead held her fingers to her lips and signaled for him to stay there. Without waiting for a confirmation, she slipped around the corner.

The thirty seconds that passed felt like hours. Trey's heart thumped loudly in his ears and his heart reacted to every little sound. He kept waiting for gunshots, or the sounds of struggle. He was psyching himself up to run in there when Liz shouted out, not in pain or fear, but annoyance.

"Jesus Christ, Vincent! I nearly fucking shot you!"

Trey waited a moment longer, still confused, when Liz called him in. As his nerves began to settle, his surroundings began to sink in. They were in what must have been the living quarters of the place, judging from the way it was decorated. The room that he entered was an office, with a wide window that looked out over the ocean. The sun was a sliver of orange on the dark horizon.

Sitting in a high-backed chair behind the desk was Vincent Silva, dressed garishly in a pair of khaki shorts and a bright Hawaiian shirt. "Good to see you, too, partner."

"Don't," she stopped him. "I assume you two have met?"

"Trey," Vincent nodded. "How is this little one treating you? Hope she's not being easy on you just because you're new."

Trey shook his head. "I can assure you, she hasn't."

After the last 24 surreal hours, it was almost comforting to see Vincent's familiar face. Like picking an old friend out of a crowd of strangers. Yet, Vincent wasn't his friend. He realized that as soon as he asked about his wife.

The man nodded, although gone were the friendly formalities. He tapped a red dossier on his desk. "Funny you should ask. Something's come up…" He paused for dramatic effect, looking from Liz to Trey. "It's top secret. Only a few people know what's in it. This is the real deal, not some training mission."

Liz, who'd taken a precarious seat on the edge of her chair, objected. "I don't think Trey's ready for—"

"It's an easy one," Vincent said, cutting her off. "Honestly, he can't screw it up, and if he does, well… you'll be there to bail him out." As he took a seat behind the desk, Trey watched as Liz's mouth tightened. She seemed to hold her tongue, though, sitting down across the desk in what would be a visitor's chair. "Besides, this could possibly be an alternative to using his wife in the field. How's that for motivation?"

His smile at Trey didn't touch his eyes. That was a detail the analyst-turned-agent didn't miss.

The pictures on the very orderly desk were of family members and what must have been friends. One of those pictures was of Kathy. Suddenly, Vincent's position behind what must have been Liz's desk took on a new meaning.

"So what is this easy assignment?" The sassy girl didn't even attempt to conceal her annoyance.

Vincent flipped open the folder and drew out a profile, much like the one Trey had seen on himself. He also reached for a remote and clipped on the monitor against the wall. The wood Venetian blinds closed automatically, locking out the night and any prying eyes.

The picture on the monitor matched that on the file in front of them. Liz took the papers into her hand, pouring over them as Vincent gave his brief.

"This is Erin Small," he began, referring to a snapshot of an attractive female wearing a pair of dark, designer sunglasses as she stepped out of a café. The trendy cut of her strawberry blonde hair and the tailored look of her suit suggested that this 35-year-old was successful – or at least wealthy.

"She was a supermodel in her younger years—"

"35's not young anymore?" Liz interrupted.

"Relax, Ms. Agitated. No, in the modeling world, 35 is not young. Anyway, she now runs some of the most trendy clubs in LA. Turns out, the former model had a real knack for business… of all kinds. Ms. Small also madams the most elite escort service on the West Coast." The next slide depicted the slender woman in a group of very attractive young women. "If you've got money and, more importantly, connections, she's the woman to talk to."

"What, we're going after a prostitution ring?" Liz asked, a bit incredulously. "I thought we were here to fight arms dealing and other matters of national security." Trey barely heard it. He was thinking of his wife, of Mishin Inc.

"I'm getting there," Vincent said, handling her more patiently than she handled him. The next slide was another distance shot of Erin Small, this time having lunch with a pale blonde that looked somewhat familiar. "We've been watching her for a few months now on a tip that she has some connection with Alexander Mishin. Just last week, we had our confirmation. This was taken three days ago. The other female in the picture is Sarah Ellis, currently under contract with Mishin Inc. The man is Mishin, of course."

That confirmed it. Trey shivered as he thought of his wife getting mixed up with that man.

"And you think Sarah Ellis's working double duty for Erin Small?"

"Not quite. We think Erin Small is working for Mishin. The circumstantial evidence supports it, but we need hard proof for the connection."

"And that's where we come in?" Trey asked, finding a voice at last.

Vincent nodded. The next still was a shot of the young model, Sarah Ellis, presumably shopping along Rodeo Drive. "We can't confirm how many of Mishin's models have been recruited for Ms. Small, but we know that at least Ms. Ellis is among them."

"She's our mission objective?"

Vincent hesitated. "Well, yes and no. A stranger can't just walk up to Ms. Small and order up a Maxim model to fuck. It's too obvious. No, you need to prove yourself as a wealthy couple looking for fun, whatever the cost. Once you get your 'in,' the next step is Sarah."

"I don't get it…" Trey said. Was Vincent implying—

"It's easy. You go out with a regular call girl first, then you can get to Sarah."

Trey's jaw dropped. "I can't—"

Vincent waved his protests away. "Relax. We have a plant inside. She hasn't been able to get us any good information, but at least she can keep your wedding vows intact." He could swear he detected a bit of sarcasm in his voice. "Just ask for a blonde by the name of Kelly."

"And me?" Liz asked.

"You'll monitor from the next room."

Her lips tightened. "Vincent, you can't really think that he's ready? He's not even had a week of training and—"

"I'm ready," Trey said bluntly. Anything he could do to get his wife out of there would be worth it. Even…

Vincent smiled happily at Trey's response. "Liz, I know your reservations, but believe me, this is something guys were borne to do. And he won't have to do anything but some idyll chit-chat with a pretty young woman. How hard could that be?"

"I still don't think it's a good idea."

"Well, we could have someone sent to your room if you want a little action. Kelly swings both ways, I think."

Liz rolled her eyes. "So once we establish that Trey's a good, honest paying customer, then what?"

"Then you'll get your next set of instructions."

Trey could feel the battle of wills between these two. For a moment, he thought that Liz was going to explode. But then it passed and she pushed back in her chair. "Let me show Trey around the grounds. There's still a little time for exercises before dinner."

Trey groaned. She was in a mood, and he had a feeling that her "exercises" weren't going to be a few jumping jacks and push ups.

***

The black Lincoln with its dark tinted windows pulled up in front of her apartment building. Alicia laughed a little at her own nervousness, like she was in some spy movie or something. She imagined herself the victim in some intricate web of intrigue and espionage.

"Don't be so blonde," she said aloud, rolling her eyes as she slipped into the cab of the car. The driver wore a little black cap and dark suit. He gave her a curt smile and pulled out into traffic.

The Green Fairy Lounge was in a much seedier part of town than she'd expected. It was unmarked, nothing more than a door squeezed in between a couple of office buildings. Not even a bouncer. "You sure this is it?"

"I dropped them off here earlier," the driver responded, shrugging. "They went in."

She got out of the car and glanced up and down the street. There was very little activity happening under the lamp lights, and what was happening just outside, she didn't care to think much about. The cars that rolled slowly up and down the cracked pavement were large and old, a few cabs mixed in.

"Well, this is an adventure," she laughed to herself, once again fantasizing about that "spy movie" she was starring in. I wonder if there's some kind of password to get in.

No password. Just a firm tug at the grimy looking door. A placard next to it read simply:

Welcome to the

Green Fairy Lounge

Dress code enforced

Immediately inside was a curtained-off reception area where a bored looking woman sat in a booth. She looked up when Alicia came in, giving the young model a once over. "$100 please."

"Excuse me?"

"Cover's $100."

"Um… I'm Alicia Kennedy? I think I'm expected." The girl just stared at her blankly. "Um… Alexander Mishin's friend?"

Now a reaction. A slow nod, followed by a playful little smile. "Ah, his friend… Of course, go right on in." Alicia didn't like the way she snickered. She very nearly turned around and left. But then, what kind of woman of mystery would she be?

The curtains were heavy, dark red velvet. The kind that sound died on. Still, as she pushed between them, she was surprised at the loud crash of conversation that assaulted her.

She didn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this low-ceilinged, smoke-filled dive bar. Was the dress code bit a joke? No, she answered her own question, looking around and seeing everything dressed to the nines. Everywhere she looked, she saw designer clothing: Prada, Gucci, Louis Vutton (the real stuff, not the knock-offs). Her dress had set her back $300 and she felt like she might as well walked into the room wearing her sweats.

"Are you Alicia?" a beautiful, older woman with strawberry blonde hair asked as she gawked like a tourist fresh off the bus.

"Yes?"

The woman nodded. "I'm Erin Small. Welcome to the Green Fairy. Please, follow me. Alex has been expecting you."

The lounge was long and narrow, filled with nooks and alcoves armed with booths and curtains – many of which were closed. And everyone, it seemed, had a glass of milky green liquid in front of them, served in clear latte cups. 

Alicia almost asked, then decided that doing so was uncool. She'd never felt so fish-out-of-water than now. Nothing in high school had prepared her for this level of high society snootery. 




Models and Super Spies Ch. 04



She was led to a set of narrow stairs, illuminated by a set of gas lamps. The effect of the exposed brick made Alicia feel like she was spelunking into the depths of some cave, rather than descending into the most exclusive section of the club. No bouncer was present, but she got the feeling that security wasn't too far away. At the bottom was a narrow, beaded archway. She could hear laughter on the other side. A woman's laughter.

"They're right in there. Have fun!" The woman's knowing smile mirrored the front desk girl's. Alicia shivered.

Alicia crept forward nervously. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and ignored the frenetic tingling that sizzled along her skin. The beads clattered as she stepped into the small round room.

"There she is!" Alex said in his light Russian accent, more English prep-school than Soviet bloc. "And what a stunning dress! Give us a spin."

The handsome man was relaxed in the high-backed booth, his legs crossed, a glass of that green liquid balanced on his knee. God, he was a beautiful man. Next to him was an even more beautiful woman. Gabrielle Dubois. The Gabrielle Dubois.

She twirled in her heels as she was instructed, feeling the cool air sneak up between her legs. She'd purchased a bright red cocktail dress, shorter and tighter than what she normally wore, but nothing her body couldn't handle. She was in the mood for red, and the little halter dress jumped out at her.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Gabrielle said in a thick French accent. "You are even more stunning that the proofs Alex has shared." The supermodel sat demurely on the couch next to Alex. Her silver dress was even tinier than her own, so short that if she ever uncrossed her legs, Alicia would know exactly what color panties she'd slipped into.

The thought made her blush. When she looked up and saw that little smile on Gabrielle's perfect face, she blushed even more. The woman's haunting blue eyes were playful.

Alicia had never really thought about other women like that, beyond a casual curiosity. She'd been immersed in the modeling world for years, so of course there had been plenty of opportunities. 

But now, she found herself reacting to the way this woman was devouring her with her eyes.

"You saw my proofs? With Daniel?"

"Mmm, Daniel… isn't he a… pleasure to work with." She was smoking a cigarette through a long, black filter. With her dark hair woven up like that and her long lashes, she gave off a modern Audrey Hepburn vibe. 

Alicia nodded, although she didn't miss the sexual innuendo.

"Sit, please, join us!" Alex said, breaking the edge that had built up like a sauce left too long in the open air. "What would you like to drink? We have absinthe, and… absinthe…"

So that's what this was, Alicia thought. "Isn't this supposed to be illegal?" she asked naively as she slid into their booth on Alex's side.

In the center of the table was an ornate, silver bowl, raised up on the arms of a nude female statuette. At the base of the bowl were four taps, and one empty glass.

The two exchanged a look. Alex responded. "Aren't all the best things illegal?" He uncorked a dark brown bottle and filled about a third of the empty glass with clear green liquid. "But really, this establishment is completely legitimate. The absinthe is imported from France, where it's legal, and have all the proper licenses to distribute it."

As he spoke, Gabrielle held out a slotted spoon with a sugar cube over the top of the cup. With her other hand, she twisted open one of the little spigots. A thin stream of clear liquid steadily filling the rest of the glass. "To louche. Gabrielle has mastered it. Water and sugar mixed with the absinthe turns it cloudy, unlocking its true flavor." It was like an episode right off of the Food Network. She watched the liquid in the cup turn milky green.

As the absinthe chilled, the dark haired model dropped a little white pill into its murky depths. The drink bubbled a little before it dissolved.

"What's that?" Alicia asked uneasily as the other woman handed her the drink.

"Now that," Alex answered dramatically, "is illegal. But trust us, you're going to love it." He winked and sipped his glass of emerald liquor.

Alicia felt like her heart was trying to hack its way through her ribcage. Her family hadn't been overly strict, her upbringing not filled with moralistic teachings, but drug-use was something she'd been taught was bad her entire life. It had always set her apart from the rest of her "cool group" friends in high school and college, but it was also something that made her special. Or so she thought.

But this was peer pressure unlike any she'd ever had before. The rich and successful business mogul and one of the biggest supermodels the world has ever seen looked at her expectantly.

"Trust, remember?" Alex prodded. "I swear on my agency and my reputation as a business man that I will not take advantage of you. I respect that wedding band you're wearing, I promise." Alicia knew one thing: she could not trust Alexander Mishin. If anything was going to keep him out of her pants, it wasn't his word.

"It's just a little Ecstasy," Gabrielle said reassuringly. She placed a hand on Alicia's. The other woman's fingers were hot and exciting. "Come on, I'll do one with you."

The blond didn't dare move her hand. If she did, she knew it would be shaking. Her teeth were practically chattering as the other woman fixed another glass of absinthe, laced with E.

"Cheers," she said, holding her glass of louche to Alicia's. "To being two of the most beautiful women in the world." The woman threw her drink back and drained it. Alicia, still feeling numb that she was actually going to do this, followed suit before she could back out.

Alicia expected some kind of fireworks in the moments following. As she set her empty glass back down on the countertop, she waited for that "holy shit" moment when her brain would explode into lights or something. It didn't come, although her throat did burn from the strong alcohol. It tasted like liquorish. Smoldering liquorish.

Alex smiled at the two of them and began refilling the glasses – this time minus the pills. "Now that we've toasted, you really should enjoy the absinthe. It's quite good. Just sip it, like Scotch or a good tequila." Alicia had never tasted Scotch – unless it was mixed with soda – and had only ever had bad tequila, but she nodded anyway. She didn't want to see them share that judgmental look again.

True to his word, the drink did taste better as she drank it slower. Still strong enough that she could feel herself getting drunk before she'd finished her second glass, but better. There were nuances beyond the taste of anise that came out as she let it roll in her mouth.

"Is that your latest scent?" Alicia asked, searching for conversation. She could smell it beneath the menthol smell of cigarettes: sweet and fresh.

"Yes. I call it, 'Nudity.' Your shoot with Daniel will be part of its launch campaign."

Alicia raised her brows in surprise. She hadn't expected that kind of high profile product. "I don't know what to say…"

"Say 'thank you.'"

"Thank you."

"Mmm… a girl that follows orders. Beautiful and obedient. I like you." Her pale blue eyes clicked down along Alicia's body. The blonde's heart skipped a beat. Gabrielle smoked her cigarette. "Tell me, did the photo shoot with Daniel turn you on?"

She remembered the way his rich black cock had stiffened along her pussy lips. She remembered his callused palms as they cupped her breasts, and the way her nipples hardened at his touch.

"You don't have to answer," Gabrielle said musically, flashing her a knowing smile. "The first time I posed with him, I felt the same way. Went home and fucked my boyfriend at the time silly. Cigarette?"

"Sure," she said weakly, taking an unlit cigarette from Gabrielle's silver case. Alex was there with a lighter. "So you've worked with him since?"

"A few times, yes." There was that smile again, coy and hidden.

"He seemed very considerate."

This time, Gabrielle's amusement wasn't so subtle. She threw her head back and laughed. "That's an excellent way to put it."

Alicia felt confused, her hand returning to the glass of absinthe that she realized was quickly emptying.

"After the second shoot, I didn't just want to imagine it. I'll tell you this much: he was very considerate back at my place, too. Although I don't think I got much sleep that night, so I guess you could count that as rude…"

Alicia blanched. How could this woman be so bold? Speak so casually about sex? And how must that have felt, feeling Daniel's thick, porn star-sized cock split her open. She'd never had one so big – or even close – and it had both scared and excited her in the days following the shoot. 

"Go on, ask it."

"Did it… did it hurt?"

"Only when he fucked my ass." She winked as Alicia nearly spit out her drink. "Do I shock you?" Light laughter followed.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not so used to such…"

"Forwardness? I learned a long time ago to speak my mind. Life is easier that way."

"Excuse me. I need to go to the ladies room."

"It's further back," Alex informed, pointing to the shadowy corridor on the opposite side as the stairs. "We'll have another glass for you when you get back."

Alicia didn't really need to go to the bathroom. She just needed to get out of that room. The exposed brick walls of the VIP chamber seemed to be collapsing in around her. She stood on wobbling feet, realizing just how drunk she'd become since her arrival, and carefully made her way into the warren that made of the rest of the small VIP Lounge.

As she stepped out of the main seating area, it seemed like the floor decided to lurch up at her. She felt disoriented. Was she on a ship? Had the ship just hit a swell in the ocean? She clutched at the narrow walls to steady herself. Lights made trails across her vision and suddenly, everything felt so… wonderful.

Walking was a strange yet beautiful thing. And her long legs – they wanted to move!

"Hi, how's it going!" she asked a young waitress coming out of the bathroom. Her voice was as enthusiastic as a cheerleader at Homecoming. She didn't know this girl, but for whatever reason, she felt like she wanted to; she felt an instant kinship.  

"Hey," the exotic looking brunette replied with a bright smile as she slipped around Alicia.

Alone in the bathroom, Alicia bounced over to the sink and placed her palms face down on the cool marble counter. Damn, even that felt good. She stared at herself, seeing a beautiful, vibrant woman staring back. 

Her mind drifted like a dandelion petal in the breeze. She thought of Daniel and his dark, ebony skin. "And his cock," she said aloud, breaking down into a fit of giggling. He was so sweet, so gentle. He apologized for his arousal, how many guys did that?! She wished he was here so she could thank him for being so kind. So she could wrap her arms around him and…

…and kiss him. And feel his cock grow against her again. Against her smooth pussy. Only this time, she'd reach down between them and guide it inside her. She'd always been curious about what it would be like to feel something so large buried in her, thrusting inside her, fucking her…

Alicia bit her lip as her body trembled. Was she cumming? Without even touching herself. Impossible. But whatever it was, her body felt good. So fucking good.

"Everything OK, Alisia?" It was Gabrielle Dubois. The Gabrielle. And she was so perfect looking. Supernatural, even.

"I'd hardly call myself supernatural," she replied, laughing. Alicia blushed, realizing she'd said it aloud, realizing how silly she must sound. But she also didn't care. She wanted Gabrielle to know how she felt. To know what she was thinking.

"I can't believe I'm standing here, a few feet away from you!" she said excitedly. "Your name has been like huge since I started modeling! I never thought… never…"

The dark haired beauty sauntered across the trendy washroom, stopping just short of the babbling girl. "Yes?" she asked. Her expression was right out of a fashion tear sheet: one meticulously plucked brow raised, the corners of her full lips turned up in amusement, those pale blue eyes sparkling with mystery.

"Never thought I'd meet you."

"And yet here I am."

"Yes…"

Gabrielle raised a hand to Alicia's face. When her fingers caressed her cheek, it felt magical. "Do you find me sexy, Alisia?"

"Yes," she sighed. It felt good to say, felt electrifying to confess.

"I think you're very sexy, too." Gabrielle was slightly taller than the blonde; tall enough that she had to tilt her head up a little to look her in the eyes. "Go ahead…" she whispered breathily. "Kiss me… I know you want to."

Alicia felt light headed. Was this really happening? Was this fashion icon really inviting her in for a Sapphic kiss? Only one way to find out.

She scooted closer, tilted her head, and brought her lips to the other woman's. Gabrielle pulled back at the last moment, keeping her smiling lips a fraction of an inch away. "Tonight is going to be so much fun," she murmured.

Alicia sighed as she felt the other model's hand wrap around the back of her neck. She let herself be pulled against Gabrielle, let her mouth be kissed by another woman for the first time in her life.

The blonde felt her body shiver. The supermodel's mouth was like candy, sweet and so bad for you. Her tongue was soft and wet – very playful. Gabrielle pulled away again. Their noses nuzzled. She flicked her tongue along Alicia's lips, but when the blonde moved to take it back into her mouth, the taller woman retreated again.

"What—" she began to ask when Gabrielle mauled her once again. She found herself pinned against the sink as they made out like rabid animals. Gabrielle was somehow both softer and more demanding than any man she'd ever kissed before. And the feeling of a woman's breasts pushing against her own was a thrill she'd never anticipated.

The brunette kissed off her lips, moving quickly to Alicia's neck. She sighed as Gabrielle did everything right. Her touch was perfect, wet and mischievous as it worked the blonde's erogenous zones. 

"Up, up, cherie," Gabrielle whispered, nipping the other woman's earlobe. Alicia felt a hand slide up the inside of her thigh. She gasped, hopping up onto the dark countertop. "Do I make you hot? Do I make you wet?" Her whisper was thick and husky.

"Ah!" Alicia cried as the French model slipped her fingers beneath her thong. The woman's touch was scintillating, skimming along the ridge of her plump labia. It teased her clit without touching it, circling the swollen bud. She rested her head on one shoulder, exposing her neck. Gabrielle took her up on the offering, kissing and sucking the tender flesh.

At the same time, she stiffened two fingers and pushed them into Alicia's oily pussy. "Uh goddd," she cried as her senses went into overload. Gabrielle lightly thumbed her clit. She may as well have flipped a detonator. Slack jawed yet face tight, Alicia practically crawled up the mirror behind her as she came.

"GAH!" Her shriek was torn violently from her throat. Her body bowed like a marionette being yanked to the ceiling. Gabrielle continued to fondle the blonde's overworked sex until she couldn't take it anymore. "Stop, stop! Please…"

She felt the other woman's touch pull away and breathed a sigh of contentment. That was one of the best orgasms she'd ever experienced, and it wasn't with a man. Gabrielle kissed her again, the soft lips reminding her of that fact.

"If I knew it could be like that, I would have experimented a lot earlier!" she said, wiping her brow. The French model kissed her lightly, snaking her tongue once more into her mouth.

"So you've never done this before? Magnifique!"

"I thought you weren't going to take advantage of me," Alicia asked, giggling as they straightened up their little dresses.

"Alex said that. I made no such promises!"

At the mention of his name, Alicia suddenly thought of the Russian and his cool, good looks. It was because of him that she was frolicking with the likes of Gabrielle Dubois. How could she ever repay him? Suddenly, the thought of being taken advantage of wasn't so unappealing.

"Come on, let's go take advantage of him!"

The women kissed again and Gabrielle squeezed her hand with promise. "I'll give you a moment to freshen up. Don't be long." She sauntered through the door.

Alicia slumped on the edge of the sink. The world seemed to be stuck in fast forward; she knew she should be frantically searching for a way to slow it down but at that moment, high on Ecstasy and fresh off her first bisexual orgasm, she wasn't sure she wanted that.

She reapplied her lip-gloss, checked to make sure her fancy blonde twist wasn't out of sorts, and followed her new model friend back into the little lounge.

***

Liz had set up the C.L.O.A.K. training facility herself. She didn't come outright and say it, but Trey picked up on the clues as she led him from building to building. She was proud of her achievement, as she should be.

In addition to the living quarters of the first building – kitchen, sleeping rooms, a lounge, and her office – there was an enclosed gym with all the high tech gadgetry Trey had come to expect from the black ops, a shooting range, and a building filled with computers that had something to do with electronic surveillance and subterfuge.

They had just enough time at the tail end of the evening for her to run a few more physical tests on him. By the time she showed him his cramped little room, he knew sleep wouldn't be far behind.

Only, it was. The harder he tried to sleep, the more it eluded him. Every time he closed his eyes, he thought of Kathy. Guilt followed. He'd let her take him into her mouth. Alicia had been the only woman for him through all the years he'd known her, and now…

An hour passed, filled with nothing but watching the red LED clock tick off the time. He pulled himself out of bed, hoping that a walk would put his mind at ease.

The air outside was cool, despite the Hawaiian summer. The wind felt good, although he wished he'd grabbed a coat as he began to wander the lightly wooded grounds of the facilities. The island was bigger than it had appeared as they'd approached it – an island paradise of white sand and palm trees. Trey laughed, thinking of how tomorrow he could be shooting an automatic rifle where any sane person would be sprawled out under the sun.

It was late, nearing one, so he was a little surprised to see lights on in one of the rooms as he returned to the living quarters. Curiosity got the better of him. He took the longer path back to the front, one that passed between the building and the ocean, and, conveniently, right in front of the window.

What he saw set his heart beating. Any fatigue he'd built up from the walk fled as quickly as the wind in the palms.

It was a bedroom, much larger than his own. A king size bed dominated a pretty neutrally decorated interior – like a high-class hotel, maybe, rather than someone's actual living quarters. Trey guessed it was the guest room, although based on Vincent Silva's use of Liz's office, he couldn't be sure who was staying there.

The point was moot, regardless, since they were both there, engaged in a very steamy embrace. Vincent was shirtless, wearing a pair of loose pajama bottoms that did little to conceal the bulge of his erection. Liz had on a short, silky robe that didn't cover much of her shapely legs.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 04



***

"Welcome back," Alex said, tossing back a glass of absinthe. He was reclined where she'd left him, relaxed in the plush brown booth. At first, Alicia thought he was alone. Then she saw Gabrielle's dark brown hair bobbing in his lap.

The model looked up at Alex's salutation, smiling in Alicia's direction. She kept her right hand wrapped around his large cock and held her left out to the blonde. "Join me," she offered.

"I…" She shouldn't. Alicia knew it. But her body had other ideas. She wanted to crawl in there and fellate her new boss. 

Alex helped her out. "I won't take advantage. A promise is a promise. But join us. I've fixed you another drink." Gabrielle smirked and lowered her lips back to his erect penis, sucking it into her mouth.

Alicia had never seen something so erotic. She'd given her fair share of blowjobs, but outside of a few porno's Trey had brought home, hadn't ever seen one given so close. It made her mouth water; she wanted to feel the soft, pliable skin slid over this man's firm cock. Feel it with her mouth.

Uneasily, she took a seat next to Alex. Her fingers shook with excitement as she sipped at the anise-tasting liquor. He rubbed her back, drawing a long sigh from her. As Gabrielle sucked, the perfect bone structure of her face became more pronounced. How could this woman look any more beautiful?

"Stick with me, Alicia, and I'll make your dreams come true. Anything you want, you can have. Even things you'd never imagined can be yours."

Gabrielle slurped away and offered it to the blonde. Alicia looked at Alex, who shrugged. "I said I wouldn't take advantage of you, but if that's what you want…"

The blonde lowered her head to his wet cock before he could finish the sentence. So eager to suck Alex's manhood that she didn't see the smile the two exchanged above her.

"Can life get any better than this?" Alex postulated. "Ah, you're a good little cocksucker, aren't you?" His refined accent made the crude statement sound articulate. 

Gabrielle brushed the back of the other woman's head and kissed the side of her neck. "I know how we can make life better…" She slipped in under Alicia, swallowing Alex's ball sack into her mouth.

"You two are incredible," he said, his voice strained with pleasure.

The girls worked their double blowjob, switching places at first, then sharing the shaft itself. They ran their tongues along the side of his stiffness, kissing one another as their lips met at the curve of his crown. "That is so hot," he whimpered as the peck turned into a full-blown French kiss. Gabrielle didn't forget about him, jacking him off as she kissed the other model.

The girls returned to the man between them, working him over with their enthusiastic tongues and tantalizing lips. Alicia marveled at how good it felt to suck this man. She loved everything about it: the throbbing veins, the plush ridge of its head, his masculine musk. The hot flesh, dark like the rest of his tanned body, rose from a nest of light brown, tightly cropped curls. Below that, his balls were shaved – probably for moments just like this.

She took it into her throat and nearly came at the erotic sensation. She even knew it was the drug racing through her veins, but that only made her want more of it. How could anything that felt so good be bad?

Gabrielle rubbed her bare skin as they shared Alex, sometimes running the smooth palm along her shoulder blades, sometimes tickling her long nails up her spine. Her touch sent shivers across her body. She thought of those fingers pushing between her pussy lips, groaning around the mouthful of cock.

"That's hot," the French model whispered in Alicia's ear, "but I think Alexander needs pussy." Alicia's sex trembled at the thought of this beautiful thing slicing into her. The other woman pulled her off the cock and kissed her passionately, reaching behind her and unsnapping the clasp of her haltered gown.

Gabrielle was already naked, her silver dress sitting in a tiny pool on the table. The woman was even more perfect naked than she was clothed. Alicia couldn't take her eyes off her taut, bare flesh. There wasn't an ounce of excess fat on the woman. Everything was tight and feminine, from her full, high breasts to her flat, toned stomach to the gentle curves of her hips.

"See something you like?" she asked, her pale eyes locking onto the blonde's browns as she climbed into Alex's lap, her back to him. Alicia felt a pang of jealousy as the other model took the saliva-coated cock in her hand and placed it at the mouth of her cunt.

The supermodel was shaved bare but for a little tab of black curls at the top of her slit, small enough to prevent anything from escaping even the smallest of outfits.

"Ahh…" the girls sighed as Gabrielle sank down on Alex's thickness. Alicia could practically feel it inside of her. Her body tingled with built-up passion. She reached between her legs and slipped her fingers into her thong, watching as the brunette writhed on the Russian's lap.

"I think she's horny," Alex whispered to Gabrielle, loud enough that all three of them could hear. He cupped the supermodel's round tits from behind.

"Need some help with that?" she asked the blonde, licking her lips as she flicked her eyes down between Alicia's legs.

Alicia's heart trembled. She'd had offers, but this wasn't some drunk sorority girl, or some coked up, eighteen-year-old model. She was up on the table before them, sliding her panties down her legs before her mind had time to catch up.

"Told you tonight was going to be fun," Gabrielle Dubois said as she leaned down between Alicia's spread thighs. "Now just enjoy it."

Alicia's jaw tightened, but no sound escaped her gaping mouth. The feeling of the brunette's lips and tongue on her sex was paralyzing. Her first orgasm was instantaneous. Flying high on Ecstasy and the thrill of being part of a double blowjob, she was like dry kindle in a forest fire.

The blonde had propped herself behind her, but as she came, her elbows buckled. She flopped onto her back, knocking the absinthe fountain onto its side. Gabrielle pulled her mouth away long enough to laugh. "Good thing this room is sound proofed!"

It was like hearing her words though a fog. Alicia felt so good. So safe and wonderful here. She opened her legs wider, feeling the woman return to her pussy. This time, the supermodel's fingers joined her lips, stroking the clutching inner walls of her vagina.

She came so many times. Too many to count. Her mind rolled like a ship on a choppy, yet exciting, sea. During her moments of hazy lucidity, she'd catch Alex's blue eyes watching her. Her nipples prickled under that gaze. The thought of his cock inside her instead of Gabrielle's fingers sparked another orgasm.

At last, the French woman threw her head back and came, her eyes closed, her long lashes forming perfect fans. Alex's face was twisted, too, although his eyes continued to bore into Alicia's. The blonde looked away, down where they were joined. His shaved balls seized as he dumped his cum into the supermodel's neatly groomed snatch.

Her pussy buzzed, aching to feel what she was feeling. Cum leaked along Alex's scrotum. Alicia licked her lips, but couldn't find the strength (or courage?) to taste it.

Instead, she slinked back down into the booth, melting against his side and kissing him deeply on the mouth. His slender chest was smooth and wet, almost hairless. "I want that," she whispered into his ear, nipping at it playfully, glancing down between his legs.

Gabrielle groaned as she sat up, finding a seat on the other side of him. His cock was still semi-hard, coated in their sticky mixture. The blonde lowered her head to it, swallowing the tangy, salty cock. She'd gone down on Trey after they'd made love, but this tasted different. It was the closest she'd come to tasting another woman. Alex began to rise under her gentle ministrations.

When he was hard again, he gently pushed her head away and ran his fingers through her soft, blonde hair. She sighed. It felt so good. Everything felt so good.

Carefully, he pushed her back into the booth. It felt warm and fuzzy on her naked back, she thought, propping one foot on the edge so she could spread her legs. Thoughts of Trey drifted lazily through her mind. Her loving husband. Her sweet, kind husband. But right then, the heady mixture of drugs, drink and these two beautiful people had overridden every logical thought. 

Cock in hand, he positioned himself over her. "I promised not to take advantage," he murmured into her ear. "So tell me, Alicia. Do you want this?"

"Yes…" she sighed, her eyes going all heavy-lidded. 

He wasn't taking advantage of anyone. "Ahh…" she groaned, placing a limp hand on his shoulder as he thrust forward, burying his curved length into her tender sex.

"Jesus, god…" Alex grunted as he filled her. So good. So fucking good! "Enjoying yourself?" Gabrielle whispered. She loved this woman. She loved this man. She turned her head. Even that, she loved to do. The other model's mouth slipped over her mouth; the girls enjoyed a wet, open kiss as Alexander pushed in and out of her oily slick cunt.

"This is so… awesome…" she sighed, moments before cumming. "I love you guys."

Alex kissed her. "You're one sexy girl, Alicia," he said, wrapping her up in his accent. In his mystery. She squeezed his product-laden hair, feeling his balls tighten. Feeling his strange, new, brilliant cock shudder. Then heat. Then red. Then bliss.

What came next were fragmented. A slide show of emotion and sensation. Gabrielle had to leave them. She practically cried as they said their goodbyes in warm, sensual kisses. 

Then she was in the back of Alex's limo, straddling his lap and looking out the back window as they fucked again, the world receding in psychedelic brilliance. 

Then she was in a strange bed with satin sheets that felt like liquid sex beneath her skin, swallowing Alex's cock as he mercilessly tongued her sweet pussy. She remembered more pills. Little white ones. And blue ones. She remembered thinking they were like little miracles. She remembered thinking how she hoped this feeling would never end.

And at some point, they did. At some point, she fell into a restless, troubled sleep.

***

Trey crept closer, noticing the window was open. Liz pushed Vincent away, her face twisting up in anger. "You're a jackass," Trey heard her mutter.

"You like it," the director of C.L.O.A.K. grinned, stepping close to her. She backed up, holding a hand where his defined pecs came together. The hair on his chest was peppered like his goatee, although his body defied that bit of gray.

"How's the wife and kids?" she asked sarcastically.

"Not that it ever stopped you before, but we're now divorced." It would have been a normal conversation had Vincent not been making half-hearted grabs at the diminutive redhead's flimsy robe. Her full breasts had started to push open the front of her robe, and now that Trey was close enough, he could see the bumps formed by her nipples high on the silk.

"She catch you with one of your 'assistants'?"

He offered a hollow laugh. "In fact, I told her I couldn't live without you," he replied sarcastically.

His answer seemed to momentarily stun her. Vincent made his move, stepping right up against her and sliding his hand inside her robe. She opened her mouth in protest, but his lips were there, swallowing up any objection she may have tried to voice.  

At first, she struggled. Trey expected the slap to come shortly. It never did. She tore her mouth away from Vincent's, looking up into his eyes with her flashing grey stare. "You're a jackass," she spat. And then, to Trey's great surprise, she jammed her lips back against his, pushing her tongue back into his mouth.

Vincent's hands slid the rest of the way inside her robe, easily pulling it open and off. She was naked beneath, her ripe breasts looking fantastic on her toned upper body. She had small, coral pink nipples that sat high and tight on her tits. Vincent palmed them both, turning them roughly between his fingers.

Trey was hard as he watched them go at it. He looked around for a hiding place, wondering if that was really what he should be searching for. The right thing would have been to go back to his room, to pretend he never saw any of this. But that wasn't about to happen.

Vincent tossed the redhead back onto the bed and pulled the drawstring of his loose pants free. His cock rose thick from the trimmed thatch of dark hair between his legs. 

"God, I hate you," Liz groaned, tossing her hair as she opened her legs for him. She ran a hand down her lean body and through the short red hairs of her shaved down pubic triangle. Her bare labial lips were glossy and pink with arousal. She lewdly opened her engorged folds wider with her fingers, slipping one inside.

"Yeah," he grinned, crawling up onto the bed, "but you also love me. Admit it, baby." Cock in hand, he teased her with the ridge of its crown, running the spongy head along her silky furrow.

"You asshole," she moaned, arching her back and pinching her nipples.

"Admit it, Liz. Admit that every time you see me, you think about fucking me." He continued to tease her.

"Fuck you!"

"Admit it or you don't get some of this…" He dipped his cock into the moist opening of her cunt before drawing it back and passing it across her clit.

"AH! You asshole—" He did it again; she cried out even louder. "Stop teasing me and do it!"

"Not until you admit—"

"Goddamit, fine! If that's what it's gonna take, I want you. As soon as I saw your smirky little face, I thought about fucking you. That good?"

"That'll do," he said smugly, pressing his hips down and forward as he sank into her tight pussy. Immediately, she wrapped her legs around him, helping him pound her faster. They grunted with each forward thrust, rutting madly like animals right there on the bed.

Trey couldn't help it. Kathy had worked him to the brink last night, and all day he'd been staring at Liz's tits. Now, here she was, getting plowed like there was no tomorrow in the first hate-fuck Trey had ever witnessed.

His hand squeezed and stroked his erection through his shorts, watching from the bushes. They switched positions, Liz going onto all fours, facing the windows, as Vincent nailed her from behind.

When Vincent came, he shoved her head down into the mattress so just her perky ass was in the air. Sweat glistened beneath the dark hair that covered his trim body.

As a last indignation, he pulled free of her cunt just before exploding, launching his milky jism messily all over the redhead's arched back.

"You bastard!" she cried, turning around lightning fast and covering the pulsating cock with her mouth to catch the last few bursts. She kept on blowing him, long after he'd settled back down. Her goal was quickly made clear as he began to grow between her lips.

It was time for Trey to go now. The show was over for him; he could finish up the rest of his business alone in bed.

"God, how do you do that?" he heard Liz say as he began to creep away.

"It's one of my many talents," Vincent explained as they rearranged themselves once again. The hairy man laid back on the bed as the petite redhead straddled him, sinking his newly revived cock back into her. Trey was just out of earshot when he heard Vincent say, "So have you fucked your handsome new partner yet?"

Trey felt his stomach shudder. "Go to hell."

Vincent groaned, but didn't let up. "But isn't that what you do with all your partners? Certainly the way it happened with me." 

"Biggest mistake of my life…"

"But who's fucking who? You're still here…"

"Shut up and fuck me!"

"Ah, I miss that charm. We made such a good team."

"Vincent?!"

He sighed. "How's the newbie?"

"Green. And… I think he's having second thoughts."

"Didn't pass your little test?"

"Yea, he did," she said. "That's kind of the problem. He's growing a conscience." 

"Well, this next mission'll clear up how he feels, one way or another," he chuckled. "But Liz, you know he doesn't have a choice… If you can't distract him with this… 'agent' training, then you're going to have to figure some other way."

Trey felt his stomach bottom out. What were they talking about?

"I like you better when you kept your mouth shut."

"I can think of a few other things I can do with my mouth," he said, Liz's loud moan quickly following. He listened to them fucking for another five minutes. The talking part of their night was over. He sulked back to his room where sleep was even further away than it was an hour earlier.

Next chapter: It's Just Sex



Models and Super Spies Ch. 05



This is the fifth chapter of a 13-chapter novella. All has been written and will be released over the next month. For a greater appreciation of the story as a whole, I'd suggest reading the previous chapter. Many thanks to HallidayTee for helping me put this story together, and please make sure to vote!

Chapter 5: It's Just Sex

Alicia woke up in a strange bed in a strange room, her naked body half covered in white satin sheets. As she sat up, the sheets pulled fluidly away from her breasts and suddenly, bits of the evening before returned.

"Oh my God!" she practically screamed, covering her mouth in horror. Her memories were like fireworks caught on a cheap home camera: streaks of colored light more than anything substantial. One thing was certain, though. She was with a man that wasn't her husband.

She whipped her head around, her long blonde hair fanning about her as she searched the king sized bed. It was empty. She was alone. On the nightstand, tucked under a full glass of water, was a note.

Dearest Alicia,

Sorry I could not stay, but my business has called me away. My home is your home. Ilena, my housekeeper, can fix you something to eat. I had a wonderful time last night.

Yours,

Alexander

Alicia wanted to cry. She crumpled the note in frustration and flung it across the room with a shriek. How could she be so stupid?! She hastily dressed, annoyed that all she had was her skimpy cocktail dress from the night before. "FUCK!" she shouted.

A pretty young woman with light brown hair pulled into a severe bun popped her head in. "Miss?" she asked with a thick, Eastern European accent.

"Nothing," Alicia groaned, waving the girl away. She must be Ilena. The head disappeared as fast as it had appeared. The blonde crumpled her face into her hands, rubbing her temples. The more she thought about last night, the more surreal this morning became. Gabrielle Dubois in the bathroom? Gabrielle Dubois between her legs?

Her throat was parched, even though she remembered downing bottle after bottle of water. She gulped down the glass Alex had left for her. God, the drugs! She wanted to flop back into bed, fall back asleep, and hope that this whole thing passed. But it wasn't going to.

On her way out, she realized she had no way of getting home. "Ilena?" she called out, hoping the girl was within earshot. She was. "I need a cab."

"Certainly, miss," she answered deferentially, bowing her head.

It would have weirded Alicia out had she not been freaking already. "I'll just, um, wait outside," she mumbled. Outside was one of the most posh neighborhoods in Beverly Hills, an area she'd only ever seen when she'd taken a bus tour of famous homes in Hollywood. God, now she was sitting on the curb, wearing her party dress from the night before like some tramp.

"That's what you are!" she warned herself. She'd spent most of the night getting her brains fucked out by a man that had nothing to do with the ring on her left hand. She nearly took the thing off and flung it away – she didn't deserve it.

"Was I raped?" she finally thought, although she certainly didn't feel that way. No matter how mortified she felt, when she recalled certain parts of last night, it wasn't all shame that she felt. Sure, she'd been high on drugs and she wanted to use that as an excuse, but when she asked herself if things would have been different had she been sober… well, she didn't want to answer that question.

"You didn't need Ecstasy to suck his dick." Her thoughts were cold, although even that memory warmed other parts of her. 

Alexander Mishin was a bad boy, through and through. The kind of guy she thought she was over – the kind of guy that only stupid, naïve girls fell for. So different than Trey. More like Vince. Or the Vince she'd once known, anyway. And there was a very good reason she'd broken things off with him; that she'd chosen Trey over him.

Her cab pulled up at last. First thing she was going to do was soak in a tub with a tall glass of water. Second thing was sleep. She needed to escape the crushing guilt she was feeling. At least for a little while.

***

"Hey, Alicia. Guess we missed each other again. Things are good here, although I think this deal is going to take at least another week. Hopefully I'll get home by next Sunday or so. Love you!"

Trey flipped his phone shut and sighed. He hadn't actually talked to his wife since leaving Friday, other than a series of voice messages back and forth. Not that such a thing was all that appealing; every time he thought of his wife, he thought of Kathy Friday night…

"Ready to go, tiger?" Kathy's older sister, Liz, asked. 

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"You'll find out soon enough. Come on, the boat's all gassed up and ready to go."

***

A few days after waking up in Alexander Mishin's bed and Alicia was on another job. "We're doing another shoot for Nudity, so…" Mercifully, it was the photographer, Isobel, that was delivering the instructions, not Alex.

"So time to take off all my clothes?" Alicia finished with a wry smile. Getting naked seemed a hell of a lot better than thinking about anything else in her tumultuous life. "And is it just me today?"

Isobel smiled, leading the blonde back into the studio. This was more like what she was used to: a set, a canvas with lamps, props. Not like her last shoot out at the Malibu home. "Well, you don't have to get completely naked at first. I've left your outfit behind the changing screen." She chuckled a little, but left it at that. "And the other model's already here."

Alicia got the joke immediate as she slipped behind the Japanese folding screens. Hanging on an empty rack was a plush white robe and a tiny, nude-colored g-string.

"Very funny," she shouted, hearing Isobel's laughter on the other side.

Alicia slipped out of her clothes quickly. Last week, she wouldn't have been able to do this. Now, there was no hesitation. The g-string lived up to the name, a tiny little thing that sat low on her hips.

"So who's the other mod—" she stopped as she stepped into the open. She was expecting another male model. Another hunk like Daniel. In fact, she half expected it to be Daniel. Not another woman.

The curly haired blonde was intimidating in her beauty. She looked young, despite her hourglass figure, and had a pair of tits that practically pulled the robe open.

"Hi, I'm Sarah," the girl said, her voice low and scratchy. "You must be Alicia." She had green, dilated eyes, and while Alicia was certainly no expert, she recognized when a girl was high or not. Sarah was definitely on something.

It slowly dawned on her that she was going to be getting naked in front of this girl. She'd posed with other women before, but never nude.

"So you work with Mishin, too," the older of the two blondes asked as Isobel led them to the photo set – simple white drapes with no props or furniture.

"Yeah," Sarah said distantly. "You're new, right?"

Alicia nodded.

"I've been working with Alex for a few months," Sarah continued. "Mostly catalogue stuff. But when he offered me something for Gabrielle Dubois, well…"

"Couldn't resist." Alicia nodded, suddenly remembering her steamy encounter with the French supermodel. She felt her cheeks burn as her thoughts turned back to her heavy guilt. "Have you met her?"

Sarah shook her head. "No, she's on a different plane than me. Best I can do is shoot for her products."

It was strange. Despite her words, the young blonde seemed almost disinterested. Detached. 

Isobel stepped in then, getting them ready for the shoot.

"Off with the robes, ladies! Let's see some tits!" Alicia liked the pretty photographer. This was her third session with the saucy Latina, although her previous shoot – last Sunday, in the aftermath of her guilt-riddled mistake – hadn't gone so well. Isobel had agreed to reschedule, and mercifully didn't ask any questions.

Sarah didn't hesitate. Her fingers went right to the knotted tie, shedding the robe fluidly. 

Alicia couldn't help gasping a little. She was no lesbian, and despite what she'd done with Gabrielle – or let Gabrielle do to her – she didn't really consider herself into women, but the teenage model was truly breathtaking.

The girl was destined for Playboy. Lush, tanned body. Large, buoyant breasts that hung firmly away from her lean body. Her stomach was flat, of course, her narrow waist giving way to wide hips that completed the hour-glass analogy. 

She also wore a little g-string that covered the slight rise of her mound. Alicia felt her body warm between her legs and brushed those thoughts aside, pulling her brown eyes back up to her friend's face. The other blonde smiled, for perhaps the first time, and raised a manicured eyebrow at her.

Alicia felt her face color. It was her turn. Closing her eyes, she pulled open the only real covering she had. She was proud of her body, what was there to be ashamed of?

"OK, today's theme is sex," Isobel said, her camera already clicking to life. "But judging from the way you two are looking at each other, doesn't seem like that's going to be a problem."

Alicia blushed, breaking her gaze and looking at the floor. More clicks. "Oh, too perfect, Alicia! Now, let's get started!"

***

"Your assignment is simple," Liz explained as she opened the garage just off the boat dock where the Mustang was housed. "Your look is new, but it's all cosmetic. It's time for you to disguise that good boy mentality of yours."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Trey asked, catching his reflection in the mirror. The blue iris contact lenses still threw him off.

"Oh come on, Trey, don't play stupid. You know exactly what I mean. Tell me, have you ever picked a girl up in a bar? Hm?"

"No, but what does that have to do with me? Or disguise? Or anything?"

"It has everything to do with it. When you go undercover, you take on a role. You're not just changing your look, but you're becoming a different person. And this particular person – "Mr. Trenton Dean" – is the kind of guy who can pick a girl up in a bar. So that's what we're going to work on today."

"But… I can't! I'm married. And so is 'Trenton Dean.'" The identity they'd created for the long term assignment was that of Trenton and Elizabeth Dean, rich socialites just moving into the LA area. But all of this was new.

"Which is why we're doing this exercise. You've tied sex and love together in a neat little bundle. But Trey, it's not so neat! Trenton loves his wife, but he also loves to fuck. He likes variety and he's confident enough to know how to get it. You've got the look – now we need to get you the attitude."

"Liz, I'm not cheating on my wife."

The redhead rolled her eyes. "I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to pick up a girl or two at a bar. We'll see how it goes from there."

***

Isobel started the photo session with some pretty tame poses. The blondes standing next to one another, covering their breasts with their arms or some strategically placed hair. 

Alicia couldn't help thinking just how good the other model looked, standing confidently in front of the camera in nothing but a g-string, her curly, golden hair falling across her full breasts. She'd excused herself to get a glass of white wine, standing next to Isobel as she sipped it.

"Hot, isn't she?" the Spanish woman asked with a suggestive smile. Again, Alicia couldn't help thinking that this woman could have been a model as well with her long, glossy black hair and slim, tall body.

"She's pretty, that's for sure," Alicia agreed. She wondered if she had this much confidence when she'd burst onto the modeling scene when she was Sarah's age. She would have been almost the same age as Sarah. Watching the nearly naked girl work the camera with those full, pouty lips and teasing green eyes, she knew she hadn't.

"Glad you think so. Time for things to get a little more intimate."

Alicia felt her heart twitter a little as she finished her wine. "Sarah, I want you to put your arms around Alicia. That's it, face each other. Right there, hold it."

Sarah's arms felt so soft where they touched her skin. The woman's fingers glided across her back, down to her hips. She shivered. "Right, Alicia, I want you to put your arms around Sarah's neck. A little higher. Elbows down… there!"

Alicia did as she was instructed, feeling her nipples harden as they came in contact with the underside of the other blonde's. Could Sarah feel that? Was her new friend feeling the same way?

Their eyes met. Alicia saw lust swimming in the other model's green irises. That dull, bored look was gone. Her heart skipped a beat. "Sarah, lean in. Like you're going to kiss her." Alicia's throat went dry as the other woman tilted her head to one side, dipping her face forward. "There, hold that!" The blonde whimpered, closing her eyes and turning her head to accept the kiss. She could feel Sarah's shallow, hot breath on the tip of her lips. "Perfect! God, that's great!" More clicking. "Hold it! Keep holding it."

Alicia's muscles ached. She was so tense, and holding such a sensual pose was making her even stiffer. "OK, got it. Now, I want you to repeat it, only this time…" Isobel paused to switch out her film. "This time, Sarah, I want you to get behind Alicia, and Alicia, I want you to look over your shoulder, like you're about to accept a kiss."

"Got it," Alicia said, trying to sound confident, like she did this all the time.

"And Sarah, cover her breasts with your hands," she said, snapping her camera shut as the bustier blonde moved behind Alicia.

"My pleasure," Sarah whispered huskily, her warm hands cupping Alicia's chest. Her nipples came to life at the soft touch and she tried to regulate her breathing. It was coming as fast as her pitter-pattering heartbeat.

"Yes, just like that. Now, get into it, girls! Show me what Nudity means to you!"

***

Alexander Mishin groaned as the girl between his legs slurped his shaved balls into her mouth. He ran his fingers through her light brown hair, clenching his fists as he tried to control of her bobbing head. Ilena was a great cocksucker – that was a must for a good housekeeper. The other, for Alex, was a working knowledge of surveillance cameras.

Playing on the giant high-def television before them was a scene he'd watched countless times already. At this point in the video, Alicia was lying back on her shoulders, her long legs wrapped around Alex himself, who was sitting up on his knees and drilling down into her tanned and sweaty body. He held her hips; she squeezed her tits, twisting her swollen nipples as she cried out.

The picture switched to a second camera, this one trained on her sculpted face – now twisted in ecstasy. Even grunting, she was perfect: eyes shut tight, teeth clenching, her nostrils flaring. The camera panned down her body, the quality high enough to catch each bead of sweat roll off her silky skin.

"You have a wonderful eye," he grunted to Ilena as she shifted back to his curved shaft. She'd been manning the monitors that night and this movie lived up to all the others.

His pretty housekeeper smiled around his cock, but didn't stop her blowjob. She knew better.

Back on screen, Alex's breath caught at the close up: his meaty girth sliding easily in and out of his new model's perfect, bald cunt. She'd felt so good, so snug and warm. A velvet glove for his hard cock. The best he'd ever had.

"Gahhhh!" he cried, filling Ilena's mouth at the same time his recorded self filled Alicia's pussy. The blonde model's cries over the speaker's overwhelmed his own, spurring him on.

He'd stayed away from Alicia, but he knew he couldn't hold out much longer. She'd become his drug, and he was completely addicted. For now, though, he was satiated. But how much longer before he'd need to call on Ilena? How much longer could he put off the inevitable?

***

"Ok, we're almost done," Isobel said as the three of them took a break. Alicia and Isobel finished up the bottle of wine. Sarah had excused herself to the ladies room, although judging by the way she rubbed her nose and the heavy dilation in her pupils, there was little doubt what she was really doing.

"Thank God for that," Alicia blurted, feeling a little buzzed.

"Is it that bad?" Sarah asked, sounding a little hurt.

"No, it's not," Alicia quickly apologized, sipping her wine nervously. "I guess that's the problem!" All three laughed.

"Doesn't have to be a problem…"

Alicia ignored her, rescued mercifully by Isobel. "OK, for the last few snapshots, I need you to really get naked. No panties. Lying next to one another, profiles, that sort of thing."

"You said no full nudity," Sarah said, finally showing a little unease.

"I said no full frontals. We're not shooting a porno here. These are ads for Vogue and Vanity Fair! But the scent is called Nudity, and, well… I need you nude."

Sarah glanced at Alicia before the photographer added, "Besides, aren't you shooting for Playboy next week? Think of this as a warm up… So, lose the panties, ladies!"

This time, Alicia went first, opening her robe enough to tug the little g-string down her legs. Sarah did the same, tweaking her nose again before pulling off her robe.

Alicia didn't want to look, but couldn't help stealing a glance across the other woman's nakedness. Her pussy was plump and perfectly smooth like Alicia's own. She bit her lip and turned her suddenly lust-filled mind to other things. Like getting through this shoot.

Isobel had the girls lie together, draping their naked bodies over each other in some of the most provocative poses Alicia had ever done. The one that would haunt her darkest fantasies in the days and nights to come had her lying on top of Sarah, one leg tucked between the other woman's thighs. 

She'd propped herself up with an elbow on either side of the other girl's body strategically, hiding their soft breasts from the camera. Her mouth was poised no more than an inch from Sarah's, capturing the moment before what promised to be the kind of sensual embrace that only females could share. 

Alicia could feel the other woman's body, balmy like an unbearably humid day; she could feel the silky caress of the girl's sex against her leg; she could see her tongue waiting just inside her open mouth. 

And then Sarah surprised everyone. She completed the action, picking her head up off the draped floor and pushing her tongue into Alicia's mouth.

Alicia's mind spun. Her mind went back to Saturday night and her bathroom liaison with Gabrielle. Her first girl-girl kiss. She blamed it on the wine, of course, but at that moment, with Sarah's mouth caressing hers and the quick rise and fall of their heaving breasts pushing against one another, she wanted this girl.

When Alicia went to pull away, she realized that Sarah's hand had found the back of her neck, holding her in place. Suddenly, she felt caged. All of it was too much. Sarah's nipples scraping against her skin. Sarah's smooth sex against her thigh. She struggled, yanking her head away.

"Alright, I think we got it!" Isobel said, fanning herself. "I can leave you two if you want to… keep getting acquainted."

Alicia's face burned with embarrassment. She nearly jumped back into her robe. Sarah tittered, lying back on the white drapes, her legs still spread open. "Thanks, Isobel, that was without a doubt the hottest shoots I've ever been on."

"Then you should have seen her and Daniel last week," the photographer said, winking at Alicia. The blonde's face was on fire.

"Mmm… the African? Now that's a cock," she said absently, both hands converging on her shiny labial lips.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 05



Isobel laughed. "Well, I'm hungry. Either of you want a late lunch? You models do eat, don't you?"

"I'll take a rain check. Have an appointment this afternoon," Sarah said absently, once again falling back into that medicated, yet sexual, absence.

Alicia couldn't wait to get out of there, and needed to get away from the young blonde. For all kinds of reasons. And food sounded great. "Can't speak for all of us, but I love to eat!"

***

The late lunch meant more drinking, of course, although at least this time it wasn't on an empty stomach. The two women drank Cosmos as they sat in the outdoor café, getting to know one another.

"So…" Isobel started during a lull.

"So…" Alicia replied, for some reason feeling her heart rise in anticipation of where the conversation was going.

"You could have fucked her. Hope you didn't stop because of me…"

There it was. Alicia felt her blush rise, this time accompanied by shivers. "No, it wasn't. I'm… I don't know…"

"Not into girls?"

"Yeah."

"Sure," Isobel said, unconvinced. "One day, you're going to realize that you're special. Girls like Sarah? They're everywhere. I've shot plenty of them. Beautiful, yes. Sexy as hell. But they don't have that… aura. They don't have what it takes to go from just a model to a supermodel."

"I'm not sure what you mean," the blonde said a little uneasily. She picked up her drink, swirling the pink liquid in its martini glass.

"Sure you do. You've got that quality, whether you realize it or not." Isobel plucked her cherry from her Cosmo and bit it off. Her dark eyes flashed as she regarded the other woman. Now that they were out of the studio, the Spanish woman had let her hair down. It hung long and straight over her shoulders, down into her prominent, olive cleavage.

Alicia shook her head, running her fingers through her hair. Jesus, what was wrong with her? I need Trey to get home before I lose it! she thought, although deep down she knew she didn't really mean it.

"But you have to be careful, Alicia. I love how innocent you can be. It's that sexy naiveté that's going to earn you a fortune."

Alicia thought about last weekend, and what she'd done with Mishin. She suddenly couldn't contain her secret anymore. "I slept with him," she blurted. "With Alex, I mean." For the first time, she felt like she'd found someone she could really open up to. "Last Saturday and… then into Sunday morning, I guess." Suddenly bashful, she glanced down at her empty drink, brushing her fingers once again through her loose hair.

"But Alicia, you're married!" Isobel said sarcastically.

"I was—" she stopped herself, suddenly worried what this woman would think of her drug-use. "It was a mistake. I shouldn't have… I don't know what to tell Trey…"

Isobel gave another hearty laugh. "Honey, it was just sex. Don't get so worked up over it."

"Just sex?! I made a vow to him. For the rest of our lives…"

"You made a vow to Alex, too. On your knees, in his office." Alicia's eyes grew wide. She knew? Isobel chuckled. "Honey, it's not only models that need to show their… 'loyalty.'" She paused long enough to let the implication sink in. "Things change, Ali. You need to be able to adapt to those changes. Maybe…"

"What?"

"Maybe it's time to think about life without him. You're not going to get anywhere if you don't take a risk."

Alicia was floored. The thing was, Isobel wasn't saying anything she hadn't been thinking of all week – she just didn't want to give voice to those thoughts. She wasn't the same woman Trey had married. And even worse than that, she'd betrayed him.

"But I love him." Alicia felt the tears building along her mascara-lined lashes. If she didn't, this decision would have been easy. If she didn't, she wouldn't have been racked with such guilt. "I can't just leave him…"

Isobel shared a sympathetic grimace, reaching out to comfort her new friend. "It's your decision. It's your life. I'm just giving you food for thought."

"Thanks. I appreciate it." She sniffed, but held back the tears. "I better get going before I fall apart. We should do lunch again. It's… good to be able to talk to someone about this stuff."

When Isobel hugged Alicia, it was like getting folded into the arms of her mother after a long, hard day. It was like a great weight had been plucked off her shoulders. She wasn't a new person, not by any means, but she finally felt more like herself.

***

Trey's first few attempts at picking up a girl were miserable failures. The first had laughed in his face. The other was gentler, but the condescending look in her pretty eyes was almost as bad.

"Look, you can't use a line!" Liz laughed as he returned to her table after his last failure. "I don't know anyone who's fallen for something like, 'Do we know each other from somewhere?' Who says that?"

"I do, I guess."

"How did you meet Alicia? I'm guessing you didn't use a line like that."

"No. She was actually working for an army fundraiser that I was at. We just sort of started talking."

"Why don't you try that?" Liz suggested. "With her." She'd been pointing prospects out all evening, always choosing cute, if not drop-dead gorgeous, women. He knew he shouldn't compare them with his wife, but he couldn't help it; and none of them held a candle to her.

The woman walking into the bar – the woman Liz was pointing to now – could have given Alicia a run for her money. Her skin was warm olive, her hair was midnight black, and her body was sex incarnate.

The woman paused at the entrance to the bar to scan the crowd. Trey wondered if it was for dramatic affect, to give all the guys here a chance to ogle and hope. She wore a short sundress that offered her full, delicious bust up like food on a platter. One that Trey went back to again and again.

The voluptuous target ran her left hand through her loose, dark hair. A ring caught in the light. A fat diamond ring. Trey was only partially relieved that he was off the hook – she was married, so any chance he thought he had was gone.

"Go get her, tiger," Liz whispered as they watched her cross the room. The muscles of her long legs danced as she took long, confident strides, sliding into an empty stool at the bar. She crossed her legs, reached into her purse, and lit up a cigarette.

"I can't…"

"Don't let that ring scare you. She's available."

"But how do you know?"

Liz shrugged. "A woman just knows. Now don't come back until you've got her number."

***

Liz felt a little guilty for what she was doing. Trey was a good man. A really good man. If he wasn't married and so dedicated to his wife, she would have snatched him up.

But they couldn't get their mission accomplished with his boy scout mentality. They were about to head into the lion's den. Into Erin Small's world. He had to convincingly set up a liaison with a prostitute, and if he tried to do that now, she would see right through him.

The petite operative sat back once again in her booth and watched her protégé approach the saucy brunette. It was a setup, of course. And Caroline had shown up on cue. They'd talked about it. The brunette would put up a bit of a struggle with Trey, flirt a little with him, and in the end, "succumb to his charms." They didn't have a lot of time; Liz needed to speed up this process. This seemed like the best idea.

Trey appeared to ask the woman for a light. She gave him a quick once over before drawing out her silver lighter. So far, so good, Liz thought. Maybe he could have done this on his own…

The two of them chatted through two more drinks. Liz couldn't hear what they were talking about, but he didn't appear to be giving her any cheesy lines. Not like the others. Caroline did a wonderful job appearing really into him. And for his part, he maintained steady eye contact – although he did let his gaze slip down into her healthy cleavage. "Not a bad thing, necessarily," she whispered to herself, thinking of the warmth that formed between her legs when he did much the same to her.

A man approached her table as she watched, distracting her for a moment. Liz had been hit on a couple times that evening, but had been able to brush them off as easily as those earlier girls had brushed off Trey. This one was a little different. He was hot.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"I have a drink," she replied coyly, indicating her half finished martini.

"I see that. You've been nursing it for the last ten minutes. And there's nothing worse than a warm martini…" He had dark eyes and a dark complexion like a true Hawaiian native.

She laughed. "True enough. Sure, you can buy me a refill."

Glancing over his shoulder, the conversation between Trey and his "target" continued. A little fun of her own couldn't hurt…

She watched the guy go back up to the bar, her eyes lingering on his broad shoulders. Working so closely with a guy that looked as good as Trey for the past half week without any release had her at boiling point.

The brunette and Trey were talking close. She had moist red lips that were probably begging to be kissed. Trey kept glancing at them, unaware that he was licking his own lips. She leaned close and whispered into his ear. This was the play, Liz thought. This was the true test.

Trey looked stunned, frozen in his stool as Caroline slipped off her own. She took his hand in his and pulled him along, heading for the door. "Fuck," Liz muttered, glancing wistfully at the hunk ordering her another drink. If she only had ten more minutes. Fifteen…

She sighed again, threw back the rest of her martini, and followed the couple out the door before her suitor had a chance to see her leave.

She made it out just in time to hear Trey's good-boy self emerge. "I can't do this. I'm so sorry…" he begged off. Caroline had him pinned against her Range Rover, her bare, toned arms on either side of his head, her red lips whispering into his ear.

"Leave him alone, Car, he's had enough," Liz interrupted. The brunette pouted, but stepped away. "How'd he do?"

"He had me convinced," she said, the woman's voice thick with a Southern drawl. She winked at a confused Trey. "Hell, I'll still fuck him if he's up for it."

"Caroline!" Liz scolded.

"What's going on?" Trey asked, finding a voice.

"Sorry. Trey, allow me to introduce you to Caroline Aurora Turner. She's my surveillance expert and handles almost all the support for my missions. She's sometimes good for other things, too."

"Oh, you know you love me!" the Southern belle laughed. "Why did you come out here, anyway? I saw the guy you were chattin' up."

"Mission first. You know that," Liz sighed.

"Go on, have some fun. I'll take this one back to camp."

Liz bit her lip. It wasn't protocol, but it sure was tempting. A quick roll between the sheets was just the thing she needed to get her mind back on track. And there was almost nothing more thrilling than strange cock. Looking at Trey, she shook her head. Almost nothing…

"OK, but be good, Caroline. He's had enough for one night."

"Not nearly," she winked. Liz knew she could trust her comms expert, but sometimes, the woman's teasing went too far. "Have fun!"

As Liz turned back to the bar, she thought to herself, Don't worry about me…

***

"Here are those files you asked for, sir," the saucy blonde smirked, tossing the stack of red folders onto Vincent's desk.

The director of C.L.O.A.K. glanced up at his office manager, who remained leaning forward on the opposite side of his desk. He could see the leopard print of her bra. "Thank you, Emily."

He reached for them, flipping the first open. In it was a series of photo proofs that had been lifted from Alicia's last shoot. Unfiltered and uncensored, they showed off the blonde's nudity from all angles. He'd enjoy these later.

"Have you brought her in yet?" Emily asked, sitting on the edge of the desk. Her short, black skirt rode up her thigh, revealing a sliver of tanned skin above her black stockings.

"Not yet. She's not ready." He paged through the 8 x 10s, stopping on one of Alicia and another blonde model engaged in a heated kiss.

"Looks like she's pretty fucking ready," Emily laughed, adjusting her plastic-framed glasses. Horn-rimmed today. She'd once confided to him that she only wore the horn-rimmed ones when she was horny. Vincent felt his cock stir.

"She's ready when she's ready. This can't be rushed," the dark haired man said, a little too roughly. In truth, he was a little worried about revealing his true identity. Alicia was a smart girl, one that didn't tolerate being used. He had to strike when she was at her lowest. Then, she'd be forever in his debt.

"And you've been a good little boy?" Emily asked, her voice going up one teasing octave. She swiveled around on the desk, unraveling her crossed legs and causing her tight skirt to slide higher on her thighs. Vincent saw the garters holding her stockings up now.

"I have been," he nodded, although that wasn't quite true. He couldn't help himself last Saturday night with Liz. The fiery redhead's insubordination always got him worked up. "Although it's been so… hard…"

"Oh yeah?" Emily asked, rolling her shoulders back and her chest forward as she pealed off her blazer. "I know a little about being hard." She winked, tapping her fingers across her visible nipples. "Maybe I could help."

Vincent licked his lips as he surveyed the blonde's hard body. With the quick tap of a button, the blinds of his office shut and the door latched. Emily had her blouse open, exposing the animal print bra to her boss's lecherous eyes. Her skirt quickly followed, uncovering her matching thong and garter belt.

Leaning back, she sprawled across his desk – a feast of flesh and curves. "Or maybe," she said huskily, "you need to help yourself."

Taking his time, Vincent ran his hand across Emily's flat stomach, tracing the starburst tattoo that encircled her pierced belly button before moving higher. As his hand covered the full swell of her breasts, he lowered his lips to hers. She hungrily returned the kiss.

Vincent felt her hand cover the front of his pants as she nibbled down on his lower lip. "Thought you needed help with your hard problem…" she tantalized as she groped him. She snapped her teeth up at him as she awkwardly lowered his fly.

"First, I'll help myself," he replied, pulling away from her mouth, he yanked the cups of the leopard print bra down and attacked her swollen nipples. Almost chewing on the eraser tips, he drew a long moan out of her. She liked it rough and he was in a rough mood.

Vincent plunged his hand inside of her panties and assaulted her hooded pleasure center. The blonde's back arched, compressing her tits against his mouth as she moaned louder. This wasn't about teasing, or loving. His fingers went right for the finish line and didn't let up until the hot office manager's body was damp with her sweaty orgasm.

Only then did he climb up onto the desk and take care of himself. Jerking the thong to one side, he buried his cock between her buttery soft folds. "Uhn, yess…" the girl with the short blonde hair cried out, not quick recovered from her climax.

"God, your cunt feels good," he groaned as she squeezed her pussy muscles around him.

"I know you wish it was hers. Don't you, baby?" she asked, her deep voice taking on a shrill, hysterical quality. "You can tell me. I won't be mad."

"Fuck, Em…"

"I know you're going to jack off to the pictures of that blonde model. I still can't believe you haven't fucked her yet. Haven't fucked that tight pussy of hers. Haven't felt those full lips wrap around you…"

"Jesus Christ!" Vincent hissed, barely holding himself back as images of Alicia flooded his mind. Some memories, some fantasies. Everything Emily was saying, he wanted.

"She'd do you, too. I've seen the tapes. She's into you, Vincy. And she's already fucked Mishin like a high-class callgirl. What are you waiting for—FUCK!"

"ARGH!" Vincent growled, jamming his hips hard into the blonde as he emptied himself into the taunting blonde.

When he came down, his body soaking through his shirt, which he'd neglected to remove, Emily was there, stroking his face. "Why are you still waiting, Vince? It's just sex…"

***

"So how was he?" Caroline asked enthusiastically. Caroline, Liz, and Trey were sharing lunch outside the training grounds, overlooking the endless blue ocean. "You looked pretty beat yesterday morning…"

"Not enough to run me into the ground," Trey muttered. For such a small woman, Liz had a lot of pep. He also was feeling a little hot under the collar and couldn't explain it. Surely he wasn't jealous.

Liz blushed a bit, but answered. "It's been a while since I've had a cock so big."

Caroline's eyes lit up. "Really?" she said, leaning forward. The movement didn't go unnoticed by Trey, whose eyes immediately went to her breasts. The Georgia peach of a comms expert was wearing a brown string bikini that barely contained her large breasts, and a little pair of cutoffs.

"Still have his number?" the brunette went on.

"I don't know how you guys do it," Trey interrupted.

"Do what?" the two women asked at once.

"Be so cavalier about sex."

"It's just sex, Trey," Caroline laughed. Her free spirit made Liz seem like a nun. At least the redhead was quiet about her sexuality.

"Trey's a romantic."

Now it was the only male present's turn to blush. Why should he be the one to feel ashamed? "When you two meet the one, then you'll know where I'm coming from."

"I have, remember?" Caroline replied, holding up her hand to show off her wedding band.

"That thing's real?" he asked incredulously. He'd convinced himself over the last two days that it was part of her cover.

"Sure is. Henry and I have been married for ten years. We know all about love," she said sincerely. Then a wicked grin spread across her face. "But that doesn't make me enjoy sex any less!"

"And he's OK with that?"

"He loves it! Doesn't he, Liz?" she winked. Liz averted her eyes, pretending not to hear the question. "Come on, Trey, don't keep your head in the sand. Sex is sex. People do it all the damned time. Your wife is in the modeling world, don't tell me you think she hasn't had a fling or two…"

"She hasn't," he growled, suddenly very tired of this conversation.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Liz's quick shake of her head to the other woman – one that said, "Don't go any further." Was it because his trainer was looking out for him? Or wanted to protect him… Alicia loved him. She'd never…

"Well, either way, it's just sex. You need to lighten up a little, toots!"

***

"Harder! Fuck my ass harder!" Isobel screamed. Her naked, sweat-slick body writhed on all fours as Alexander Mishin drilled down into her tight asshole. He loved how vocal she was when they fucked. He loved it about as much as he loved her willingness for anal sex. It made him feel like a rock star. Which, he often thought, he was, in a sense.

"Fuck, Alex! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she cried, craning her neck to look back at him. Her dark hair clung to her damp brow. So sexy. He plunged against her swiftly, feeling his swollen balls bounce across her plump labial lips.

She buried her face in the bed sheets as she came. Alex wasn't too far behind, although as he shut his eyes and barked out his climax, it wasn't Isobel's ass he was dumping himself into.

"So, did you have a good session with Alicia?" he asked once he'd recovered his voice. His throat felt raw.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 05



"You always ask about her. I think someone has a crush," the photographer teased in her exotic accent.

"Don't," he warned.

"Yes, it was good. But she's always good. A natural, that one. And so sexy…"

"Maybe I'm not the only one with a crush? Maybe you're projecting."

She rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. "Maybe…"

She rolled onto her side, her black hair fanning out on the soft pillow behind her. She bent an arm up over her head and sighed, reveling in her nudity.

"God, you're sexy, Isobel. You belong on the other side of the lens." Even after their session, he felt himself grow at the sight of her. She had wonderfully full breasts for such a slender frame. What he said was true; she really did belong on his payroll as a model.

She laughed huskily. They'd had this conversation before. Plenty of times. "But then you'd just see me as one of your bimbo models. You'd start thinking you could fuck me whenever you wanted!"

His eyes drifted down to her cleanly shaven pussy, the skin a warm brown like the rest of her body. "Yeah, that would be hard to get used to," he said sarcastically. "And I don't think my models are bimbos. Quite the opposite! I don't hire bimbos."  

"I know, I know. I'm just playing with you, Alexander." They basked in the afterglow of their orgasms. "I think I'm going to invite Alicia to Erin's thing at Condo. You should come."

"You two friends now?" he teased.

"Sure. Why not?" she asked with a bit of Latina attitude. "She seems lonely. Her husband's MIA. I figured she could use a little fun."

"You mean sex."

"Did I say something else?"

Alex laughed. "You know she's married…"

Isobel smirked. "Such a gentleman." She tapped him on the nose. "Doesn't fit you."

"I figured I'd try. How did you get on the list at Condo, if you don't mind me asking? I thought you had a falling out with someone…"

"Gabrielle set it all up. She said it would be fine."

"Gabrielle, huh? Interesting…"

"She's actually the one who suggested I bring Alicia. I think something's going on between those two…"

The image of Gabrielle eating the blonde's sweet cunt as he fucked her came unbidden to his mind, along with the resurgence of his cock. "Doubt it. She's in Paris… but it's a nice thought."

"I see that," Isobel purred, reaching down to stroke his growing member. She leaned back and spread her legs. "I don't mind it if you fantasize. Just get that thing back in me." He mounted the tawny senorita, spread her legs further, and pushed back in.

Next Chapter: Partying Like a Rock Star 



Models and Super Spies Ch. 06



This is the sixth chapter of a 13-chapter novella. Read the previous chapters for a greater appreciation of the story. Many thanks to HallidayTee. Please make sure to vote!

Models and Super Spies

Chapter 6: Partying Like a Rock Star

"I want you to imagine that you have just been reunited with your lover. You have been apart for too long. You've dreamt of his touch, his smell, his body. He takes you into his strong arms. He leans in to kiss you, and… perfect. Now hold that pose."

Isobel's sing-song Spanish accent brought Alicia into the mood. The blonde model felt her nipples tighten visibly through the thin silk of her black, flowing gown.

She'd done as the photographer had instructed, imaging her lover in the moment before his kiss. Her heart had seized up as she did so, her skin flaring hotly at the vision. It wasn't Trey she imagined, despite the fact that it had been more than a week since her husband had left for business. And Isobel probably knew it wouldn't be.

"You're a natural, Alicia!" Isobel encouraged as her camera clicked rapidly. "Surprised and sexy. Naughty… It's the perfect look for Les Petite Mort…"

This was her fourth photo shoot since she'd signed on with Mishin Inc., and this time, she knew exactly what it was: the new ad campaign for Gabrielle's flagship perfume. The supermodel herself had requested Alicia. So Alexander Mishin had claimed.  

Thankfully for her sanity, she hadn't run into either of them since that fateful night at the Green Fairy Lounge. She knew she'd been high on drugs and drunk on powerful liquor -- even that Alexander Mishin had taken full advantage of her impressionable state. She should have hated him for it -- and the rational part of her did -- but she wasn't denying that part of her liked it. Part of her wanted to feel his cock inside her again.

"No blushing. I need sexy, not cute," Isobel interrupted, breaking her from her thoughts. The woman winked, seeming to read her thoughts.

"Sorry, Izzy," Alicia apologized. 

They'd had a few more lunches and the Spanish beauty hadn't let up when it came to talk of sex. She regaled the blonde of her free lifestyle, every time speaking of marriage as though it were a bad word.

And then there were her lunches with Vincent. Her heart twittered as she thought of yet another man in her life that shouldn't have been. Their lunches had remained innocent. They'd stuck to the sidewalk cafes and always arrived separately. But when she was alone at night…

"There it is. Hold that!"

Trey had called a few times since he'd left. A year ago, she would have been distraught at how little she'd heard his voice. Now, while she certainly missed him, she was OK with the lack of communication. 

When he returned, they'd talk. She just didn't really want to think about that particular conversation. She still wasn't quite sure where it would go.

"I think we're done for today," the Spanish photographer said, putting a cap on her lens. "You seem more distracted than usual today. Still struggling with your silly guilt?" She winked.

Alicia closed her eyes and shook her head. "He's coming home tomorrow. I… I don't know what to do. What to say to him."

Isobel made a tsking sound. "Don't say anything. You could always leave a note. Stay with me if you want."

The woman spoke of leaving her husband so matter-of-factly, it was hard to believe she was talking about anything more serious than the weather forecast. "I can't do that…"

Isobel rolled her eyes. She had such large, pretty dark eyes. "Why not? Life's short, Alicia. Sometimes, you need to do what feels right."

Unsure of what else to say, Alicia slipped behind the changing screen and changed the subject. "Want to grab some lunch?"

"Actually, I've got plans today, but want to go to a party tonight?"

Alicia pulled on her loose fitting sundress. "I don't know, I think I'm too old for parties…"

"You're only 25! If you're too old, what does that make me?" It had become a recurring joke between them. Isobel was only a month older than her, but she'd become the "old woman." "Come on, it'll take your mind off all that other stuff."

"Well, OK. I guess so…"

"Excellent. I'll pick you up around 10? I know a pre-party we can hit up before!"

"A pre-party at 10? That seals it, I'm old."

"Nah, you're just married." Isobel's head popped around the screen. The pretty woman bounced her eyebrows suggestively. "But not for long!"

Alicia actually laughed at the woman's persistence. "You're too much!"

***

Trey turned his head slowly, amazed by the reflection in the mirror. He hardly recognized himself. He brought his hand to his face, feeling the unfamiliar scratch of week-old beard along his normally clean-shaven jaw. His pale skin was now sunburn red, lending to the surfer-guy look Liz had fashioned for him. 

But it was the hair that really transformed him. He'd trimmed back the orange-red curls he'd sported since he'd left the military, covering his buzz-cut with a high quality wig of tangled, sun-bleached hair.

"Hey there, rock star!" Liz greeted as she walked into the room. "Here, try these on." She handed him a pair of large, gradated shades that were more for fashion than sun blockage. "Like a young Brad Pitt… or Kurt Cobain, back from the dead." He slipped them on and checked himself out.

"You're some kind of miracle worker," he said, catching her eyes in the mirror. "Even Alicia won't recognize me!"

Liz had transformed herself as well. Unlike Trey, she actually tanned pretty well, although with a mess of freckles. Her high quality wig of long, straight brown hair had surprised him at first. For a moment, he thought she was her sister, Kathy.

"You packed, Trenton Dean?" She giggled at the fake name C.L.O.A.K. had devised for him. "Absolutely, Elizabeth Dean. You have the tickets?"

She held out her left hand, glancing at the enormous diamond ring she now wore. "God, I'm not going to want to give this back!" She slipped her designer sunglasses down over her eyes, grabbed her wheely bag, and rolled it out to the dock.

They were flying back to LA. It had been almost a week since he'd been home. In fact, tomorrow night, Friday night, would be a week. He was amazed at how much progress Liz had been able to make with him. They spent the morning hours working on physical training, and the latter hours going over the technical details. Having Caroline there to lend her expertise helped, although the woman was a constant flirt. 

Liz seemed a little wary of the mission that was to come, but she did her best to conceal it. Tonight should be easy enough. Erin Small was hosting a party at her most exclusive clubs -- an underground soiree at Condo. They were to make an appearance, introduce themselves as a rich couple from Hawaii -- the Deans. Then Trey was supposed to get her alone and ask about Kelly, maybe setting something up while he was in town.

Easy. Only now that the day was finally here, Trey was terrified. If he made it through tonight and tomorrow, then he'd finally get to go home. He could sleep in his own bed, kiss his own wife, and pretend things were back to normal.

Just two more nights…

***

As soon as Alicia walked into the spacious apartment, she knew this was a mistake. Isobel had spent the whole ride over assuring her that the girls were cool, that this was a great idea.

The blonde had used the money from her last job to buy her outfit: Juicy Couture jeans that were way too low for panties, a backless top that covered less than the hundred dollar bills she'd spent on it would have covered, even more expensive spiked sandals, and an entirely new assortment of jewelry to match.

A month ago, she would have been shocked at the price tag on her outfit. Now, wasn't it just part of the lifestyle? Isn't this how the girls did it these days?

As she was led into a strange apartment -- hip-hop blaring from a state-of-the-art stereo system -- by a self-proclaimed slut, she was suddenly overwhelmed by how out of place she felt. And the models taking turns doing lines of cocaine off the coffee table didn't help, either.

"Um… I don't think this is a good idea," she whispered to the Latin photographer, stalling in the archway of the living room. A gorgeous Asian had just taken her turn with the coke. She tossed her long black hair back and pinched her nose as the powerful narcotic washed through her.

"Relax, you don't have to do it. No one's pressuring you," Isobel tried calming her friend. It wasn't working. Alicia's stomach was clawing its way up her throat.

"You've done it?" she asked, feeling naïve.

"When I go out, sometimes," Isobel shrugged. "But I won't tonight if you won't."

"I'm not going to!" Alicia practically shouted. The last time she'd done drugs -- the only time -- she'd completely lost control.

"Something wrong?" a husky voice asked. The Asian girl had joined them, a haughty smirk twisted on her stunning face. Alicia instantly recognized her: Michelle Park, the winner of season two of Supermodel. 

"Michelle, it's so good to see you," Isobel said, her voice guarded. Michelle's almond-shaped eyes quickly sized Alicia up, and not in the most friendly of ways, either.

When she spoke, though, she sounded cheery. "You were never good at lying, but thanks for the effort." Written off, just like that. "And now I get to finally meet Gabbie's flavor of the month. Alicia, right?"

Alicia hated this woman instantly. She exemplified all that she despised in the world of modeling -- and LA in general. She was shallow, fake, and catty. She didn't need to put up with this shit. "Alicia, yes. I just signed with Mishin Inc."

"What a trip that must be for you," Michelle commented, her face lighting up in faux excitement. "Come on, let's go celebrate!" She grabbed the blonde's hand and pulled her into the room before Alicia knew what was happening.

Alicia found herself sandwiched between Michelle and a young hunk whose toned body was warm against her own. He was just sitting up from the drug-covered table, holding the rolled hundred in front of him like an unlit cigarette.

"Shit, that's good stuff," he commented to Alicia, giving her a white-toothed smile. He smelled good, she thought as he offered her the paper tube.

"No, I don't think so," she declined. Her face burned as she felt the attractive young man's dark eyes judge her, but last weekend's blunder was still fresh in her mind. "Thanks though."

"What the matter, sugar pie?" Michelle asked, her sweetness now blatantly put on. "A coke virgin?" The Asian model rubbed Alicia's shoulders in encouragement as she cocked her head to the proffered bill.

"Michelle, lay off." It was Isobel that butted in. "What are we, in high school?"

Michelle gave the photographer -- who was standing across from them with both hands on her hips -- a scathing glance. "If we were in high school, what would that make you? The wannabe cheerleader who never gets picked?"

Isobel just rolled her eyes. "You don't even know how ridiculous you sound. Did you ever watch yourself on Supermodel? Come on, Alicia, let's get out of here."

"Bitch," Michelle said to those around her.

Isobel didn't look back. She took Alicia's hand and the two of them quickly left. The blonde's face burned even more. 

***

Caroline, who'd gone ahead to set up their base camp, was waiting for them at LaGuardia. It was getting on 10. Things weren't supposed to start until closer to midnight, but Liz wanted to get there a little early so they'd have their best shot at being noticed by the club owner.

The flirtatious southern belle drove them to the Four Seasons Beverly Hills, telling them all about the luxurious spread. Not too shabby for a headquarters hotel, Trey thought, although it had to be upscale to go with their cover. The rooms were already wired up, the smaller of the two being filled with a mini-surveillance center.

Despite Liz's rush, she did take time to shower and do her make up while Caroline and Trey sat around, waiting. "You nervous?" she asked in her thick drawl. "You seem it."

"First mission jitters, I suppose."

The brunette was playing with some radio equipment, leaning over enough to give Trey a long, hard look down her black tank top. "Not that I know much about these kinds of things, but I've heard one piece of advice. In order for others to believe your cover, you've gotta believe it. Make sense? So, do you feel like a rich, young dilettante?"

"Not right now," Trey admitted, honestly.

"Well, sugar, you should. Here's what we're gonna do. When your 'wife' comes out of the bedroom, I want you to sweep her into your arms and plant a big, wet smooch on her lips." Trey thought of Alicia emerging after spending a half hour on her make up, and how mad that would make her. But then, a guy like Trenton Dean would do that, wouldn't he?

"Liz's not my wife."

Caroline chuckled. "Tonight she is. Your wife'll forgive you. But if you're found out and end up in some bad guy's back room, smacked around, she might not have a chance to forgive…"

Liz chose that ominous moment to make her entrance. Both spectators sat dumbly on the couch, watching her beauty radiate. The cute little redhead was gone. Not even a trace of her remained. "Elizabeth Dean" was hot in a very untouchable way. She was a starlet, complete with bright red lipstick, long, unfettered hair, and short baby-doll party dress that practically added a foot to her short frame. The four-inch spikes helped with that, too, Trey noticed as his eyes scanned her long, shapely legs.

"Wow," Caroline whistled, nudging him a little.

Trey stood, channeled the rockstar Trenton into him, and pulled "his wife" into his arms. She smelled good; looked even better. Her grey eyes danced as he leaned her back dramatically. "You're breathtaking, wife," he said, and kissed her.

It started as a bit of a play kiss. In the end, it transformed him into Trenton. He reveled in the soft, unfamiliar feel of her tongue against his. Her scent was new. Her taste was different. Even the way her hands curled up around his shoulder blades was fresh.

He'd stood as Trey; he pulled away from Elizabeth as Trenton.

"Now I'm going to have to redo my lips," she whined, although her grey eyes continued to smile. She felt as exhilarated as he -- as she should, he thought. I'm a rock star!

***

"I'm sorry for that. I didn't realize it would be that kind of pre-party," Isobel said over Cosmos. They'd retreated to a small cocktail lounge that the attractive photographer frequented.

"Oh, no problem. I'm used to catty models. Wouldn't be the first time I'd been in that situation." Drugs and modeling went hand-in-hand, but she'd always been able to resist temptation in the past. And without any of the embarrassing peer-pressure. What she didn't tell Isobel was that this was the first time she'd actually stopped and wondered what it would be like.

"Michelle and I never got along. I don't know if you ever watched the show, but we had a pretty heated televised fight on one of the episodes."

"No, I never caught much of it, but I can imagine."

"She came off as an outrageous bitch on that show, and only a little bit of it was editing." The black haired woman sipped her drink thoughtfully. "Tony looked good though." There was that mischievous glint in her eyes again; the one that meant trouble.

"Tony?"

"Tall, dark, and handsome sitting next to you."

Alicia blushed as she thought of the hunk. "Yeah, he smelled nice."

Isobel laughed hard enough that she had to cover her mouth. "Girl, you need it bad!"

The blonde's face turned bright red. "Is it that obvious?"

"Maybe we can arrange something between the two of you. Tony's one of Erin's friends, and he's always up for a little no-strings-attached fun."

"Izzy, you know I can't…"

"It has nothing to do with 'can' or 'can't'. At least be honest with yourself… Now come on, finish up. We've got a party to go to!"

***

Trey knew exactly why Condo was so exclusive. It was basically a condo building that had been converted into a club -- although "converted" is a bit loose of a term. Most of the rooms remained intact: the bedrooms were still bedrooms, for the most part; the kitchens were kitchens (although bartenders manned them now, mixing drinks and pouring beers); and the living rooms became the congregation points for conversation and dance.

The club was more a warren of rooms than what Trey typically thought of as a club -- big open spaces like warehouses filled with flailing, sweaty dancers. The unusual venue turned out to be a blessing, as the smaller spaces provided the ideal environment to people watch and remain pretty inconspicuous.

They arrived just a little after 10:30, which in club-time was early. "Elizabeth" and "Trenton" made their rounds, socializing with LA's rich and famous. They got a feel for who was who, and kept their sights set on Erin Small.

The attractive club promoter and alleged madam moved through the crowd like a fish in water. This was her element; this was her world. She made it a point to socialize, to be one with the guests. Liz and Trey quickly figured out that they wouldn't have to approach her; if they waited long enough, she'd come to them.

Trey tried not to gawk at the celebrities and personalities they were brushing up against. He channeled some Trenton -- some rockstar -- and started to believe that he fit this crowd. 

"Look who it is," Liz whispered. Trey followed her eyes into the next room, where a DJ was spinning dance tunes for a small crowd. At first, he didn't recognize the young blonde. She had tight ringlets that just barely brushed her shoulders, and was wearing a silver cami and what was a poor excuse for a skirt.

"Who?" he started to ask, and then she turned. Sarah Ellis. Of course. The only confirmed Mishin model in Erin's little ring. And their eventual target. My God, she's got a body, Trey couldn't help thinking.

"Her boy-toy's going to have fun tonight," Liz whispered as they watched the blonde grind on a tall, handsome man whose hands were all over the taut expanse of skin between her little top and her little skirt.

She pulled his head down to her and whispered something into his ear. The guy nodded enthusiastically and allowed himself to be pulled off the dance floor. Trey watched her discreetly as they passed through their room, toward the stairs that went up into a part of the club he hadn't yet explored.

"Think she's working tonight?" he asked as he sipped his Jack and coke.

"Maybe. Who knows?" 

"If she is, she seems to enjoy her work…" he said.

"With clients like that, who wouldn't?" the disguised redhead joked.

Liz's eyes shifted beyond him, her expression changing into what Trey now recognized as her "game face."

"I don't think we've met," a woman's refined voice said behind him. "I'm Erin Small."

Trey turned. The madam had found them at last. He didn't even have to take his usual pause, his composing breath. He was Trenton Dean now, and he could do this.

"We know who you are, Erin Small. Your clubs are all the talk where we're from," he opened confidently.

"And that is…"

"Honolulu. Hawaii. My wife and I are here on business. Had to pull some strings to get in here, but so far, it's definitely been worth it."

Erin looked at Liz. "Hi, I'm Elizabeth Dean, and this is my husband, Trenton. I should apologize for him, he sometimes forgets that his ego isn't as big as he'd like." Erin laughed at her quip.

"I'm sorry that I don't recognize that name, but welcome to Condo."

"It's lovely," Elizabeth said demurely. After spending the last couple weeks with her, she really had transformed herself. Where Liz was tough and strong, Elizabeth was calm and feminine.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 06



"What's up there?" Trey asked, glancing in the direction Sarah and her man had gone.

"Ah, that's where the guests can go for some more… privacy."

"Ah, that's where the real action is," Trenton inferred, bouncing his eyebrows suggestively. "Honey, we should take a tour."

Liz rolled her eyes. "I'm going to get a refill. Want another?"

"Sure thing, Lizzy. Jack and Coke, but you can hold the Coke this time."

He watched Liz go, wondering who she was wiggling her little ass at. "She's gorgeous," Erin commented.

"So are you," he smiled, turning to the older woman. He knew from her profile that she was 35, but she was a very youthful 35. Only the small wrinkles around her sharp blue eyes betrayed her.

"Mmm, a charmer. I like that." She took a sip of her martini. "Do you really want a tour of upstairs? I can arrange that."

Trey laughed. "No offense, Erin, but no matter how nice this place is, our suite at the Four Seasons is far superior."

Erin nodded slightly, but added, "I'm sure, but I wasn't just thinking about you and your wife." She plucked an olive from her glass, rolling it on her tongue before crushing it between her teeth. Trey felt his cock flex.

"Actually, I've heard some things about you…"

"Yes?" she asked, cocking a strawberry blonde brow in interest.

"Yes. That you're the woman to talk to when it comes to finding beautiful… companionship."

Erin laughed. "Really? And a man like you, with a wife like that, needs help?"

He suppressed his blush. That wouldn't do. "When time is short," he winked. "Tomorrow night, for example. Elizabeth is flying home, but business is holding me here one more day. I was thinking…"

"Yes?" Erin asked innocently.

"A friend of mine mentioned a woman named Kelly. I was hoping you could help me find her."

Erin's smile grew even wider. "Ah, Kelly. Yes…"

"What?"

"She's a popular girl. Tomorrow night, you say? I think I may be able to find her… I assume you're not worried about rates and costs and such?"

"That's what I pay my people for," Trey big-timed. "My only concern is about having fun."

"I don't imagine that's much of a problem…"

"Not in the company of a woman like you."

Erin rolled her eyes. "You're staying at the Four Seasons under Dean?" Trey nodded. "When are you free? And were you thinking dinner, or just… straight up to your place."

"Would I be a gentleman if I didn't offer dinner?"

"Are you a gentleman, Mr. Dean?"

"Good point. How about my room, around 9."

"All night?"

"Always."

Erin giggled. "You won't regret it. Now, please excuse me. Time to be a hostess again. It was a pleasure talking to you, Trenton Dean." She placed a soft hand on his shoulder. Trey shivered, once again feeling a reaction between his legs. "And if you or your wife would like to see upstairs, find me."

As LA's infamous madam moved on, Liz's voice whispered over the comms, "You did good, kid. She ate it up."

"I think that's not the only thing she'd like to eat up."

Liz walked back into sight, holding their drinks before her. "You're a pig," she said when she was in earshot, winking.

***

Alexander Mishin sat at the bar, brooding over his glass of Scotch. Something was going on. He just couldn't put his finger on what. The feeling was in his gut; it was the same feeling he got when he uncovered the next cover girl, when he found the next diamond-in-the-rough. Something about Gabrielle. Gabrielle and Erin? Isobel?

A warm hand behind him drew him back to his surroundings. The bass of Condo's dance floor once again enveloped him. The din of the beautiful people around him returned. "Drinking alone?"

"I guess so," the Russian replied, swirling his glass on the bar top. The hand belonged to Michelle Park, whose fifteen minutes of fame still hadn't worn off.

He gave her a quick once-over. The Korean American was certainly hot, he admitted, particularly clad in the tight black tube-dress that stretched along her hard body. But she was no supermodel, despite the title she'd earned. She didn't have that… diamond quality.

"Mind if I drink alone beside you?" she asked, raising a playful eyebrow in his direction.

"I do," he said, signaling to the bartender. "But I wouldn't mind the company." He'd fucked her once, during a threesome with Gabrielle, and while she wasn't supermodel quality in his book, she certainly was fuckable. Besides, maybe he could do something about that nagging feeling he'd developed since he'd been with Isobel. Maybe she could give him a few clues.

"I'll have a vodka tonic then," she smiled, slipping up against him.

"How about having one upstairs with me?"

"Mmm… even better."

***

"What's upstairs?" Alicia asked Isobel as she took a breather from the dance floor. That last guy had his hands all over her and wouldn't take a hint, no matter how many times she moved them.

"Why do you ask?" the Spanish woman asked in amusement.

"Mr. Party Shirt asked if I wanted to check it out."

Isobel laughed at the name they'd come up with for the last round of gentlemanly suitors. The two of them had been there for close to an hour and had already gone through three sets of guys.

"That's where you can go if you find Mr. Right-for-Tonight."

"You mean…"

"…condos have bedrooms, too, you know."

"That's disgusting!" Alicia exclaimed, thinking of how many people must share the same, used bed. It felt worse than cheap. It felt out of place here, with all these celebrities around.

"Not everyone can get in. I seriously doubt your Mr. Party Shirt would have had a chance. I think he was in some soap in the 90s? But if you really wanted a go, I'm sure we could talk to Erin…"

"Talk to me about what?" an attractive, older woman asked, appearing out of the crowd. To Alicia, she looked oddly familiar, although she couldn't place her.

"Erin! There you are. I'd like you to meet Alicia Kennedy, Alex's latest model."

"Alicia, so nice to meet you again," the woman said, her smile showing a row of perfect, white teeth. "I believe we met briefly at the Green Fairy Lounge…"

The memory was still vague, but it seemed plausible. She tried not to dwell too much on that evening, and anything that came before the drugs and sex seemed hardly worth remembering.

"You've caught the eye of Gabrielle Dubois, in case you don't already know." Did she know something? Had she heard them in the VIP room? What was that sparkle in her eye?

"She's been shooting for Gabrielle's new scent, so I think she's got an idea." The brunette turned to Alicia. "Erin runs this club, the Green Fairy downtown, and a few others around LA."

She runs it? She runs the Green Fairy? Then she must know what happened there…

"It's nice to meet you," she said bashfully, quickly adding, "again."

"Would you like to see upstairs?" The woman laughed at Alicia's startled look. "A quick tour. Come on, it's my favorite thing about this club."

Isobel nodded her head to Alicia, urging her to go along with it. Reluctantly, the blonde followed Erin Small into the back. She looked back, surprised that Isobel was staying behind…

***

Alexander used Erin's suites whenever he pleased. That was one of the many perks she gave him. In exchange, he looked the other way when it came to her other… business excursions.

"Vodka tonic?" he asked, crossing the contemporarily furnished living room to the fully stocked bar. Michelle didn't respond immediately, and when he turned back, he discovered why.

"A vodka tonic would be lovely," she said, posing for him in nothing but a g-string and her platform heels. She'd discarded her small black dress on the cherry, hardwood floors. "Although I think I'd rather drink your cum."

Alex laughed at her forwardness. "A girl who likes to get right down to business. I can get behind that." He leaned against the counter, watching the olive-hued Asian saunter across the room. Half-way there, she hooked her thumbs into her panties and stepped out of them.

"I hope you can… get behind that…"

The girl's naked body was even better than he'd remembered. Her full breasts still sat high and perky with all the grace of youth, and her velvety smooth pussy was already wet with anticipation.

Michelle dropped to her knees before him without so much as a kiss on the lips, quickly unzipping his trousers and fishing out his up-turning cock. With one quick glance -- the kind a sculptor gives when sizing up an unformed block of clay -- she practically lunged forward, taking the engorged member deep into her throat.

Alex had to grip the edges of the bar behind him as her skilled mouth glided away. The probing could wait a little, Alex reasoned. For now, he'd have a little fun.

***

"'Upstairs' is our version of the VIP lounge. Lounges, I guess," Erin explained on their way up the stairs. "Condo is all about intimacy. And sometimes, a celebrity or a high profile guest wants an even more intimate setting than the public rooms. A home away from home. You know?"

At the top of the stairs was a wide hall, lined with alternating, beveled doors. Each were numbered as though this were a true condo complex, although one that Alicia could never afford. At least not yet…

"That one there is the Lohans'," Erin said as they walked down the hall. "That's Paris's, although they sometimes share." She pointed to one that didn't have a number but a little bunny head. "That's Hugh's, but he's rarely there. It's mainly for his girls." Alicia nodded, still a little shocked as she thought about what all these celebrities must do behind the doors. Were they doing it now?

"And this one's mine," she said, stopping at the last door on the hall. Number 01. "I'll readily admit that I chose the biggest suite, but why shouldn't I?" She winked at the blonde, fishing out a silver key and opening it quietly. "Hope no one's home…"

The door opened into an enormous living room -- two times the size of her own. The floors were glossy cherry wood. The rich looking furniture was dark wood, stunning against its white upholstery. It was like a page out of a Crate & Barrel catalog -- although Alicia got the impression that this room cost a whole lot more.

"Well, well, looks like someone's been sleeping in my bed," Erin whispered, reaching down and picking up a discarded black dress. The blonde's breath caught. She quickly searched the room, but it was empty. A tiny g-string sat on the floor in the middle of the room. It looked like whoever was there had begun to fix a drink at the bar, but had left that behind, too.

Erin quietly crossed the room, nudging the panties with her toe. She put a finger to her lips for quiet, then pointed to the bar once again. In addition to the open bottle of Stoli, there was a round mirror, an unrolled bill, and a credit card. A pink baggy sat just off the mirror.

"Looks like we're crashing someone's party," the older woman murmured, stepping up to the counter. She picked up the credit card, reading, "Alexander Mishin," for Alicia's benefit.

The blonde felt her cheeks go red and her heart flutter. He was here? She glanced toward the closed doors that led to… bedrooms? Was he in one of those? As if in answer, the two heard a loud cry pierce the stillness of the room -- the unmistakable sound of feminine pleasure.

Erin poured some of the powdery contents of the pink baggy out onto the plate and carved them into two rows. Alicia felt her mouth go dry. Her entire body was tingling. Get out, get out, get out! a voice cried. This isn't you, this isn't right.

The strawberry blonde woman re-rolled the bill and quickly did a line. She sniffed sharply, rubbing her nose and licking her lips. She handed the bill to Alicia, who took it in her unsteady hand.

This time, Alicia didn't have a choice. Erin wasn't some bimbo model. And she wasn't some silly slut like Michelle Park. She didn't want to see that judgment in Erin's blue eyes. This time, she took the bill, leaned over the mirror, and snorted her first line of cocaine.

Life would never be the same.

"Come on, let me show you another reason I love this place," Erin whispered, grabbing the blonde's hand even before the chemical buzz hit her. When it did, the older woman was unlocking one of the doors, pulling her into a dark room without any windows.

Fuck, she felt good. It was like all her insecurity, all her doubt, was washed away. In the darkness, she felt empowered. "This is the viewing room," Erin said, no longer whispering. "Don't worry, it's sound-proofed."

She pulled open a black curtain. Alicia's breath caught once again. This time, however, the overwhelming feeling was jealousy, not nervousness. "That bitch," she muttered.

On the bed, facing the two-way mirror, were Alex and Michelle. Erin flipped a switch and the room was filled with the couple's loud fucking. The Asian model was dewy with exertion, her sinuous muscles dancing as she flexed and gyrated in Alex's lap.

"Don't like her?" Erin asked, turning her amused look away from the show before them.

"I can't believe he'd fall for a skank like her," Alicia whined, aware that she was saying things she normally reserved for her inner dialog.

"Well, Alex isn't the most selective of men," Erin said, strolling back to Alicia's side. "But, if you'd like to get back at her, I know one way…"

Alicia shivered as she felt the other woman's soft fingers trace down her bare back. She wasn't suggesting… and how could that be a way of getting her back…

"You're so beautiful, Alicia." The compliment hung in the air between them. The blonde didn't dare move, instead focusing on Michelle's full breasts as they bounced with each thrust. She licked her lips as her eyes fell lower, to the way Alex's swollen balls hung and the way his cock sliced into the Asian's hairless cunt.

"She has a boyfriend, you know," Erin whispered. "A guy named Tony… who's about as discriminating as Alexander there. Catch my meaning?"

Alicia licked her lips. A revenge fuck. But could she do that? Her skin formed goose bumps at Erin's touch. "Want me to set it up? He's just a phone call away…"

"I…" She wanted to do it. Especially if the Tony was the one at the party. If this bitch thought she could fuck her Alexander, isn't turn-about fair play? Her Alexander?

"You need to get fucked, sweetheart."

"OK. Yes. Why not?" Saying it felt good. Not right, exactly, but good. Like the drugs. Good enough that it didn't matter if it was right or not.

Erin had her cell phone out immediately. "Hey, Tony. This is Erin… Yes, you, too," she laughed. "Listen, I've got a friend that could use a little help… Yes, of course she's hot! Can you meet us in the disco room? Great!"

She snapped the phone shut. "Come on, let's go!"

***

Trey and Liz were doing their final rounds, making sure that Erin saw them once again. Trey stirred in his pants every time the blue eyes of the hostess looked his direction. Tonight would be yet another night of jerking one out. He was so wound up he felt like he could punch through a wall.

"A water please," he said, leaning against the bar. They'd danced a few numbers, but Trey wasn't much for dancing. Even in the "Trenton" persona, he couldn't get beyond that. They'd been standing all night, though, and with the long plane ride earlier that day, he felt stiff.

"You've really impressed me, Trenton," Liz said, leaning next to him on the bar, but facing out. He glanced at her, sneaking a peak into her freckled cleavage. Yeah, he could definitely punch through a wall. "You've gone above and beyond."

"Well thank you, Elizabeth." He gulped down the plastic bottle of water, offering her the last half.

"Thanks," she said, wiping the sweat from her brow. Her strange dark hair stuck to her forehead. "It's definitely hot in here…" The way her voice trailed off didn't sound right. If he didn't know better, that was the closest thing to a choke he'd ever heard from the espionage expert.

"What?"

"Don't move. Stay where you are. And… try not to react…"

"What is it, Liz—abeth…" He did as he was told, although forcing himself not to look was excruciating. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the short girl's eyes locked onto something.

"Barkeep, two shots of tequila!" the guy next to him asked. Trey could smell his sweat beneath the heavy waft of cologne. "And none of that lime, salt shit."

Trey laughed at the guy's machismo. He turned to say something in passing, a friendly guy-to-guy comment, but the words died on his lips. There, standing not three feet from him, was his wife.

At least, he thought it was. She sure wasn't acting the part! Trey had never seen the outfit she wore, and in any other situation he would have to pick his jaw up off the floor if she walked out of the bedroom like that. Instead, the feeling was more akin to being punched in the stomach.

The black apron halter-top didn't leave much to the imagination -- including the precise location of her erect nipples or the flatness of her washboard stomach. And those jeans… if she had any pubic hair, it would have been showing over the extremely low waistline.

Yet it was the way she practically hung off the young, handsome guy with the cologne that really added mustard to the blow. The way she looked at him, her warm brown eyes swimming with need. And the way his hand rested on her ass like it belonged there.

Liz touched his hand, bringing him out of his staring match. He felt his fist clench as the two shots arrived. "To an unforgettable night," the guy toasted, slamming the potent liquor back. Alicia followed him, shooting it quickly, although with less practice.

The stranger collected Trey's wife in his arms and pulled her against him, their lips meeting in a flagrant, passionate kiss. Trey felt bile rise in his throat, but willed it down.

"Let's go," Liz whispered. If they stayed any longer, it wouldn't be a wall Trey would be punching through. The redhead had to pull him back before he could raise his fist.

"Let's go upstairs," the guy said to Alicia. Trey chanced a look back, seeing his wife blush. Did she hesitate? She glanced around the bar, seeing if anyone heard. His heart froze as her eyes skipped right by him. His disguise held. If only for a moment.

He watched her nod her head. He watched the man take her hand and lead her into the back. Towards "upstairs." Again, he felt ill. Again, he held back the vomit. The tears.

Composed, the two made it into the night air. Once again, Trey was a changed man.

***

Michelle Park was flying high. Really high. She had no idea how many orgasms she'd had, but who the fuck was counting anymore? Why bother when she had this beautiful man's cock filling her.

She was on her back now, her legs pinched up over Alexander's shoulders as he drilled into her pussy. She growled as she felt another climax well up. Sucking him off had been brilliant, but so were most of the things she did in life, right? He was able to last so much longer now. Take her so much harder.

"Fuck me, baby. Fuck my hot pussy," she moaned. Michelle loved to talk dirty. She knew what it did for guys like Alex. Stroke their ego and they'll stroke you back.

She ran her fingers through the man's tussled blonde hair. He was nearly there. She could tell. Could see it in his sparkling blue eyes. His heavy balls slapped harder against her tender sex, forcing a heavy grunt with each thrust. "You're close?" she begged, hysterical.

"Yesss," he hissed, his face tightening into a cringe. 

"Do it!" she snarled, crossing her ankles behind his head and yanking. The weight of his body compressed her even more, driving his cock deep into her cunt.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 06



It went off like a depth charge, filling her slick walls with wet, satisfying heat. She rolled her head back and screamed until her throat went raw.

His slender body dripping with sweat, Alexander flopped down on the bed next to her, panting heavily. "Jesus Christ!" she huffed, running her fingers through her own hair and finding the dark tresses wet around her forehead.

"Yeah, that was fun," he agreed.

It only took a couple minutes of silence before Michelle started to feel restless, although Alex seemed content. She was already thinking of bumping up, of getting dressed and getting back on the dance floor. But she knew how important it was to keep the man at her side happy, so she bit her lip and kept lying there.

"So what do you think of Gabrielle's new girl?" he asked out of the blue.

She closed her eyes and tried to stay cool, although she knew her lips had pursed tightly. Alicia Kennedy, of course. That bitch. That newcomer. "She's not exactly Gabbie's girl," Michelle responded jealousy. "Not yet, anyway."

Alex laughed. Michelle didn't like it. "Well, Gabrielle has personally requested her for her new scent," the insolent man continued. Michelle started to feel hot -- and it wasn't due to sexual energy this time.

"If that skinny blonde is Gabbie's new favorite, then why's she staying at my place?!" the Asian model demanded. Part of her knew she'd said too much, that her supermodel lover had specifically asked that her latest visit was a secret, but suddenly she didn't care. This man needed to be put in his place.

"Oh really? I didn't realize she was in town."

Great, she'd definitely said too much. "She's here incognito. She does that from time to time." Deeper and deeper. But she couldn't help herself. "But she always stays with me. Alicia may be the flavor of the month, but Gabbie knows who her real friends are."

"Of course," he said. Why did he sound so smug? Michelle could feel a tantrum coming on. Before it could erupt, though, her phone went off.

"Fuck! Who the fuck?" she screamed, rolling over and flipping open her cell. It was a text.

FYI TONY'S UPSTAIRS WITH BLONDIE

DAMAGE CONTROL TIME GIRL

"AH!" Michelle screamed, kicking her legs before sitting up. Not only was that girl moving in on her place in the modeling world, but she was going to sleep with her boyfriend?! Fuck that! "I have to go, Alex. Time to teach someone her place!"

Alex didn't move to follow her. He continued to watch her with interest, her eyes thoughtful. "Good seeing you, Michelle."

She grinded her teeth, already thinking of how good it would feel to pull that pretty golden hair of Alicia's.

***

Alicia allowed herself to be led through the various rooms of the club, back up the now familiar flight of stairs, and into one of the private suites of Condo.

She felt like she was a cloud in the middle of a windstorm. She floated, but was unable to control her direction. Her movement. Her body still tingled from her first hit of the coke, although that chemical confidence was fading -- had been fading since they'd left the "viewing room."

Alicia wanted to feel that rush again. If Tony had laid out a couple lines, she would have taken her turn. She saw how it could be so addictive.

But he didn't do any of that. Instead, he pulled her through the tidy living room and into the sole bedroom of the place, practically slamming the door behind them in his urgency.

The room was luxuriously furnished, more like the set of a five-star hotel than a real bedroom you'd stumble upon in a condo complex. That was the point, Alicia thought: this whole place felt like a set. Too perfect to be real. Too staged.

She let her mind dwell on the surreal nature of the club because she didn't want to think about her current situation. She wished her body felt as numb as her mind, but it didn't. It was on fire. Her heart fluttered, her skin tingled, and her sex was wet.

She allowed Tony to pull her into his thick arms. She looked up at him, at his strong, chiseled good looks and the way his dark eyes danced with need. She allowed herself to be kissed, to be consumed. And she consumed back.

"You are so fucking hot," he whispered in her ear as he nibbled along her jaw, down the side of her neck. She sighed as he kissed and licked her most erogenous zones.

They kissed again. Control was slipping away. She caught her reflection in a full length mirror over his shoulder. It was like watching two strangers going at it. His shirt came off, floating to the floor. God, he was like an Adonis: a perfect, male upper body.

She threw herself against him, running her nails down his back as their lips and mouths clashed, their tongues dancing wildly. She could feel his hard cock pressing against her through his jeans. It throbbed. She moaned, feeling his fingers draw open her halter. The last bits of her modesty were slipping away.

Soon, she'd be this man's -- this stranger's. She'd be an adulterous, and this time, her betrayal would be complete.

***

"Why?!" Trey cried, punching the inside wall of the van so hard it shook. His hand barely registered the pain. "WHY? WHY? WHY?!"

Caroline glanced in the rearview mirror as she drove them back to the hotel, but didn't say anything. Liz did her best to soothe him, holding him like a weeping child as he bawled, all the while her mind was racing with the same question. Why?

One thing kept repeating itself again and again. Something that Vincent had said when they were together, back at the training facility. Well, this next mission'll clear up how he feels, one way or another.

Is this what he meant? Had Vincent played a part in Alicia Kennedy's act of cuckoldry? She had to find out.

***

"No, I can't!" Alicia's mind cried, even as she felt her top slip away from her breasts. Tony ducked his head enough to swallow her left nipple. She clung to his full head of hair, drawing him closer even as she fought to get away.

If she didn't stop this now, she'd never get away. Not until she felt his cock inside her…

His cock. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. The thought of his strange flesh parting her, invading her. Of being taken. Of being one with the forbidden.

You can't… the voice of her conscious sounded feeble. Illogical. Why couldn't she? She was young and beautiful. She was the next thing. The shit. Guys like Tony fell over her. They'd do anything for a chance to be with her.

Her knees buckled against the edge of the bed. Suddenly, she was sitting. Even more suddenly, her fingers were opening Tony's pants, feeling his pulsing excitement beneath her hands.

She looked up along his muscled body, the toned contours of tanned flesh. Her left hand traced his six-pack just to see if this visage was true. It was. His abs were as real as the thick cock she pulled from his boxer-briefs.

He looked down at her, his dark eyes glimmering with need. She was his fantasy as much as he was hers. She bit her lower lip. Do it. Don't do it. She stroked him with her right hand as her mind warred. God, he was thick. Could she even get her mouth around him?

A bead of pre-cum dribbled out across the swollen head of his beautiful member. She leaned forward. Her heart skipped a beat. And then she had it in her mouth.

I can't, I can't! she continued to protest, even as her sex warmed to the feeling of his hot flesh against her tongue. She kept her soft brown eyes on his face. She was making him grunt. She was causing those muscles to flex. Such power. All hers.

"I can't," she cried, tearing her mouth from his erection. Before he could even register a thought, before that inevitable moment of confusion, the door flew open. The maelstrom had finally found them.

"You fucking BITCH!" a woman was screaming.

Black hair and a skimpy dress launched itself at her, tackling the stunned blonde back on the bed. Her scalp burned as the girl's hands clawed at her hair. It was like she was being attacked by a wild animal. She only caught snippets through the hysterics. "My man!" and "you slutty cunt!"

Tony restrained her. Or someone did. Suddenly she was free. She grabbed her top. Blocked out the pain in her head. She blinked. There were people in the doorway. Amused people holding half-empty cocktails.

She pushed between them. Fled from the room without looking back. She needed to get out of there before the angered female could make pursuit.

She tied her top on the way down the stairs, somehow not getting lost as she navigated the warren of rooms and dance floors. Out into the street, the merciful night air filled her flaring nostrils.

She hailed a cab. "Get me out of here!" she practically cried as she jumped in. She looked back, half expecting to see Tony or that crazy lady waving a fist in the air, the crowd of beautiful gawkers laughing. But there was no one. The street was empty aside from a bored looking bouncer and a cab station.

The night wasn't over. She had a lot of things to do before the sun rose. Packing. A letter to write. And a world of change to accept.

***

"Thanks for the update. Seems like everything's going according to plan." Vincent Silva hung up the phone without a goodbye, allowing himself to sit back in his lounger and relax. Things really were going well.

He held his bourbon to his lips and sniffed the heady aroma. Patience had won the day, it seemed. He could certainly be patient when he needed to be.

Just before taking his sip, the front doorbell chimed. He checked his watch. "Who could this be?" he asked aloud, setting the glass down and pulling himself up. It was nearly 1:30 in the morning. He thought about putting a shirt on, catching a reflection of himself in the mirror, but decided that anyone coming to his door at this time of night would have to deal with his shirtlessness.

Checking the peephole, he was glad he'd made that decision. "Liz, what brings you here tonight?" he asked as the door swung open. He'd seen her as a brunette before, but she'd never looked this good. And that short little baby doll dress of hers…

"Was in the neighborhood," she winked, sauntering past him.

"Love the hair."

"You always know just the right thing to say to a girl." With her back to his, she unzipped her dress and let it fall to her ankles. He stroked her with his eyes, loving the aquamarine bra and matching thong.

"Can I get you anything?" he grinned.

"I think so," she smiled back, leading the way to the bedroom. God, Vincent, he thought, your life is good.

Next chapter: Turning Point



Models and Super Spies Ch. 07



Chapter 7: Turning Point

My dearest Trey,

This isn't a goodbye or an end. It's just a pause. Things are confusing for me right now, and I can't keep hurting you like this. I need to figure a few things out on my own. I love you more than ever. It's why this is so hard. Some day, I hope you can forgive me. I love you.

Alicia

***

Liz's perfectly round breasts bounced with each downward thrust. Vincent watched her muscles flex and dance beneath her sweaty, freckled flesh. God, she knew how to fuck. They'd already done it three times the night before, and he'd awoken with his cock shoved half-way down her throat. She was insatiable.

"Ngh!" she cried, tossing her long dark hair. She raked her fingers through the sweaty locks and grinded her pussy down against the root of his cock.

"You know, you fuck even better as a brunette," he teased as she came back to earth. Liz laughed, returned to her slow, rhythmic gyrations. "But I'm on to you…"

He looked down at their union, where the dark curls of his pubic hair entwined with her trimmed auburn triangle. 

The wig-wearing redhead rolled her eyes. "I think your inspection's a bit more thorough than most."

"What about Sarah Ellison? What's the model-gone-call-girl going to say when she goes down on your enlightening bush?"

"Now why would that happen, Vincent? I thought the plan was that it wouldn't ever get to that…"

"You never know. Plans change. Account for every angle; isn't that what they taught us?"

"You just want to see me with another woman."

Vincent laughed. It was true. They'd been lovers practically since their first assignment, but he'd actually never seen her compromise herself, men or women alike. Now that he was the one calling the shots, maybe he could use his power… "Maybe…"

"You're so full of yourself! Now come on, finish up. I need to get back to base camp…"

They shifted on the bed, Vincent moving in behind his petite lover. As he looked down at her body, back bowed forward, on all fours, he imagined the voluptuous blonde model, Sarah, at her head, legs splayed as she pulled Liz's mouth against her cunt.

"Oh fuck," he groaned at the fantasy, jerking faster into her. When Sarah became Alicia, he came.

***

Alicia sighed as she pulled her red Mercedes convertible up to the curb. What a mess she'd made of her life. Just a month ago, she had a loving husband, a stable household, and a clear picture of her future.

The tall blonde pulled her two suitcases from the trunk. Was this what her life amounted to now? A few pieces of clothes and toiletries shoved into a couple wheelie bags?

She'd meant what she wrote in her letter. This was something she needed to work out on her own. But she wasn't quite ready to even think about a future without Trey. Not yet. The other possibility – of never seeing him again – was too grim.

"So why here?" she asked aloud, forcing herself back into the here and now. She looked around at the empty street, lined with thick palm trees. She took in the modest sized, yet overpriced homes. She stood at the end of Vincent Silva's driveway in Larchmount. Truth was, she had nowhere else to go. She'd briefly thought about Alexander Mishin's, but after what she'd seen last night, he probably saw her as just another pretty face. At least Vincent cared for her.

Still uncertain as to whether this was the right thing to do or not, she rolled her bags up to Vincent's front door and rang the bell. She almost fled as she waited, tapping her heeled foot nervously on the concrete stoop.

A cute little brunette opened the door. Not Vincent. For a moment, Alicia thought she'd come to the wrong place. The girl was wearing an oversized men's shirt, her shapely bare legs emerging from beneath the tails, and her long dark hair was mussed.

The brunette's gray eyes went wide for a moment as the two women looked at one another. "Vincent, I think it's for you," she shouted over her shoulder, quickly disappearing without a word to Alicia.

The blonde was stunned. So this was Vincent's house. And… who the fuck was this woman?! She felt hysteria creeping in. He never mentioned anyone else, but why would he? He was a male. And he'd never been a faithful one at that. God, she felt so naïve!

"Alicia, wait!" she heard her old lover say as she turned to go.

She stopped, but kept her back to him. "Why?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Why, after all these years, did you come back into my LIFE!?" By the end of her sentence, she was screaming. "Fuck, I should have known! I should have FUCKING KNOWN!"

Tears were streaming down her face as she dragged her bags back out to the street. Fuck, so stupid! Everything started to annoy her. The palm trees and their unsatisfying shadows. The bright, unflinching LA sun. The way her bribe-bought convertible chirped happily as she unlocked it. How she could ever trust a rat bastard like Vincent Silva!

"Alicia, hold on. Let's talk about this!" Vincent said, following her out of the house. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of loose pajama pants, but that didn't seem to stop him.

"Stay away from me, asshole!" she screamed, slamming the trunk shut once again. She could barely see through her tears and fumbled with the handle. "Fuck," she muttered.

Vincent was behind her before she could get it open, his strong arms wrapping themselves around her, pinning her to the car. He smelled good, although not fresh. He smelled like a man. Because…

"Why? Why Vince? Why, why, why?"

She felt him look over his shoulder. At that brunette? At that whore? "Let's drive around," he said at last, his voice calm and soothing. "There's a lot I need to explain." He stepped away, but stopped her when she went to open the door. "And… I think it's probably best that you let me drive…"

***

Trey re-read the crumpled note again. Not an end… He stared around his bedroom. It looked like it'd been turned over by a burglar. Drawers were half open, feminine clothing spilling out. "Not an ending?" he said aloud. "Then what the fuck is it?!"

He balled the paper up again and threw it across the room. Again. Things were hard for her?! Things were a little bit complicated for him, too!

His mind seethed as he thought of her lover. That young, handsome guy from last night. Were they together now? Laughing at him as they fucked?

Trey punched the wall, sending his fist through the drywall with a satisfying crunch. His phone rang. He didn't recognize the number.

"A note?!" he answered, assuming it was his wife, calling from her lover's place.

"Excuse me?" a woman's voice asked – not Alicia's.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought this was someone else…"

"Is this a bad time? I can call back later." Through the fog of his rage, he recognized the voice. Erin Small. The part of the night before he'd spotted his wife started to return. The part that had to do with work.

"No, I'm sorry. I just learned that one of my employees quit on me. Thought you might be him."

"Ah," Erin said. Trey hoped she bought it. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to let you know that we're on for tonight. 9 o'clock?"

"Of course. My wife has already left." He couldn't keep all the bitterness out of the statement, but he got most of it.

"Lovely. 9 then. Drink plenty of fluids beforehand!" With a laugh, she hung up.

Work, he thought. Always work. He glanced at his right hand. His knuckles were raw, some of the skin giving way to blood. He'd need to wrap it, but delighted in the burning throb of pain. That much was real. That much he could cling to.

He sighed. He needed to check in. He could sort out his marriage later.

***

"Let me get this straight. You're CIA? And you're… recruiting me for some investigation?" Alicia asked incredulously. The whole situation was made even more absurd due to the fact that the man explaining it was driving around town wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants. "Forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe…"

Vincent nodded. "I thought you might feel that way. It's why I'm going to prove it to you."

"Oh yeah? Going to show me your badge? Going to show me some… documents?" She laughed. Fuck, this wasn't the explanation she'd expected. At least it made her self-loathing and anger seem a little absurd. At least she wasn't crazy like this guy.

"Not quite. I'm taking you to CIA headquarters."

"This ought to be good," she said sarcastically, thinking they would pull up to some hokey looking movie set.

Instead, they pulled up to a very official looking security gate. A man in uniform came out, glanced at Vincent Silva's state of undress, and said, "Sir, this is a restricted area. Please turn your vehicle around and—"

Vincent produced a badge, drawing a scoff from Alicia. But still, she looked on curiously. The guard took the badge from him and returned to his booth, picking up the phone.

"Shouldn't they know who you are if you work here?" Alicia asked sarcastically. She felt numb. Nothing mattered anymore. She was being a bitch but didn't care.

"Well, that's a bit complicated. You see, I run a black ops division. I try not to come here unless it's an emergency."

"And I'm an emergency?"

He looked at her, his face deadly serious and nodded. "Oh yes. Very much."

"Sorry about the confusion, sir. Go right ahead," the guard nodded and the gate rose.

Vincent pulled in, driving up to a low sitting Federal building. Still could be a set, she thought. Vincent seemed to read her mind. "I suppose you could think all these people are extras," he said, parking her Mercedes right at the front doors. He scratched his five o'clock shadow thoughtfully. "Go ahead and talk to them. I assure you, this is all real."

Alicia actually did question a couple on their way in. They seemed to give intelligent questions, rather than the blank stares she'd assume an uninformed actor would. If this was a set, it was the best she'd ever seen. The gold emblazoned crest of the CIA spread itself across the floor of the reception area. The blonde was beginning to think this was actually legitimate.

A few of the workers gave them an odd looks – particularly Vincent and his lack of clothing. They bypassed the line at the metal detector with another flash of Vincent's badge (although not without going through the detectors).

At last, Vincent escorted her into what was his office, overlooking the green CIA campus. He had an extra shirt in his closet that he pulled on before settling in behind his desk. "Believe me now?" he asked. Alicia was surprised he wasn't smug about the whole thing, but tired instead.

She sat uneasily on the edge of one of the chairs in front of the desk. "I'm starting to," she said hesitantly, looking around the room. Pictures of Vincent with various important looking men hung on the wall. His family, including his ex-wife, Karen, sat on the window behind him.

"Look, Alicia, I'm endangering the entire mission by bringing you here, as well as my cover, but I got the feeling you wouldn't believe me any other way."

Alicia didn't say anything. He was right. And still, despite all the evidence working against her, she was skeptical.

Vincent unlocked a drawer in his desk and extracted a file. "We need your help. This is kind of a last resort deal here. We don't like involving civilians, but we've run out of options."

He opened the file. Inside was a photo of Alexander Mishin. "We've been watching Mishin for a while. Even tried to get someone inside, but that failed. When I saw your name come up on the list of models he had under contract… I know it's a lot to ask, but I also know you can do this."

"Do what, exactly?"

"Nothing much. Act as what we call a 'confidential informant.' A 'CI.' You don't need to do anything differently than you'd normally do. Just keep your eyes and ears open."

"Open for what? I'm sorry if I'm being dense, but I'm not sure what you could possibly be watching Alex for…"

Vincent sighed, mouthing the word, "Alex." "Alexander Mishin may appear harmless, but I can assure you, he's anything but. He's involved in gun trafficking, prostitution, and blackmail, to name a few things. But what we're most concerned with is his information dealing."

"Oh my God? You can't be serious. Alex couldn't…"

"We've been watching him for a while but have never been able to pin anything on him." He hesitated, as though uncertain whether he should continue. "So we leaked him a list of CIA operatives currently working black ops in the US."

"I thought the CIA only operates out of the country?"

Vincent's blank stare was answer enough. Alicia's face colored in her naiveté. "The list was meant to be a dummy, but…"

"It's not. How?" Alicia finished for him.

"We have a mole inside," he sighed. She suddenly saw the exhaustion in his features. This thing had been stressing him out for a long time. "No, not 'we.' I do. Inside my unit. I… I can't trust any of my agents. But I think I can trust you."  

Alicia stared at him, her soft brown eyes wide. "Yes," she whispered.

Vincent nodded, his face softening. "From what I've learned, Mishin is looking for a buyer, and plans to sell it. Soon. Maybe as soon as the next week. We're still gathering intel, but things are urgent now."

"What can I do to help?" Alicia asked, clinging to his every word.

"Well, there's an outside chance…" He hesitated again, looking out the window.

"Yes? Outside chance?"

"As I said, Mishin's interests run all over the place. His high end call-girl service comes right out of his contracted models…"

"No…" Alicia said, her mouth dropping.

"Unfortunately, yes. And there's a chance you might be approached next."

Alicia started to shake in her chair. He wasn't asking… he couldn't be implying… "I can't…"

Vincent shook his head. "And I'm not asking you to. I just need you to pretend, OK? We've never had someone so close to his inner circle. We're desperate. If that list gets into the wrong hands…"

"But you're asking me to…"

He shook his head. "We have agents all over that operation, just not… inside it. You'll never have to 'compromise' yourself, understand?."

Alicia rubbed her eyes. Jesus Christ! Too much information, too fast. "I need to think about it."

Vincent nodded thoughtfully, but said, "We don't have much time. If you can't do this, then I'm going to have to figure out another way. Those agents only have two weeks left, max."

Oh, God, what was she getting herself into? She felt like she was falling deeper and deeper into a well with no bottom. "OK, I'll do it. Where do I sign?"

Vincent relaxed, his shoulders slumping back into his seat. "Thank you, Alicia. You… you have no idea what this means to me. To the United States." He flipped the file closed and filed it away. "No signing. This conversation never happened. I'm not even supposed to have an office here."

The blonde shivered one last time, this time at the intrigue. She'd been looking for adventure, for something different. Here it was. Was she ready?

***

The CIA headquarters in LA, Liz thought again, going over the facts that she knew so far. Why had he brought her here? Seemed a bit much just to secure a confidential informant…

And why had Alicia Kennedy shown up on Vincent's doorstep in the first place? Liz almost screamed in surprise when she opened the door to her new trainee's wife.

Things weren't adding up, and she was determined to figure out just what the fuck was going on. So she followed them. They'd meandered through LA, seemingly randomly, although Liz recognized what he was doing: trying to flush out any tails he might have.

But the redhead was good at what she did. The best, even. It's why she'd come out of the field to train other agents. Even Vincent Silva wouldn't have spotted her; of that, she was 99% sure.

Now, she waited outside the gates. She waited for close to an hour before Alicia's red convertible pulled away. She nearly followed before she realized that the blonde was the only passenger. It wasn't Alicia that she was curious about. Not anymore.

An unmarked, dark blue Ford followed about ten minutes later. The driver behind the wheel was Vincent, who'd picked up a shirt somewhere, and a couple of dark shades. She let him get a couple blocks away before pulling away from the curb and following.

One thing was certain: he wasn't heading home…

***

Alicia barely made it out the gates of CIA headquarters before she started to cry. The gravity of her situation finally hit her. Her life was in tatters. No husband. No one she could trust. And now, she couldn't even share this with anyone but Vincent, who instructed her to stay away until he contacted her.

And now, she really had no idea where to go. Alex's place was out – the thought of the young mogul and all of his secrets still made her stomach go queasy. Vince's was off-limits. Certainly not her own place.

Her cell went off just as she was wondering what motel to check into. Caller ID read, "Erin Small." She glanced at it, wondering how the club owner got her number, before picking it up.

"Erin?"

"Alicia! How are things?" The woman's refined voice sounded so welcoming. The young blonde felt her tears begin to well up.

"They've been better." Her voice wavered a little.

"Is something wrong? You sound… are you crying?"

"Maybe…" She sniffed.

"I heard about what happened last night with Michelle. Don't let that slut trouble you any longer. She's been black listed by all my clubs and—"

"No, it's not that," Alicia interrupted, although she couldn't help but feel a little happy that the former "Supermodel" would have a little harder time partying from now on. "I… I left my husband."

"Wow." Erin's voice was stunned now. "I guess… I had no idea you were even married!"

Alicia didn't even really hear her. "I feel so lost. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just driving around and I have no place to stay and no one to talk to and I feel so tired. And I just want to stop for a minute…"

"Shh, shh, honey. Look, I'm actually on my way out of town for the night, but you're welcome to stay at my place."

"Really?"

"Really. I'll leave the keys under the mat. Do you have a pen? Write this address down."

"Hold on," Alicia said, pulling off the road and rooting through her purse.

"I'll be back around noon tomorrow. Make yourself at home and… don't mind the boxes. I'm in the process of moving."

"Thanks, Erin. You have no idea what this means to me." 

"Stay put until morning, dear. I'd like to talk to you about something when I get back."

***

Trey listened for it: the collective groan of nearly everyone in the bar as "I Will Survive" (the Cake version) played yet again on the jukebox. He didn't laugh. He hadn't dumped ten dollars in requests into the machine to be funny. 

Trey had shifted into full, self-pitying mode. The spoken lyrics of Cake's version helped drive that feeling home. His chips were down – way down. He'd lost the love of his life. But he'd survive. Right?

"There you are!" a woman's familiar, yet still surreal, Southern lilt chided. He looked, feeling his vision blur as he did so. Caroline Aurora Turner slid into the booth next to him. "You haven't been answering my calls. Shit, sugar, no one has! Had to track you via the GPS in your mobile."

Trey shrugged. "I've been taking it easy." He waved his waitress over for another. Caroline shut that down fast.

"No more, hon. We've got work to do tonight. You're meeting up with Kelly, and while it's all in the script, I think it's best you're sober."




Models and Super Spies Ch. 07



"Too late for that," Trey said solemnly, trying to drain a few last drops from his pint.

"What's up with you, anyway?"

He looked up at the brunette. She had such beautiful eyes, the color of a forest at midnight, and she wore her make-up well. "Alicia left me." He figured he'd just come out and say it, and was pleased to see alarm in her eyes. He'd half-expected her to know already; such was the way a life of intrigue had made him think.

"When? Why?"

"This morning. Said she had some shit to work out, or something. But really, we both know why..."

"You don't know if last night was… I mean, appearances aren't always what they seem…"

"She was all over that guy. And we both know what goes on upstairs. So let's cut the crap."

Caroline bit her lip. "Are you going to be OK going on? With this mission?"

Trey rolled his eyes. Always the mission. He'd made too many compromises for his not-quite-James-Bond life. What was the difference if he made another? "Meet up with a hooker, pretend to fuck her all night, and get in cahoots with Erin 'the madam' Small? Sure, I'm game."

"Then let's get you freshened up. A cold shower will help."

As she pulled him out of the booth, he wondered why it was Caroline looking for him, not Liz. "Where's the little one?"

Caroline shook her head. "I don't know. Her phone's been off all day. But… she'll check in. I'm sure of it. Always does."

***

Liz followed Vincent down into Orange County. Tailing him through rush hour traffic was easy. As traffic began to thin in the suburbs, it became a little harder to remain inconspicuous. Liz gave him a longer leash, hoping that he'd feel secure that he wasn't being followed.

At one point, the redhead (still wearing her brunette wig) thought she'd lost him. She rounded a corner and his dark blue sedan was gone. She'd given him too much of a buffer.

And then she remembered that C.L.O.A.K. kept a safe house about five minutes away. Taking a chance, she swung by the generic looking hovel of a place, smiling when she saw the familiar plates parked in the driveway.

She parked herself down the block, kitty-corner to the safe house, and waited. Patience was her mantra. Sooner or later, she'd learn something new.

***

"We have a problem," Caroline's southern drawl warned over the comms.

"What?" Trey asked, the mics of the room picking up his voice. He'd just stepped out of the cold shower and was pulling on his slacks. He was still definitely feeling the effects of all the beers from earlier, but at least he wasn't falling over himself anymore.

"Well, your 'date' is early. She's on her way up the elevator right now."

Trey pulled his shirt over his shoulders. He didn't really see the problem; this was all just a show – a put on. They'd sit in the room, chat about their lives, and go off on their separate ways. "So? I can get dressed before she's here."

"Well, you better. But… it's not Kelly."

"What?"

"Looks like Erin Small decided to come instead." Trey's heart just about stopped.

***

The keys were just where Erin had said they would be. At least some things were working out, Alicia thought as she let herself into the female club owner's spacious LA home.

On the hall credenza was a second set of keys, a note, and four little light blue pills. Alicia's heart fluttered. What was this all about, her cynical mind wondered as she picked up the letter. A woman's elegant script adorned the floral paper:

Alicia,

Please, make yourself at home. I'm sorry your first night will be alone, but I was unable to rearrange my plans. The keys are yours to keep, just be sure to lock up the house when you leave. The pills are a little something to help you relax. Take two before you go to sleep, and two in the morning. Trust me, you'll feel a lot better.

I'll be home around noon. We'll talk then. In the meantime, sleep, relax, enjoy the pool. Should be beautiful tomorrow.

Erin

The young blonde sighed as she caught a reflection of herself in the mirror over the table. She looked like shit. Bags under her eyes; her hair was greasy in its functional ponytail; and a crease of worry marred her high forehead. She hadn't had a good night of sleep for too long, and had barely slept the night before.

Shrugging, she swept up two of the pills and popped them into her mouth. They tasted like sugar, which helped her dry-swallow them. "What could it hurt?" she asked her reflection before wheeling her bags into the house.

As Erin had warned on the phone, some of the house was boxed up, although it looked like the moving process had just begun. She barely noticed and certainly didn't care.

By the time she pulled the sheets back in the guest bedroom, whatever the pills were had taken effect. There were no fireworks. They weren't some kind of mind-altering drug. But they did the trick. She felt better, more relaxed. Almost… out-of-body. Her troubles were still there, but for now, she didn't need to worry about them.

***

"Erin," Trey said, mustering all the fake surprise he had as he opened the door. The strawberry blonde had a short fur coat on that left most of her shapely legs bare. It was cinched around her bosom, but sat just off her equally bare shoulders. "This is a surprise."

Her blue eyes glittered. "I must apologize, Trenton dear," she said, cocking her head to one side as she spoke in her refined, upper-crust accent. Her short reddish-blonde hair spilled to one said, brushing the tanned skin at the base of her neck. "Kelly called and cancelled."

"And you came all this way to tell me that?" Trey asked, hoping that was the case, even as she stepped past him without an invitation.

"Not just that," she said, lingering just inside the door. She glanced at him over a shoulder. "I had you checked out. You are who you say you are, it seems, and we'd hate to lose a future customer such as yourself…"

"Well, honestly, I understand. These things happen…"

His voice trailed off as she took two more steps into the hotel room, opened her fur coat, and let it fall to the floor. Her slim body was naked beneath, not a stitch of clothing above her stiletto heels.

"They do, but you still need to be taken care of."

"You need to go with it," Caroline whispered into his earpiece. "And you need to get this thing out of your ear. Act quickly."

Trey felt his cock harden as Erin's paced across the room nude, stopping at the bar. She had a great body that spoke of hours in the gym. "Scotch, right?" she asked, once again regarding him over her shoulder.

"You have done your research," he said, forcing himself to fall into the role of Trenton Dean, not Trey Kennedy. Considering the promise of what was to come, it was harder to do than it was at the club. This time, no one was playing…

Erin poured two glasses of Scotch and turned to him, pausing to let his eyes drink in her naked form. Despite her deep tan, she didn't have any visible bikini lines. Trey's eyes traveled the contours of her small, perky breasts down to her narrow strip of light brown hair that adorned her compact – and very wet – labial lips.

Trey's cock pushed uncomfortably against the seat of his pants. He couldn't help getting aroused. Erin Small was beautiful.

She sauntered her way across the room, her sensual nudity oozing sex and temptation. "I hope I'll do," she whispered, handing him the glass.

Trey's throat choked on his reply. "To tonight. All night." she whispered, tipping her glass against his and then throwing the amber liquid back in one gulp. Trey did the same, the Scotch burning against his throat.

"All night?" he asked, rasping.

She curled her manicured fingers around his neck and pulled him against her body for a wet, deep kiss. "All night…" Her blue eyes glittered with promise.

Oh God…

***

Vincent watched the seduction from his own secret room, miles from the Four Seasons. Erin Small was incredible in all her naked glory. Trey had no chance.

They kissed for a while. Trey's hands, which remained paralyzed at his sides at first, came alive as he gave into his desires. They started at her shoulder blades, making their way down into the small of her back, finding the dimples just above her ass.

"Go on," she whispered, breaking the kiss for just a moment. She sighed as he moved them across her taut little ass. She grinded her cunt against his confined erection and forced her lips back onto his.

Vincent checked his watch and looked once again at the locked door. Running late, he thought, as he unzipped his pants. The strawberry blonde madam led his unwitting agent to the bed, pushing him back onto its edge before sinking to her knees between his legs.

"These two aren't going to wait," he muttered to himself. "So I'm not going to." He slowly began to stroke himself as the woman on the monitor freed Trey's cock. Their eyes met and for a moment, Vincent thought the analyst-turned-agent was going to grow a conscious.

Then Erin's mouth descended over his shaft and the resistance died. He rocked his head back, rested on his hands, and moaned.

***

Erin Small could suck a cock. It was about the only intelligible thought Trey could form as she bobbed away in his lap. And amazingly, she created the sensation of heaven with her mouth alone. One hand held herself upright on the bed. The other cupped and manipulated his balls.

Her silky, strawberry-hued hair teased his thighs as he felt the head of his cock tickle the back of her throat. He was normally not a fan of ball play, but in Erin's hands, he could become a card-carrying member.

And when he felt his balls seize – when the sensation of slamming through the road-side barrier and careening over the edge overwhelmed him – those practiced fingers somehow stopped the flow. He came – he felt his cock pump and his scrotum tighten – but nothing but a single dollop of cum emerged.

"What the fuck?" he groaned, feeling his body sweat through the shirt.

"No cumming," she chided, shoving him onto his back and tearing open his shirt. "At least, not yet."

She crawled up onto his body, dipping her chest low as it passed across his saliva-bathed cock. The hand on her scrotum slipped higher, tugging at the straining member as she settled her thighs over his.

Oh God, he needed to stop her, but knew he couldn't. He closed his eyes, thinking of Alicia. Thinking of his wife. Instead of a disappointed frown on his wife's imagined face, he saw her with that stranger last night. He saw her sucking face with some hunk closer to her age.

"Ah!" he cried as the slick sensation of a woman's pussy enveloped him. So very different. So very fucking good.

He felt fingernails on his chest, and when he opened his eyes, it was to the strange face of Erin Small. With her arms stretched out before her, her little breasts pushed together in a tight line of cleavage, capped with swollen nipples.

"Oh fuck!" he whined, each thrust of her hips driving another nail into his proverbial coffin. She felt good. She fucked like a goddess. The walls of her cunt did things he didn't think possible, caressing and squeezing him like a practiced, velvet-gloved hand.

"Yes, please!" she whispered, delighted at his reaction. She leaned forward and kissed him. Trey could do nothing but kiss back, his hands moving robotically across her ass.

No, not robotically. There was nothing robot-like about his touch. Trenton Dean had taken over. Trenton Dean began to thrust his cock back up into Hollywood's hottest madam. This woman fucked him like the rock star that he was.

"No condom?" he asked as he fought back his climax. He knew she wasn't going to stop him this time.

She giggled. "I had you checked out, Trenton. None of my girls use condoms. It's one of the things that makes them the best." She cooed as she intensified her bouncing hips, driving herself closer to her own release.

"What else makes you the best?"

"Sweetheart, we offer it all. I'm in the fantasy business, and I have yet to disappoint…"

***

Trey was growling out his orgasm when Vincent finally heard the key in the door outside. He didn't move to cover himself. He didn't even stop the slow stroke of his cock.

"About time," he said, a trifle impatiently as Gabrielle Dubois sauntered into the room.

"Could not wait, mon cherie?" She had such a sexy French accent.

"You're a half hour late, and Erin was early," Vincent said, his focus shifting to the supermodel as she slowly unzipped the back of her dress.

"So sorry, Vincent dearest. I had to calm Michelle down. Apparently Erin's blacklisted her." The designer dress slid to the floor. The French woman posed for him, naked except for her lacing-topped stockings. Thighs together, hipped cocked and hands brushing through her sassy black hair, she somehow looked demure in her nudity.

"So all is going smoothly?" She slid into his lap, facing the surveillance equipment. Vincent's cock pushed easily into Gabrielle's soft sex.

"Like clockwork." He took hold of her hips as she began to gyrate across his length. "Tomorrow we'll bring Alicia in fully, but she's as good as ours already."

"Mmm… can't wait for that initiation," Gabrielle purred.

***

"So what if I wanted… a Victoria's Secret model. Could you do that?" Trey asked as he slowly pumped his cock in and out of Erin's buttery sex. They'd returned to the business of fulfilling fantasies, and in a flash of brilliance, Trey figured out a way to set up his transaction with Sarah Ellis.

"Mm… a little harder, yes, but doable," she replied, shifting her slim body beneath him. "Any one you had in mind?"

"Wow, you don't play around." He pretended to think for a few minutes as he slid in and out of her. "Not really, I suppose. One of the blonde ones."

"Mmm… younger, or older?"

"Younger. Definitely."

She rolled her eyes. "And what's wrong with older? We're not all bad, are we?" She wrapped both legs around his torso, pulling him into her with pressure from the backs of her heels.

"Nope. But what's wrong with a little variety?"

"I'm only kidding. This cock belongs to all of us, young and old." Trey blushed at the compliment. "That it? Sex with a Victoria's Secret model? Nothing else in your untapped fantasies?"

"Can't underestimate the allure of celebrity," Trey said, although he did have one other task. He needed to figure out a way to get Liz involved.

"What?" she asked, sensing he had something else to add, but reading it the wrong way. "Tell me. There's nothing you have to hide from me."

"Well…"

"Let me guess. You'd like a threesome. Two girls…"

Erin was good. Fortunately, she wasn't a mind-reader. "Kind of. I'd like my wife to be involved."

"Ah… interesting. She's very striking… Has she ever been with another woman?" Now there was a stimulating thought; no matter which "wife" she was talking about.

"No. Not that I'm aware, anyway. She'd have to be seduced."

"Mmm… I'd love to seduce her…" Erin mewed, closing her eyes and really digging her heels in. "But that's not quite your fantasy, is it?"

"Close, but not quite."

"OK, hm… when would you like to do this?" Just like that. Trey's cock surged at this woman's casual handling of sex. He knew the meeting would never make it to the sex part, that he merely needed the money transaction to go through so they could trace it, but the thought of Liz getting it on with that voluptuous blonde…

"My wife's back in LA Sunday for some charity event. Is that too early?"

"Trenton, you practically doubled in size! Someone's into this…" He didn't say anything. Instead, he began to fuck her faster, feeling his climax mount. "The charity doesn't happen to be LA's Most Eligible Bachelor, does it?"

"Yes!" he huffed.

"That's my charity," she said in amusement.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, feigning surprise. It had all been set up to coincide with Erin's event, of course.

"I'll need to check with the girl I had in mind, but it should be perfect!" She slipped a hand along her his as he fucked her. "Nice big tits? Silky, blonde hair? Youthful, shaved cunt?" she goaded him. Trey could feel his balls slapping against her slippery vulva with each jam of his hips. He found reserves of energy he didn't know he had, his pelvis taking on a mind of its own. "Yeah, I know just the girl. And lucky for you, she's bi."

Her words were like fuel on a fire. Trey passed the point of no return. He was coming and nothing could stop him.

"Then again, what model isn't bi these days?"

That did it. As his cock erupted into the sexy madam's bought pussy, his mind was fixed on Alicia, his wife and soul mate, engaged in a rabid 69 with an equally sexy, faceless woman. Was it possible? She was fucking other men now. Why not other women?

Erin's svelte body lurched beneath him, her back bowing up and off the bed as she joined him in blissful orgasm. "Oh fuck, baby! FUCK ME! AH!"

Trey surprised himself, his erection holding even after his balls had done their thing. He'd already pumped her for information. Now it was time to have some fun.

***

Liz sat stunned. Gabrielle Dubois and Vincent Silva? It didn't make any sense, right? What did the high profile supermodel have to do with her boss?

Liz had staked out the safe house long after the sun had set. Around 9:30, a cab pulled up to the curb and a woman wearing heavy shades had emerged. It wasn't hard to recognize the body that had adorned so many glamour magazines and billboards over the past few years.

At first, Liz thought it was some kind of freaky coincidence. That the woman was going into the next, dingy house over. It was as unlikely as it was untrue. She watched the model extract her own set of keys and disappear through the front door.

She'd seen all that she needed. She had the clues. Now she just needed to puzzle out the connections. She also knew she could no longer trust anyone.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft tapping on the driver's side window. She turned to look, seeing a face smiling down at her. She vaguely recognized his bald scalp and black, plastic-rimmed glasses. He made a gesture to roll down her window.

She thought about starting the engine and ignoring him. Then she saw the gun in his hand. He smiled again, far more chilling now that she understood the situation.

The passenger side door opened behind her. She jumped, reaching for her own pistol at her side, but a powerful hand pinned her shoulder against the bucket seat.

It was Alexander Mishin, shaking his head as if scolding a small child. "No, no, girl, none of that. I don't like striking beautiful women. Now unlock your door please."

Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She had only a couple moments to act now. A couple moments before her hopes were dashed.

"I know you," the pretty-boy gangster said slowly. "You auditioned for me. Only… you were a redhead…"

Slowly, he reached for her hair, her dark brown wig. Liz recoiled from his touch, pretending to go for the lock on the door like she'd been asked to. She saw the man outside, recognizing him now as Mishin's assistant, Roy.

"Who are you, sweetheart?" he asked calmly.

"Not as sweet as you think!" she answered. At the same time, she threw open her door, catching Roy by surprise. His gun went clattering to the ground as she twisted out of Mishin's grip. She slammed the door against Roy again, clearing him out of the way as her elbow arched in Alexander's direction.

It met nothing but air. When she met his expressive blue eyes, they were filled with disappointment. He shook his head sadly. It was the last thing she remembered. She didn't even see the strike coming. Only blackness.



Models and Super Spies Ch. 08



Chapter 8: Questions and Answers

Alicia felt pretty good. Not great, but for the first time in weeks, she felt pretty good. She'd slept until 10. Slept all the way through the night. A shower later and she felt alive.

Erin's sugar-coated pills helped, too. They gave her that detached, content feeling that had been with her through the night. As she lounged by the pool in her tiny red bikini and oversized designer shades, she cast her mind back over the last month of her life.

She'd landed a dream job with Mishin Modeling. She'd met the Gabrielle Dubois. She'd been unfaithful for the first time in her life. Tried Ecstasy and cocaine. Modeled for an international ad campaign. Started a rivalry with the current It girl. Been recruited by the CIA. And left her husband.

Those merciful little pills helped her digest it all without judgment. They were things that happened. Life would go on.

She flipped onto her back and untied her top. Normally, she tanned in a booth, in the nude, but even in her foggy brain, she knew that probably wasn't appropriate at Erin Small's home.

She felt lazy in the sun. Felt like sleeping again. Maybe she did. She woke to a shadow passing across her closed eyes.

"Feeling better?" Erin asked above her.

Alicia twisted in the lounger, shielding her eyes despite the shades. "So much better. Thank you for letting me stay here."

The older woman's silhouette waved her hand dismissively. "I'm sorry I couldn't have been there for you last night." She had a couple champagne flutes in her hand. She held one out to Alicia as she took a seat on the lounger opposite. "I fixed us a couple mimosas. Hope that's OK with you."

Erin had changed into a bikini as well; a cream colored designer suit with delicate gold lace-work on the straps. It looked graceful with her matching gold waist chain. And like every stylish LA woman, her sunglasses dwarfed her pretty face.

"It sounds wonderful," Alicia said, turning onto her back. She didn't bother covering up her bare breasts. It wasn't anything Erin hadn't seen before, nor something the blonde was ashamed of.

The women enjoyed the drinks in silence for a few moments. Alicia felt like she needed to say something more. About her situation. About leaving Trey. But where to start. "I…"

"Shh, don't worry about it, honey. Tell me when you're ready."

"Thanks."

"Oh, but this may interest you. Looks like Michelle Park's star is falling."

For some reason, the news warmed Alicia. She didn't think of herself as a vindictive person, but she really didn't like the Asian model. "The Hollywood Reporter had a whole spread on your little fight. They're curious about you, Alicia Kennedy. Play your cards right, and you could take her place."

The blonde's heart trembled at the suggestion. More and more, she liked the thought of that idea. Fame. Even celebrity. It sounded nice.

"Michelle was never right for the mantle, anyway. She didn't play by the rules. Not like she should have. Not like Gabrielle, for example."

"And… what are the rules?"

Erin didn't answer right away. She took her time to enjoy her drink, but Alicia knew she was being studied. She suddenly wished she'd put her top back on. "Aren't you worried about tan lines?" the woman asked at last.

"A little. But I can make it up in the booth later."

The strawberry blonde shook her head. "Don't let me stop you." She set her glass down. "Michelle wasn't interested in fostering her public image." Back to the previous subject. "I blame that reality TV show. It doesn't let you hold anything back, so she never bothered to after she won."

"What do you mean? I thought partying was part of that lifestyle."

Erin waved her hand. "It isn't just the partying. It's shit like what happened at Condo. She has no control. Drugs and promiscuity are fine – even expected – but it still needs to be discrete. Michelle was anything but."

"So you think she's through?"

"Oh yes. Her fifteen minutes are up. In one month, no one'll care about her. Maybe next year, Dancing with the Stars or celebrity Big Brother will pick her up. Who knows?"

"So how can I be different?"

Erin glossy lips curled into a large smile beneath her dark shades. "I like the confidence!" She laughed. "Well, first, you need to make sure you surround yourself with the right people."

"And those are?"

"Me." Another laugh. "And Alex, I suppose. We're good for you."

The blonde felt her blood quicken. She was reminded of her conversation with Vince at CIA headquarters. Mishin was bad. Call-girl service. Did Erin have something to do with that? "I'll do what it takes."

"Be careful what you promise, my dear. The fact is, there are a lot of things that will surprise you about this business. Want to know how the most successful models at Mishin make it? A good body and a pretty face'll only get you so far…"

"Tell me."

"I run a service." Alicia was glad she wore her sunglasses. Her eyes doubled in size. Erin didn't just know about the prostitution – she was at the heart of it! "The rich and powerful come to me when they want a particularly… 'special' time."

"Hookers? The models are hookers?" Only some of Alicia's incredulity needed to be faked.

Erin chuckled. "Not exactly 'hookers.' Think more 'companionship.' I supply a fantasy they can't get anywhere else. I supply them with the world's top models, the most beautiful women alive. It's not just about sex, it's about so much more."

"But sex is expected."

"They aren't paying ten grand for a conversation, if that's what you're asking. They're paying for intelligence, beauty. Discretion. And sex, yes."

Alicia looked away from Erin's coy smile. She should have run screaming from the yard. Sex for money? With strangers? She didn't do that. Couldn't do that. Right? Even though she knew this was coming, that she'd be approached – and even under the haze of her narcotic detachment – she wasn't prepared.

"So what do you say, Alicia? Think you have what it takes to be the next It girl? Hollywood would love you…"

She took a deep breath for strength. "Yes. But… I'm going to need some more of those pills."

Erin laughed. "Stay right there. I have something better."

***

Liz jerked awake. At first, she thought she was in a dark room. A pitch black one. Her body felt as fuzzy as the dark. Her teeth felt swollen. Never a good sign. She tried narrowing down the possible drugs that were in her system, but whatever it was made even that process run like a backed up sewage drain.

"She's awake," a woman's voice said. Eastern European, or Russian. Liz glanced around, squinting her eyes to try to see through the dark.

Then she realized she was blindfolded. She could feel the velvet across the bridge of her nose, compressing in the soft waves of her hair. She tested her wrists. Bound behind her. In a chair. Also soft. And… she was naked!

"Ah, you're awake!" A very familiar voice remarked. "I'm very sorry for the knock on your head earlier. But it was for your own good."

"Alexander Mishin!" she shrieked. "You have no idea who I am!"

"No, I don't. That's why we're here. Tell me, girl, who are you?" His voice was pleasant. Like they were having this conversation over tea.

"Elizabeth Dean." She gave her cover name, the one he must have had if he'd searched her purse. But she had a hunch he knew that was BS.

"Mm… that's what this nice little passport says, but I seem to recall the last time I saw you, at my studio, you were a redhead. The evidence before me backs that up." Liz tried to shut her legs, realizing what he must be looking at, but couldn't. Her ankles were also tied to the chair legs. "And if your passport is fake… well, not many people have access to fake passports as nice as these. So, what's your real name?"

"Elizabeth Hawkins," Liz answered truthfully, much to her own horror. Sodium pentathol. Truth serum. That's what was making her feel like a stuffed animal turned inside out.

"Look it up," Mishin whispered in Russian. She heard the door open and close. Turning his voice back to her, he asked, "Who do you work for?"

"C.L.O.A.K.." Jesus Christ, stop!

"Black ops. Fuck. U.S. or Russian?"

"U.S." Even as fucked up as she was, she knew that was a weird question for an alleged ex-KGB agent. Shouldn't he know?

"Hm…. CIA?"

"Yes." 

The door opened and closed again. There were some whispers she couldn't quite make out. Whispers in Russian between two men. Liz wondered how many were around her, already mapping out a game plan for escape.

"Why are you after me?" For the first time, she detected something more than the level-headed calm. He sounded troubled, bordering on being exasperated.

"Come on, stop asking me questions you already know. The list." She'd found her attitude at last. The drug was lifting. Or her body was finally able to fight back. Intelligence had discovered that Alexander Mishin was in possession of a list of CIA agents and their whereabouts. He was shopping it around for a buyer. C.L.O.A.K. had something to do with it, too, although Liz hadn't puzzled that out yet, other than that they were charged with retrieving it.

"List?" He didn't register awareness. "What list?"

"Names. CIA operatives."

The chair he was sitting in creaked. No one spoke for the longest time. "I don't have such a list. I'm just a business man, where would I get something like that?"

"So you're not behind the money laundering, weapons trafficking, and high-end call girl service in this area?" Liz practically scoffed. She felt like she could easily get out of her bonds. After that, she had no idea.

"No." His answer was as simple as it was truthful. Liz knew she couldn't trust him, but in that moment, she knew he was telling the truth. Could have been the drug, but she was pretty certain it wasn't.

She felt someone get close to her. Pull her blindfold away. She blinked as light flooded in around her. She was sitting in a parlor room. It was morning. She was still naked and tied to a chair, but suddenly the bare concrete cellar she'd been imagining felt like a rapidly fading dream.

Alexander Mishin was sitting directly across from her, his normally cool-styled blonde hair a tangled mess. He hadn't slept. His assistant was stepping away, holding her blindfold. And at the door was a pretty young woman with light-brown hair. Liz recognized her from Mishin's profile: Ilena Petronov, his housekeeper.

They all looked frazzled.

"Why were you outside that house last night? The one Gabrielle Dubois entered?"

Liz sighed. She was lucid enough now that she could fight the truth serum, but why bother anymore. "I was following a lead."

He nodded. Not the full answer he wanted, probably, but it was enough. "Get Ms. Hawkins a robe, Ilena. Please." He scratched his week-old pretty-boy beard. "Things aren't exactly as clear as you'd thought them to be, are they?" She didn't need to answer. He was already pacing. "For me, either. I've known about the prostitution thing for a while now… a couple years, anyway. I just didn't know how deep it went."

"You mean you're not behind it? They're your models…"

He laughed bitterly. "No, I'm not a pimp. I'd never use my girls like that. But…" He shrugged. "They were getting high profile jobs. I was getting a name for myself as having a premiere agency. I didn't see too much harm."

"So what's different now?"

He stopped his pacing and looked at Roy. "If I let you go, you need to promise me you won't run. I need to finish this conversation. OK? I need a few more answers."

"As long as you give me mine."

He nodded. Roy moved behind her, loosening the ties that held her there. For a moment, she thought of fighting back. She could easily overpower Roy. Maybe even Mishin. But then where would she go? And she still had questions to ask…

***

Things were going better than Erin had anticipated. Vincent Silva had done his part, of course, just as she knew he would. Alicia had no choice. But the thing that really got her blood flowing was the very real excitement she detected in the 25-year-old. She had a hunch that Alicia would have gone along with this even without the elaborate trap.

She returned to the poolside with a hand-held camera and a small, covered silver platter. She knew the girl would love the oxycodone. The young model's life was falling apart and the painkiller was just what the "doctor" ordered. Erin had found that drug addiction was the most effective way to control her girls. The camera was her other.

Erin was pleased to see that the girl still hadn't covered up when she returned, although she was a little disappointed that the little string bottom was still in place.

She placed the platter on the table beside Alicia's lounger, pulling the lid away like a master chef. "The bottle of oxies is yours. There's 24 pills, but I'd suggest you use them sparingly." Erin suppressed her smile; she knew how addictive those little blue pills could be. "The cola comes compliments of the house."

Alicia's mouth parted in a silent gasp. She knew the girl had been clean until that moment at the club. She also knew the blonde wouldn't be refusing another taste of it. She'd cut up two long lines of the white powder before coming out (and after doing one herself). The girl would be out of her mind by the time the film started rolling.

The topless model hesitated just a moment more before reaching for her scrunchy. She gathered her silky golden hair into a ponytail to keep it out of her face and bravely reached for the short, silver straw. Her fingers trembled just a little. Erin breathed in deeply as she felt the rush that came whenever she corrupted a pretty girl. That never got old.

Seeming to realize there was no turning back, Alicia bent over the dish and snorted the cocaine. One powdered row for each nostril. Her dark brown nipples hardened as she gasped, feeling the rush hit her.

"How do you feel?" Erin asked, switching on the camera and pointing it at her subject.

"Great!" the blonde said cheerily. She rubbed her nose, writhing topless on the lounger. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to ask you some questions. Mind if I tape it?"

"Will anyone else see it?"

"It's just for my records. It'll remain between you and me."

"OK then," the girl agreed. Erin grew wet. She could have fucked this girl right now if she wanted to. But business called. Temptation would only get her into trouble.

"What's your name?"

"Alicia Stiles Kennedy."

"And how old are you?"

"25."

"Occupation?"

"Model and… escort, I guess?" She let out a stoned little giggle. This couldn't get much more perfect.

"Could you please rephrase the questions in your answers?"

"Sure. I'm a model and an escort." Her laughter was infectious.

"Good. What are your measurements?"

"My measurements? I'm 34B, 24, 32. 5'8" and about 115."

"Are you natural?"

"You mean are my tits real? Yes."

"Do you shave?"

"Everything but what's on my head," Alicia laughed. "I'm sorry. Yes, I'm fully shaved. No hair but on my head."

"I see you're wearing a ring. Are you married?"

Alicia didn't answer right away. It was the first pause since the taping had started. "I am married. For now, anyway."

"Mmm, some of the clientele might like that. Have you ever cheated on your husband?"

Again, another hesitation. She nodded. "Yes, I've cheated."

"Did you enjoy it?"

In a small voice, she replied, "Yes…"

"You're doing fine, Alicia. I'm going to ask you a few questions about your sexual history. Just answer truthfully." The girl nodded. "Number one guy fantasy first. Ever been with another woman?"

Alicia bit her lip. "Kind of."

"Go on."

"I've been in a threesome. A guy and another girl."

"Anything happen between you and the girl?"

"Yes," she said shyly. "We kissed and… she went down on me."

"Did you like it?"

"Mm hm. It was incredible."

"But you didn't return the favor?"

"No, she left before I could."

"So you'd consider yourself bisexual?"

"I don't know." She giggled. "I guess more bi-curious right now." God, Erin was soaking. This girl was like a ripe peach, ready for someone to sink her teeth into.

"What about two guys? Ever done that?"

"Two guys would be fun, but no, never tried that."

"How about anal sex?"

"No, never." Again, a short giggle. "Not yet, anyway."

"What about your tits?"

Alicia grabbed her apple-sized breasts. "Think they're big enough?"

"I do."

She laughed. "No one's tried that."

"What's the craziest place you've ever had sex?"

"The craziest place is probably in the backroom of a club. Same place I had the threesome. Although the girl and I kind of fooled around a little in the bathroom, too."

"Very nice. So what's your favorite position in the bedroom?"

"I guess I'm kind of traditional in that way. I like the guy on top."

"Like being dominated then? Is that the kind of men you like?"

"I never really thought of it like that. I guess so. I like confident guys, bordering on… on cocky."

"Bad boys? Guys you wouldn't want to take home to mom and dad?"

"Well, yeah. Generic, huh?"

"Not at all. Is your husband like that?"

"No," she laughed. "But he's a sweetheart."

"I'm sure he is. Does size matter?"

"Yeah, it does. But too big isn't good. I like to feel full, but not stuffed."

Erin laughed. "Then you just haven't been fucked by the right big cock."

***

"Where did your intel come from on this list? Your black op, or the official guys in Langley?" It came from Vincent Silva, as far as she was aware; Vincent, who was cavorting with Gabrielle Dubois, for some reason. "Tell me," Mishin asked, leaning forward.

"It didn't come from the CIA, I don't think."

He nodded. "My guess is that you have a mole in your division. I think that's your guess, too. For now, let's keep this meeting between the two of us." He held up a hand to stop her protest, knowing how it must sound. "Just for now. Until we know who to trust."

What a funny statement, coming from the guy who'd pistol-wiped her last night. The same guy who was Tango Number One until just a half-hour ago.

They'd moved into a sunroom where they actually were talking over tea. Alexander Mishin had even made a show of sipping the tea first, to show it wasn't drugged. The robe she was given wasn't a fluffy white one like she would have preferred, but the silk felt good on her skin and at least it wasn't dangerously short.

"I think I know what the list is, although it's not exactly what you've been told."

"Nothing is, I'm learning," Liz said dryly.

Mishin nodded. "I'm sure you're aware of my connection with Erin Small, yes?" Liz nodded. "She keeps something she calls 'The List.' But it has nothing to do with CIA operatives."

"A blackmail list. Names in her rolodex…"

"Not just names. This is the 21st century. Erin's got photos, video, recorded conversations. She records everything – even herself. She's not Heidi Flische here. If that list gets exposed, no one on it will get off clean."

"Including your models." So there was Mishin's concern. He didn't strike Liz as the type of man to care about whether his own name was associated with prostitutes, but he had an entire stable of employees who couldn't afford it.

"Exactly."

"So why's she going to sell it?"

Mishin shrugged. "Money is my guess. That kind of knowledge comes at a premium. Any of the big names on the list is probably worth millions. The thing in its entirety… she wouldn't have to work again."

"You've known about this list for years. Why the concern now?"

Alex Mishin sighed. "I've found my crown jewel. A girl to build an empire on."




Models and Super Spies Ch. 08



"You're talking about Alicia." Liz felt stupid as soon as she said it; she didn't normally state the obvious like a blathering idiot.

"Yes. I haven't seen a talent like her since… well, since Gabrielle Dubois. I could care less about the rest of the girls I have on contract. None of them have the right… charisma. The right mix of beauty and personality."

"Maybe she'd be immune to the dirt of Erin's list."

Mishin laughed, shaking his head sadly. "What is it Gabrielle says on that Supermodel show of hers? 'In the world of style, easy come, easy go?' No matter how perfect you are, the world is always ready to judge with a thumbs down."

***

"Sugar, don't beat yourself up about it. It's just part of the job," Caroline's Southern accent made everything seem sunny. Even when Trey was nursing a hangover the size of the state of California.

He was slouched in a booth at Mel's Diner, eating greasy food and drinking stale coffee. The curvy brunette watched him motherly as he ate.

"I cheated on my wife last night," he said around a mouthful of pancakes. "And I liked it."

"Oh, I could tell," she teased, taking a sip of her own cup of java.

"You watched?" Trey asked, his face coloring. Somehow, the hole he felt he was in got deeper. He looked across the table at Caroline as she laughed. 

"Well, maybe a little…"

"I'm married," he stated, trying to get his self-loathing back on track.

"So am I, sugar." She said it demurely, like a Southern belle. She even placed a hand against her breast. It didn't help that the lady-like gesture drew his eyes into her bountiful cleavage. They nearly fell out of her peasant blouse, tied low and loose. "But sometimes, you've gotta do what you've gotta do."

"You've, um, 'compromised' yourself?"

"I have, yes. And I'm gonna let you in on something." She leaned forward, calling even more attention to her breasts, which Trey was quickly suspecting were braless. "It's not always as good as what you had last night. Erin Small is hot. Some of the guys I've had to be with…" She shuddered.

Trey's stomach turned. The more he saw of the espionage world, the less glamorous it got. And the more eye-opening. "Has… has Liz…"

"Fucked for her cover?" Caroline finished in her usual, blunt way. "You know, she's kind of an exception. She hasn't. Least, not that I'm aware of."

Trey nodded, thinking about how averse she was to the upcoming mission: the entrapment of Sarah Ellis. Thinking about the potentials there gave new life to his cock, even though he knew that it was both wrong and would never happen.

"Nice job, by the way. Setting up the meeting. You may be green, but you're showing more experience than a lot of others I've worked with."

Coming from Caroline, it meant a lot. "I just get lucky, I think," he said modestly.

"Please! Where's Trenton Dean? I wouldn't mind sampling his… cockiness."

"Um, have you heard from Liz?"

"No. She's been flying dark. No phone, no communication."

"You don't sound worried."

"You don't know Liz. She'll be in touch when she needs to be. 'Sides, we don't need her cute little body around 'til Sunday, right? Why not take today to relax a bit? I think you've earned it."

Thinking of his empty home was a lot of things, the last of which was relaxing. He was about to say as much when Caroline's phone went off. Two rings. Then nothing.

"Speak of the devil," Caroline said, opening her phone and punching in a number. She listened for a moment, then said, "I heard sunshine," into the mobile. "Where the hell have you been, girl?!"

***

Something wasn't adding up, Alexander Mishin thought as he watched Liz from C.L.O.A.K. step onto his patio to make a phone call. Erin's motives were pretty obvious: money and a chance to retire from her crazy world. But why drag Alicia into this sordid business if she was so close to "retiring?"

And what, exactly, was Gabrielle's role in all of it? Clearly she was being manipulated. She'd been the one to suggest Alicia Kennedy in the first place. Was she setting the woman up to take a fall? Why bother setting her up at all?

All the talk of conspiracies and blackmail was giving him a headache. Truth was, he was a pretty simple man and liked simple explanations. He felt that there was one here, too, but he didn't have all the pieces yet.

Liz came back into the room, her phone in hand. She was a very attractive woman, although a little too short to make it as a model. Glancing at her cleavage – full even without support – he changed his mind: maybe a lingerie model.

"So what did you find out?" he asked, refilling her cup of tea.

She hesitated, studying him wearily. Alex understood. He would have done the same were he in her shoes. "I'm risking everything just sitting here with you." She paused. "There's a mission. Tomorrow. The objective is to track a payment made to Erin Small, see who the money's going to. The plan is that it never reaches an actual meeting, but that the money will be processed beforehand."

Alex was shaking his head before she finished. "Two problems with that. One, Erin never charges a client until the following morning. It's her version of a 'satisfaction guaranteed' policy. Second, if you've got a mole, then chances are, Erin knows about the trap."

The redhead looked crestfallen, although didn't show it. "Luckily, you've got me," he gave her a winning smile. "You don't need to track the money. You need to track the data. No one will expect you to even know about that. Find the source, and you can shut it down before she can sell it."

"That simple, huh?" the woman said dubiously.

"I like simple things. And in most cases, they're usually the best."

She sighed, running her fingers through her red hair. Her robe slipped open a little, showing the edge of her pink nipple. Even though he'd seen her completely naked just that morning, he found himself more excited by the tiny peak. "OK, so how do we track the information?"

"Leave that up to me. You just make sure this meet goes off without a hitch. And remember, it's almost certainly going to be recorded, so the actors here will have to keep acting. Can't let anyone know that we know."

Liz's freckled face went white. She looked as if she'd been punched in the gut. "What?" he asked, concerned that she might throw up right in front of him.

"I can't go through with it… Not… the way it's set up now."

"Why not? I'm guessing one of your operatives has set up a meeting with one of Erin's girls. Right? Trust me, your agent's not going to be complaining about…" And then it dawned on him. "You're the agent." She nodded, like a woman acknowledging her death sentence. "And you never thought you'd have to go through with it."

Another nod.

"Well, my advice is to have fun with it," he chuckled. Liz shot him a glance that made him realize this wasn't a girl that liked to be teased. "What's the worst that could happen? You enjoy it?"

Her face colored and she looked away. "It's not that simple. I can't… I'm not… it just seems so wrong." She swiveled her head back to him, her jaw setting.

"What does? Fucking another woman? Or fucking for your country? Or fucking because someone orders you to?"

"Yes," she replied sharply. "All of that. I don't do women, I've never compromised my ethics, and I don't follow stupid orders."

And she wasn't going to fool anyone with that attitude. Alex laughed at her fiery expression. She looked ready to pounce on him. He stood up, his chair scrapping across the floor, and circled the chaise she was in. She watched him warily with those quick, grey eyes, but didn't move. 

"Liz. Relax." He put his hands on her shoulders, feeling her body cringe at his first touch. "Relax," he said, more sternly. His attitude would never work with kids, would certainly never work with a wife or anything long term. But in the short term, he knew how to deal with women. This one needed to be tough because of her profession, but sometimes, she also needed to let go.

He worked his fingers across her neck, massaging her tight muscles. She had some knots, that was for sure. "You're playing a character, right? This 'Elizabeth Dean'? Tell me about her."

She was quiet at first, letting his hands work their magic. Her robe fell open even more, exposing her beautiful pair of breasts. He loved the way her even, tanned flesh was mottled in slightly darker freckles.

"Elizabeth is the wife of a rich man who's… pretty full of himself. He gets what he wants when he wants." She leaned forward, allowing Alex's hands to walk across her back. "She puts up a fight, but is charmed by her husband and lets get away with things. She knows not to take her life of leisure for granted."

"Mm… I see. We need to get you into that role then. And I think I can help."

"I bet you'd like to try," she said coyly. Her robe fell around her waist and she did nothing to cover herself. She stared up at him defiantly.

"Tsk tsk. Now would Elizabeth Dean have that kind of attitude?"

"If someone other than her husband was looking at her tits like you are, she would." Even Liz broke into a smile.

"Then you're going to have to pretend I'm your husband." Liz rolled her eyes. "Just for tonight. I'm going to wine you and dine you…"

"Sixty-nine me?" she asked with a laugh.

"I'll leave that to you and Erin's girl tomorrow," he shot back with a wink. "Tonight, we'll get you relaxed. Tomorrow, Elizabeth Dean's getting pampered. And I know the perfect spa."

"You don't have to do this, Alexander." Good, she was calling him by his first name now, he thought. "I've gotten into character hundreds of times. This isn't even the first time I've been Elizabeth."

"But it'll be the first time for other things." Getting a girl as strong as this to blush felt empowering. Fucking her was going to be so much fun. "Trust me, Liz. You've trusted me this far. You need this. OK? Say it."

She sighed. She was finally relinquishing a little control. "Fine, I need it." Well, at least that was a start.

***

"And we're all done," Erin said, setting the camera back down on the table.

Alicia breathed a sigh of relief. She was burning up from the questions. Most had been easy to answer, although some required a bit of dancing around to give the reply she thought Erin was looking for. Having her head heavy with cocaine made it easier, too, she begrudgingly admitted.

"Mind if I jump in the pool? I need to cool off," Alicia asked, rising out of her lounger. Stretching felt fantastic.

"Only if you do it nude."

"Of course," Alicia giggled. "Wouldn't want to get my bikini wet." It felt good to be naughty, Alicia was quickly figuring out. And what could be naughtier than getting naked in front of a woman who'd just asked her if she could deep throat a cock (yes, of course she could!).

She pretended to ignore Erin's glittering blue eyes as she shimmied out of the red bottoms. In truth, she flaunted herself in her naked skin, giving the older woman a good long look before diving fluidly into the water.

The water felt glorious. Cool enough to satiate her burning skin, yet warm enough to that she was instantly comfortable. She glided through the water like a nymph. She turned and flipped in the water, doing a quick lap up and down the pool before pulling herself up to the pool's edge.

Erin was gone. She searched the patio. No where.

And suddenly, she felt warmth behind her. Softness. A pair of breasts, hardened nipples. A husky voice, whispering into her ear, "You're very graceful in the water." 

Alicia shivered. She felt hands curl up around her own breasts. The lips kissed the back of her neck. Then the top of her shoulder. She sighed, tipping her head to one side to give the other woman access to the rest of her neck. Erin took it.

The hands squeezed and pinched. She held onto the edge of the pool, fearing she'd drown otherwise. Drown in the bliss of this other female's touch. So different than a man's, yet still so good.

Erin turned her in the water. The older woman was so beautiful. Her short, water-darkened hair was brushed back across her scalp. Water trickled around her pronounced cheekbones, catching on the soft pout of her lower lip.

Alicia moved first, tipping her head just so. Their noses touched, nuzzling before their lips met. The blonde felt a moan rise up, getting caught in her throat as she pushed her tongue into Erin's hot mouth. She felt her new madam's fingers between them, lingering against her sex. It was the bathroom all over again. She came almost as soon as the other woman's slender fingers passed into her.

"So, bi-curious, huh?" Erin asked, her voice heavy with desire.

Alicia nodded, knowing she wouldn't be curious much longer. "Let's do something about that," Erin continued, hoisting herself from the chlorinated pool. Water cascaded along her oiled nakedness, falling fast in beaded rivulets. The blonde watched them like they were fireworks. Falling across her small breasts. Her flat stomach. Her parted thighs.

The older woman perched on the rim of the pool, setting one foot up next to her as the other dangled lazily in the water. Her toenails were painted pink. Like the blossoming petals of her neatly trimmed pussy.

"Go ahead, Alicia. Taste me."

"I don't know…" the blonde hesitated. Her heart was skipping every other beat. She'd never thought she'd be here, inches away from the parted lips of another woman's sex. And she'd never have guessed how excited it would make her.

"Eat me, baby. You know you're want to."

The girl nodded, taking a deep breath before lowering her head to Erin's sex. Her first lick of another woman was timid but explorative. She savored the buttery-soft texture of her labia, starting low and ending at the peak of her narrow landing strip. 

Erin shuddered as the girl's tongue passed over her clit. She did it again. And again. Alicia felt fingers lace through her hair and the other woman buck her hips forward. The blonde licked faster, changing up her pace. She knew what she liked, so she did that to Erin.

"Oh, God, that's good, honey." Erin's strained voice filtered down to her, muffled by her taut thighs. The hands left her head. The woman leaned back on the concrete as she opened her legs wider.

Alicia let her body float in the water and hooked her arms around Erin's thighs, planting her head deeper between her legs. Erin had juicy cunt lips that begged to be sucked one at a time, like slices of ripe peach. That practically sent her over the edge. Practically.

"God, honey, you've never done this before?" she asked as the blonde pulled back, letting the other woman cool off. Alicia blushed at the compliment, pulling herself out of the water long enough to share a quick kiss with her female lover. "Next, why don't you try using your fingers…"

Alicia was glad she was in the water. She'd be overheating if she wasn't. "Like this?" she asked sweetly as she twisted two fingers into Erin's tasty pussy.

"Now the – yessssss…" Alicia didn't need to be instructed next. She circled Erin's clit with her tongue. The other woman wouldn't last much longer. A thrill passed through Alicia as she thought to herself, And that just meant less time before I can do it again.

***

Trey decided to head into the C.L.O.A.K. office. As lame as it sounded, he'd relax a lot better at work than at home. At least at work, he could throw himself into something that had nothing to do with his wife.

But then his mind started working through the past few weeks from a new perspective. He'd been so preoccupied with training, each night going to bed more exhausted than the last. Mind and body, he was worn out.

But all of this started with a trade-off. Training for allowing C.L.O.A.K. to use his wife; to bring her on board as an insider to Mishin's world. Something didn't add up.

"Wow, the prodigal analyst returns!" one of the few people in the office on a Saturday greeted warmly. Emily Lester, C.L.O.A.K.'s official office manager. And she'd always been nice to him, smiling from her desk through her black, plastic rimmed glasses.

"I've returned to take you away from this windowless place," he flirted, putting off the confrontation he didn't want to have with the black op head.

She giggled. Her sassy, short blonde hair had streaks of black and a few bolts of pink today. "Amorous mood, Mr. Kennedy. I like!" She leaned back in her chair, glancing up at him over the top of her glasses. The uncrossing and recrossing of her legs drew his attention there, where her short skirt betrayed the dark tops of what must be black silk stockings. 

"You're working on a Saturday?" he asked, feeling his lips go dry but not daring to lick them.

"I'm running a few reports for Vincent. Actually, they have to do with you, Trey, and the mission you're on. Great job so far, by the way. You've impressed the ones that matter."

"Let me guess. You're talking about you."

She laughed heartily. "Of course me! Who cares about what that old spook in there believes when someone like me thinks you're hot shit?" Again, she uncrossed her legs. This time, though, she left them slightly parted. The skirt slipped a little higher, revealing a sliver of tanned thigh and the clips of her garters.

"So he's in?" Trey asked, suddenly wondering what was worse, in there or out here?

"He's always in, Trey." She caught him with her playful blue eyes. He saw her legs spread a little more from the corner of his eye, but resisted the temptation. He turned to go, hearing her say, "I like the beard, red. It suits you."

***

"You know what I think?" Erin asked, sliding back into the pool next to the sexy blonde. Her body still felt rubbery from the incredible orgasm she'd just received. Floating weightless on the edge of the pool was about all she could handle at the moment.

"What's that?" the girl asked with a cute smile.

"I think you need to strike when Michelle's chips are down. Don't let her rebound. She's on her way out, but I've seen a few comebacks in my day."

"How do I do that?" Alicia didn't seem to like the idea; she was too good and pure for that. But she'd go through with it. The appeal of celebrity was too great.

"I'm glad you asked. I'm holding a charity event tomorrow. I'm auctioning off the hottest guys in LA and, well, of course Tony's one of them. You come to it and 'win' him in front of a very talkative crowd. It's the killing blow." Erin knew she was brilliant. Trey would be there, too, but she was pretty sure a preoccupied Alicia would never recognize her disguised husband.

"How much do guys go for?" she asked uneasily.

Erin laughed. "It doesn't matter. Just make sure you win him. The money is paid to my own foundation. I'll just make sure your bill's fully paid."

Alicia thought about it quietly. "So… when?"

"It's Sunday night. Tomorrow! Don't worry, it'll be fun. You two could even finish what you started Thursday." She floated up against Alicia, rubbing their warm, soft bodies against one another. "And that reminds me… you can stay here as long as you'd like, but if you want to be the next It girl… well, I'm kind of infamous in these circles. Might not want to be seen too much with me."

Alicia nodded in understanding. It was true, she made it a point to be known by all, but close to none. It uncomplicated things for all parties.

"But we have the rest of the afternoon to take advantage of this privacy." Alicia was stiff beneath her, clearly not liking the idea of going out with Tony again. Her tapes told her that it wasn't a lack of attraction that was making her nervous. Now she needed to relax the girl again.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 08



"Come on," she said, pulling herself up out of the water. Her energy was back. And that meant sex. "I'll give you the official tour of the house."

***

Vincent Silva watched as Alicia was led, naked, by the hand of another woman. The blonde was the girlfriend who never should have gotten away. The closest to perfection he'd ever seen. Intelligent, funny, genuine, and sexier than she had a right to be. And most remarkable of all? She pulled it off like she was just another girl, living next door.

And soon, if all went according to plan, she'd be his again. This time, no more Trey Kennedys would get between the two of them. She'd ascend to the top of the modeling world (with Gabrielle Dubois's mentorship). He'd take unrestricted leave from the spy world. And they'd live as a beautiful, successful couple in Hollywood's shadow.

If all went according to plan.

But first, there were a few things he had to deal with. Erin's list being the biggest. It had been a stroke of genius to set C.L.O.A.K. off on a wild goose chase for a catalog of CIA operatives. It served two different but important purposes: he could call his best agents to rescue the encrypted data from Erin and destroy any trace of it from her files; and it also set the cunning madam on edge as she worried that the CIA were on to her. 

Erin could set LA on fire with her little list – ruin a lot of lives, including his own. A list like that wasn't safe in her hands. So he "leaked" to her that the CIA was watching her, even showed her photos of her meeting with Sarah Ellis and a few other pieces of surveillance he'd had done on her. He also offered her a plan to get the made-up heat off her: set up Alexander Mishin.

By the end of the week, he hoped to be in sole possession of her list, have Erin out of the picture entirely, and have Trey Kennedy take the fall for what was going to be a very messy aftermath. It was nice that his plan also freed up a soon-to-be grieving widow in Alicia.

Vincent glanced at the monitor. Alicia was lounging on the other woman's bed, stretching her long legs out before her. Her blonde hair hung dark and wet around her shoulders and her body still glistened with the oil she'd put on earlier.

Erin went digging into the nightstand as the younger woman looked on curiously.

"You've got them all fooled, don't you," Vincent said aloud as she watched the former supermodel remove a plastic dildo. She lures them in with your promises, and then…

"Vincent, Trey's here to meet you," Emily buzzed over his intercom.

Begrudgingly, he cut off the video feed, checking to make sure the red recording light was on. He could watch this later. "Send him in."

Trey had changed since the last time he'd sat in this office. Changed a lot. Vincent had seen him in his surfer boy disguise, but this was different. Trey didn't just look different. Trey was different.

His curly copper hair had been cut down close to his scalp. That change alone made him look far tougher than the soft analyst who'd made the deal with the devil. His beard and his sunburned face hardly made him recognizable. But it was his eyes that revealed just how much the past few weeks had transformed him. They were hard and wary. They'd seen too many things. 

They were the eyes of a spy.

"What's up?" Vincent asked calmly, knowing this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.

"Why?" Trey's voice was soft, but there was an accusation there. Maybe even a threat.

"Why what?"

"Alicia. Why did you bring her into this?"

Vincent nodded. He was finally getting wise to the game. Trey had caught on a little faster than he'd hoped, but it this was salvageable. "We need her, Trey. You know that. We need someone on the inside to—"

"But you've got someone on the inside, don't you? At least one that I can think of. 'Kelly,' or whatever her name is. So why my wife?"

Vincent shifted uncomfortably. Because I want your wife? The truth sent a shiver down his spine. Because we need someone to take the fall for this botched operation? "Because she can get us closer than any agent we've got in our books. She's a natural, Trey. As an informant, but more importantly, as a model. A guy like Mishin would never have a clue she's on our side. All he'd see is a pair of legs and tits and dollar signs."

"Did you ever stop to think about what it would do to her life?! To mine?!" Trey stood, his face going as hard as his eyes. Spittle danced on his lips.

Vincent gave him a sad look, but didn't move a muscle. He appeared as calm as Trey was animated. "I'm truly sorry, Trey. We knew that certain… aspects of the LA scene might rub off on Alicia, but we didn't realize… it's unfortunate."

"Unfortunate, you say?! My wife is fucking other guys and God knows what, and all you can say is that it's unfortunate?!"

"Trey, sit down." Vincent could command a mule to move when he needed to, but it took two orders before the ginger-haired man settled back in the seat. "Alicia's decisions were hers. Not ours. When she's in danger, we've kept her safe. But she's a grown woman, and we're not a bunch of babysitters."

Trey pouted like a kid just told he couldn't have ice cream before bedtime. This would have been humorous if the situation wasn't so delicate. "The operation is almost over. A week more, give or take a few days. After that, I'll grant you a leave of absence for you to sort things out. But you're not going to fuck anything up until then, you understand?"

The agent rubbed the back of his scalp, feeling the short hairs of his crew cut. He wasn't totally convinced. "Understand?!" Vincent asked, raising his voice for the first time since Trey had come in.

"Yes, sir," Trey said, slow and resentful.

"Good. Now get out of here."

***

Sweat poured off Alicia's naked body as she rolled through her orgasms. She thrust her heaving chest forward, rocking up so that just the top of her head and the curve of her ass touched the mattress. Her toes curled; her fingers clawed at the linens; and her throat screamed itself raw.

Erin Small had been working on her for what felt like hours. Long enough, at least, that her strawberry blonde hair dried itself out. Long enough that the blonde knew she'd sound like a life-time smoker she'd be so hoarse.

The older woman buzzed her magical tongue around Alicia's clit just lightly enough to keep her climaxes stretched out. The 8-inch rubber dildo made sure that those climaxes kept coming. It felt almost as good as a real cock. The woman's mouth and fingers made her not care.

"I love your pussy," Erin confessed, keeping the slow thrust of the dildo going as she gave her tongue a rest. "It's as perfect as the rest of you."

Alicia let her body relax a little. As her back returned to the sheets, she realized how sore she felt. Or would feel, once she came back to reality.

"God, I never knew it could be so good…" the model panted. Her voice was definitely hoarse. "…with a woman."

As Erin kissed up her flat stomach, Alicia's abs danced. She'd be sore there, too, she knew. "Ah…" she sighed. The other woman had reached the slopes of her breasts, stopping there to suck on them for a moment before continuing up her neck.

"And this is nothing," Erin whispered as their noses nuzzled. "Now, we're going to explore my favorite number." A peck on the lips. "69."

Alicia felt her body melt as they French kissed. The cliché about the paradox of bad things feeling good enough that they couldn't be bad occurred to her as her first female lover repositioned over her, straddling her head with her slender thighs.

Alicia curled her tongue up along Erin's cunt, this time exploring in the reverse direction as before. First starting with the trimmed stripe of pubes, she skipped the other woman's clit to trace the tangy juices that had collected along her moist cleft. She felt Erin's moan blow across her own sex. It empowered her more. Lifting her head to bring the full caress of her mouth against her lover's pussy, she tried to mimic everything that Erin had been doing to her.

The dildo slid free, but was quickly replaced by three of Erin's fingers. A fourth pressed against her anus, greasy from spit and girl-cum. The blonde fought back her imminent climax, but knew it was as futile as an umbrella in a hurricane. As Erin pushed that finger up her ass, she screamed.

When sense and sound returned like a record being played backwards, Alicia found her face and head smothered in the other woman's pussy. Erin had sat up on her haunches as she humped the girl between her legs. The blonde could feel the other woman add her own fingers to the mix. Could feel her delicate joints stroke and dance every so often along her chin.

The touch strayed down to her breasts. Her nipples that couldn't get any harder got harder. She could hardly hear anything through Erin's pincering thighs, but she swore she heard a low, rhythmic grunting from the other woman.

Alicia's pussy pulsed with each moan she elicited from Erin's lips. She'd always gotten off on pleasuring her lovers, often cumming as she sucked Trey's cock. For whatever reason, with another female, the feeling of mutual satisfaction was so much stronger. 

Unbelievably, as she dug her tongue along Alicia's swollen furrow, she felt her abs tighten with her pussy. She was going to cum again!

"Fuck, Alicia! Tongue fuck me harder!" The soft touch of Erin stiffened above her. Her thighs grew hard, squeezing her harder. "AH!" She let out a muffled keen. The blonde licked faster, her lips and tongue dancing like a troupe of ballerinas across the supple flesh of the older woman's labia.

Erin came in an explosion of grunts and expletives. She grinded her hips down onto Alicia's face, smothering her in her climax. When it was over, all it took was one pass across Alicia's clit to set her off. Erin went above and beyond. She leaned back down, grabbed the dildo, and rammed it into the model's tight cunt.

***

"Time for phase two of the operation," Vincent explained to Emily Lester, who'd come into his office once Trey had left.

The sexy "office manager's" eyes lit up. "Oh, I like phase two."

"I know you do," he smiled. She always made him feel like he was dealing with a wild animal, just tamed enough. And it wasn't just the sex. "Tomorrow night. You're going to go to this… gala thing that Erin's set up. You've still got access to the expense account?"

"I do." Her smile got even broader.

"And you know what to do?"

"Oh yes. It's making me wet just thinking about it."

"You've wanted to fuck Mishin since the plan came together."

"Someone jealous?" she asked, standing up in her chair. As she circled behind his desk, she pulled her short skirt up, exposing her garter belt.

"Emily, I need to make sure you stay focused. Too much is on the line."

She squeezed herself between his chair and the inside of his desk, lifting a heeled foot onto the armrest. The skirt slipped high enough that he could see the glint of metal where her hood was pierced. "Baby, I'm always focused. But why don't you show me how important it is again." She glanced down at his crotch. Vincent took the hint.

"If that's what it takes," he said dramatically, reaching for the zipper of his pants. "And Emily, it's really important." She giggled and crawled up into the chair. So much for getting any work done.

***

"I've had a wonderful time," Liz admitted begrudgingly as the limo returned to Alexander Mishin's mansion in the Hills. True to his word, they'd had a very relaxing – and more importantly, discreet – evening. 

The restaurant they'd gone to was nearly empty except for a handful of the old Hollywood crowd. No danger of being recognized there. Alexander had ordered for her – something she hated, but also something Elizabeth Dean probably expected. They'd shared a bottle of wine and some very friendly, non-work related conversation.

Alexander even made her put her wig of straight, dark hair back on as she got ready. Ilena, his housekeeper, helped her with her make up as well as laying out an outfit for her. When she put on the slinky halter dress, she'd instantly suspected that Alexander had a hand in it.

When she came downstairs, fighting the desire to pull the short hem down to cover more of her legs, and saw his grin, she knew he'd picked it. But instead of protesting, or making a snarky comment about his misogyny, she just smiled and said she was ready to go.

By the end of the night, she found it even easier to be Mrs. Trenton Dean. She just hoped it would carry over into tomorrow night.

"Would the lady like a nightcap?" Alexander asked as the limo waited for the gates of his driveway to open.

This was where a little bit of Liz needed to reintroduce herself. She'd watched this man smooth-talk countless women into bed, and knew she was his next target. Yet part of her was curious. Part of her liked his cockiness; and the way he looked at her with those confident blue eyes was electrifying.

"Sure, that sounds lovely," she returned pleasantly, staying in the role of Elizabeth. She let herself be helped from the limo, slipping her arm into his like it belonged there.

While they'd been gone, someone had transformed the back patio into something out of a movie set. Paper lanterns marked the perimeter, beyond which the dark landscape fell, rolling out before the glittering lights of all of LA. She had a cocktail in her hand before she could even take it all in – a fruity thing with the soft bite of rum and pomegranate. 

"I hope you enjoyed the evening, Elizabeth," Alexander said, standing next to her and enjoying the view.

"I did." She hadn't felt this relaxed and comfortable in a long time. "You're a real gentleman."

He smiled quietly, sipping at his amber-colored drink. "That means a lot, coming from a woman as stunning as yourself."

It was all a game, Liz knew, but she didn't care. And Elizabeth certainly wouldn't. "I hate that it has to end." She actually felt shy as she drank her cocktail. Shy! How long has that been?

"It doesn't have to end yet." She'd opened herself up for that line, and shivered when it was inevitably delivered. She let her glass be taken from her. She let herself be gathered into Alexander Mishin's strong embrace. "We have all night."

His kiss was powerful – a real man's kiss. The scruff of his unshaved face reminded her of Trey's kiss – or Trenton Dean's, anyway – only that shared embrace was a formless shadow compared to Alexander's. She'd patterned Trenton off of Mishin, yes, but she never thought such a man could be so authentically masculine.

Liz felt herself melting into Mishin. Their prime suspect! A man who could still very well be lying to her for personal gain. Not 24-hours, he'd knocked her out to a blow that was still sore on her head. And now, she felt her knees grow weak as his tongue passed between her lips.

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the house. She clung to him, arms tightly around his neck. She was a bride on her wedding night, about to taste the forbidden. About to be fucked for the first time.

They ascended the stairs on the way to the bedroom. Alexander didn't seem strained. In his arms, she was as light as a pillow. She nuzzled his neck, kissing the squareness of his jaw. It had been long since she felt so… infatuated with another man.

"I want you," she whispered as they entered the master bedroom.

"I know." He set her down on her heeled feet, collecting her head in his hands like an oversized chalice and dipped back down to her. This time, his kiss was harder, more possessive. She clung to his shirt, fearing that if she let go, she'd fall.

He untied the oversized bow that held her halter dress in place. She felt that thrill run down her spine as he stepped back, taking her in. Her outfit fell around her ankles, leaving her nearly naked. Exposed. She had on nothing but her heels and a lacy pair of black boy-shorts.

Alexander nodded in approval. His eyes centered on her full breasts and her nipples grew longer. He unzipped his pants, brazenly fishing out his cock. The gentleman was gone. But wasn't the womanizer so much hotter?

Liz didn't miss the irony of this moment. She'd been faced with this choice not one month ago when he demanded "loyalty" from her. At the time, she wouldn't do it then; wouldn't compromise herself like that. 

Now, she knew what was expected. Knew it and loved it. She sank to her knees, staring up into Mishin's blue eyes as she wrapped her lips around his full cock. It curved up slightly, as if designed to be sucked. And she did her best.

"Oh fuck, Elizabeth. That's a good little cocksucker." She fell into a rhythm, bobbing her head along his length. Growing accustomed to it. She carefully played with his shaved balls, knowing how sensitive that was for a man and not wanting to displease him. Judging from his grunts, he seemed to like it.

Alexander unbuttoned his shirt as she blew him, stripping off his tight white muscle shirt with a dramatic yank. She glanced along his nearly hairless torso. He wasn't as beefy as Vincent, but on his slender frame, he didn't need to be. He had a well-defined chest that looked so sexy against his narrow waist. The long body of a swimmer. And while tattoos weren't normally Liz's thing, she got off on the inked artistry around his thick biceps.

"Play with yourself," Alex ordered, though strained. Liz didn't need to be told twice. She took her left hand off his balls and slipped them into her panties. Her balmy cunt cried out to be touched. She was soaked.

"Mm!" she moaned as she came, her cries vibrating around the cock lodged in her throat. Her eyes fluttered shut as her vision exploded with colorful pleasure. Alex's hand clenched in her hair, dislodging the dark wig as he croaked. 

Liz felt his manhood seize and swell. She slid it out, tickling the underbelly with the tip of her tongue as she got in position to receive his cum. She had time to swirl the head once before her erupted into her mouth.

The redhead speared to fingers into her pussy as she drank his seed, her orgasmic pleasure pulsing with each salty blast. Alex flung her wig across the room as he finished, still hard. When she stared up at him, she didn't see the gentleman who'd taken her out. She saw a beast, ready to feed.

He pulled her to her feet and tore her panties away like they were tissue paper. She moaned at the show of strength. "You like that, Elizabeth? You like being dominated?"

She felt her breath catch. Her pussy started buzzing. Roughly, he shoved her onto the bed. She flopped on her back as he pounced, spreading her legs wide. His cock filled her pussy, splitting her open with hard, hot man-flesh.

"YES!" she cried, cumming again before he could pull back even once. She reached behind her, gripping the slates of the bed rest as she prepared herself to get fucked.

Alex stared down at her with crazy animal eyes. "Your cunt is mine," he growled, ramming his cock so hard into her that she grunted at the force. He pulled her legs to his shoulders, folding her tight body in half as he drilled her again. Her pussy seared. He was hitting her in places she wasn't used to. It was almost painful. Almost.

"God, yes!" she cried as they rutted away. His hard body grew hazy above her as she fought for consciousness. She felt so good. So out of control. Like a swimmer kicking on the surface of an erotic ocean. She knew she wouldn't be able to stay afloat much longer.

"Never!" he cried with a thrust, "forget!' another thrust, "this!"

She tried to say never, but her voice came out a warbled mess. Her brow was stuck in a permanent furrow as he gave it to her. Again and again. She closed her eyes, feeling the last bits of sanity pulling away. Nothing mattered anymore but her pussy and his cock.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 09



Chapter 9: LA's Most Eligible Bachelor

Alicia had hoped that a shower would help, but it didn't. She still felt it there. A softness around the edges of her reality. It was a medicated feeling that had been there long before her first taste of the oxies. 

Although those certainly added to the feeling. She hadn't intended to take any of the miraculous little blue pain pills. Not at first. But then she got her coffee and started thinking about Trey and the mess she'd made of her life. And how she'd woken up spooning the nude body of another woman. And how the soft skin against her turned her on.

Erin had fucked her again in the kitchen as the coffee brewed – eating her snatch as she perched her model-perfect ass on the corner of the black granite countertop. The older woman whispered things to her. Things that were going to happen tonight. Things about Tony, the Latin hunk from the club. As she came, her mind filled with Tony's face, Tony's body, and how good it could feel if she just let go and let him fuck her.

When Erin left and she poured herself her coffee, the whole thing overwhelmed her. Time seemed to have unhinged itself from the foundation of her life. She saw her bottle of comforting blue pills and told herself that it wouldn't always be this way; just this one time; just to get her through today. After today, she'd deal with it.

Yet in the shower, forbidden thoughts rose like the hazy tendrils of steam from the shower head. Bad thoughts that felt good. Thoughts of sucking cocks and eating pussies. Thoughts of that initial rush off a hit of cocaine. Thoughts of success and being seen as a supermodel.

She fucked herself, secretly praising herself on how good she was with her fingers. And how hot she was and could be. How many men wanted her? How many women? How many guys would one day jerk themselves off to her face? Her body?

The good girl in Alicia wasn't permitted to think those thoughts. She wouldn't allow it. But things were softer now. The rules had been relaxed. In this new world, she could finally take her deserved place at its center.

And then she got out of the shower, saw her nearly drained mug of coffee cooling on the countertop, and started crying. Crying for her life with Trey that she'd thrown away. Crying for the girl she once was. Crying for her own lost innocence.

"I can't go through with it," she said between sobs on the phone. She couldn't sleep with Tony, no matter how hot he was, or how much it would make her a star, or for whatever exciting job the CIA had lined up for her. So crazy. It was all crazy! Were all those thoughts jumbled together like that?

"What? Tell me, Alicia… what can't you go through with?" It was Vincent Silva's confused voice on the other end of the phone. Why had she called him?

Because there was no one else she could trust now.

Half crying, mostly hysterical, she explained to him Erin's plan for her to go to the auction, to be seen in public with Tony. To… to take him back to her room and…

She couldn't even say it! Yet she could think it. And it made her feel hot and terrible and guilty and wet all at once.

"Shh, shh… I have a plan," Vincent soothed on the other end of the line. So far away, yet he sounded so close. Vincent was a good man. Why had she ever left him? Alicia was so confused she didn't even see the irony in that thought. "There may be a way for you to go through with it, but not have to… you know… compromise yourself. No one, not even Tony'll know."

"How?"

"I'll leave you instructions. Go to Locker Room B at Union Station at noon. I'll leave something in locker 1105. The key'll be under the bench in front of it."

"Thank you, Vince."

"You're doing a good job, Alicia. Stay strong." Click. Her crying didn't stop.

***

The clouds were white pillows that belonged more to a neo-Romantic era painting than in this day of Liz Hawkins' life. Your name is Elizabeth Dean, she reminded herself as she adjusted her stylish, floppy hat.

Wind whipped the dark mane of long hair that was now hers. She held the hat, watching the island spa recede behind her in a foamy wake that cut across the crystal blue water. The speedboat came compliments of the resort, along with the limo ride back to her hotel. If that didn't make her feel like a celebrity, nothing would, right?

She'd had extensions added and her hair rinsed and dyed. She was officially a brunette, and the Brazilian bikini wax had taken care of any possible evidence she might betray on that account.

Her three-hour massage session had relaxed her and (almost) helped her forget what was to come in the evening, and once her nails and face were done, she'd never felt more pampered. Alexander Mishin had promised her a day of relaxation and the man, despite all his faults, had delivered.

He'd let her sleep in; he'd had a helicopter drop her off at the off-shore spa and wished her good luck with a wet kiss goodbye. If the man wasn't their prime tango and a known playboy, she could see herself falling for his European good looks. But that was neither here nor there.

Right now, she needed to pick an outfit for the night's gala. As she climbed into the limo and let the driver know where to go, she hardly recognized her voice. It was haughtier than she had a right to be, a voice that admired itself.

Maybe she could be Elizabeth Dean, after all.

***

Caroline adjusted the bowtie of Trey's tuxedo, stepping back to admire the handsome young agent. They'd worked hard to make sure his wig of sun-bleached hair was secure, but it was the best they could do. It was too late in the game to grow it out or change his look. Besides, it seemed to have worked with Erin Small.

The brunette support expert grew warm thinking about what she'd watched on camera. She'd thought the slightly naïve, redheaded family man was cute in that Mrs. Robinson-meets-Ben Braddock kind of way, but after his performance two night back, she'd begun fantasizing about what it would be like to have his cock in her mouth.

It didn't help that she hadn't been taken care of since she'd started this assignment, other than a few phone sex conversations with her husband. Maybe a quickie with Trey wasn't so inappropriate after all?

"You there? Caroline?" the man asked, and she suddenly realized he was talking to her. 

"I'm sorry. What was that?" She cursed to herself. She rarely let her libido get the better of her.

"Have you heard from Liz yet?"

And there was that tone again. Concern. Gentlemanly affection, perhaps? Whatever it was, she'd heard it in his voice when he spoke of his wife and his partner, and she grew jealous each time she heard it. Her own husband was a wonderful man and supported her very open lifestyle, but she was also beginning to think that monogamy wasn't just some sham.

Whatever. He'd already fucked one woman silly, would have fucked her silly, and was about to get it on with two gorgeous young girls. Whatever fairy tale Trey had stepped out of was about to come crashing down.

"Yeah, she phoned in this morning. She'll be meeting us by the bar at 1800 hours."

"And… she sounded OK?"

"She didn't use any code words, if that's what you mean. She's fine. I told you, she's a tough girl. Whatever she was up to was for the better."

He nodded. "You've briefed her on tonight?"

Caroline nodded. This was a good sign. He'd been uncertain about proceeding at all. He'd questioned the legitimacy of the mission. It was good that his mind was there, and he was making sure all the details were accounted for. "I did. She's to make a show of bidding you up, but let Sarah Ellis 'win' you."

"And… she's OK with all of this? What's to… happen?" As uncertain as he sounded, there was nothing uncertain about the swell in his pants.

"She's anxious, but knows what needs to be done." Caroline stepped close to him, making sure that her full breasts brushed along his tuxedo shirt. She couldn't help it, but what was a little harmless flirting, right? It got the blood flowing, and there was nothing wrong with that. "Trey, you know she'd never done anything like this before, but you have. It'll be the first time you have an edge. I'd have fun with it."

Their lips were inches apart. She could feel his heavy breathing wash across her face. He was as stiff as a board. "Want to practice being Trenton Dean on me?" she asked huskily, running her fingers across the seat of his pants. His hard-on twitched at her touch.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was as white as a sheet.

Caroline laughed, stepping away and tossing her curly dark hair about her shoulders. "Trenton wouldn't have hesitated. Make sure you don't tonight."

***

Alexander Mishin loved everything about a sexy woman. He loved the way they looked in and out of clothes. He loved the way their skin could feel so smooth it was like running your fingers across silk. He loved kissing them, holding them, caressing them… but most of all, he loved fucking them.

He'd never been a discriminating man. Never been one to even consider settling down with one girl. So why did he keep going back to his night with Liz Hawkins?

Forcing his mind off the redhead's tight little body, he looked at Ilena, his "housekeeper," as she got dressed for the evening. "You're very tempting, my baby doll," he said in Russian. She blushed and tucked a loose strand of her light brown hair behind her ear.

Alexander said a lot of things to women to elicit that reaction: the shy blush, the willingness to be seduced. But in Ilena's case, it wasn't a line. Watching her roll the nude-colored stockings along her shapely legs brought a stiffness to his cock that should have been dormant after last night with the insatiable Liz.

At his instruction, Ilena had dressed herself in classic lingerie. He didn't need to touch it to know the brown lace was soft and expensive. He just admired how it stretched across her hour-glass curves and complimented her light tan. She clipped the stockings into her garter belt, turning her taut buttocks to him as she set her foot upon a chair. The matching thong scooped between her legs, sheer enough that he could make out the padded contours of her vulva.

He traced the graceful lines of her back. She hadn't yet fastened the gossamer bra, letting her large breasts hang free beneath her like ripe fruit ready for picking. Ilena was smiling over her shoulder as she watched his reaction.

"Would you like me to take care of that before I put on my dress?" she asked sweetly in Russian, staring at his crotch. When she straightened, her large nipples were hard. She was excited.

She had full lips, perfect for dick-sucking. Not to mention how well she could use her tits to get him off. But time was short and there were still things that need to be done. Important things.

"I'm sorry, Ilena darling. I need to take a rain check."

Most of the women Alexander surrounded himself with would have thrown a tantrum. A haughty blaze of disapproval. Not Ilena. She just nodded in subservient understanding, fixed her lacy bra beneath those pendulous breasts, and went about preparing herself for the gala. 

Turning away from her, he flipped open his phone and called the lying bitch of his prima model, Gabrielle Dubois.

"Allô?" the sonorous voice of Supermodel answered.

"Gabrielle, so nice to hear your voice. It's been too long."

"Alexander. It is nice to hear you as well. 'Ow have things been?"

"Oh, you know. Up and down. I've been on the phone with Estee Lauder all day about your new fragrance."

"Nudity?"

"Yes. They're in love with Alicia, but wanted a shoot with the woman behind the scent. I was thinking how wonderful it would be to get you and Alicia together."

"Mm, I thought you already have," she laughed.

Despite the hatred he was feeling towards the French model, he couldn't help but stir at the memory. He glanced at Ilena, who'd slipped into her chocolate brown evening gown. Maybe he would have to get some quick satisfaction before he started to get ready himself.

"You're in Paris now?"

"As usual." Deceiving bitch!

"Then this week's too early to make it back here for the shoot? How about next week? Monday or Tuesday?"

"I'll have to check with Renee." Her personal assistant. "Perhaps I'll get in the night before and the three of us can get together to go over what Estee Lauder wants…"

Alexander Mishin adjusted his cock, then crooked his finger towards Ilena. "I like your business sense." He laughed.

Ilena rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what was going through her employer's mind. She always did. That's what he loved about her. Without a word, she unfastened the long gown and let it pool around her ankles. 

"We will talk in the next few days," Gabrielle said.

"Looking forward to it." Alexander fished his cock out as the brown-haired Russian girl unfastened her bra. Her large breasts bounced as they came free. A nice tit-fuck would be fun, but right then and there, he needed pussy. He impatiently waved his hand at her thong, which she'd put on over the garter belt. Smart girl.

Ilena gave an exaggerated sigh, slipped her thumbs into the panties and paused. He ended the call and speed-dialed Roy. "Run a trace on my last phone call. I want to know where Gabrielle is." He snapped the phone shut before his own personal assistant was able to respond, and tossed it into the corner. "Now, get that cunt over here!"

She giggled, loving the feeling of subservience, and stepped out of the lacy undergarment. Beneath the barely there triangle of short brown pubes, the swollen lips of her already full vulva were glistened with need.

She hopped up into Alexander's lap, impaling herself on his cock with the practice of a Russian gymnast. Her snatch was just what he needed: snug and warm and slippery. He could be a little late for the charity event. Right? He wasn't needed until the end…

***

Alicia felt like Cinderella as she stepped into the ballroom at the Four Seasons Beverly Hills. Well, a Cinderella who wore an evening dress short enough that stockings were out of the question, anyway.

Everything was fairytale. The crystal chandeliers. The gilt-inlaid columns. The beautiful people. Servers in white tuxedos filtered through the crowd holding trays of champagne and passed hors d'oeuvres. A minuet played by a live, three-string orchestra floated in an atmosphere so thick with decadence that she felt like she could swim away in it.

And guiltily, she had to admit how much she loved it. Flash bulbs greeted her as she'd stepped into the ballroom, but the limited press knew not to ask questions. They were there to record the beauty – and maybe catch a little gossip – nothing more.

"That's such a beautiful dress!" a young girl she didn't recognize commented as she stepped into the hall. "Gaultier?"

"Thank you. And yes, you've got a good eye." The woman blushed and returned to her conversation as Alicia sauntered in. 

The blonde felt alive. For a second, she was Cinderella. Everyone was looking. Everyone wanted to be her. Or wanted her. Her body tingled with the rush of their stares.

But was all a cover, right? She was doing this to bring justice to those who deserved it. Not to find fame and fortune. It was wrong, but she could play along. Just for a little.

Unlike her panic attack at Condo, somehow the contradictions were as harmonious as a duet. Her thoughts danced through the air, weaving and spinning around one another in a beautiful waltz.

That was most likely the pills she'd taken before arriving, but if they helped her get through moments like these, how could they be wrong?

Vincent had remained true on his promise. He really had changed. He really was a good man. He'd left her a small bottle of what looked like eye drops with a set of typed instructions. Get him drink. Put three drops in his final drink. He'll think he had the night of his life.

There was nothing to worry about tonight. It was no less of a show than walking down the runway. She had nerves of steel for that. She could have nerves of steel for this.

"Hey, Alicia, you're looking GOOD!" Tony commented, stepping away from the little clique of beautiful people he was chatting with.

"You're not so bad yourself," she returned, just as confidently. He wore a tuxedo with a mandarin collar, like he thought he was Will Smith. Internally, she chuckled to herself. Even with his classic tall-dark-and-handsome looks, he looked like a faker. How had she ever fallen for him last weekend?

"I'm on the auction bloc, you know."

"I know. First up," she smiled. "It's why I'm here." She winked and sashayed past him with an extra sway in her step. She didn't need to look back to know where his eyes were.

***

Erin Small could smell the anticipation of sex in the air. Such a nice smell mixed with wealth and celebrity, she thought. In some way, she controlled them all. When the rich and beautiful needed to scratch that itch that couldn't be satisfied any other way, she was the one they all turned to.

She ascended the stage, ready to start the annual auction of LA's most eligible bachelors. It was a bit ironic that when she gave away her money, she sold off men. When she made it, she sold off women.

Getting on the invitation list was something to brag about. It was exclusive. Most faces were recognizable, or would be in a year or two. Models, actors, rich executives. But this wasn't some public charity. This was an excuse for LA's finest to fuck.

The crowd quieted as Erin took her position behind the delicate glass podium. Minglers turned to her as a hush settled across the room. She waited for the murmurs to die down, her blue eyes taking it all in.

Walking up to the front of the room was Alicia Kennedy, her latest (and possibly sexiest) conquest. She wore her hair up, away from the scandalously short (for any other gathering) trapeze dress that bounced and fluttered about her thighs with each long, confident stride. She looked natural in a room of beauty and youth. This was her element.

Landing her was going to prove bigger than Gabrielle Dubois in the end, she knew, and her claws were already in too deep for the innocent girl to ever get away.

On the opposite side of the room, near the back, was Alicia's husband. He'd been a good fuck. Too bad he was being set up to take the fall, but someone needed to get the Feds off her back. Or whoever it was Vincent said was on her. By his side was his faux wife, the small brunette with a body that Erin couldn't wait to see on her surveillance film. She sighed, wishing she could trade places with Sarah Ellis for this one night.

"Thank you for coming, everyone," she said, shifting back to the opening presentation, now that the crowd had quieted. "I hope you've all enjoyed yourselves so far." There was a murmuring of approval. "All proceeds from tonight's charity auction go to helping victims of domestic abuse nationwide. It's a really great cause." Of course, no one here cared one iota about where the money was going, but she had to put on pretenses, after all.

"We've got 15 very eligible bachelors tonight." She could practically hear the women salivating. "As in previous years, we'll be holding auctions in sets of five. And ladies, you're buying a date. I can't promise any more than that. The rest is up to you."

That was met with cheers and whistles, from both men and women. "So let's begin. Our first bachelor is Anthony Garza, and if you know LA's party scene, you know who I'm talking about. Tony, come on up here!"

***

Trey didn't know where to look. So much eye-candy. Too much! And Liz certainly didn't make it any easier. When he walked up to her at the bar, it took him a moment to connect the dark haired vixen with C.L.O.A.K.'s trainer of secret agents. With her petite stature, rounded face, and freckles, the former redhead had always been cute-bordering-on-beautiful. Now she was in the untouchable realm of hot women.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 09



Maybe it was her dark brown hair, curled and half up in a way that swept it off a neck so graceful he was surprised he'd never noticed. Maybe it was her dress: long and slinky, the haltered top dropping deep between her breasts before coming to a close. Or maybe it was her arrogant poise; the one that said: I'm the shit and any man should consider himself lucky just to look at me.

For the first few minutes, he couldn't stop staring, something that seemed to amuse the short woman.

But Liz wasn't the only one dressed to impress. Every female that had flesh to show was showing it, and all the men seemed to be doing their best to flirt them back to their rooms.

He kept searching for Sarah Ellis, but couldn't find her. He hoped that she didn't flake out. This operation needed to go off without a hitch. Vincent's scolding was still fresh in his mind.

Trey was so distracted that he hardly paid any attention as Erin Small began to speak on the raised dais. He wasn't due up until the second round of auctions in another couple hours, so the proceedings didn't interest him.

Until he happened to see who was being auctioned, anyway. He recognized the man instantly. "Tony," as Erin called him, haunted his dreams. Tony with his hands all over his wife. Tony who kissed her like no man other than her husband should.

"We'll start the auction at $1000. Do I have an opening bid?" Tony posed up the stage, his legs shoulder-width apart like a military cadet in his finery. The man's thick neck and square jaw gave him an almost superhero like quality, and when he smiled, Trey practically expected to see a sparkle off his white teeth. He clenched his fists and breathed heavily through his nose.

"One thousand!" an Asian woman said, just a few clusters of people away from Trey. She looked familiar, although so many of this crowd looked familiar. Probably a reality TV star from some show he never watched.

"I hear one thousand from Michelle over there. How about $1250? Ladies, anyone?"

"$1250," another voice said, although Trey couldn't see this one.

"$1250 from Nicole there. Do I hear $1500?" Erin had a calm, playful auctioneer-voice. She wasn't rushed, and she clearly enjoyed goading these women on.

"$1500," a voice said from the front row. Trey felt his stomach flip at the sound. He swung his head to confirm, wanting to believe that he was wrong. But he wasn't. It was Alicia, holding her hand up limply as she bid on her new bedfellow. Trey nearly doubled over.

Liz made the realization only a second behind him. She touched his shoulder, looking at him with grey eyes that said, "I'm so sorry."

The Asian woman made another bid at the auctioned hunk. Alicia quickly countered. "I'm sure this is all part of some mission…" Liz said, although she didn't sound convinced herself.

"Alicia has bid $2000. Do I hear $2500? Michelle? Anyone?"

"2500!" the Asian scowled.

"$3000" Alicia responded even before the crowd could swivel their collective heads in her direction.

Trey felt sick. It was like watching the world from the bottom of a pool. The Asian model's face twisted in disgust. She mouthed something that looked like, "She can have her," to her friends, then turned and stormed out of the room. 

"Tony Garza going once for $3000. Twice. And sold to Alicia Kennedy in the front!" She smiled, pausing for dramatic effect, then added, "You two will look too perfect together."

Trey's stomach turned. "I need to… the bathroom…"

Liz nodded, but added, "I'm going to investigate this. Something's not right. I'll be back before you're up."

"I'm up." He took a deep breath. "Right." How much more twisted could this shit get?

***

Tony could not believe what just happened. He'd only volunteered for this auction for Michelle, who thought it would be funny to see how many girls wanted him before she took him home. When that shit went down at Condo last week, it was too late to pull out – at least that's what Erin said.

Now, he'd just been auctioned off to the goddess Alicia! He was having trouble keeping his cock from growing too large before he could descend the stage.

The blonde hotty was waiting for him at the base of the steps, smiling up at him with her coy grace. He could still remember the wet feeling of those lips wrapped around his erection, and couldn't believe that he'd get to feel that again. And so much more!

"Looks like I'm yours for the night," he said, flashing her his practiced smile.

She rolled her eyes but nodded. "You are. Excited?" He nodded a little too quickly, drawing a giggle from the tall model. "Come on," she said with a hand over her mouth. "Let's get a drink."

He scanned the crowd for signs of Michelle, but couldn't find her. Hopefully she went home, he thought, but the longer he stayed here, the higher the risk was of being interrupted again.

"Sure. How about from the bar in my room?"

Alicia's face actually colored at his suggestion. How she pulled off that aura of sexiness mixed with innocence, he had no idea, but it had him licking his lips for more. "How about you get me a drink here, first. Then we'll talk about our second."  

He looked around for Michelle again. Still no sign of the fiery Asian. One drink couldn't hurt. He stole a glance down Alicia's dress at those perfectly formed tits. Especially for that, he thought. "Sure, what'll you have?"

"Why don't you get me a sex on the beach?"

His cock flexed once again. He even swallowed, trying to wet his quickly drying throat. "I'd love to," he winked, putting his best, cocky-face on, and wandered over to the bar.

***

By the time Trey got to the restrooms, the moment had passed. His urge to vomit was gone, replaced by a cold emptiness. When he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he wasn't a completely innocent bystander. No one had tied his arm to cut a deal with Vincent Silva. No one had forced him to fuck Erin Small.

When he didn't find Liz immediately, he went for the bar, where it looked like Tony was just getting his order. 

Trey felt his skin crawl and his hands shake. "Can I get a bourbon and Coke. And make it a double," he ordered, stopped right beside his new nemesis. If only the guy knew… "You're one lucky man." The words fell out of Trey's mouth before he could stop himself.

Tony was about to leave, but Trey knew a man's man like this wouldn't be able to resist the compliment. "Thanks, bud. I think so, too."

"Think you'll get lucky?" He tipped the bartender and took a long sip of his strong drink.

"I'd say my chances are pretty good," he grinned.

Trey wanted to punch him. Instead, out of some masochistic impulse, he found himself goading the guy. "Oh? Why's that?"

"Girls like that," he said, waving vaguely in Alicia's direction with his glass, "like pretending they're untouchable, but get them in the bedroom and it's a whole different game."

"You sound like you're talking from experience." Half of Trey's drink was already gone, emptying into a butterfly infested stomach.

"Oh, I am." The way he said it chilled Trey's blood. "I should have her on her back before the next set of guys even gets on that stage. One hundred percent. Now, take care, bud."

The wink nearly did him in. He nearly lashed out, putting all his training in action. Instead, he finished his drink and ordered another.

"Slow down," a feminine voice whispered behind him, reaching around to put a hand on his wrist. "Don't want to be totally out of it." At first, he thought it was Liz, but the perfume was wrong, and he could feel her breath on the back of his ear. Too tall to be the former redhead.

"Sarah, I take it?" he said, channeling Trenton when he thought the rock star of a man was lost to despair.

"You can call me whatever you like." Trey turned, feeling his jaw loosen just a little at the sultry sight of the blonde Victoria's Secret model. "Tits" was the first thing that came to Trey's mind. Big ones. Sarah Ellis's champagne sequined halter dress didn't cover much of her full bust; her tanned cleavage wanted to burst out of the plunging neckline, which was held in check by a keyhole clasp.

"How about we stick with Sarah."

As Trenton Dean, he found his wife's betrayal easier to deal with. Fuck her, Trenton would think; he could also fuck this girl. Or anyone else here.

"I saw you with your wife… she's very pretty." From distraught to aroused in less than a minute. His emotions were as wound up as his stomach. "So, is she just going to watch us? Or…"

"I like 'or.'" He saw his mischievous smile reflected back at him in hers. "But it's not going to be easy. Elizabeth has never done that before."

Sarah smiled. "Gotcha. Even better. Just follow my lead and our chances will be pretty good." Said with the same confidence that Tony had when talking about Alicia. What kind of fucked up world had he stumbled into? "And Trenton," the curvaceous blonde squeezed his arm, "slow down on the drinks. I promise it'll be worth it."

He shivered again, watching her go. The glittery dress was even more revealing from behind. How such little material could cling to her ridiculous body was beyond Trey, but he silently applauded whatever designer thought it up. Nearly her entire back was left bare. It dipped low enough on her rounded hips that it showed off the dimples just above her ass, where a stylized butterfly tattoo sat. And Jesus Christ was it short.

The blonde model must have sensed him looking. She turned and winked at him, the act designed to expose the side of a succulent breast. Trey smiled, nodding at her in approval. She bit her lower lip shyly and went on her way.

***

Liz realized that she was putting all her energy into watching Trey's wife and the dark-haired flirter because she didn't want to think about her own situation. Puzzling out someone else's was so much easier.

And things were a puzzle here. Alicia was going through all the motions. She seemed to come off as an infatuated flirt. She touched his arm when she talked, batted her long, dark lashes when she listened. She laughed, she looked concerned. She did it all.

And yet, unless Liz's female instincts were completely off, the blonde wasn't into him. In fact, if Liz's hunch was right, Alicia didn't even really like the guy. It was a show; and the former redhead knew quite a bit about shows. 

Their conversation centered on shallow things with little substance. "Look at what so-and-so is wearing." Or, "Can you believe he came with her?!" It was the LA equivalent to talking about the weather.

Tony steered the blonde towards one of the corners of the room over the course of the next hour. Alicia was a smart girl. She knew what he was doing, but much to Liz's surprise, she let herself be steered. And when he snuggled against her, whispering things that Liz couldn't hear over the clink and hum of conversation, she didn't cringe or push him away.

Maybe it was the booze? The two had shared a number of drinks since she'd been watching, so maybe Alicia was trying to build up some liquid courage (something she herself should be thinking about doing). But liquid courage for what?

They slipped around one of the grand columns, where Alicia suddenly found herself pinned up against the wall. The agent glanced around, seeing at least a few eyes on the amorous couple. And one telephoto lens. She tapped her lips in thought.

When she looked back, Tony had closed his lips over the tall blonde's. The model's fingers tightened inside his tuxedo as she returned the passionate kiss. His hands wandered, pawing the sides of her short dress. She pulled away just before they reached her breasts, whispering something to him.

Tony grinned, mouthing, "My room?"

Alicia nodded, taking the moment to slip out from beneath him. Before he could protest, she slipped her hand in his and pulled him to the exit. As they passed by Liz, the agent noted that the girl's roguish smile didn't touch her eyes. It was still a show. But how far was it supposed to go?

"I'm following. How much time do I have?" she whispered over the closed circuit radio system they'd set up.

"Second set of auctions are coming up," Caroline replied. "Not much time."

"Who are you following?" Trey asked.

Liz hesitated. This was not a good time for him to learn what she knew, but she had no choice. "Caroline, what room is Anthony Garza registered to?"

"Is he going up with Alicia!?" Trey asked, loud enough that Liz hoped he was alone.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. Now shut up and remember your mission."

Liz heard a groan, but no more protests. "He's in room 12029."

"Thanks, Caroline. I'll report later." She stepped into the elevator and punched in the 12th floor. She'd given the couple enough lead time that she wasn't going to be bumping into them.

On the 12th floor, the doors slid open just in time for her to see Alicia disappear around the corner. Now it was the leggy blonde being led by the hand, but she was still the one in control. 

Room 12029 was just around the bend. Liz was able to get close enough to hear what they were saying, shielded around the corner. "God, you're so fucking hot," he heard Tony whispering between what sounded like heated kisses.

Alicia giggled. "Are we going to do it here in the hall, or are you going to open that door?"

"I was about to fuck you against the wall downstairs!" he said, although the triple beep of his door unlocking let Liz know they were finally going in.

"That's sweet, Tony," Alicia said sarcastically as they stepped into the room. "Let me fix us a drink," she heard the blonde say just as the door shut.

It seemed straight forward enough. Alicia wanted Tony, she had cash, and it was a sure way of getting her into Hollywood's spotlight. But the paparazzi and gossip would kill Trey. Would kill their marriage. Liz turned, convinced that there was someone else behind this mess. Vincent, perhaps? Or had Erin already started to work on her?

She stopped just before she reached the elevator lobby of the 12th floor. Someone was there. Someone she recognized immediately. It was Vincent's personal assistant, Emily Lester.

The sassy blonde was inexplicably dressed for the ball, of all things, in a long, black strapless gown held aloft by her buoyant breasts. Her plastic-rimmed glasses were gone, and with her make-up, Liz almost thought she was mistaken. Almost.

The former redhead watched her step onto the elevator, her shapely legs parting the high slit up the dress's front. Liz was pretty sure she wasn't spotted.

Now why would Emily be at this function? She was primarily an office manager, right? At least, that's the party line. It was pretty common knowledge that she was sleeping with Vincent, but Liz suspected there was a lot more to the young woman. She moved with the trained grace of an agent. And her eyes saw too much for a civilian.

She thought about radioing Trey and Caroline, asking if they knew anything was up, but decided against it. She didn't know what part either of the agents played in this ever-expanding web of intrigue, nor did she know who else was monitoring this channel.

Instead, she pulled out her phone and dialed Alexander Mishin. It was odd that he was the only man she could trust. Checking her watch, she was running out of time. The second round of auctions should have started by now.

"Alexander," she said, hitting the down button on the arrow. "There's someone you need to watch out for…"

***

"OK, I'm back," Liz's hurried voice announced over the com unit as Trey took the stage. She hadn't checked in since announcing that she was investigating… upstairs…

Trey restricted his rage to the almost imperceptible clenching of his jaw muscles. This time, he managed not the clench his fists or tighten his eyes. He couldn't do that. Not in front of all these people, looking on, expecting to see a handsome young dilettante without a care in the world.

"Trenton Dean comes to us from Hawaii, and while he's technically not available for marriage… well, ladies, we all know he's available, right?" Erin announced, hawking him like an exotic animal. The crowd laughed and their cavalier attitude toward marriage irked him. Were there no morals at this level of society? No social boundaries that couldn't be crossed?

"I'll pay two grand for him!" someone started off before Erin was even done with her introduction.

"Well then," Erin laughed. "Bidding starts at $2000. Do I hear $2250?"

"You here it!" Liz shouted from beside the bar, where she was getting another drink.

"Ah, so the wife is defending what's hers! Excellent. But ladies, we're not going to let her take him home now, are we?"

"$2500," another woman's voice offered. Trey found its owner: Sarah Ellis, of course. And so it went. Trey was surprised at how the women bid him up. A lot of it was a playful back and forth between Liz and Sarah, but they weren't the only females present interested in a night with a married man. It made him both sick and, well, a little good about himself. Two of the bidders were staged, but to think that someone not in the loop might pay upwards of $10,000 for him certainly put a feather in his cap.

His final selling price was for $16,500. Liz stopped bidding at fifteen thousand, saying that was as high as she'd go. The crowd ate it up, laughing as she raised a glass to her blonde rival.

Sarah was waiting for him at the stairs as he descended, a naughty smirk on her face. Again, his eyes dipped down into the healthy cleavage offered by her sequined dress. Again, he thought about how Trenton Dean would get off on this power.

You're Trenton Dean, he reminded himself as he checked out the young model's long legs. He'd been so mesmerized by the plunging neckline before that he hadn't fully appreciated how short the sheath dress was.

"I'm yours for the evening," he said with Trenton-like confidence. "Although I have to admit I'm a bit surprised. I didn't think anyone would outbid my wife." He gave her a wink. The conversation was for the listening minglers who were looking for gossip on the mysterious couple.

Her hair was different than the pictures he'd seen of her. The pale blonde locks were normally straight and long; tonight, they fell in curled tresses around her sweet looking face. She was the ultimate girl-next-door, looking to score on her prom night.

"Well, I like married men…" she winked, glancing over Trey's shoulder at something. She smiled out of the corner of her mouth before adding, "and married women."

Trey turned, just in time to see Liz approach them. Trey offered his arm to the blonde and the two of them glided over to meet her, intercepting a tray of champagne on the way.

"Elizabeth, I found someone who values me more than you do, apparently!" he kidded, offering the brunette one of the flutes of bubbly.

Liz rolled her grey eyes as she accepted the drink, smiling at the blonde on his arm. "With his ego, you can have him," she chuckled. She had transformed herself into Trenton Dean's rich and cultured wife. She was a marvel. "I'm Elizabeth Dean. And you look familiar…"

Sarah smiled warmly and held out her hand. "Sarah Ellis. Pleased to meet you. Um, I've done a bit of modeling for Victoria's Secret?"

"Ah, the Devilish line," Liz nodded. Then to Trey, she said, "Looks like you're in for a memorable night." Trey felt giddy. How could he not, with tonight's prospects, right? The dark part of his mind added, Alicia is certainly having her fun…

Sarah spoke for him before he could retort. "It's early and I'm itching to dance. Why don't you join us, Elizabeth? Please?"

"You paid more than fifteen grand for him; he's your date," Liz said slowly, looking right at Trey. She knew what she was supposed to do, but that didn't mean she liked it. With a final, wary look, she glanced back at the blonde. "But I also love dancing. Will anything be open on a Sunday night?"




Models and Super Spies Ch. 09



Sarah laughed. "This is LA, something's always open. But on a Sunday night, there's no hotter club than Condo." Trey thought about the private rooms, all of which were almost certainly bugged by Erin Small. It made sense for Sarah to take her clients back there, whether she knew the real reason behind it or not.

"Should we change?" Liz asked, searching for a way to prolong the inevitable. 

"And get out of that dress? No way. Come on, you guys are dressed perfectly!"

The agents gave each other a look. No slowing down this train…

***

Alicia felt the rush of adrenaline as she surveyed Tony's room. This spy thing is easier than I thought, she mused as she stripped the catatonic man's clothes from his over-muscled body. He never saw it coming.

It had been so easy to lure him back to his room. Flirt a little. Give him a little kiss, a quick feel. It was even a little fun, now that she realized that she had all the control. So different than her last encounter with the man, high on coke and sexual frustration. 

"Let me fix us a drink," she offered once they were inside his suite, twisting away from him as he pawed for her ass.

"Why don't you take that dress off and I'll fix myself a drink!"

She giggled, more amused with how single-celled he was coming off as than at his suggestion. "Settle down, big boy. Take a seat on the bed and you'll get what you deserve." She ran her tongue across her white teeth, feeling the rush of excitement as he quickly moved to obey.

She poured straight vodka into two glasses, dropped a single ice cube in each. She was a spider. A black widow. She'd lured him here with her beauty; now it was time to strike.

Her heart raced as she secretly applied three drops from the vial Vincent had left for her. She felt a nearly drug-like rush as she turned on her expensive heels and handed him a glass.

Tony took it, but made a drunken grasp for her with his left hand. She dodged it easily, stepped just out of reach as she lifted her own glass to her lips. "Uh, uh, uh," she said after taking a sip. "First, I want you to tell me how much you want me."

"God, baby, you've got no idea!" he laughed, leaning back on the bed. He rested on his palms, the drug-laced beverage forgotten in his right hand. "You are the hottest girl I've ever laid eyes on. You couldn't be more perfect!"

The blonde smiled at him over the rim of her glass, which she hadn't lowered in a mock show of shyness. His compliments warmed her more than the aroma of the expensive vodka. She felt her pussy tingle. Reflexively, her eyes sought the bulge he was presenting in his pants.

He saw the glance, too, and flashed his too-perfect white teeth up at her. "Want me to really show you how hot you make me?"

She took another sip and nodded silently. Her brown eyes sparkled with excitement. She knew the moment was approaching for her to pounce. She felt the tension riddle the air between them, although Tony mistakenly took it as his time to get lucky.

He unzipped himself, stopping just before he fished his cock out. "It's only fair that you show me your own excitement." His eyes dropped to her tits, where her nipples were spearing through her thin cocktail dress.

She finished off her drink and tossed the glass into the corner of the room. "Drink up, lover, you're gonna need your strength!"

With that, she reached behind her and untied the flimsy top, letting the trapeze dress pool on the ground. Tony's breath caught at the site of her near nudity. She wore nothing beneath except a wispy little thong, more for fun than function. "Is this what you wanted to see?" she asked, sliding her hands over her breasts. Her skin was soft and her nipples stood out like knobs on an old fashioned radio. She twisted them as Tony fished his cock out.

She remembered it. Remembered the thick member and how it filled her mouth. Her pussy watered, but it wasn't at the thought of repeating that act. His cock was hard for her. His mind was cloudy with lust. For her!

"Drink up," she encouraged, slipping her right hand down inside her thong. She curled a finger down into the slippery cleft, shuddering as she brushed past her clit.

He tossed the vodka back, downing it in one gulp – drugs and all. As she rode the razor's edge of her orgasm, balancing there like a fever, she wondered how long it took for the thing to take effect.

Then she was coming. For a moment, she didn't care.

When the fog of lust had finally lifted, Tony was passed out on his back, his cock sticking straight up like a rocket prepared for take off. Alicia snickered to herself. She pulled her dress back on went into the bathroom to wash off her fingers.

She made a mental list of what needed to be done before she left. Strip him, of course. Mess up the bed, and maybe other parts of the room to really make him think they had a good time. Write a note that told him how good a time she had. 

She found a bunch of condoms in his wallet. How tacky, she thought as she tore them open, one by one. She flushed the condoms, but made sure to leave the foil wrappers about. Two in the waste basket, one by the night stand. Perfect.

Her heart fluttered when she found a little black satchel that contained a little baggy of white powder. She thought about the lines she'd done with Erin. That, too, was cover, right? To play the part?

Opening her purse, she tucked the tiny Ziploc into the inside pocket, telling herself that she'd flush it later on. "He'll think we had a really good time if that's missing," she giggled, pouring herself another glass of champagne as she made sure she covered all her bases.

Her heart was racing so fast it was causing her body to shake. She bit her lip as she contemplated the coke she'd just pilfered. Maybe there needs to be a little bit more evidence that we'd actually done it, she reasoned, reaching back into her purse. The satchel contained a square mirror and a razor blade.

Still shaking, she carved herself a couple lines and rolled one of his bills into a tight tube. This way, he'd see the mirror and draw the obvious conclusions. It made sense, she told herself before snorting up the powdery drug. It was all for cover.

Alicia tipped her head back with a loud sniff and let the rush run through her. OK, you're allowed to like that feeling, too, she giggled, rubbing her nose before going back for the second. You're young, hot, and everybody loves you!

She surveyed the room a final time. Everything was bathed in the shimmering glow of fairy fire. The note was written. The evidence was set out. 

And then she was free. For the first time in far too long, she actually felt like she was in control.

***

Trey found Trenton Dean. It wasn't hard. Not with two hot women gyrating on him. In front of him was Sarah Ellis, who could grind her body in a way that would give a saint dirty thoughts. She tossed her long blonde hair, keeping a hand on the back of his neck and her eyes on his face the whole time. He felt like the only guy in the room.

Behind him, Liz did equally dirty things with her body. She held him close with a hand on either hip. He felt her gyrate up and down his body. And those tits on her back were making it difficult to keep his erection at bay.

"I need another drink," he said when the last song came to a close. They were in one of the larger dance rooms of Condo. The DJ was currently spinning hip-hop, which wasn't Trey's favorite music but made dancing with pretty girls fun.

Liz turned to follow him when Sarah caught her hand. "Let him go, we don't need him to have fun," she said as the next tune started up. The former redhead glanced at Trey in hesitation. Sarah leaned into her and whispered, "He won't mind, promise."  

With a wink to Trey, Sarah pulled the smaller girl into her arms. He let them go, knowing that it was now or never for Sarah to work her magic. It seemed like Liz didn't need to feign her hesitation as the blonde began to move to the lurid beat. She gave a half-hearted attempt at dancing, clearly looking uncomfortable.

When Trey got to the bar – designed to look like the kitchen in an open-floor-plan apartment – Sarah was whispering something. The sexy agent nodded, glancing around and catching Trey's eyes. The young lingerie model moved around behind her as they began to get a feel for the music once again.

Trey just watched. One song transitioned into the next and the two women began to freak. It was an amazing thing to witness. Liz reached for the clasp in her hair, releasing the dark waves of long, shimmering tresses like a stripper. She tossed it forward, resting her hands on her knees as she bowed her back. Her freckled tits spilled out of her black-haltered dress.

She threw her hair back as she straightened up, leaning into the blonde, who's hands traversed the agent's washboard stomach. The brunette spun and their bodies linked, teasing and twisting as they bounced to the hip-hop.

Their legs intertwined, Liz's emerging through the high slit in her dress. Sarah's light, sequined outfit rode up as well, revealing the tops of her nude-colored stockings and the champagne colored clips of her garter belt. With sinuous grace, shoulders and hips moved in time to a rhythm designed to make every man hard. 

At last, they emerged from the jungle of the dance floor, Sarah leading the way in the long, confident strides of a model. Trailing behind her and holding her hand was Liz, who looked flushed and bashful.

Trey could see the sheen of sweat on their skin. "You two caused quite a scene," he said in his best, cocky voice. Liz blushed, averting her eyes. 

"That's the point," Sarah said with a wink. She glanced at the bar, where Trey had ordered them a round of tequila shots. Her smile turned mischievous. "Body shots?" she asked, her blue eyes glittering.

"If you don't mind," Trey responded. In truth, he hadn't even considered body shots, but instantly loved the idea. She rolled her eyes at his consideration and he made a mental note not to do that again. "Lady's first…"

"Go for it, Elizabeth," Sarah offered, touching the shorter woman's bare shoulder affectionately.

Trey got a kick out of Liz's timidity. He'd never dreamed the fiery redhead could blush so much, let alone hold so much anxiety in those wide-eyes. Trey gave her his best, winning Trenton-smile as she reached for the shot of tequila.

"Where…?" she asked like a little girl, lost in the woods.

"Let me help," offered the blonde, taking up the salt-shaker. "Come here, big boy." She curled her fingers around Trey's head, pulling him close like she was going to kiss him. He could smell that spicy perfume again over the heat of her body. She brushed her lips over his, diverting her mouth to his neck.

Trey gasped, feeling her wet tongue lick a broad swath across his jugular. Before letting him go, she pulled him tight against her and whispered, "I can't wait to eat your cum out of your wife's pussy."

Trey nearly came at the sultry promise. She was sprinkling salt onto his wet neck before he snapped out of his daze. Liz seemed to draw some strength from his bewilderment. She smirked a little as she placed a lime wedge in his mouth. She stepped right up against him, mimicking Sarah's move by pulling him down to her face.

"We're in this together," she whispered low. "You better not leave me out to dry, asshole." And with that, she licked the salt from his neck, did the shot, and plucked the lime from between a stunned Trey's lips.

"My turn," Trey announced. He needed a drink to keep his cock – and his guilt – at bay. "On the bar, my lady," he instructed Sarah.

The blonde raised an eyebrow in a mix of confusion and amusement, but did as she was told. She pulled herself up onto the bar top, crossing her shapely legs in front of her to keep a little modesty. The tight, short skirt rode up, nevertheless, revealing not just the tops of her stockings, but a sliver of bare thigh. Perfect.

Trey grinned up along the ludicrously curvaceous lingerie model's body, meeting her dancing eyes as he stepped forward. He ran his hands from her calves up over her knees and out along her thighs. "Someone's naughty," he said as he touched the soft lace edging of the nude stockings. 

"You haven't seen anything yet," she assured him with a giggle. She leaned forward enough to let him catch a mouth-watering glimpse down her dress and whispered, "I'm not wearing panties."

Trey swallowed and blinked as she sat back up, laughing. She rubbed her silk-clad knees together and for a moment, he thought she was going to show him. Needing to seize momentum, he pushed his fingers up just beneath the hemline of her skirt, baring more skin.

He didn't need to lick her thigh for the salt to stick, but that was most of the fun, right? He felt her body shiver as he lapped twice at the smooth skin. He could smell her arousal. It only spurred him on.

"Here," he said, setting the lime against her lips.

Trey felt eyes on him, and not just Liz's. He wondered how many guys envied him at that moment. He was the shit. He felt his body pulse with testosterone.

The tequila burned the back of his throat, barely dulled by the taste of salt and sweat of the blonde's taut thigh. When he turned his head up to take the lime wedge, he was amused to find the vixen chewing on the green meat of the fruit. She tossed the rind behind the bar and leaned down to meet him.

Her kiss was tart and wet. She let the juice flow from her mouth to his as her tongue wound playfully down his throat. And she didn't pull away until the taste of the lime was a distant memory to the heat of the embrace.

"Now, my turn?" she asked, hopping off the bar and turning her playful gaze in Liz's directly. The petite girl actually took a step back as she glanced fearfully at Trey for some kind of support.

Trenton wouldn't give her any. Neither would Trey. Instead, he handed the blonde the salt shaker, keeping his eyes on his faux wife. He was uncomfortably hard, but didn't dare adjust himself or break the spell. Instead, he just leaned back on the bar and watched. Like everyone else.

Sarah Ellis, of Victoria's Secret fame, shimmied up to the wide-eyed brunette. She reached out, touching the other woman's face gently. Liz batted her long lashes as she looked up at the blonde, tilting her head to one side. Sarah brushed a dark lock of hair behind the shorter girl's ear, exposing the softness of her neck.

Sarah licked her lips, gave Trey one last, devilish look, and leaned forward. She ran her tongue slowly across Liz's neck and dribbled a little salt on her trail of saliva. She whispered something to Liz that caused the woman to blush heavily, her dark lashes forming a sagging half moon as she closed her eyes and looked away.

The blonde placed the lime in Liz's freckled cleavage, damp with perspiration. Liz's grey eyes shot open in the last moment before it happened. Neither agent had time to comprehend it. Things went that fast.

Sarah licked the salt off the other girl's neck. Then did the shot. Then bowed down to nip the lime from between Liz's plush tits. The crowd cheered. She leaned forward again, whispering in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, "Mm, I love the taste of your sweat." With a crooked smile, she crushed the lime between her white teeth.

"You have a room here, I assume?" Trey asked presumptuously.

"I do. Want to see it?" The question was directed at Trey, but her blue eyes remained on Liz.

"I would," he replied. Liz gave a barely imperceptible nod.

"Come on. Let's have some fun."

***

"Need a ride?" Vincent Silva asked on the other end of the phone line. Alicia's heart trembled at the sound of his voice.

"Sure," she said, standing up and pacing across the room. She'd snuck away to her own room at the hotel, leaving Tony passed out and naked in his, although she knew she couldn't stay here. When he woke up, some time in the early morning, she had to be gone.

"Meet me downstairs in exactly 15 minutes. I'll pick you up by the side entrance. There shouldn't be anyone around at this time of night."

"You're my savior again, Vince."

He laughed. "See you in 15."

Alicia couldn't stop moving. She was wired. Her hands shook as she filled a third glass of water, wetting her parched throat. She rubbed her nose, which still tingled furiously from the quick lines she'd snorted in Tony's room. 

The blonde went to the mirror, thinking she'd see a strung-out and scared little girl with large, raccoon-lined eyes. Instead, she just saw herself, composed and beautiful. Deep breathes. She'd get out of here. Soon. Soon.

She blinked and things moved. Her heart was in her throat as she rode the elevator down. Would someone see her? Would someone recognize her and wonder why she wasn't in Tony's bed?

No one did. No one was around on the backside of the hotel. No staff. No patrons. And most importantly, no reporters.

"So where to?" Vincent asked as he reached across and pushed open the passenger door of his dark blue sedan. Not his own car. A work car. An Agency car. Alicia shivered.

"I have no idea!" she laughed. It suddenly occurred to her that she had no where to go.

"Well, where did you come from?" he asked, smiling at her bewilderment. He had such a nice smile. She loved the strong lines of his jaw; always had.

"Um, Erin's, but…" She felt her body grow warm, thinking about the strawberry blonde and the way her short, silky hair felt between her thighs.

"Yeah, don't want to go back there," Vincent finished for her, although he probably didn't get her true hesitations. "Well, you could stay at my place. I have a second bedroom and… I'll be a gentleman—"

"Yes," Alicia said, so quick she cut him off. Right now, she needed a strong man in her life – even if he was just a friend. She needed someone she could lean on, because she felt like she'd been doing a lot of leaning recently.

"OK then," the 40-something undercover agent laughed, changing directions and heading toward his Larchmount home. They drove in silence for a few minutes, both embroiled in their own private thoughts. Alicia felt herself crumbling as into the silence. An emotional landslide.

She almost started crying over the same old worries and regrets. How had her life come to this? When was it going to end? Would she ever feel secure again?

"So did those drops work?" Vincent asked, breaking the atmosphere. 

Alicia felt the tears well up. "Thank you so much, Vince," she whimpered, shifting closer to him so she could rest her head on his shoulder. He felt warm. He smelled good. "You… you have no idea how much I—"

"Shh, shh. Alicia, sweetheart, there's no need. That's what I'm here for." He put on a comforting, yet official voice. "That's my job. To protect you."

She felt her emotions swing from hopeless to adoring. She knew she was all over the place, but in her hyperaware state, it didn't matter. She kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, again. You're a… you're a good friend."

When he patted her on the knee, Alicia shivered. His hand felt good there. She wished the quick caress of his thumb across her bare skin lasted longer. She felt dizzy with adrenaline as they pulled into Vincent's home.

"Let me show you the guest bedroom," he said as he pushed open the front door to his home. The blonde remembered the last time she was here. She'd never forget how surprised she'd been when the door opened to Vince's lover. How foolish she'd been, thinking his life hadn't moved on in the last five years. Her cheeks warmed even now at her own naiveté. 

"There are towels in the linen closet if you want to shower," he explained, flipping on the recessed lighting as they walked through his spacious home. "And—"




Models and Super Spies Ch. 10



Chapter 10: Confrontation

Liz pulled her black, stylish trench around her even tighter, despite the summer morning's warmth. Her rendezvous point with Alexander Mishin had been set at an unused shipyard, where they should have had plenty of privacy. But now, every time Liz glanced around, she saw potential places for snipers to hide.

She cast her eyes out over the water, where a couple tankards floated on the horizon like bloated lozenges. She heard the foghorns as the ships sailed in and wondered how she'd been able to get up so early after last night.

After last night… Liz shivered again, but it had nothing to do with the temperature. She'd woken in bed at Condo, naked and in the arms of an equally naked Trey. She could feel his erection pressed into the crease of her ass and, despite the amount of sex she'd last night, she felt her body craving more.

Mercifully, Sarah had slipped away during their heavy slumber, but the memory of the blonde's soft body twisting with her own was still fresh. 

Another foghorn brought her back to the present. She glanced behind her and saw a dark Mercedes slowly pull up to the concrete pier. She was surprised when the man getting out of the car wasn't Alex, but his assistant, Roy.

"Where's Alex?" Inwardly, she blushed at herself. He'd gone from Mishin to Alexander to Alex. Next she'd be making calls late at night just to hear him say, "Hello."

Roy looked like he'd been up all night. His eyes were red and bleary beneath his indy-looking glasses, and his bald scalp looked paler than usual. "I don't know where Mr. Mishin is," he said with a hint of worry. "We went with plan B. Mr. Mishin wanted to have some fun last night instead of tracking the data. So that job fell to me." He sighed. "I was kind of hoping he'd be here, too."

"He's not at home?"

Roy shook his head gravely.

Liz didn't like last minute changes, especially at this stage of the game, but there was nothing to do about it now. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and pulled the belt of her coat tighter. "Did you learn anything?"

"I did. I was able to track the videos going out last night, and the money this morning." He took a deep breath and paused.

"And?" Liz asked impatiently. She glanced back out at the water.

"And it's more complicated than we'd thought. See, the information isn't being kept in one place. It's being kept in three, each site dependant on the other."

"So if we go after just one, it wouldn't mean anything without the other two."

"Right."

Liz thought about it. That wasn't the end of the world. After all, it seemed logical that if they destroyed one third of the data, then it would be equally worthless to Erin. She said as much to Roy, who was already shaking his head before she could get it all out.

"It's highly doubtful that Erin wouldn't have some other form of insurance, in case one of the sites was destroyed. She must have some kind of master primer to rescue the parts independent of one another. And the chances of her sharing that code with anyone else…" Roy shrugged. 

"Where are they?"

"Condo, the Green Fairy, and Solstice. Each of Erin Small's exclusive clubs. Couldn't have been more obvious, huh?"

"I know about Condo and the Green Fairy, but what's Solstice?"

"Erin's newest nightclub. She purchased a small cruise liner last year and has just completed renovations on it. It's supposed to be a floating party and is being billed as the most exclusive club in LA."

"It's not open yet?"

"Grand opening is Wednesday night. Summer solstice. Clever, huh? It's sort of a masquerade party with a very southern California flair." Roy reached into his jacket and pulled out what looked like the invitation to a very chi-chi party. The matte black paper had the subtle impression of a woman's body. A string bikini and a masquerade mask were stamped in gold foil, along with the words, "You are invited."

"Cute," Liz said, handing it back to Alex's assistant.

With C.L.O.A.K. and Alexander Mishin behind her, getting into that club would be easy. Getting into all three clubs and seizing or destroying the databases simultaneously was the problem.

"There's a little more. I tracked the money wire that went through this morning from your… operation." The man blushed a little and quickly moved on. "It went to a Caymans Island account. In Alexander Mishin's name. I haven't been able to get in touch with him about it, but he has no offshore accounts in the Caymans, as far as I'm aware."

"Someone's setting him up."

Roy nodded. "And going to great lengths to do it. Not many have the resources to do something like that."

Vincent Silva did, Liz thought. And if not him, then someone else in the CIA. Someone high up. She couldn't trust anyone.

Roy pulled out a travel DVD player. "One last thing. I think you should see this." He set it on the rail of the pier and opened it up. "I made copies of the video feeds going out last night." Liz's heart skipped a beat at the thought of last night's operation-gone-sexual being on film. "Don't worry, it'll never get out. But… this is interesting."

He hit play. A hotel room appeared on film, with a very amorous couple in it. She immediately recognized them: Alicia and Tony. The agent began to wonder why she was being shown this when Tony suddenly passed out. "What…?"

"They say that appearances are deceiving, right? Well, it appears that while the media is ready to crown Alicia and Tony the new prince and princess of Hollywood, that's far from true." Liz continued to watch as Alicia stripped Tony and set up the room to look like they'd had a very wild time.

He shut it off when she saw enough. "Apparently the man has no clue that he was duped. At least not according to the stories circulating in the gossip mags this morning."

"Already?"

"How long have you been in LA? You know the way things work around here."

"Yeah. Thanks, Roy. Keep me posted on Alex when you hear from him."

"Of course." He rubbed the top of his head as he turned. Then added, "Liz… be careful." The woman shivered. She hoped Alex was all right.

***

Alicia woke up disoriented. She looked around, at first confused by the unfamiliar bedroom. That sensation was becoming all too familiar.

At least I'm alone, she grimaced, remembering how much trouble she almost got in with Vincent the night before. She'd kissed him. She'd almost fucked him. The blonde shifted. The sheets had twisted themselves between her legs and the soft cotton felt good. Maybe that wouldn't have been such a bad thing.

Alicia giggled to herself. She felt good. Last night, she'd regained a little of her lost control. She'd tricked her way out of an awkward situation with Tony and no one but Vincent knew was the wiser. She'd also resisted the urge to throw herself at her one and only friend in the world – after stumbling just a little.

"I can do this." Her voice was scratchy from the cigarettes she'd smoked before bedtime and she laughed at herself again. That felt good, too. Still, she reached for her purse and extracted two more pills. She could use a little numbness after yesterday, she thought, dry swallowing the light blue oxies.

Her cell phone began to buzz and ring in her purse. She reached for it, realizing at some point that she'd taken off the baggy pajamas Vincent had lent her and had slept in the nude. She laughed one last time, wondering how badly she'd teased the man.

"Hello?" she asked, the screen showing up with a blocked ID.

"Alicia! This is Erin. Sorry to wake you."

"Oh, I was just getting up, actually." Her voice backed that statement up.

"Great. I just spoke with Tony. He can't stop raving about you. Great job!"

"Oh yeah?" she giggled. So that plan had worked. Guys were hilariously easy to deceive, it appeared. "Well, I had fun, too."

"I'm sure you did," Erin said knowingly. "Listen, I'm actually calling on business, if you catch my drift."

Business? The escort service. Alicia blushed, remembering what Vincent had tasked her to do in the first place. "Yes, of course."

"Can we meet for lunch? I have a job for you."

Alicia's stomach turned. She knew that eventually it would come to this. She just had wished she had a little bit more time. But then, Vincent had assured her that she'd never have to "compromise" herself; that they had agents inside to protect her. And he hadn't let her down yet.

"Sure thing. Where?"

As Alicia wrote the address down, she noticed her hand was shaking.

***

Gabrielle Dubois woke up swathed in the high thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. "Mm…" she sighed happily to herself, rolling over and checking the clock. 9:30, read the soft green LED. Plenty of time to have some coffee, a tiny croissant maybe (if she was feeling decadent), and be ready for her noon sunning.

Life was pretty good for the international supermodel. She'd secured sponsorship from Estee Lauder in all but name. She hosted an award-winning reality TV show. She was recognized across the globe. And she was loved by millions. She smiled, rolling over in bed one more time before finally deciding to get up.

It came with some compromises, of course. Bargains had to be made – especially early in her career – but she'd reaped as much from those experiences as the men and women she'd slept with to get to the top. She hated that Alexander was being set-up to take the big fall for Erin, but she also couldn't afford the alternative. Erin had too much dirt on her for it to ever be exposed.

Inheriting Mishin Inc. and all the contracts that Alexander held was a nice concession. Gabrielle felt that her work on Supermodel, along with mentoring countless aspiring models, positioned herself perfectly to take over the modeling agency. In the long run, it would actually be a good thing.

"That fucking bitch!"

Michelle Park's shrill voice broke Gabrielle from her revelry. The young Asian stormed into the bedroom like she was on fire. Her silky black hair wiped around her wildly as she gesticulated. "I followed them! I followed those two love birds, and you know what?! It's all a fucking sham!"

"What are you talking about, dear?" Gabrielle asked calmly, sitting up in bed at last. She put on a smile, but this was getting old. Michelle had earned the title of "supermodel" on season two of her show, but the French model already knew that was a mistake.

"This Alicia bitch and Tony! Have you seen the tabloids? They're all over it!" Michelle threw a copy of Star into Gabrielle's lap. On it was a picture from what must have been last night's gala. Alicia Kennedy looked fabulous on it in an elegantly short, trapeze dress, holding hands with Michelle's ex-boyfriend. The headline read, "New Girl on the Town Makes a Play: pictures on page 5."

"Tony's no good for you, Michelle. I have said this before."

Gabrielle sighed and stood. Outside her window, the sun was shining on the blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. At least Michelle had good taste when it came to real estate.

She caught their reflections like ghosts on the clear surface of the glass. Michelle in her dramatic, backless dress from the evening before, and Gabrielle in cami top and little boy-shorts.

"But it's staged!" Michelle went off like a siren once again. It was getting aggravating. "Gabby, listen." The girl sounded desperate. She was cracking. "I found out what suite they were in, right—"

"Why did you do that, dear? You've gotten into enough trouble—"

"Listen!" She cut off. Gabrielle's lips tightened, but she let the interruption go. "It took a little… persuasion to get the room number from the idiotic hotel staff, but I did. When I went to confront the skank – and it must have been like a half hour after they disappeared upstairs – she was coming out of his room already with this smug-ass look on her face! I was like, 'What the fuck?' So I followed her back to her room."

"She didn't see you, did she?" Gabrielle asked, suddenly interested in the story. Something made her feel uneasy though. Something got her blood pumping.

"She was fucked up. I doubt it. But who cares, right? Anyway, I watched her for a bit. She stayed in her room about twenty minutes, maybe, and then was picked up downstairs…"

"By who?" The supermodel licked her lips, knowing she wasn't going to like the answer.

"This is where it gets good. By that Hollywood exec, Vincent Silva! You know, the hot South American guy who seems to have his fingers in everything."

Gabrielle blinked, continuing to stare out the window at the ocean. Vincent Silva? A staged encounter with Tony and Alicia? Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong.

"So I follow them, right? They go back to his place and she's like all over him. They still hadn't come out when I left a few hours ago!"

Gabrielle took a deep breath, pulling the bottom of her tight cami sleeping top down her flat midriff as she thought. As long as she'd known Erin, the madam and club-owner had had the upper hand in all of her dealings. She was a strong woman and had always been in control of her own actions.

Until recently, that was. Recently, she'd started to let Vincent Silva, her right hand man, call more and more of the shots. There had been a subtle shift in power that even someone as close as Gabrielle hadn't picked up on until a few days ago. 

Vincent had Erin Small on the defensive. She was uneasy. And if she was uneasy, then Gabrielle was terrified. When she thought about it. Most of the time, she didn't need to. Michelle's news was beginning to make her wonder. Was Alicia Kennedy a threat to her as well? Was Vincent positioning his former lover to take her place?

The French woman rubbed the bridge of her nose and shook away the doubts. Too much intrigue, she thought. Too many lies and so much fucking deception.

"I'm going to the press later today," Michelle announced. "They need to know what's going on."

Gabrielle jumped. That would be a mistake. Whatever was going on here, Michelle should never have found out. And if Gabrielle didn't do something here to quiet the Asian model, Vincent or Erin would. And their methods were quite a bit more draconian. Besides, as unfortunate as it was, Michelle's reputation was tied to her own, and Gabrielle couldn't afford that reputation being tarnished any further than it was now.

"Don't do that, Michelle," she said, putting on her best, cool mentor foot forward. "Who really cares what those two do?"

"Well, I do! If that bitch wants to steal my man, she should fucking steal him for real!"

Gabrielle Dubois laughed it off. "You're always so hot tempered," she said, sauntering up to the young Asian. She didn't miss the way the girl's almond-shaped eyes flicked across her body. "You know I like that, but save it for the bedroom."

She scrunched her nose cutely, stepping right up against the fuming young model. Gabrielle ran the backs of her manicured nails across Michelle's smooth cheeks. The girl had the most amazing skin. 

Her exotic, Asian eyes flared wide in protest. "But—"

"Shh…" Gabrielle cooed, slipping her hand into Michelle's lustrous hair. "Tell you what. Forget Tony. Move on – for me – and I'll talk to Erin for you. I'll get you off her black list."

The other woman batted her long lashes as she thought about it. Doubt mixed with her anger. "You think you could do that?" she asked, hesitantly.

Gabrielle nodded her head. "For you, of course I can." Michelle glanced away from her in thought. Now was the time to strike. "Forget them. America chose you to be their supermodel." As she pulled the Asian's head toward her, her lips curled into the coy, half-smile she'd become renowned for. "Let me help you get your mind off them."

Michelle kissed her passionately. The French model curled her toes in the plush carpeting beneath her bare feet. There were definitely positive aspects to this girl's temper.

***

The sink was a mess of short red hairs, shaving cream, and a little of Trey's blood. The beard had to go. Trenton Dean had to go!

Last night had been the most incredible experience of his sexual life, and he could never do it again. He could never even dream of doing it again. Watching Liz, his mentor and fellow espionage agent (not to mention one of the only people he could trust on earth anymore) flicker her pink tongue across a lingerie model's excited clitoris was something he'd most likely never witness again.

His cock reacted to the memory, growing painfully in his boxers. Watching the two women 69 each other to oblivion brought him back to life. He'd summoned the strength to crawl behind Sarah's moaning body and slide his semi-erect cock into her warmth. Liz's mouth immediately swallowed his balls. He grew to full length, much to the blonde's mewing delight. And—

"Stop it," he said aloud, fighting to banish the lurid visions. He glanced at himself again, running his hand across his smooth face. Even without the beard, he looked much different than the analyst he was in his prior life. He looked hardened.

Trey had read the tabloids. How could you miss them in this town? He'd checked the internet, where photos were already surfacing of his wife and Tony at the gala – and a few from Condo from earlier in the week. Like his over-worked cock, he felt numb when looking at them. Like he was looking in on some other man's life.

Today, he'd decided to confront her. Doing so would risk both his life and hers, not to mention dooming his hopes of becoming an official special agent with the CIA, but fuck that. He shouldn't have agreed to this bogus deal in the first place. And if Vincent Silva, his director, wasn't going to keep her out of harm's way, then he had a right to.

***

Gabrielle Dubois followed the spaghetti slim ties of Michelle's halter up to the nape of the Asian's neck. She pulled the tie free as she unfurled her tongue between the other woman's lips. Michelle sucked it like a cock.

"Dirty girl," the French model laughed, pulling back just enough to peel the black dress down Michelle's soft, tanned skin. 

Michelle didn't bother responding. Sliding her fingers into Gabrielle's silky, dark hair, she pulled the supermodel back into a fiery kiss. She always had a possessive edge in her touch. The girl kissed like a man except for the softness of her lips. Gabrielle loved it.

She pushed her thumbs into the silky black material, pushing it the rest of the way over the girl's hips. Michelle held her face fast as she slipped the Asian's thong across her hardened buttocks. Naked now, it was time to show her who was boss.

Tearing her mouth away, Gabrielle shoved the Asian back onto the bed. Michelle was ramped up, her bare chest heaving as she glared up at the French woman through her long, black lashes. Her brown nipples were stiff. As she sat up on her elbows, Gabrielle watched her abs tighten, licking her lips. 

"I like the new piercing," the French woman said, eyeing the string of pink diamonds that dangled from her navel.

"Wanna take a closer look?" she asked, setting a spiky heeled foot on the edge of the bed as she opened her legs. She fingered the jewels with a smile that touched just the edges of her lips. Then she traced the backs of her nails the short distance to her smooth cunt.

"Tempting," Gabrielle mused as she pulled her cami top off. "But I've got a better idea." She smirked to herself as she turned away, hearing the Asian's squeak of protest.

She shimmied out of her lacy boy-shorts, wiggling her ass as she went into her dresser opposite the bed. She made sure to bend at the waist when she reached into the bottom drawer, giving her female lover a scintillating view of her pussy between her legs.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 10



"What are you doing?" Michelle whined like a spoiled little girl.

Gabrielle smiled over her shoulder. "We haven't used this in a while." She turned, the black strap-on dildo flopping in her hand. Michelle was rubbing her clit as she waited impatiently. When she saw the dildo, she immediately broke into a smile. 

"Who's the dirty girl now?"

"Girl?" Gabrielle asked, raising a plucked brow. She stepped into the strap-on, and lathered her fake cock with KY jelly. "I'll show you 'girl.'"

A smile split Michelle's pretty face. She squirmed back to the pillows as Gabrielle crossed the room, her plastic dick bouncing before her. She loved this thing. Eight and a half inches of supple blackness, complete with veins and balls. Only thing it didn't do was cum.

"On your knees, my pet. I feel like fucking you like a dog."

"God, I love your accent," Michelle laughed, enthusiastically flipping over. 

"Mmm, such a nice ass," the brunette commented as she sidled up behind her. "I've never tried anal," she mused, setting the dildo head against Michelle's puckered opening.

"Bullshit," Michelle simpered as she felt the pressure build against her anus.

"Well, never been on the giving end, that is." She swept her eyes cross her lover's olive skin and long, black hair. Her almond-shaped eyes were still fierce, but Gabrielle didn't miss the hint of worry. That was what she was looking for.

She bounced the thick dildo across Michelle's perineum and pushed it into the girl's soft pussy. "Yes…" the Asian hissed, no doubt in relief as well as pleasure. Gabrielle felt adrenaline surge through her veins as she eased in. She gave the girl only a couple strokes to adjust to the thickness of the dildo before picking up the momentum.

"Ah, fuck!" Michelle snarled beneath her. Their wet skin began to slap with each thrust. Gabrielle breathed the heady scent of lust through her nostrils. God, she loved fucking like a man. So much power.

"Take it, my slut!" she grunted in French, grasping Michelle's slim hips as a man would. With each heave forward, she yanked the girl hard against her. The strap-on dug into her clit with exquisite pressure. The girls gasped together. Again and again.

"More! More!" Michelle cried.

With her lubed fingers, Gabrielle teased the rim of her model-friend's asshole. Michelle groaned, burying her face in the pillows and thrusting her ass higher. Gabrielle pushed her index finger into the girl's nether hole, burying it knuckle deep. Her female lover screamed.

"You like that, mon chien? How about a little more?"

Before the Asian girl could react, Gabrielle pulled the plastic cock from her pussy and set it against her anus. This time, she wasn't just teasing. This time, she leveraged her slender, naked body over the prone girl and plowed the strap-on into her ass.

"AH FUCK!" Michelle wailed, her voice cracking.

The sight of Michelle's ass swallowing the black plastic cock (her fucking cock!) was too much for the French model. As she violated the girl, she crested. Half up on one leg in a partial squat, partial stand, her body began to quake. Her knees buckled, driving the cock down to the hilt into Michelle's backdoor. 

Michelle was screaming. It took Gabrielle a moment to realize they were cries of ecstasy. It took her another moment to realize the girl was ravishing herself, both hands working her pussy as her mentor reamed her ass.

The host of Supermodel rolled onto her back in a twitching, sweaty mess. "Qui a été incroyable!" 

Before she could fully recover, she felt Michelle's soft hands unstrapping the dildo. She smiled, holding her eyes shut and snuggling into the plush bedding. She knew what was coming next. The silky hair between her thighs was hint enough.

"Mmm, you really are insatiable when you get upset," she cooed as she felt the first the warm tongue against her pussy. Reaching down, she ran her fingers through Michelle's hair. The girl's brown eyes were smiling up at her.

"I'll show you insatiable," she winked.

"Oh mon dieu!" she cried as Michelle focused her very talented mouth. Today, Gabrielle had the feeling that being cooped up on this ship wasn't going to be so bad.

***

Vincent Silva fidgeted in his chair at C.L.O.A.K.. He glanced down at the stack of papers he had to go through – fake intel he'd been generating to feed the CIA when the Mishin operation went sour. He had trouble focusing on it. He had trouble focusing on anything but the promise of tonight.

Emily hadn't checked in last night, and she hadn't shown up for work yet. He'd received a quick text on his way in that simply read, "Dropping off the drycleaning." It was her code for "all's well, don't worry about me," but it still puzzled Vincent a little. Her assassination mission was a simple one, and there was no way a soft businessman like Alexander Mishin would have seen it coming.

The nagging feeling flicked away like a leaf caught in the breeze, and he was once again thinking about tonight. About Alicia. About her soft thighs parting around his body.

He glanced out at the empty desk where Emily usually sat, cursing her absence again, but for a very different reason. He was horny and needed someone to take care of it for him. Briefly, he wondered if Liz was in today.

Vincent's phone rang before he could follow that lead. "Hello?"

"It's set up. She'll do it," Erin said, checking in. Vincent breathed a sigh of relief. There was a small chance that Alicia would back out of her mission. 

"Excellent." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His balls felt like lead weights, even sitting.

"Oh, and Vincent, I think you should know… Trey's on the scene. He was watching us in a car, not so discretely, across the street."

The black ops director shifted again, this time due to nerves. Good thing he'd prepped her last night for this. Now he had to make sure his warnings held up. The question was, how best to play it? He'd convinced Erin that the CIA was after her and her list, when really it was Vincent who wanted it. He'd convinced Trey that his wife was involved in an operation to get that list away from Erin and (the late) Alexander Mishin, when really all he wanted was the man's wife.

"I suspect that Trey's the traitor, but I can't be for sure," he said carefully. "Watch them. Make sure they don't get in a car or something. I don't want her out of your sight."

She laughed snidely. "You're ordering me around, now? I'm not one of your agents, Mr. Silva."

"Of course not. But this is in both of our best interests. And I fear they're getting close." Soon, he would be the one giving the orders. Just a few more days now and the list would be his.

"I'll keep an eye on them and phone you if he sweeps her off her feet," she laughed again. "Must go now. Tah."

Vincent set the phone down, his skin crawling with agitation. He needed to burn off some of this aggression. A nice long run would do the trick, although a good, hard fuck would be better. He looked longingly to Emily's empty desk.

"Hey!" he said in surprise, seeing Liz leaning in the doorframe. She looked very much the spy in her tight black outfit and open trench coat with the collar flipped up. Based on the smug smile on her face and the way her arms were crossed beneath her hefty breasts, she knew exactly what was on his mind. Sex.

"Hey yourself," she replied, sauntering into the room and taking a seat across from him. Beneath the trench she wore a pair of tight, black jeans and a black corset top. Her freckled cleavage spilled over the criss-crossing laces. 

Vincent licked his lips. He'd watched highlights of her performance last night. He'd never thought he'd see his former partner do the things she'd done. Even with her dark brown hair, it was thrillingly satisfying to watch her frantically bobbing head between another woman's legs as she was drilled from behind.

That dark hair was in a ponytail now. And those lips were painted glossy maroon. He didn't even need to close his eyes to see them wrapped around his length. Jesus Christ, he needed to fuck.

"So what brings you in?" he asked, forcing his eyes back to her greys.

She crossed her legs. "Information. I have some more now."

"Oh yeah? Caroline track the money?"

Liz nodded. "Our suspicions were right, Mishin's behind it."

There was an "and" there. Liz didn't need to say it. He waited for her to continue.

"When were you going to tell me?" When he didn't respond immediately, she tilted her head slightly to the side, causing one dark bang to fall across her face. She knew… something. She'd figured it out. But what?

"Tell you what?" he asked, returning the inquisitive grin.

She rolled her eyes. "You're really going to make me spell it out? Alicia…"

Fuck, she knows about Alicia and him? But how? "I didn't think my past relationship with Alicia was relevant to the mission. Just a coincidence." Liz nodded, but didn't speak. "We actually ended things before Trey was even approached for C.L.O.A.K.. Trust me, I was as surprised as anyone when I learned who he was dating…"

It wasn't exactly true. Alicia had broken things off with him when she learned he was married, calling him a dishonest scumbag, or something like that. His child had just been born and he wasn't ready to break things off with Karen. If he could have predicted his divorce, things would have been different, but that's not what fate had intended.

Anyway, even after their break-up, he was still obsessed with the young model. She was just 19-years-old at the time. So innocent. He knew she was destined for success and it killed him to see her dating again. When she seemed to settle on one man, Trey Kennedy, he knew that if he couldn't control the girl, he could control her spouse. He wasn't director of C.L.O.A.K. at the time, but he knew all the right strings to pull to get young Trey a job with them.

And for the past five years, he'd been plotting the perfect way to sweep back into Alicia's life. Destroying her trust in Trey and making her dependent on him was a pretty good one, he thought. Getting his hands on Erin's list and a foothold in Mishin's world class modeling agency was icing on the cake.

"You had nothing to do with getting him the job?" Liz asked skeptically.

"She really was just another girl I was sleeping around with. You knew me from back then, partner," he grinned. "I think you knew me pretty well." He winked, thinking about all the fun times they'd had on assignment.

"You were never one to shy away from really getting… personal with your work."

Vincent laughed. "I've been wanting to get personal since Alicia interrupted us a few nights ago." When the blonde had shocked the two of them that morning, Liz had been on her knees, servicing him on the kitchen counter. "Shall we pick up where we left off?"

Vincent needed to change the subject before Liz started to figure things out. She was too smart for her own good, sometimes. And the best way to distract her…

"How easy do you think I am?" she asked, rolling her eyes as he began to unzip his trousers. "Do you have any idea what I did last night? And how tired I am!?"

He had some idea, based on the video footage. That only made it harder to fish his lengthening cock from his pants. Her grey eyes darted to his robust manhood greedily. Knowing Liz as well as he did, he guessed that last night's activities made her hornier, not more tired.

He thought of the freshly waxed pussy that both Trey and Sarah had experienced – again and again. They'd been lovers for close to ten years and she'd always maintained her auburn pubes with pride. Then again, she'd also sworn that she wasn't into women, and that was obviously not true. "Come on, baby, I'd like to give your new, bare look a ride." He began tugging at his cock. 

Liz swallowed, flicking her ponytail as she glanced at the open door. She stood and crossed the room. For a split second, Vincent thought she was leaving. Then she slammed the door shut and hit the auto-blinds closed.

"Sometimes you can be such an ass." She threw off her trench coat. The tight corset top was sleeveless, baring her toned shoulders and freckled arms in the subdued light of the underground office.

"You like it."

She sighed. "I do."

***

"Alicia. It's me. Your husband."

The words hung in the air like a bomb falling silently toward its target. Nothing left to do but wait and hold your breath. The numbness was back. He couldn't feel his heart spasm and convulse. He didn't register the legion of butterflies swirling in the pit of his stomach. In that frozen moment, he was as anesthetized as a resident in a mental hospital.

Then the bomb went off.

His wife's warm brown eyes grew wide. She took a step backwards, like she was afraid he was about to attack her. The color drained from her face as she tried to speak but couldn't find the words.

"Can we talk? Alone?" He glanced around at the sunny sidewalk in Santa Monica. He'd located her by her GPS signal (with a little help from Caroline). She was finishing up a lunch with Erin Small, of all people, and he'd waited patiently in the shade so he could grab her alone.

"What about?" she asked, looking away from him. To scan her surroundings? Because she didn't want to look at him? Why?

"I need to tell you something."

"You can tell me here." Her voice quivered. She was deathly afraid of something.

"How about we sit over there," he said, pointing to a bench tucked off the main street. His finger shook and he quickly retracted it.

Alicia nodded, still not meeting his eyes, and waited for him to lead the way. Like she was afraid of turning her back on him. Or maybe she was going to run? What the hell was going on here? This woman was his wife. She was no stranger. They'd been together for over five years and here she was, acting a scene right out of Tale of the Bodysnatchers.

He gave up, walking around the corner with the hope that she would follow. He only felt a mild sense of relief when he turned and she was still there, although she still looked like he was a ticking bomb with a shorted out fuse.

He'd tried to come up with the best way to breach the subject. Start with the story of his recruitment? Start with the details of the current operation? Tell her he knows about her own involvement? In the end, he decided that blunt was best.

"I'm with the CIA," he said, low yet firm. He may as well have admitted he was Osama bin Laden. Her face drained of the rest its color. She suddenly looked over her shoulder. Trey could practically see her flight instincts kicking in. "I'm telling you this because I know about your involvement with the Agency."

His pretty wife, scared shitless, mouthed the words "agency" but still couldn't find her voice.

"Shit, I should have told you before. A long time ago. When we met. But I had orders. But now you're in danger and—"

He stopped. Alicia was shaking her head. Shit, her whole body was shaking. She scooted away from him, half standing off the bench as she glared at him with abject horror. "You? It's you?!" Her voice cut shrilly through the air.

"Me? What do you mean?"

She wasn't blinking, her long lashes accentuating the most frightened expression he'd ever seen on her pretty face. She shook her head at his question, continuing to cringe away even as she ran out of bench room.

Trey ran his hand over his shortly cut red hair. He could feel his sweat gathered on his scalp. This wasn't going well at all. "Look, I'm still trying to get to the bottom of it myself, but I think I've somehow gotten you mixed up in something very dangerous. I think we're being used."

He'd had a shotgun mic trained on her lunch with Erin. He'd heard the proposal. He'd listened as Erin outlined her "date" that night. The man had requested dinner and a night at the ballet, followed by "companionship," as the older woman had put it. It sounded like a first, so there was still time to get her out.

"I can't believe this," Alicia grumbled, shaking her head ever so slightly. Her eyes remained fixed on her husband, as wide as saucers. "All this time…" It was more a statement to herself than to Trey.

"I should have told you. I'm sorry…"

What was it Vincent Silva had said so long ago? Something about psyche-analysis and irreparable damage to the trust between the two of them? It all seemed so foggy. And this whole conversation suddenly felt like a giant mistake.

Alicia turned her head away, staring out into the open street. Cars moved slowly along through the thick, LA traffic. Trey recognized that soft look in her eyes; she was deep in thought.

"So what are you suggesting, Trey?" Alicia asked at last, her voice tired.

"I…" And that was when he realized he had nothing to suggest. He'd been so focused on telling his wife about his double life – and warning her about her own – that he hadn't thought beyond that. The first thing that came to his head was to flee; to pack up all their things and slip away in the night. Not that they'd get far. Not with the full force of the CIA behind C.L.O.A.K.. 

"I don't know," he mumbled.

Alicia nodded, but it was one of dismissal, not agreement. "Look, the two of us…" She hesitated, and Trey was thankful. He didn't want to hear the end of that sentence.

"I'll figure something out. But right now, I need you to trust me, okay? Don't… I don't know… don't go and do anything crazy…"

"Without letting you know first?" she finished for him with a touch of sarcasm. "Trey, where have you been for the two weeks? Do you really expect things to just go back to the way they were? To play house again? The world is a hell of a lot different than whatever I thought it was even last week."

She stood to go. Trey panicked. If she left now – like this… he couldn't imagine life without her. "Wait, Alicia." She paused. "Please stay. I love you." His words felt desperate. He felt like a gambling man, making a deal with God just for this "one time."

He saw a tear slip out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't turn back to him. "Where were you when this shit went down, Trey? Where were you when I needed you most?"

Before he could say another word, she fled back out into the street. Trey wallowed in his self-loathing, too weak to follow.

***

Liz's mind was still reeling from the Alicia-Vincent revelation. She'd come by intending to feel out a connection between Vincent and Erin's lists. She wanted to know how much he knew. Was he aware of the multiple locations? Was he aware of what it really was? But as soon as she began to feel it out, her instincts kicked in. If she even mentioned the lists, he'd become suspicious.

Not to mention the shit on his desk. Damning evidence left in plain sight. Vincent kept his eyes on her, never once glancing down at what looked like a paper trail surrounding the Mishin investigation. In fact, he was so focused on not calling attention to them that Liz knew they were key. She had to see them, but before she could…

"Oh yes, like that," he groaned, burying his hand in her dark hair as she bobbed along his cock. She hated to admit it, but the thought of getting fucked instantly had her moist. Even after last night, and even with this traitor to the country. It was crazy. How could she be so horny?

"So you finally gave in to the fairer sex," Vincent said as she blew him. "Did you enjoy getting eaten by another girl?" Liz's deep moan slipped out uninhibited, vibrating around the man-flesh passing in and out of her throat. He gasped, holding her head still as he fought back from the edge of an imminent orgasm.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 10



She tried to break his hold, wanting to suck him faster as her mind dealt with her confused sexuality. Truth was, she loved the experience. Part of her even wished Vincent was a woman so she could try it again. Sucking cock seemed like a great way to stave off those bisexual thoughts.

She struggled off his member and stood. With her hands shaking, she untied the laces of her corset bodice, yanking it open impatiently. His eyes drank in the abundant tit-flesh. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine. He was a bad man. A traitor. The enemy. And she couldn't wait to fuck him.

Liz managed to unzip her black jeans before Vincent was able to struggle out of his chair. She turned her back to him as she yanked the skintight denim over her hips.

"Tsk, tsk," he playfully scolded, sliding up right behind her small body. "No panties." She felt his touch between her thighs, gasping as he slid it up into her damp sex. "Is it me that made you this wet? Or memories of last night?"

"Uhn!" she moaned as he pushed a broad finger into her pussy. "Doubt it's you," she said through her gritting teeth. She leaned forward, tits and hands resting on the desk. His hand retreated, but the heat of his body remained. She knew what was coming next.

"So you think you don't need cock anymore?" As he said "cock," he rested his saliva-bathed dick against opening and pushed forward. "This doesn't do a thing for you?" She felt his balls slap against her sodden clit. Fuck, that felt good.

"Not a damn thing," she squealed. She tightened her fingers around the edge of the desk as he retracted. She was able to draw a half breath before he lunged back into her, harder than the first. The desk creaked in protest.

"Well that's too bad. Pretend I have tits and this is a strap-on," he huffed as his driving hips picked up speed.

"God, yes," she moaned, resting her head on the desk so she could comb her fingers back through her hair. She lifted up on the balls of her feet, pushing her ass up higher as their bodies slapped and their throats moaned. The muscles in her legs screamed, growing tight. How could this be? Not even 12 hours ago she'd been on her back, sucking Trey's balls as Sarah performed miracles across her cunt and now she was screaming for more.

"Uh, uh, uhhh fuck!" Her face twisted as the orgasm shot through her. She bit her lower lip, attempting to stifle her torrid climax. The man behind her was a brute, his thrusts coming so hard she had to go up onto her toes. 

He pushed down on the small of her back, shoving her against the desk edge and harder onto his cock. The new angle put the path of his cock head right up against her clit. With each pass, the swollen ridge nudged over her love button. It was driving her insane.

"Oh jesusgodfuck!" she cried, unable to catch her breath. Her body was as hot as an effigy, drenched in oil. 

Feverish, she felt him pull out of her. His large hands flipped her onto her back. She felt papers stick to her back. She glanced up at Vincent Silva, whose sweaty brow and dark eyes made him look like a villain. He casually slotted his slick meat back into her. 

He'd pulled off his shirt at some point, his darkly haired chest matted and glistening. Couldn't be much more man than this specimen. He thumbed across her sensitive mound, roughly finding the knotted bundle of nerves.

"Oh Goddd!" she moaned, writhing at the end of his cock on the desk. Her hard body bent like a springboard holding the weight of a diver at one end. Vincent's left hand sought her nipples as his right returned to torment her clit. 

"Maybe after…" he said between great, heaving breaths, "we put this mission to bed…" He grimaced down at her, his own released teetering on the edge of a knife. "Maybe then you can show me how much you like pussy."

Liz's body went woozy at the thought. She felt drunk on the fantasy. Incredibly, she felt herself cascading into yet another fucking climax! But before she was lost to oblivion, she smirked up at her old partner and added, "How about you, me, and Alicia's sweet, naked body?"

She practically giggled in glee as Vincent's face tightened, his eyes drowning in desire. Then his cock went off in her buttery cavity and the world was bathed in a red haze. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" she cried, her body swooning in great, exaggerated ripples with each hot spurt. 

He seemed to cum forever. It filled her like molten lava. She felt it leak around Vincent's buried meat and dribble along the curve of her ass. 

When he was finished, he pulled himself free with a fleshy pop, slapping his softening member against her bald and overworked sex. Liz shuddered. Too much. She felt like she'd taken a shower she was so drenched. Vincent rested on the side of the desk, huffing wordlessly. 

Liz couldn't be certain, but she wouldn't be surprised if his mind was still lingering on the fantasy threesome with Alicia. It would never happen, of course, but she was no longer going to deny that the thought was enticing.

"I need to get going," Vincent said at last, his voice gruff. "And I imagine you do, too?" He searched around for his discarded clothing. His office was a mess.

"I need to write some reports before the day is out." She found her top, pulling it on and loosely lacing up the front. Business had returned to usual. "As exciting as all this is, there's always paper work, right?"

Vincent laughed. "Never have too much fun."

They dressed together and left the room, only a little embarrassed by the secretive smiles the rest of the employees shared.

***

Liz made sure that Vincent had left headquarters before sneaking back into his office. She'd palmed a micro-camera from her desk. Vincent may be the bad guy here, but he was still trained as meticulously in espionage as she was. She couldn't leave a single piece of evidence that his office had been disturbed.

Actually getting into his office was easy. Without Emily Lester there to guard it and no other desks stationed around it, all she needed to do was walk in.

He'd straightened the desk up a little since their tryst, although the neat little piles they'd been in earlier were now in disarray. That actually made gathering evidence harder, since she had to be extra careful when she moved items to the side.

The brunette immediately went into information gathering mode. Every file on his desk got a quick snapshot. She barely looked at what it was she was shooting. That could be worked out later, when she had more time.

Her senses were hyper alert as she indexed everything, making sure this paper was askew just so, and that was hanging off right there. Liz didn't put it past Vincent to have left something out of place on purpose. She would have done the same.

Confident that everything was left the way she'd found it, she slipped out of the office, narrowly missing a group heading to the conference room. She gave them a quick nod, hoping she didn't look as sweaty as she felt, and headed for the exit.

In the fresh, late afternoon air, she finally let herself relax. From the moment she'd woken up, things had been moving too fast to really wrap her head around. The three independent data centers. The connection with Alicia and Vincent. And most troubling of all, Emily and Alex's disappearance. 

She didn't want to admit it, but the last piece of news had her stomach in knots. Right now, she needed Alex more than she realized. She felt lost and alone, a little girl in some dark fucking woods.

"Just keep going, girl, he'll turn up," she whispered under her breath as she tore out of the parking lot, heading for Trey's. It was time for her to get another ally. If the quick glances at Vincent's files were true, then her new partner and trainee was about to lose a game he didn't even know he was playing.

And his wife, it appeared, was the prize.

***

Trey's the traitor?! Alicia couldn't believe it. She felt shell-shocked, barely able to stumble to her lipstick red convertible and get the hell out of there. Trey is the fucking traitor?! She screamed as the Benz peeled out and off down the road.

"Get the fuck out of my way!" she screeched hysterically at a couple of jay-walkers who had to dive away from the accelerating car. When Vincent told her that his mole would approach her soon, how the fuck—

"TREY!?"

Her cheeks were damp with tears at the stunning betrayal. Her powerful car screamed down Santa Monica Boulevard, heading for the highway. She needed a long stretch of asphalt to speed on before she killed someone.

Trey was so many things. So many fucking things. A good guy. A loving guy. A hard worker. He was sometimes too smart for his own good. Too quiet. He could be social, but never liked the social events she'd dragged him along to. He would have hated that gala last night.

But a spy? A fucking spy?! She could see him working a desk at the CIA. Maybe fixing up their books or whatever. But not in the field, like he implied. Not a "special agent," or whatever they called them. And on top of that, a traitor.

As the RPMs ramped up and the engine's roar started to sound panicked, cold reason brought Alicia's heart back down to earth. She started thinking about the last five years with her husband. About all those days and weeks he'd needed to "work late." About how Bank One never had holiday parties and how he never talked about his coworkers.

And then there was the last month and his mysterious business trip that took him away on the eve of their five-year dating anniversary. His secret life had taken him away from her when she needed his support the most. Not only that, but it was because of his secret life that she was entangled in Erin Small and Alexander Mishin's sordid machinations.

None of that mattered. Not anymore. Trey Kennedy, the man she'd married three years ago – the man she'd turned to when her life came crashing down around her the last time – was a traitor. He was helping some very bad people sell a very dangerous list. He was betraying his country and the men and women that served right along side of him – men and women she didn't even know he had until now. 

It chilled her heart. When had he turned? How long had he known? She'd been sleeping with the enemy for how fucking long?! And how the fuck could he sleep soundly?!

Her blood boiled once again. Once again, her heeled foot jammed the accelerator to the floor and she tore off through LA.

Trey had asked for her trust, but right now, she couldn't see ever giving it. Not with the knowledge she was armed with. Not with all that she knew. And besides, she had her own problems. Tonight, even. She had to fuck some rich guy to maintain her cover so she could bust her husband and his cohorts. If anything, he was to blame for whatever happened.

Had he been hiding it the whole time he'd known her? Had there always been that coldness from him? A barrier, a wall he kept up. She should have known he was hiding something. Just never realized it was this great.

Erin had given her the keys to a room at the Beverly Hills Hilton and a credit card so she could buy her outfit for the night. The man, her john, wanted a classy evening. Expensive dinner. A private booth at the ballet. And then a wild time back in his room.

Despite the depravity of her situation – the disgusting compromise she'd soon find herself in – she felt a flush climb up the soft skin of her neck. Was this the thrill her husband felt every time he was on assignment? The feeling of adventure, riddled with danger?

Alicia tossed her blonde hair in the breeze as she thought of herself as a spy. "Spy versus spy," she mused, thinking of a showdown with Trey when this was all over. The climax of their shattered relationship. 

The brief smile fell from her lips. It was a sad thought. This wasn't a movie; this was her life. Or was. Or whatever.

Somewhere, hiding out in the back of her mind like a child who didn't realize the game was over, was the thought that the two of them could be so much more. A husband and wife team of international super spies.

***

Trey's marriage was dead. His wife had looked at him like he was a lunatic. It was worse than being seen as a stranger. In her eyes, the man he'd become was frightening, scary. A complete monster.

He sat on the bench for a long time. He listened to the laughter of people as they walked by. He grew resentful of their smiles and their inane conversations. They had no idea what pain was. He did.

When he finally peeled himself off the bench, he had a plan of action. Last time, he'd drowned his sorrows in drink. This time, he didn't want to feel numb. This time, he wanted to pour salt in his wounds. To see how much pain he could take.

"I need another favor," Trey spoke into the phone. He put as much confidence behind the request as possible. This one wasn't something up for negotiation.

"What's up?" Caroline Aurora Turner's southern twang asked on the other end of the line.

"Can you to track Alicia's cell for me again." She'd already done it earlier that day and had been good about not asking questions. He hoped she'd be just as accommodating now.

There was a long pause. "What's this all about, Trey?"

"I can't explain now," Trey replied urgently. If she thought this was for business, then maybe…

"Try," she said sweetly, although he could hear the steel in her response. This wasn't going to go anywhere.

"Fuck it," he barked, snapping the cell shut and powering it down. He knew where she was staying – some room at the Hilton Beverly Hills. He'd just go there and stake out the lobby. Eventually, his wife would show up.

He looked at the blank screen of his mobile. "And no one's going to track me, either," he grumbled. He'd stay off the grid as much as he could. Now that Caroline was aware of what he was trying to do, he got the impression that she'd also be trying to stop him from doing something stupid.

And right now, Trey was overflowing with a desire to be stupid.

***

Trey wasn't at his apartment, and when Liz tried to reach him on his phone, it went immediately to voice mail. First Alex, now her trainee. Things were getting weirder by the moment.

The brunette easily picked the lock and let herself in. She needed somewhere private to go over the images she'd taken from Vincent Silva's desk. Trey's place seemed about as random as any.

Pulling out her armored, field laptop, she sat at his kitchen table and quickly downloaded the snapshots. There was plenty to go through, and it took her the better part of two hours before she'd digested it all. She couldn't quite get the full scope of the man's plans, but she was able to puzzle out most of it. All of it appeared to be falsified documents, a paper trail all pointing to…

"Trey?" she asked aloud, shocked as it all came together.

If the documents were to be believed, then apparently Trey Kennedy was working in close network with Alexander Mishin to sell a list of the names and locations of CIA operatives working around the globe. 

Fact of the matter was that much of the evidence hadn't happened yet, according to the date stamps on them. They were set to occur… shit, they were set to occur tonight!

Liz felt her skin crawl. A meeting had been set up for tonight, in the basement of the Green Fairy. News of the meet wouldn't leak out until around midnight; a last minute "discovery" would come in, C.L.O.A.K. would scramble a strike force, and they'd raid Erin Small's absinthe club. What they'd discover wasn't clear from the documents Liz had, but it wasn't good.

An "intercepted" e-mail exchange between Alexander Mishin and Trey was also included in the files. Allegedly, Trey had been ordered by the Modeling Agency mogul to sell off the list to Samuel Smith, a self-made gangster operating out of Vegas. A further report concluded that Mishin had disappeared: "most likely fled after he'd caught wind of Trey's demise." 

Trey's demise. Jesus Christ. Liz shivered. What the hell was going on?

Vincent Silva came off as a hero in his revisionist history, and Trey the villain. And with Tango #1, Alexander Mishin, being at large, there was a reason for C.L.O.A.K. to remain vigilant (and more importantly, solvent). 

Oddly enough, there was no mention of Erin Small's involvement. Or Gabrielle Dubois. Or, for that matter, any kind of high-end call-girl service. Liz knew that this business of "a list of the names and locations of CIA operatives abroad" was smoke and mirrors. In his reports, the list gets conveniently destroyed, something with which the CIA would have absolutely no problem. What Vincent was really covering for was access and control of the real list – the blackmail list. With that in his possession and an off-the-books arm of the CIA, he'd be unstoppable.

What Liz didn't quite understand was how he was planning on actually getting it from Erin. The challenges were steep: three locations with separate, dependent servers; a contingency plan protected by a password that only Ms. Small knew; and the need to keep all of this from the eyes of every party but his own.

Liz herself was still trying to puzzle out how to do it from Small. Or Silva. Or whoever had it when she finally moved. "Which has to be soon, girl," she said aloud as if giving the thought voice gave it more urgency. 

Alex's disappearance became even more troubling after reading it in Vincent Silva's reports. If Silva knew that Alex would go missing, then he must have something to do with it. Assassination wasn't beyond the espionage director. He'd done it before when assets became liabilities, or certain obstacles needed to be removed.

In the name of her country, Liz had been able to deal with that aspect of her covert life. But Silva was no longer acting in the name of her country, and an innocent man – a good man? – may have been killed. It made her ill. And when she worked through the feelings of nausea, she felt angry.

"You'll pay for this, Vincent." Again, she spoke aloud. Again, there was a need for urgency.

Her phone rang, shrill in the empty apartment. "Silva, Vincent" read the caller-ID. Almost like he knew she was thinking about him. Liz shivered.

"Agent Hawkins."

"Liz, I need you to do something for me. And I can't answer any of your questions."

"What else is new?"

"I've located the list. It's currently at the Green Fairy. I need you to recover it for me."

The game had begun. The chess pieces were now in motion. "Tonight?"

"Tonight. But I need you to wait for my signal."

"Why don't I just go get it now? The club must be pretty empty…"

"Can't have you doing that. Just trust me, OK? I'll explain later." Sure you will. "Wait for my call. When you get it, I want you to go to the Green Fairy. The list is being stored in an antique absinthe fountain. It's the centerpiece of the private lounge."

"K. But how will I get in?"

"Leave that to me. But it won't be hard. Just bring your credentials and they'll let you in."

"So wait for you, go in, and look for something in some antique?"

"Yeah. There should be a server in it. Take the hard drive. I don't care about the rest of it. And if you can do it discreetly, even better. Need to go. I'm counting on you, kid. Thanks."

Liz stared at the silent phone for a long time, feeling the moments slip by like commuters rushing to make their train. She took a few deep breaths, analyzing what assets she had. A "special agent" who was green enough that you could mistake him for a leprechaun. A businessman who'd gone missing the night before. And a surveillance expert that… OK, at least Caroline was both competent and available.

She glanced at her watch. 4 o'clock. She'd have to make due. And make due soon. Where the hell was Trey, anyway?




Models and Super Spies Ch. 11



Chapter 11: F-A-N-T-A-5-I-A

Ilena Petronov had been looking forward to a night with Alexander Mishin. Like old times, back when she'd first come to work for the man as a live in mistress. She knew men like Alexander were incapable of settling down with just one woman, but that didn't stop her from dreaming.

She'd grown increasingly worried for the man, despite his assurances that everything was going to all right. She'd suspected that Erin Small wasn't on the straight and narrow; she'd never liked the supermodel-turned-club-owner. But a prostitution ring? A blackmail list that could ruin Hollywood? And now the CIA was involved?!

Ilena wasn't stupid. She knew Alex was a lot more than a simple businessman. Anyone who hired a housekeeper with the requirement of being proficient in surveillance equipment had a lot more below the surface than he let on. This intrigue just went deeper than she suspected even Alex was prepared for.

The plan had been for her to attend the gala as a rich, Russian socialite and buy him at whatever cost. The two of them would follow Liz Hawkins and her party, track the data feeds wherever they were, and pinpoint the location of the blackmail list. It would be easy. After that, they'd spend the rest of the night together, roleplaying out the situation of auctioned and auction-winner.

But then Alexander had to go and let his hormones take control. Just as she thought she could outbid the sassy blonde, her employer went and scratched his jaw. Plan B was in full effect. Roy would follow the information. Ilena would back off and let the young playboy have his fun.

Back in Russia, Ilena's father had owned a private security company. Despite her father's concerns about letting his only daughter get mixed up in the intrigue of the spy world, she'd learned everything she could about what he did. She'd learned about security systems and the jargon of spies. She'd learned how to not be tailed, and how to tail without being seen. And most useful of all, she'd learned to trust her instincts.

On that fateful night following the gala, Ilena's instincts were screaming not to trust the blonde who'd been bidding on Alexander.

She'd found Roy and relayed to him that they were on Plan B, then followed her employer and the newcomer. 

They'd left quickly, but the limo took the scenic route back to Mishin's mansion. Ilena was sick to her stomach with anxiety. That suspicious feeling she'd developed as the short-haired blonde bid Alexander's price tag up grew worse with each passing moment, but she'd remained cautious, giving them a few moments of leeway as they pulled into the Mishin estate.

By the time Ilena had arrived, the front door was still open and she could make out shadows inside the doorframe. "Why?" she'd heard her employer ask. Quietly, Ilena had extracted a foldable asp from her purse.

She hadn't liked the woman's laugh. "You're redundant, Mishin my dear. I'm afraid you've outlived your usefulness." Ilena had extended the asp without a sound.

"God, it's such a pity to lose such a fabulous male specimen." Ilena had been able to get close enough to see the near naked woman straddling Alex's prone body. Fucking him. And she'd seen the needle in her hand, wavering above them. 

"Look, we can talk about this." It had been so strange to hear fear in Alexander Mishin's voice. 

"No more talking." The blonde assassin actually got off on it. "Oh, baby, YES!" The needle had danced higher; Alex's breath had caught, a scream barely held in check.

"Oh baby, no," Ilena had shrieked. Moving like a pouncing lioness, she'd stepped into the house and had cracked the blonde's wrist with the tip of the portable cudgel. Before the needle even had a chance to skitter across the floor, Ilena had swung again. Right across the bitch's head. 

"Took you long enough!" Alexander had joked in Russian. Ilena just rolled her eyes as they cleaned up the mess, stuffed the would-be assassin into Alexander's Range Rover, and got the hell out of Beverly Hills.

***

"Ilena, darling, you need some sleep." Alexander's soft voice sounded tired as well. She blinked, her mind coming back to the present. She was driving a "borrowed" Lincoln Towncar, driving it back to LA. She'd barely slept in the past 24 hours. Not since the morning before the gala.

Keeping her hands on the wheel, she looked over at Alexander. He was resting his head between the shoulder of his seat and the door jam, his unshaven scruff looking more ragged than normal. "So do you."

"I guess neither of us will be doing much of that for a while, eh?" He smiled at her weakly. "Pull in here. To the picnic grounds."

The rest stop on the outskirts of the city wasn't exactly empty, but it was anonymous enough. She navigated around the main building where travelers had stopped for a dinner of Burger King and Cinnebon.

A couple dog-owners were letting their pets do their business in the park, but otherwise, Liz was the only person there. The diminutive agent had reverted back to red hair that was currently pulled back into a high ponytail. She waited with her arms crossed, leaning on a picnic bench.

When Alexander got out of the car, the redhead's face lit up. Ilena watched with a tinge of jealousy as Liz threw her arms around Alexander and kissed him hard. She was used to the parade of women in and out of her employer's life, but it never got any easier.

"Well, hello to you," Alexander said as Liz broke the kiss. "What was that for?"

"I thought you were dead!"

The cocky Russian let out a short laugh. "It's going to take a hell of a lot more to get rid of me than a pretty pair of tits."

Both women rolled their eyes. "So did you learn anything from the assassin?" the agent asked, back to business.

"You mean this 'Emily Lester'? At first, she wasn't very helpful. But Ilena there… talked her into it." In addition to spycraft, Ilena had picked up on a few interrogation techniques over the years. Emily wasn't actually trained very rigorously, so getting her to talk had been fairly easy.

"Is she…" Liz hesitated, not wanting to ask what they'd done with the blonde.

Alex rescued her, shaking his head. "No, but she won't be troubling anyone for a while. We can deal with her when this is all over." Liz opened her mouth, probably to ask for more details, before he went on. "And this'll all be over very soon. Tonight, even. Vincent Silva's apparently planning to frame Trey tonight. At the Green Fairy Lounge."

Liz nodded thoughtfully. "Where part of Erin's list is being stored."

"Part of?"

"Apparently, Erin's database isn't in just one location, but three. The Green Fairy Lounge, Condo, and aboard the Solstice. They're linked in some way, none good without the other two. Also, there's an emergency fail-safe. If she suspects any one of the lists are endangered, she can draw them in."

Alexander scratched his unshaven face as he listened. "OK, now things are starting to make sense. Whatever's supposed to go down in that absinthe bar was going to make it easier for Silva to get at the list. Now I know why."

"She catches wind of our operation there and pulls the trigger on the fail-safe," Liz added excitedly.

"And Silva must know where they're all going," he finished.

"So it's easy. We stop Trey from even showing up." Ilena listened quietly, letting the two puzzle it out. She knew that wasn't a good plan, and Liz realized it only a moment after she'd suggested it. "But that could raise suspicions. I also have no clue where the fuck he is."

"Well, we know where he's going to be tonight."

Liz nodded. "Can you get me in undercover?" she asked.

"I'm way ahead of you. I've already called and made the arrangements with the club manager there. She's expecting Erin to be sending over a new girl to help with a private party tonight."

"My cover's a hooker?"

Alexander grinned. "I think you can handle it." Judging from the stormy look in Liz's green eyes, Ilena wondered if she was going to slap him. "No, you'll be a waitress, although I'm not sure you'll just be taking drink orders."

"When am I expected?"

The handsome entrepreneur glanced at his watch. "In about an hour. Think you can make it?"

She kissed him again and nodded. "I can. Thanks, Alex. Where are you going now?"

"I have to teach a supermodel some manners," he joked. "I'll be in touch. We'll rendezvous tomorrow."

***

Liz was instructed to enter the Green Fairy Lounge from the back, where an impatient Asian woman in her early 40s tapped the face of her watch. "You're late," she said sternly.

"I'm sorry," the redhead said, making an attempt at deference. 

The tall woman looked unconvinced. "Come. Most of the party is here already. Do you go by Liz, or Elizabeth?" She led Liz through a short corridor and through the kitchen.

"Elizabeth is fine."

The woman gave a quick nod, leading her into a pretty luxurious dressing room. Three make-up desks lined one wall, opposite a closet lined with green dresses. A couch and a 50-inch flat panel television created a sitting area, presumably when staff was on break. The woman, who still hadn't given her name, crossed over to the closet. The hangers rasped metallically as she rifled through them.

"You're a what? Size 2?" Liz nodded. "OK, put this on." She thrust one of the green uniforms at Liz as she whisked by, rolling out a silver decanter with four spigots. It looked like a fancy coffee dispenser. "Have you ever used one of these?"

Liz looked around for a changing screen to hide behind, but saw nothing. The woman glanced at her, rolled her eyes, and said, "Nothing I haven't seen before. Go on, we don't have much time."

Cursing herself for acting bashful in front of this woman, she quickly stripped down to her bra and panties as she was lectured on the correct way to administer absinthe from what was a glorified water cooler. When she reached for the dress, the woman stopped and shook her head. "Strip all the way, deary. The girls downstairs don't wear anything but the dresses."

She couldn't be serious, Liz thought. Judging from the shortness of the dress on its hanger, it wasn't going to give her much modesty. Still, she could hardly complain on such short notice. The woman poured out two glasses of absinthe as the redhead dropped her bra and panties onto the rest of her discarded clothing. The woman gave her an approving nod, and Liz was proud of herself for not covering up.

Just as she'd suspected, the green dress was tiny. The under-layer was made of green silk that clung to her curves in ways that went beyond mere suggestion. It swept so low it barely covered her nipples, and was short enough that she'd come dangerously close to exposing herself if she were to bend over. Her modesty was only marginally saved by the gossamer slip of green lace that fit over the tight silk; it was still snug, but was designed to shift across her curves in ephemeral sensuality.

"Now the rules," the woman explained, handing her a glass of the absinthe. "You do whatever is asked of you. If someone wants you to pour them a drink, you do it. If someone wants a back massage, you give it to them. If someone wants you to suck on their cock, I don't want to see hesitation."

Liz's breath caught. She hadn't quite expected this, although she should have known. She'd been sent over here as "one of Erin's girls."

"Will that be a problem?" The woman took a sip of the absinthe. Liz did the same, tasting the heavy bite of alcohol beneath the licorice flavor. 

"Of course not."

"Wonderful. And I don't think I need to remind you, but everything that goes on in that room stays there. Here at the Green Fairy Lounge, we pride ourselves on our service as well as our discreetness."

"Of course." The woman pointed to a shoe rack. Liz felt the arches of her feet hurt just looking at them. "I know what's expected of me." Somehow, she found a bit of energy behind her voice.

"I hope so. Now drink up, we're already late."

Again, Liz was led through the behindthe-scene corridors of the lounge. She could hear the low-dub synths on the other side of the wall, as well as the soft din of laughter and conversation. It took the redhead a few paces to get used to what must have been five-inch heels; the early signs of intoxication didn't help matters, either (and just after one small glass of that stuff!). 

They descended a carpeted flight of stairs, pushed through a beveled pair of dark, wooden doors, and suddenly she was standing in the back of the Green Fairy's lower lounge.

Liz had seen pictures of the upstairs lounge: all exposed brick and post-modern minimalism. The small, basement lounge continued the theme. More a collection of nooks and alcoves created by exposed-brick arches, it reminded Liz of the chic version of a mid-century bomb shelter, although instead of raid sirens providing the ambient sound, that airy yet persistent techno beat set the mood.

They emerged into the back most room, part of the tight area acting as the bar, the other as a server stand. An incredibly attractive woman with dark brown hair and light mocha skin smiled at her as she loaded a tray up with an absinthe fountain.

"Miss," she said with the hint of a British accent.

"Jasmine, this is Elizabeth. She'll be helping you and Bri tonight."

"Welcome," Jasmine smiled. She was beautiful, Liz thought, with exotic, almond-shaped eyes and brilliant white teeth. "If you would, please grab four glasses there and follow me out." Definitely a British accent.

The girl – most likely of Middle Eastern descent – walked practiced and proud on her tall heels. Liz did her best to imitate her as they navigated through the narrow corridors. She wore the same dress Liz sported, although it looked even more scandalous on her long legs.

"Ah, yesss…" a woman sighed. Liz's ears perked up, but when she glanced in the direction of the unmistakable sound of pleasure, all she saw was the ruffling of a green, diaphanous curtain across one of the hidden alcoves. Shadows hid the rest. Jasmine's deep brown eyes sparkled when she saw Liz looking. "That would be Brianna."

Two well-dressed black guys were relaxing around a large, antique absinthe fountain – clearly more for decoration than use anymore – in the largest of the alcoves, although it was still only wide enough to hold the low sitting table and the padded booth bench. Liz flicked her grey eyes over decorative fountain; that was her objective. Inside, Erin hid the data server. One third of her blackmail database.

"Well, well, another beautiful girl joins us. Who might you be, honey?" The man talking had a booming voice, but his commanding aura went beyond just that. He wore a crisp, pin-striped suit and a matching bowler cap, reminding her of a thinner version of the late Biggie Small.

"Samuel Smith, I presume," Liz smiled. "You can call me Elizabeth."

"Well, Elizabeth, why don't you join us for a round." His voice was dominant, a true alpha male. And where that sort of thing turned her on coming from a man like Alexander Mishin, it set her on edge coming from a dangerous man like this. "You can show me how to work that thing." He nodded his head at Jasmine, who was setting a smaller fountain on the table between the guys. As she bent at the waist, her dark chocolate nipples slipped briefly into view.

Liz put on a brave face. She was one of Erin's girls, after all. "Show you how to work Jasmine?" she teased as she settled into Samuel Smith's lap.

"Now that's a fun thought," the black man chuckled, hooking one arm around her waist while the other began caressing her creamy thigh. "Maybe after we get a little bit more… lubricated." His hand slid up the inside of her leg. Her breath caught. "First, show me how to drink that green shit."

Making sure to remain seated on Samuel, she leaned forward and demonstrated what the hostess had just done for her. She felt his hands skim across her buttocks, barely covered by the thin dress. Again, her breath caught. Getting out of this mess was going to be an uphill battle.

***

Removing her rings was the hardest part of Alicia Kennedy's preparation. Sure, she'd done it countless times before for so many modeling shoots, but this was different. This time she wasn't pandering to the camera. She was pandering to another man. A man who expected sex.

The blonde model checked herself out in the mirror one last time on her way out. The short, black dress elongated her glossy legs. Atop four-inch stilettos, she hoped her date was tall. Tweaking her gracefully sloped nose, which was still numb from the coke, she took a deep breath and turned to the door.

"You can do this, girl." Alicia flipped her wavy, blonde locks over her shoulder as she gave herself a parting glance in the mirror. Fuck, this dress was short, she laughed.

She'd come a long way. A couple months ago, she was practically a no body. A dime-a-dozen model. The kind of girl that got married (which she'd done), modeled a bit (which she'd also mastered), and finally retired to live a "normal" life. But ever since leaving her small town home in Washington State, she'd known she wasn't cut out for that normal life.

Kids, a home with a yard and an herb garden? Some kind of fuel-efficient station wagon or minivan? Trey and her had talked about it, but she never could see herself doing that.

What was funny was that while Trey seemed all for that kind of settled life, Alicia always got the feeling that he was trying to convince himself, as much as her. He seemed perfectly cut out of it, after all. At least, if you read his file. She'd worried that his unspoken hesitation was because of her, and that worry had only made her try even harder to buy into the mundane dream.

As it turned out, Alicia's instincts were correct, just not for the reasons she'd feared. Turned out, he was a fucking spy! How the fuck had she missed that?!

The elevator doors chimed open just as she'd begun to work herself into a huff. Showtime, she supposed. Shoulders back, purse at her side, she exited like she was emerging onto the runway.

Smiling just twenty paces away was Vince. Holding a white rose. Alicia blinked, waiting for the illusion to disappear. Erin had said her date would be holding a rose. Why was Vince here? Why…

"You look beautiful," he said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. He smelled good. Manly. Her nostrils filled with the heady scent of his aftershave. He'd trimmed his salt-and-pepper goatee since the night before. He'd cleaned up, wearing a black suit and a pink shirt and tie. 

"You look beautiful yourself," she laughed in disbelief. Was he really rescuing her? Again? "What are you—"

He shook his head quickly. Urgently. She cut off her question quickly. They were being taped. Must be. He was one of the men who'd gotten inside Erin's organization? He was working undercover? Maybe that explained the brunette the morning before. She suddenly felt so stupid.

"Where are we going first?" she asked, hoping whatever mics were recording them mistook her earlier question for this one.

He smiled broadly. "LA Prime," he responded. It was the restaurant they'd gone to just a few weeks before, when it was Alicia who'd asked him out on a date. And after that, she remembered, was the ballet. He'd set this all up!

"I love that place," she responded demurely, slipping her hand into his arm. "Very smooth," she whispered. 

He beamed down at her. "And I guarantee you're going to love this evening."

***

As Trey followed the smartly dress blonde out to the cabstand, he was unable to keep his eyes off her body. The dark, pencil skirt clung to the curves of her pert ass and narrow hips, and a high slit up the back gave him quite a tease as her long legs swished in and out of view.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 11



A cab driver materialized before them just as they got to the curb, smiling as he held the door open for Kelly. He gave Trey an envious nod as the young man followed.

"Where to?" he asked, settling in behind the wheel. "The Green Fairy, please."

The name sounded familiar to Trey, but like the identity of the blonde next to him, he couldn't quite place it. The cab driver pulled out into the street, the doors locking automatically around them. Trey didn't like the ominous sound.

"It's an honor to be driving for you, Mr. Dean," the cab driver said. Trey's eyes shot up, catching the driver's smile in the rearview mirror.

"How did you know my…"

Kelly touched his chest. When he looked into her blue eyes, he saw recognition there, too. They knew? This was a set up? Was he about to be murdered? Kidnapped?

"It's a shame we never got to meet before," the blonde said, snuggling against him. Her body was warm. She smelled good. "Erin pulled me off just before we were supposed to have our date. If I'd protested then, she would have become suspicious…"

At last, Trey's confusion cleared. At least a little of it, anyway. Kelly was C.L.O.A.K.'s insider in Erin Small's prostitution ring. Kelly was the woman that he'd requested. That seemed so long ago.

"Of course you did the right thing," he said, staring down at the blonde. She was so close to him. Her red lips were so kissable. She beamed at the compliment. Kelly wasn't an agent. Trey might be green, but he could tell that much.

"Sir, there's a package for you," the cab driver interrupted.

On the floor was a leather briefcase, black like his suit. "What is it?" he asked, popping the silver clasps. The cab driver shrugged.

Trey glanced wearily at Kelly, whose excited gaze was now focused on the briefcase. Should she see what's in here? Or was this for his eyes only? He closed his eyes and breathed, puzzling it out. If this was C.L.O.A.K.'s plan, then they had to know Kelly was the one to extract him from the hotel. They had to know she'd most likely be next to him.

"Not sure if you should see this," he mumbled, opening it up. Inside were the contents of a regular briefcase. Pens, memos, a couple sealed envelopes, the smaller of which had the name "Trenton Dean" typed neatly on it.

Trey glanced at Kelly one last time out of the corner of his eyes and opened the note.

Trenton,

You are posing as Mishin's seller. You will be meeting a man by the name of Samuel Smith at the Green Fairy Lounge. We need you to keep him occupied as long as we can, but at the very earliest, midnight, when I can assemble a strike team raid the club. Stall by any means possible. If he persists about "the list," there's a second, sealed envelope in the brief case. Do not open it yourself, and only give it to Smith as a last resort!

Kelly will pose as your personal assistant. She has been paid to handle any extenuating circumstances that may arise. In case something happens that she cannot handle, we've provided a contingency plan in the briefcase.

Good luck. Destroy this note immediately.

It was unsigned.

Trey tore up the note, which he'd been holding away from Kelly, despite her fidgeting desire to read it. He rolled down the window and tossed the little scraps into the LA night before going back to the briefcase. The other envelope was larger. 9 by 12, maybe, and sealed shut. He wouldn't be able to open it and reseal it, despite his desire to. Instead, he traced his fingers along the edges of the base of the briefcase until he found a couple hidden clasps.

Kelly stiffened beside him as he lifted away the false bottom. Molded into the bottom of the briefcase was an automatic pistol along with two extra clips and a silencer. So this was their contingency plan? Trey chuckled.

"What the hell is that?" Kelly asked. Suddenly, she wasn't so friendly. The cab driver kept staring back at them in the rearview, but mercifully kept his mouth shut.

"It's our 'just in case.' But hopefully, we won't need it." He glanced at her, wondering if she knew what they were getting into. Based on the way she raised one pale, arched brow, she had a pretty good idea.

"I got ya. So am I your whore, or do I get an alias or something?" she asked. The giddy excitement was back.

"You're my personal assistant."

Trey hadn't meant that to come off as sexual, but how could it not? The energy in this cab was as thick as a prop plane flying through a lightning storm. "I'm glad we finally get to be personal, Mr. Dean," she winked.

The cab pulled up before the non-descript door of the Green Fairy Lounge. "Any last instructions?" the cab driver asked.

Trey thought about it. The note hadn't indicated any, but having his own contingency plan wasn't a bad idea. "Hang around behind the club until 1:00. If we don't come out then, we should be OK."

"Roger that, sir. Good luck."

Trey took a deep breath as he stepped onto the empty sidewalk. He held his hand out to his "assistant," and smiled as she rose to full height next to him. "Thanks. We may need it."

***

After two more rounds of the powerful, anise-tasting liquor, Liz was definitely feeling the effects. About half way through their second drink, a third man joined them. The giant of a man who went by the incongruous name of "Slim" stumbled out of the alcove she'd passed earlier, tucking his pressed silk shirt into his slacks. He made the room look even smaller.

Liz caught the flash of a chrome-plated pistol dangling from a shoulder holster before he pulled his jacket on. It was another reminder not to let her guard down with these men. They were dangerous. 

"Next," Slim announced with a baritone chuckle. Samuel and his acquaintance, a younger guy named Joshua, laughed. Joshua stood up, straightened his shirt, and disappeared around the corner.

For the most part, Slim and Samuel Smith talked between themselves. Jasmine settled into the large man's lap, who was just as handsy as his boss, although Liz got the impression that they were antsy to get this meeting over, and a little bit annoyed that "their source" was late. 

"I say we split. I'm getting a bad feeling about this, Mr. Smith," Slim complained.

"Calm down, man, we have plenty of distraction right here," Samuel soothed, his hand wandering high enough between Liz's thighs that she had to spread her legs a little.

Slim shifted, clearly still uncomfortable, though he kept his hand on Jasmine's knee. "I don't know. We can get pussy anywhere."

"Yeah, but why go out of our way when it's right here, for the taking?" As he said it, he pushed his hand the rest of the way between Liz's legs. His fingers danced along her moist sex, drawing a quick breath from the redhead. "Open up, girl," he soothed, his voice like thunder rolling in the distance.

Liz did as she was told, exposing herself to Slim and exotic brunette, whose eyes were twinkling. "I mean, why would you want to pass up such a tight little cunt?" His stout fingers stroked across her smooth mound like a guitarist familiarizing himself with a new instrument. "This one's nice and wet."

Eddie pushed his index finger pussy. All Liz could muster was a low, breathless gasp. Slim began pawing at Jasmine full breasts, squeezing the pliable and unfettered flesh. "Weren't you gonna show us how to… work Jasmine?" Big Eddie asked as he attempted to introduce a second finger into her sex. It was too much. It was too big! Sweat broke out along her brow and the hazy redness of lust began to dull her vision. 

"I'm sorry, don't let me interrupt." The voice was so confident it was nearly unrecognizable. For a second, she thought it might be Alex. Or even Vincent. When she looked up, she had to blink a few times before she believed it. Standing next to a stunning blonde in a power suit was Trey Kennedy.

***

Trey was startled to find Liz on the scene, although he was pretty sure no one detected that surprise. He was in full-on Trenton Dean mode now, and as he processed the scene, he did so like it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Liz, who'd gone back to her natural hair color, was on the lap of a handsome, black man fully decked out in pimp-wear – all the way down to the bowler cap. Her legs were spread, her dress was up around her waist, and the man had two fingers slowly pushing in and out of her denuded folds. 

Samuel Smith was just as blasé. He removed his fingers slowly, like he was setting his silverware back on the table, and said, "You're late. And… you're not Alexander Mishin." Liz quickly shut her legs and readjusted her skirt. Despite what was happening, he got the feeling that the female agent wasn't in the most comfortable of spots.

Trey felt a third man emerge from one of the alcoves behind him that made up this warren that passed for a VIP lounge. He wondered how many else there were. He had to play this one very carefully.

"The name's Trenton. Trenton Dean. I'm here on Mishin's behalf. I apologize for the lateness; I was held up in traffic."

"Slim, search his case."

The large man sitting across from Liz and Samuel Smith sat up, displacing the exotic brunette in his lap. Trey set it on the table behind him and opened it, saying to the large man, "Slim?"

"I'll open it. Step away," the man grumbled, pushing Trey to the side as a grown man would a child. He opened it and rooted through the papers and pockets. For a split second, as Slim ran his fingers along the base of the case, Trey worried that he'd find the false bottom. But the moment passed.

"It's clean," he nodded.

"What the fuck is all that?" Samuel Smith grumbled.

Stupidly, Trey hadn't actually checked out what most of it was. Heat licked along his scalp in a moment of panic. "The contents aren't important. But I need something to carry my money out in." It was the first thing that popped into his head, and it almost worked.

"Your money? That's not what I agreed on. I thought it would be wired to your account, when I was satisfied."

Fuck, Trey thought. He felt so hot he could have melted into the floor. Wanted to. "For my employer, yes. But I'm not my employer."

Samuel's dark eyes were murderous as stared up at him. Even though he was the one standing, Trey felt like he was groveling along the ground. He glanced at Liz, who was watching it wide-eyed, as tense as a cat. "How much?"

Trey let himself relax a little. Allowed himself to slowly let out his breath. "Ten," he said casually, looking again at Liz, whose grey eyes seemed to urge, More. "And her," he cocked his head down at the redhead.

Samuel seemed to relax at the seemingly low mention of ten grand. Just how much was this deal supposed to be, anyway, Trey had to wonder. When Liz was brought into the deal, the gangster actually laughed.

"OK, Trenton, I can play your game. Ten grand and Elizabeth here for your list and your woman." Samuel's dark eyes devoured Kelly, who Trey had nearly forgotten about. 

"Just you? Or you and your friend?" the blonde asked playfully.

"I like you," he said with a half smile. To Trey, he said, "Give Joshua there a half hour to get your money, and give Slim and I a half hour with your Ossie assistant." He looked her up and down lecherously. "Although I may need a little longer." 

The guys laughed; Kelly shifted her weight from one hip to the other. Reaching into her hair, she released the platinum locks from her controlled bun. "You'll need more," she winked. The guys laughed even harder.

"OK, Joshua, go get the man his money."

Joshua was clearly a little miffed about being the odd man out, but he wasn't about to cross his gangster employer. He slouched off toward the stairs. Trey watched him go, realizing that there was actually a third waitress sauntering about. She was wearing the same, little green dress with the filmy outer layer, although her dirty blonde hair was a bit mussed.

"Brianna, dear, can you bring out a bottle of Scotch? This green stuff tastes like shit." The girl immediately disappeared toward the bar. "Elizabeth, why don't you take Trenton into one of those alcoves. Show him a good time."

He pinched her ass as she stood. The relief in her grey eyes was most likely genuine. "You've got about a half hour, Trenton. Have fun."

As soon as they pulled the curtains shut, Liz threw herself at him, kissing him deeply on the mouth. "Thank you," she whispered after the kiss grew slightly awkward. "Thank you for getting me out of there."

Outside, they could hear Samuel Smith comment loudly, "Now, honey, let's see your… resume…"

"We're not out of here yet," Trey whispered back, glancing around the small room. Padded benches lined the brick cubby and a low table of dark wood occupied most of the room. He led her into the back corner, as far from the gauzy curtains as he could, and dimmed the small gas lamp. "Why are you here?"

"Trey, Vincent sent you on this mission to fail."

Trey blinked at the smaller redhead, pulling her into his lap just in case anyone walked in on them. "What are you talking about?" He felt his voice rise a little in alarm.

"Shh, keep quiet. We don't have much time, so you're going to have to trust me here. I don't know what Samuel Smith thinks he's buying, but I can guarantee it's not what he thinks. At midnight, the FBI will be barging in through those doors, and they're not gonna know you're working for the good guys."

"Why not? And why the FBI?"

She made a patting motion in the air to quiet him down. "The problem with black ops. We're off the grid. And it's the FBI because this is their jurisdiction. Besides, it works out better if it's the FBI that 'figures out' that you're the double."

"The double? What—"

Liz covered his mouth with her lips once again as the curtains pushed aside. Their kiss lingered a few more seconds before the redhead pealed her lips off and snuggled against Trey's shoulder.

"Some drinks for the two of you," Jasmine said in her accented-English. She set an absinthe fountain on the table, offering a generous amount of light brown skin in the process. "Shall I pour for you?" The question was directed at Trey.

"Please," he replied deeply.

"Pour one for yourself," Liz added, surprising Trey. "I'm sure Trenton won't mind a little added company." Now that was interesting. The implications were pretty clear, but Trey was having trouble identifying a motivation. 

Jasmine smiled. She had dark, playful eyes that flitted between the two of them before she settled onto her knees and filled three glasses from the dark brown absinthe decanter. Liz, playing the role of escort, began kissing his neck as the icy water from the spigots turned the clear liquid milky green.

She only stopped when the brunette handed them each a small glass. "Cheers," Trenton toasted. "To getting out of this evening alive and having fun while doing it." He felt Liz bury her elbow into his side, but was pretty sure the other, attractive waitress didn't see it.

"Cheers," the girls said in unison. Glasses clinked. Sips of the liquorish flavored alcohol were made. Liz reached out and threaded her fingers into the other woman's, and before Trey knew what was happening, the girls were kissing one another passionately.

Jasmine shifted up onto the cushioned bench beside them, easing her luscious body against Trey. Liz snaked a hand behind the other woman's neck and deepened the kiss.

This was a dream. Had to be. Jasmine hadn't shut the curtain all the way and Trey could just barely make out what was happening. Kelly was naked, sitting sideways on Samuel Smith's lap – much like Liz was in his – and whispering something naughty, no doubt, as she rubbed his ears.

Liz broke the kiss and redirected Jasmine's lips to his. Trey quickly forgot about whatever may have been happening outside. His nostrils flared, filling with Jasmine's buttery sweet scent. She pushed her soft tongue into his mouth. Liz moved to his neck. This certainly wasn't what he'd had in mind when he descended those stairs just fifteen minutes earlier.

A hand touched his cock through his pants. It swelled as the fingers pinched and caressed. When he felt the fingers shift to his fly, drawing it down, he finally found the will to pull away from Jasmine's electric kiss.

"Somebody's excited," she said, batting her long, curled lashes at him innocently.

Liz touched the hem of the other waitress's dress and caught her eye. They shared a quick and wordless exchange. "Let's give him a little more to be excited about," Liz nodded. The brunette floated up and off the couch, her manicured hands going to the straps of her green dress. Liz snuggled against him as they both watched. He felt her hot breath catch as Jasmine peeled her "green fairy" uniform off.

She had full, succulent breasts that swayed gently as she worked the tight silk over her wide hips. Each upturned swell was capped with a small nipple of dark, knotted flesh that extended longer than any Trey had ever seen.

"I think he likes it," Liz said huskily, surprising Trey yet again by placing her hand against the seat of his pants. The room was filled with the heady aura of sex and alcohol. Things felt lazy.

Jasmine's dress pooled at her ankles and the thin, Middle Eastern babe struck a pose. Trey licked his lips, his cock outgrowing the confines of his boxer-briefs as he swept his eyes along her graceful, hourglass nudity.

She had a belly piercing, like all young women these days, hers a delicate golden chain with a jade fairy hanging down her flat tummy.

"I like it, too," Liz added coyly as the other woman lounged back on the neighboring sofa. She opened her legs and let her fingers play across the trimmed strip of black pubic hair. Her otherwise cleanly shaved pussy lips were moist and open.

Dreamily, Trey felt his partner leave his side to crawl between Jasmine's thighs. Liz's already short dress rode up around her waist, exposing her ass. Her copper hair began to bounce. The brunette squealed in delight.

Liz's pussy lips tempted him. He could still remember the way her warm pocket of flesh felt around his cock. He rubbed himself through his suit pants, but didn't dare go further than that. Further and he'd be fucking the redhead's cunt. It would be a replay of last night.

Jasmine sank even further back into the plush booth, bucking her hips against Liz's mouth. 

Trey once again looked out through the gap in the curtain, his heart jolting in unison with his cock. Kelly was sprawled across the table on her back. Samuel Smith was at one end, vigorously fucking her pussy as her head hung off the other. Trey watched as Slim fed his thick girth into her gaping mouth, sliding it all the way into her throat. As the two black men worked her over, she made sure her tits weren't neglected.

Trey licked his lips, looking back at the girls. Jasmine was staring at him with those dark, exotic eyes of hers. She beckoned him over with the crook of her finger. Trey couldn't pass up the invitation.

Climbing onto the couch next to her, the brunette unzipped his pants and pulled his cock free. Trey sat up on his knees as Jasmine ducked her head and swallowed him into her eager mouth.

As the brunette bobbed her head along his length, Trey watched Liz pleasure her female friend. For a small girl, the redhead had a long tongue that could spear into Jasmine's hole when her fingers were not. 

Trey felt himself racing toward his orgasm. Things got hot. Difficult to breath. So wet. So good. The brunette knew how to use her tongue, swirling and swirling it around the crown of his cock. She began to moan, sending vibrations down his shaft that nearly did him in.

"Ngh!" Jasmine cried, her mouth popping off his spit-slick member as she came on Liz's mouth. She thrashed her head from side to side, spreading her legs open as she pulled the redhead hard against her pussy.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 11



As Jasmine's orgasm subsided, Liz automatically switched her mouth from pussy to cock, swallowing her partner down into her now familiar throat. It happened so fast Trey couldn't even register a change. The mocha-skinned beauty had gotten him so close, he wasn't going to last long. The redhead knew it, corking her head in exaggerated bounces as her fingers jacked him firmly.

He looked down at her, running his fingers through her sweat-damp copper hair, and came.

***

Vincent was practically buzzing with excitement. A regular kid on Christmas morning. Dinner with the drop-dead gorgeous model lived up to the fantasies he'd been having since hatching this hair-brained idea. Things were comfortable. Intimate. It was almost like they'd never broken up. 

After the light dinner, they'd moved to the ballet, mimicking their date when the whole saga began. When he'd agreed to take her out as a friend, it seemed like another life, not just a few weeks ago. This time, though, rather than seats on the orchestra floor, he'd purchased a central balcony. A very private central balcony.

"You've outdone yourself," Alicia whispered as they settled into their velvet chairs. The orchestra was in the midst of their discordant warm-ups. Vincent always liked the chaotic serenade; it was probably his favorite part of any ballet or opera. Having Alicia snuggled against him would be a moment he'd not forget for a long time.

"We both need a little break from… you know, everything…"

The willowy blonde wrapped her arms around his and nodded. "Yeah." She still hadn't mentioned her meeting with Trey earlier that afternoon, or the revelation that he was the "traitor." Hearing her say it – hearing her open up – would have shown him how far her trust had shifted in his direction. But he knew not to press her. It would come in time.

His eyes drifted down to her legs, crossed before her. They were long and lean, her dress offering very little in the way of covering. Soon, they'd be wrapped around his back when—

The orchestra quieted. The murmur of the crowd soon followed as the lights dimmed. The show began, although Vincent had a hard time concentrating on anything but those legs and the soft warmth of Alicia against him.

Half way through the performance, she caught him looking. She looked up into his eyes, followed them to her long legs, then smiled back at him with the quick bat of her lashes. That was all the invitation he needed.

Reaching out, he touched her softly with the tips of his fingers, tracing swirls along her knees. She shivered, whispering, "That tickles," as she nuzzled closer. He spread his fingers out, caressing her with his entire hand. Her skin was like silk beneath his palm. He slid higher.

"Better?" he asked.

Alicia nodded. His hand moved even higher. She didn't stop him. Throughout the next act, he gently stroked the area just above her knee with his thumb, gradually moving his hand higher up her thighs as the performance went on.

The ballet turned dark. Tragic. The primary ballerina was betrayed, her lover killed. Alicia turned her head against him, drawing in a quick breath of emotion. Vincent held her, his nostrils filling with the heady scent of her golden hair. He felt his cock leap in his pants, reacting to her closeness.

He kissed the top of her head, smoothing his hand along the generous expanse of skin. The violins skittered up two octaves, climbing toward climax. Alicia peeled herself back, looking at him with soft, tender eyes. The violins paused. Silence filled the gilded theatre.

Alicia's glossy lips parted. Her eyes went wide. This was the moment. Vincent seized it. His lips crashed down into hers. The music swelled around them. Their tongues sought one another. Their hands came to life. Alicia's found his erection, swollen and ready for her. Vincent found her breast, as soft and warm as he remembered.

"I want you," one of them said. Neither knew which. They kissed again. "I want you, too," the other agreed. The orchestra was a whirlwind of sound as the rest of the ballet played out.

Resting her head against Vincent's forehead, her breath heavy with excitement, it was Alicia that said, "I want you right now." She squeezed his cock hard through his slacks. There was no mistaking her intentions.

Vincent looked out off the balcony. The heavy velvet curtains and padded walls offered cover from the other balconies, and they were set far enough back from the stage that no one would be able to make out the details.

His mind was working a mile a minute as Alicia slipped off her chair and down between his legs. The theatre hall was enormous. This was as secluded as it got. But he'd lived a life of caution and secrecy. This was too—

"Fuuuuck…" he groaned as Alicia swiftly freed his cock and took it into her mouth. Vincent felt feverish as he looked down at the kneeling woman. He met her bright browns, his passion augmented by hers. She moved like a viper along his length, so quick her tight haltered dress shifted a little on her bust. He caught a hint of her dark nipple before she slurped off him.

"You were always an impatient girl," he grinned as she reached beneath the short dress and removed what appeared to be a very tiny pair of panties.

She leaned down and nuzzled her nose against his. "And you've been fantasizing about this all night long." With a soft kiss on the lips, she turned her back to him and sat back into his lap. Reaching between his legs, he felt her take hold of his cock and place it against her very damp slit.

Longer than that, Vincent thought as the blonde model teased him with her cleanly shaved pussy. She sensually undulated her hips like a stripper, stroking his cock flesh in her silky furrow, but not taking it in. He heard her breath catch. She looked over her shoulder, a couple strands of her blonde hair catching in her lip-gloss.

For a second, she looked like she was going to say something. A final tease. A moment of regret. Vincent didn't know. Her lips parted, her pupils shifted focus from one eye to the other, searching his face. Searching, searching…

"Yesss…" she hissed, her eyes fluttering shut as she guided his cock into her moist pussy.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, clutching at the rim of the seat as the steamy sensation of Alicia Kennedy's sex nearly overwhelmed him. The blonde continued to roll and grind in his lap as they adjusted into a comfortable rhythm. The audience watched the final act of the ballet, oblivious.

When Vincent was comfortable he wasn't going to blow prematurely, he relinquished his grip on the chair long enough to find take hold of Alicia's bucking hips. "Slow down, baby," he whispered, forcing himself to breath.

She relaxed her pace until he was just slowly moving in and out of her. "How's that?" Her voice was strained.

"Better. For now, better." He let his hands wander. It was possible, maybe, that someone could happen to glance behind them. Someone in the front row. Or maybe someone on stage could make out what they were doing. But both were beyond caring.

The backless dress made it easy for Vincent to slip his hands under the sides and cup Alicia's apple-sized tits. They were perfect. Absolutely perfect. He found her nipples, hard to the touch. "God, you're so sexy," he grunted into her ear. She wore little diamond studs in each lobe, as well as a small, silver loop at the top of her left ear.

Alicia didn't reply, although her quiet mewing was enough for him. He began to grope her harder. She knew what it meant. Once again, she picked up the pace of her lap grind, although this time, she tried to minimize her movements in case someone got wise to them.

"Tell me when you're close," she said softly, her voice cracking a little.

"I'm close," Vincent replied almost immediately. He'd been close from the moment his cock entered her mouth. He was amazed that he'd lasted this long in her cunt.

"Uhh, baby, I'm almost there," she moaned. He did his best to hold his orgasm at bay, but he was fighting a losing battle. She fucked him for thirty more seconds more when he felt his balls begin to tighten. Alicia detected it, too.

Immediately, she was off him. Back down between his legs. Just in time to catch the first blast of cum in her slippery mouth. Her graceful fingers stroked his juice-slick cock as he came, milking him as she swallowed every drop he had.

When he had nothing left, she released him and he slumped down into his chair. Applause erupted all around him. Vincent wanted to applaud right along, but not for the ballet. He wanted to clap his hands for Alicia, who managed to give him something new when he thought he'd done it all. 

The blonde smiled up from her position at his feet, the look on her face that of a satiated feline. Her right breast hung exposed from the side of the dress, the nipple still riggedly extended. God, she was an incredible lady.

"Thanks for the evening, Vince," she winked. "That was the most entertaining ballet I've ever attended."

She fixed her dress and he helped her to her feet. "Don't thank me," he said, drawing her into his arms. He could taste the residuals of his cum as they kissed. He didn't mind. "You did all the work."

She actually blushed. "I don't know what came over me."

"That would be me," Vincent said with a smile. "Come on, let's get you back to my place.

***

Trey felt empty in the aftermath of the threesome. He slumped down next to Jasmine, who was still recovering from her girl-on-girl orgasm. She reached down and encircled his limp member. She had a ring on her thumb, as well as a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on the inside of her wrist.

He felt himself begin to stir at her touch, but knew it would be a little while before he'd be ready to go again. And at that moment, he was not in the mood to go again. He remembered that this was all for a mission. This was all a show.

"I better get back out there, but this isn't over yet," she winked, standing and reaching for her dress. Her light brown skin glistened in the soft light of the alcove. 

When she was gone, Liz – still resting on the ground – looked up at him bashfully. "I… had to play along. Jasmine wasn't sent in here just by chance. She was making sure that… you know…"

"That we weren't conspiring."

The redhead nodded. "Now, to figure out how we get out of here alive."

As Trey pulled his pants back on, he heard commotion out in the main room. Joshua had returned. And he was yelling.

"Time to go, man," Trey heard through the curtains. "Time to fucking go!"

"Calm down, Joshua. Calm down." Trey and Liz went to the curtain, opening it just a touch and peering out. Samuel Smith was on his feet, zipping up his pants while a tired-looking Kelly lounged at his feet, still naked. "What are you talking about?"

"The Feds. They're on the way."

"How…" Both sets of eyes turned in Trey's direction. He felt the blood drain from his face. Oh shit. Slim materialized with his automatic drawn. "Check that briefcase again. Go through all his shit," Samuel barked as Slim advanced on their little alcove.

"Get out here, Trenton. Make this easy on us and we'll make it easy on you." The words were reasonable, but the mobster's voice was not. This wasn't going to end well for him. He shot a glance at the briefcase, where his weapon was. Slim moved closer. He looked over at Liz, whose eyes were as wide-eyed as his. They were cornered. They had no outs.

Slim ripped the curtains to the side and grabbed Trey by the scruff of his neck. The red-haired agent came tumbling out, his trousers ripping along his left knee. Pain seared up his body. Adrenaline began to kick in. So did his training.

It was automatic. Even before he could fully realize the situation around him, he lashed out with his other leg. A clean sweep. Text book. Slim crashed to the ground next to him, his gun skittering into a darkened alcove.

Rolling away from the large goon, he decided to go for the briefcase. The gun inside was his only hope. He glanced over his shoulder, where Samuel was just comprehending what was happening, his big eyes blinking in disbelief.

Trey knew it was now or never. He crouch-ran across the room. Toward his briefcase. His mistake was not looking ahead. Of keeping his eyes on the gangster. Of forgetting the third man present.

Sharp, white pain crashed through his skull. He turned his head. Too late. Joshua was above him, Trey's own automatic brandished in his hand. "This what you looking for?" the young thug asked, pistol-whipping him again. Trey felt hot blood along the side of his face as he sprawled out along the ground. He felt a boot dig into the soft spot between his shoulder blades.

"I found orders, Mr. Smith. In the case. Whoever the fuck this guy is, he's not on our side," Joshua's voice swam above him like sound through the deep-end of a neighborhood pool.

"Kill him, then let's go," Samuel growled. So nonchalant. So cold. Trey felt the chilling pressure of the gun against his temple. So close to his ear, he could hear the hiss of metal sliding along metal.

It never dawned on him that this was it. That this was the end. Like this. In the basement of a bar, at the hands of an enemy he hardly knew – could care less about. He felt the automatic's mechanisms begin to work. A barely audible hasp. Oh God. Oh FUCK!

"STOP!" The voice that rang out was strong. Commanding. Trey could feel Joshua's hesitation through the barrel of the gun. He wasn't a praying man, but for a moment, he felt blessed. "If you pull that trigger, you'll never get out of here alive."

The voice was refined. British, maybe, with a hint of something else. Trey's mind was slow, but not that slow. The voice of his savior was Alexander Mishin.

"You're—" Samuel began.

"I am. Now grab your things and let's go. The Feds'll be here in two minutes."

"Why should I trust you?"

"Do you have any other choice?" Alexander shot back, clearly impatient.

Trey opened his eyes and was treated to a view of Joshua's polished, wing-tipped shoes. His vision was blurry from the blows to the head and the absinthe still swimming through his brain, but he was able to focus enough to see Liz creep up to the fire alarm. A moment later, the ear-piercing siren consumed washed out everything else.

Trey felt the gun leave his temple. He felt, more than heard, footsteps all around him. Panicked footsteps. Liz rolled him over, hoisted him to his feet. There was shouting upstairs. "FBI! FBI!"

"Time to go, cowboy," Liz hissed in his ear. Mishin and the gangsters were gone. Kelly was franticly pulling on her business suit. The other waitresses were cowering.

He stood, a little off balance. He felt woozy, but quickly understood the urgency of the situation. Liz glanced at the antique absinthe fountain that dominated the center of the room, her face one of regret. She gave a short, nearly imperceptible shake of the head and hauled him out the back.

"I have a cab… waiting…" Trey managed to say through his splitting headache. The alarm bells weren't helping.

"Good boy. Looks like something I taught you stuck." She collected Kelly on her way out, whose blue eyes were wide with shock and disbelief.

Trey felt blood in his smile. He must have looked terrible. "Thank you," he whispered as they poured out into the back alley. He could hear the patter of booted running. They were closing in.

"You may be thanking Alexander Mishin, of all people," Liz whispered as they made a break for the taxi, idling at the end of the alley. "But no more talk now. There will be time for all that later."

Wiser words had never been spoken.

***

Something was wrong. Alicia knew it even before the phone call was over. She couldn't hear the other end, but she could see Vince's face. She didn't like that face. It reminded her of the old Vince.

"You OK?" he asked as he ended the call. He was driving along the freeway and she felt the car lurch forward as they picked up speed.

"Yeah, fine," he said, forcing a smile.

"Need to drop me off?"

He took his eyes off the road to stare at her. His eyes dipped low, sweeping across her chest. "No, I need you. I've… I need you." He sounded like he was going to say more, but that was all he offered.

The rest of the drive had her on edge. He took turns too quickly. He stopped too sharply. And when he finally parked, he slammed the door shut with more force than was necessary.

They were back at his home. Not her hotel. Not some place that had been arranged. His home. And this time, she wasn't going to be sleeping in the guest bedroom.

He tossed his keys on the credenza in the foyer, wordlessly leading her into the back of the house. She followed shyly, holding on to her clutch purse like a life line.

His bedroom was as sumptuous as any luxury hotel. Had always been that way. Silk sheets and full throw pillows. She glanced at it with a mixture of lust and unease. She wanted it but didn't. Could he really be a new man? Suddenly, she was having doubts.

"Are you sure you're all—"

His mouth silenced her question. He kissed her so hard their gums grinded. She felt the wall behind her. Cold on her bare skin. His tongue dove down her throat. Consuming her. "Mmm," she whimpered as he assaulted her throat. She rolled her head to the side, exposing more of her neck. He took it.

His hands were busy. They found her soft, braless breasts. Possessed them. He yanked the low front of the black dress down until both tits were exposed, squeezed together tight and high. His lips returned to hers as his hands returned to her body. Her waist. Her hips. Her tapered thighs.

Alicia felt her g-string being tugged free, removed for the second time that evening. Halfway down her thighs, he pulled so hard it snapped apart. She clutched Vince's heaving back as the animal in her lover took control. Again, unease and excitement mingled as one. 

She hiked her left leg up, wrapping it around his back as he quickly fished his cock free. His large hand supported her thigh. She felt his dick push onto the soft opening of her pussy. Thrusting forward, he drove his rigid manhood into her like a butterfly being pinned to the wall. 

"FUCK!" they cried in unison, their lips doing what was natural. Everything was wet and sticky. Everything was desperate. The stillness of the bedroom seemed to throb with their erotic fever. Alicia and Vincent rutted against the wall, too consumed with one another to realize the bed was just ten feet away.

Palming her taut ass, he held her up as her right leg joined her left around his back. His biceps screamed as he flexed them, bouncing her along his cock and driving her into a screaming climax. He slammed his mouth over hers as she moaned, drinking her ecstasy and finding some of his own.

Alicia felt as light as a feather as Vince carried her to the bed, his thickness still sheathed in her cunt. She flopped down onto her back, and her lover immediately went to work. He snarled, his face hard and domineering as she'd ever seen. She watched his jaw ripple as he clenched and unclenched his teeth with each heavy slap forward.

The blonde arched her back, grabbing her bouncing tits and fluttering her thumbs across the tight nipples.

"Are you close?" she asked, her voice hoarse from the unceasing orgasms she'd been having all night long.

He didn't respond, but his lips curled back in a snarl. He drilled into her furiously, so hard that her ass began to bounce on the edge of the bed with each withdrawal. 

She closed her eyes and let yet another orgasm wash through her model perfect body. The world collapsed into nothing but feeling. The feeling of his veiny cock sliding in and out of her pussy. The feeling of his dark, wiry pubic hair scratch along her smooth mound. And… and…




Models and Super Spies Ch. 12



Chapter 12: Tomorrow

"This is it. This is what it's all been leading up to." Vincent Silva, director of C.L.O.A.K., paused for dramatic effect, looking around the briefing room of black op special agents. Everyone in the room was off the books. They'd sacrificed their rights for the good of the country, and they were prepared to sacrifice their lives.

Trey Kennedy and Liz Hawkins shared a quick glance. They were the only ones that spotted the irony of Vincent's statement. Everything certainly had been leading up to "this," just not the way the operatives knew it.

"Alexander Mishin has made his move." The screens behind the handsome older man lit up with pictures of another handsome man. Alexander Mishin had one hand in his pocket as he looked over his shoulder. He could have been a Bond-villain with those faded aviators, his black, week-old beard, and his bleached and styled blonde hair. Vincent Silva couldn't have picked a better scapegoat.

The screens switched to a few images taken from the basement of the Green Fairy Lounge. Mishin was there in his black suit and faux hawk, his arm thrown around the notorious Samuel Smith as he hurried the man out the back door. Huddled around the two men were several of Samuel's goons, armed with automatic pistols and hard looks.

"These were taken last night, on a foiled operation by Tango Number One. The African American man is Samuel Smith, an assumed potential buyer. Smith returned to Las Vegas and my sources have confirmed that he is without the list. Mishin is still at large."

While all of that was true, Vincent was leaving out several huge details. Again, Liz and Trey shared a look. They had to step very carefully from here on out. It appeared that their traitorous director wasn't aware that either agent knew the truth. He also didn't suspect that Trey was now fully aware that he was supposed to be set up as the seller. Mishin's surprise appearance had foiled that, of course.

Vincent ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper beard. He looked tired, his eyes red with exhaustion. "I've got all my feelers out there. We're searching for him. One good thing is that Mishin loves the spotlight, so I'm guessing he's not going to stay hidden for long."

How are you going to spin this one, Vince? Liz thought as she watched him closely. Now that he knew Mishin was alive, his problems got more complicated. He couldn't simply pin it all on Trey; not with his primary suspect hiding in the darkness, waiting to strike.

Not to mention the matter of the list. Erin Small must have hit the fail-safe and drawn all the data in just before any party was able to extract it from the Green Fairy Lounge. That list could be anywhere now, although judging from the confidence hiding behind Vincent's façade, he probably knew where it was and at least had an idea on how to get to it.

"My guess is that he'll make his next move aboard the Solstice, tomorrow night. The nautical club will be making its invitation-only debut, just in time for the summer solstice, and the upscale party will be filled with potential buyers. It's something Mishin won't be able to resist."

Ah, now that makes sense. Liz tapped her lips in thought, this time resisting the desire to glance at Trey. He was a smart guy; he must have been following. Erin's ship was one of the repositories of the lists, as well as her personal residence. It made perfect sense that she'd moved all the data there.

"Agent Kennedy will be working from the inside. The rest of you are support." Liz nearly protested. She wasn't going? "I'm going to need all hands on deck for this one. The stakes are too high to fuck it up." Vincent glanced around at the small gathering of operatives, his dark eyes glowering. He wanted everyone to understand that failure wasn't an option. "Dismissed."

As the group filtered out of the room, the middle-aged director caught the attention of Liz and Trey and waved them over. "Meet me in my office in fifteen. I need to brief you on Trey's alias." There was more to it, Liz knew. A bead of fear rolled down her spine. Did he know that she knew? He couldn't…

"Yes, sir," Liz said, hoping her sarcasm would cover her anxiety.

"Don't get smart with me, Hawkins," Vincent said with a smile, a crinkle in the corners of his eyes. That smile was a good thing. The man was overconfident. And if he was overconfident, then he probably wasn't picking up on the clues.

***

Vincent Silva leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes. Alicia with her flowing blonde hair filled the space behind his eyelids. Alicia and her soft, brown eyes. Last night had been incredible. Until they were interrupted, it had been as good as he'd dreamed it would be. Better. 

She'd matured in the five years since they'd last been together. She'd gone from a naïve girl to a mature, young woman. What amazed Vincent the most, however, was that despite being in the modeling business for close to five years – not to mention the last couple months – she was still as genuine as she'd been when he'd first bumped into her at a mutual friend's house party, so many years ago.

And the sex. She'd certain gotten better at that! The Alicia he'd known before was tentative and inexperienced. The passion was there, but the experience wasn't. Now, Christ could she fuck. She knew how hot she was, and more importantly, she knew exactly how to use it.

Five years ago, she'd never have fucked him at the ballet, in public. She'd never have used his cock like a dildo, rubbing the crown along her baby smooth mound…

"Vincent, you ready for us?" Liz's voice interrupted him from his revelry. He sat up in his chair, like someone had walked in on him jerking off. He wasn't used to abruptness like that. Emily was always there to give him at least a little forewarning.

And thinking of Emily turned his thoughts to Alexander Mishin: the perpetual nail right in the arch of his foot. The harder he tried to stomp it out, the more it hurt back. Now, the man knew he was being hunted. That couldn't be good.

"Come on in," he said gruffly, waving to the two.

Trey was looking more thunderstruck than ever. He'd been pretty much a zombie through their briefing. His vacant look hadn't faded yet. Last night must have been traumatic. According to Liz's report, the gangster, Samuel Smith, nearly blew his head off – would have, had she not stepped in. 

Why the fuck was she there? If she'd stayed away and coordinated the raid, like he'd told her, then he wouldn't be in this mess. Vincent had been counting on the analyst-turned-agent's green-ness to get him into trouble. He was supposed to have taken that bullet. Now he had two headaches to worry about, not just one: Trey and Mishin. He wouldn't let that happen again. This time, he was going to make sure Trey was alone.

"You did well last night," he said to the two of them, Liz first, being the heroine. No matter how good he was at spin, he couldn't deny her this bit of glory. And who knows, maybe a little praise here would help her slip up later on. "But our man got away. Trey, you're going to need to be perfect tomorrow."

"I think I should go, sir. I don't think Trey is ready to run solo."

"It's a good thing you're not making these decisions," he said firmly, shutting down any further protest from the redhead. "I'm pretty certain Mishin's going to be on board the Solstice for its debut launch. If the chance to rub elbows with so many celebrities in such a… decadent setting was not enough, then the fact that the world's most successful – meaning most wealthy and corrupt – business men will be there seals the deal."

"You think he's still trying to sell the list? Now that he knows we're on to him?" Liz asked, a little incredulously.

"I liked you better with the dark hair," he winked. "You're more argumentative with it red." She rolled her eyes. "I do think he's still trying to sell it, yes. I think he's got nothing else. In fact, after last night, he may be even more desperate. It's his ticket out of here."

"But aboard something so public?" she pressed.

"The Solstice's… solstice party," Vincent shook his head at the cheesiness, "is anything but public, Liz. The invitation list is more exclusive than a dinner party at the White House, and once it leaves dock, it doesn't return until dawn. Not to mention the charted route heads into international waters, where he may think he's safe." And where questions don't necessarily need to be answered, Vincent added to himself. For a group like C.L.O.A.K., the invisible border was pretty insignificant, but it would provide enough red tape that the CIA won't bother with a thorough investigation.

Trey asked, "So where do we come in?"

"Ah, yes. Here's your cover." He pushed the file across the table in his direction. "Liz is right, going solo is a risk, but that party is too exclusive to get her in. I'm hoping you'll be able to handle it?"

Trey nodded. 

"Good. You'll be going in with the caterers. I need you to locate Mishin. That'll be your primary goal."

"Want me to apprehend him when I do?" he asked.

Vincent shook his head. "No, not at all. We need to know where he's stashed the list. So tail him. We have an understanding with the event manager. As soon as you locate Mishin, speak with her. You'll be reassigned to whatever room he's in."

Trey nodded. He hadn't said anything so far. "Good. You should be good. Should be easy. Not like last night. No one ever notices the help."

"So what's he supposed to do, once he finds him?" Liz pressed.

"Stay close. He'd hidden the list aboard the Solstice and he's going to sell it. Wait until we know where it is."

"I called that meeting in the other room for two reasons. One, yes, they will be support, but there's more. We have a traitor in C.L.O.A.K. A mole. I'm pretty sure it's someone in that room, and if my suspicions are correct, that someone will also be aboard the ship. If you see him or her, then it's imperative that you eliminate them, too. I can't have any more loose ends. Not like the ones we created last night. Understood?"

"What about my wife?" Trey asked.

Vincent reached down into all his training and put on the most sympathetic face he could muster. "We're doing everything we can, but it appears Alexander Mishin may have outsmarted us with her, as well."

It was like watching a train wreck. Vincent loved it. Trey's face went from blank and lost to withering. 

"Vincent, I don't think this is the time to—" Liz began.

"It's absolutely the time! You know as well as I do that this life we lead doesn't always have a happy ending. Trey needs to go into the endgame with the facts."

The copper-haired man glanced from Liz to Vincent, his eyes rimmed with red. "How? Why?"

Unyielding, Vincent Silva removed a manila envelope from the top drawer of his desk and handed it to Trey. These would be the last few nails of the man's coffin. "Go on," he prompted. "You need to see them."

Trey's fingers shook as he pulled back the brass closure and removed the 8 x 10 glossies. They were prints from Alicia's night at the Green Fairy. With Alexander Mishin. Stills that left no doubt that she'd been fucked, and had fucked back.

Vincent was quiet, but inside, he was celebrating as Trey's face filled with rage and desolation. A man in despair was destructive. And right now, he needed Trey to be an atom bomb. 

"Rumor has it Mishin has invited your wife to the solstice party tomorrow night." Vincent watched the other man carefully. He saw it there. Jealousy. Envy. Fury. "I need you to restrain yourself at first. I need to trust that you can do that for me, OK? A snake in the grass. You'll be able to strike. I won't deny that. But not until it's right."

Manipulating the emotions of men and women came easily to Vincent Silva. It's what had gotten him to where he was now, and what would get him so much further. Trey wouldn't be able to help himself; he'd kill Mishin before the night was out. Sending Alicia into the lion's den was a risk, but it was one he had to take. Mishin had already proven that he couldn't resist her. She'd be the death of him, and he had no idea. And if she saw her husband in a murderous rage, then even better.

"You're doing what's best for your country, and for that, I'm thankful," Vincent soothed, molding the man's hateful energy. Honing it like a weapon. Last night had been a debacle, but maybe it worked out better this way.

"I need you to maintain cover. No matter what you see or hear. No matter what. Understand?" Vincent's dark eyes glowed as he watched his scapegoat nod. Tomorrow was going to be fantastic.

***

"You're being set up, Trey," Liz whispered as soon as they'd left the C.L.O.A.K. compound. She'd swept her car for bugs, but made sure she wasn't being tailed by someone with a shotgun mic before talking.

"I know," he said quietly.

"You know?"

"This whole thing's been a set-up from the beginning. An elaborate plot for Vincent to steal my wife from me and ruin my life."

Well, there was more to it than that, the redhead thought, but she was still surprised by his acute awareness. "You and I are being manipulated. That whole thing with the gala – with Alicia bidding on Tony – was a deception. Nothing happened that night; was probably contrived by Vincent to get you…" One hand on the wheel, Liz ran her hand through her once-again glossy, red hair. "Shit, Trey, I need you with me tomorrow night. I need you alert and clear-headed."

"Those photos weren't a 'deception,'" Trey replied, sarcasm creeping into his soft voice.

"Trey, listen to me." Liz licked her lips. "Vincent wants you irrational. Needs you to be. You're gonna take the fall for him! Tomorrow night's a trap, OK? And if you don't snap out of it, then it won't matter what we know or not."

If Trey lost it in any way, Vincent Silva could spin it in his favor. Liz was sure of that. If Trey attacked him, C.L.O.A.K.'s support would identify him with the traitor. If he attacked Mishin, he'd be playing directly into Vincent's web. 

The safest bet would be to keep Trey miles from that ship, but that would also tip the black ops director off. She needed to keep her knowledge a secret.

"I know." He stared out the window. "I know!" he repeated, finally finding some passion. "It's just… shit, Liz, my marriage is over! And right now, I want someone to pay. Alexander Mishin or Vincent Silva, I could care less right now!"

The redhead wet her lips. Vincent had conditioned him so well. He was volatile. As deadly as a suicide bomber. But what could she do? To go in without him meant failure. 

So here she was, taking a risk. It wasn't until they were pulling into the hotel parking lot that Trey asked the obvious question. "Where are we going?"

Liz didn't respond. It was best to keep him in the dark. Just a little bit longer. She navigated the car up the corkscrew ramp of the tall parking garage. Thirteen flights of dizzying round and round. At noon on a random Tuesday in the summer, the fourteenth floor of the parking deck was empty. Well, empty save one other car.

A lipstick red Mercedes convertible.

"Do her a favor, Trey. Don't tell her you'll be at the party tomorrow night."

***

Alicia had woken in Vince's empty bed and immediately knew something was wrong. She was used to being instructed on what to do, how to pose, which way to look; the sensation she was feeling was similar. Look this way. Do this thing. Obey. Don't question.

There had been a note sitting on the bedside. She'd taken it, but was so eager to get out of there that she hadn't bothered reading it in until she was pulling out of the man's Larchmount home. It was sweet and non-consequential, just as she'd suspected it would be. All the right words there, hitting the perfect balance of romantic and reasonable. He'd changed so much in five years.

Then she'd remembered the snippet of his telephone conversation. The anger that simmered just beneath the surface. And the rage in the way he'd fucked her afterwards. She knew, deep down, that he hadn't changed after all…

The meet came through in a coded message, just the way Vince had explained it would. A noon-time meet up in an empty parking garage, attached to the downtown Carlyle Hotel. Not having anywhere else to go, she'd headed over there earlier to shower and freshen up, breakfasting on a cigarette and a couple pills.

By the time noon rolled around, she had a healthy buzz going on. Her body felt enveloped in a plush blanket, fresh out of the dryer. So when her husband stepped out of the car with a petite redhead, she felt she took it fairly well.

The blonde blinked behind her dark shades and glanced beyond them. They'd parked between her and stairwell, cutting off her only escape. She looked over, where the fourteenth story ledge gave way to another form of escape. Medicated, she wondered how long she'd fall.

"Don't even think about it," the redhead said firmly, her voice stronger than Alicia would have expected. There was something familiar about her, although that could have been the drugs talking. She'd been suffering from bouts of déjà vu for too long.

"I'm not, don't worry," Alicia responded, trying to match the other woman's confidence. "But maybe I'd be better off?" She turned her head to regard Trey, who looked just as startled as she felt.

"Because you think your husband's a traitor?" the redhead asked. It sounded false when the other woman said it. Once again, she felt that nagging feeling of being misled. "He's not, Alicia. And deep down, you know it."

The young model's heart fluttered as a breeze swept through their floor of the empty garage. She turned and paced away from them. Toward the ledge. She needed open air. She started to feel cornered.

"You can't trust Vincent," the woman continued behind her. "Listen to your instincts, girl!"

"It's too late," she said fatalistically. "It's too late."

She paused at the rail of the garage. The wind felt wonderful on her face. She glanced down. All the way down. Cars glided along the streets like ants in a gridded ant farm. Speeding up, slowing down, turning. Going about their business. Did they know her? Would they recognize her face in the newspaper? In the obituaries? Had she "made" it yet?

Her grip tightened on the railing. She hadn't. Hadn't made it. Yet. Her wedding rings were gone. She didn't even know where anymore. Didn't care. 

"Don't jump." Trey's voice was closer than she'd expected. She could practically feel his breath on the back of her neck. Could feel his warmth.

"I'm not going to." She had more work to do. She turned, leaning dangerously on the edge, and looked at him. He looked sad. In her medicated state, she could admit that it was her fault, and that in turn made her sad. But it didn't change anything.  

"I know you're not," he said.

"I'm sorry for what I said… the other day…"

He stepped forward. He looked ragged, but handsome. Trey had always been handsome, no doubt, but she liked his new look. She liked the scruff and the short hair. He shook his head, dismissing it. "Look, tomorrow… tomorrow may be the most important day of your life. Vincent's going to ask you to attend the Soltice's grand opening. You need to go."

He took her hands in his, tracing his fingers over where her rings used to be. "This feels like a 'goodbye,' Trey."

"You and I both know we've already passed that stage. We said goodbye a long time ago." 

Despite her anesthetized emotions, Alicia felt a tear rolled down her cheek. "I'm not the same woman you married. The things I've done…"

"I know."

"You know…" She laughed pityingly. Of course he knew. He was a spy. 




Models and Super Spies Ch. 12



"No more guilt, Alicia. You're free."

"Trey, I love you." It came out fast, before she could bottle it away forever. And before she knew it, they were kissing. Passionately. Lovingly. Deeply. Both knew this was it. Both knew this was their goodbye.

"I'll leave you two alone," the redhead interrupted. "The hotel room here is secure. Be out of there by this evening."

Alicia led her husband – her soon-to-be ex-husband? – to the elevators. One last afternoon of fun. The way it used to be. One last chance to really make love to a man. 

***

Liz watched them go. She always hated this part in tragedies, and she was the type who normally screamed at the on-screen couple at how silly they were being, and how they could work through it. But as her green eyes swiveled between Trey and Alicia Kennedy, she knew real life wasn't that simple.

She took the corkscrew ramp down slowly, letting herself ponder all the things that had come to pass, and all the things left to be done.

One way or another, everything would come to a head tomorrow night. Vincent would go for the killing blow, going after Alex and Trey in a final, desperate attack. If successful, he'd be untouchable, possessing a very powerful database and the reins of an organization that could fully realize that power. Tomorrow, he had to be stopped.

Liz hadn't had to show her hand yet, but she knew that at the solstice party, she wouldn't be able to remain hidden. Everything rode on tomorrow's mission. She needed to make sure all players were on board, and that meant another meeting with Alex.  

The redhead shivered as she pulled out her phone and dialed in another coded message, this time to the handsome Russian entrepreneur. Last night, she'd seen him flex the full might of his command. It was scintillating. She ached for him and hated herself for it.

"Get control of yourself, girl!" she said aloud. This wasn't like her. She was never the type to get all wrapped up in boys and crushes. 'Weak in the knees' had never been used to describe any kind of emotion she'd felt. Yet there he was, his strong jaw and sharp blue irises, behind her eyes every time she closed them.

His response chirped back on her phone. Two hours. Her heart trembled. Two hours and she'd see him again…

***

Ilena Petronov watched Alexander read over the gold foil stamped invitation. They'd returned to his Beverly Hills home. Now that his enemies knew he was alive, there seemed to be no point hiding in a dirty motel somewhere, and the mansion's security was high enough to keep them safe for a few days, anyway.

"It's a trap. You know it," she said in Russian. She stood up and paced. She'd been feeling antsy for days now. She needed a cigarette but she'd smoked through her entire store already.

"I know." His Russian accent was stronger when it was just the two of them around. Less British prep school, more Eastern bloc.

"But you're still going."

He nodded solemnly. When he looked up at her, his blue eyes flashed brightly and he smiled in that way of his. "Why?"

"Because it'll be exciting!"

"Alexander, you were nearly killed two days ago! And he'll try again." Sometimes, the man could be so infuriating.

"Relax, my cupcake. I'm still alive."

Ilena rolled her eyes, started to stalk off, but stopped herself. "Maybe we should change the plan. I… I won't be with you next time. I can't be. And… maybe next time, you won't get so lucky."

Alexander's phone chirped. He looked at it rather than respond to her worrisome remarks. When he read the text, he laughed. "I seem to have more than one guardian angel."

"You think Liz can replace me?" Ilena asked, unable to keep the jealousy from her voice. She rose up, smoothing the tight black jumpsuit across her musculature. If he needed a hot little spy, she could fill that fantasy for him. As he watched, she reached for the zipper, nestled between her full breasts, and pulled it down a couple more inches.

"Of course not," he said, setting his phone atop the black invitation and leaning back in his chair. "Although I may need a little more convincing."

***

She undressed slowly. Sensually. Trey leaned against the doorframe, just inside the hotel suite, and watched his wife as though for the first time. So beautiful. Her back was to him as she pulled her blouse over her head. She had such great shoulders. Smooth, delicate shoulders.

Her back was one of his favorite things about her. It was like a sculpture. Venus on a pedestal, every line, sweep, and shadow one of perfection. She shot a coy smile over her shoulder, knowing the effect she always had on him.

Alicia released her blonde hair, letting it fall in a golden cascade of glossy silk. It splashed over her shoulders some of the perfection of that back. She gave a half turn. It was enough. He caught the flash of a breast. The rounded flesh, bathed with a satin sheen. Just a hint. Just a tiny sliver of soft flesh. He grew hard. Yes. Yes, it was enough.

Her skirt was short. Pleated. Saucy. It hardly covered any of her long legs. Legs used to walking up and down runways. Legs used to being flaunted. The skirt dropped down around her heels. Those spiky shoes that gave her a few more inches that she didn't need.

And then she was naked. His beautiful wife was naked.

"Just going to stand there?" she asked, smiling again. She stepped out of the skirt and floated across the room. She was high. She made him feel high. And Trey hated that feeling. The woman he'd fallen in love with had been a strong girl. An intellectual girl, prone to over thinking things. This blonde was…

…was beautiful. She stopped at the bed and turned. Tits and pussy. Tanned, even skin. And little brown nipples that were hard and high on the most perfect pair of breasts he'd ever set sight on.

"Come on, Trey. No more watching."

Trey crossed the room with purpose, opening his shirt as she crawled to the top of the bed and spread her legs. He left his pants at the base of the mattress, kicking them impatiently away as he crawled up with her. His erection dragged along the quilted top sheet, his balls felt heavy.

"God, I missed this," she sighed as he slotted his cock into her velvet pocket. He'd been with several women now in the last month, but none felt quite so right. None felt like home.

"Yessss…" Alicia hissed, running her sharp fingernails along his back. She opened her legs wider and rocked her hips up against him. He penetrated her slowly, easing in and out like they were new to loving. New to fucking.

His wife came quickly, locking a hand behind his neck and drawing his face down between her breasts. Never before had he been able to bring her to orgasm so fast. Like a miniature earthquake. She thrust her breasts up, offering them to his lips as she rocked her head back. A moan bled through her clenched teeth. Out her flaring nostrils.

Trey felt the walls of her pussy ripple and squeeze, nearly ending their afternoon quickly. Nearly. Where Alicia had apparently learned to come quickly, Trey had learned to put it off.

They turned over. Trey lay on his back, looking up at the blonde as she paced herself. He watched those perfect swells bounce with each undulation. Jiggle with each grind. He watched his ramrod-stiff member dip in and out of Alicia's bald snatch.

Trey's breath came quicker. He felt his orgasm finally decide to get up and start making its way toward the door. Alicia knew it, too, in that way that women had. She began to bounce a little higher. She began to fuck him a little faster.

Their skin grew wet. Sweaty. It slapped where it touched. The room filled with smacking flesh and growling lovers. "Ugh, ugh, ugh…" Alicia grew loud. She tossed her hair. Ran fingers through it. Held it back from her head as she moaned and cried.

Trey found a voice. His fingers latched onto her hips, helping her retreat from his cock. Helping her drive back down. Hard. Harder. "Harder, baby!" she cried. Or he did. Fuck, they both did. "Fuck me, fuck me!" a voice barked. His throat was raw. He grunted and groaned as the world faded away in a mist of red and pleasure.

"Yes, Trey. YES! CUM! FILL ME! CUM!"

"AH!" Incredible. Incredible. It was the best orgasm of his life. It was the most raw. The most intimate. It was like he was firing his soul into her twisting, tawny body. This was all that he had. This was everything.

And when it was over, when their bodies were cooling, naked and in one another's arms, he felt… empty.

*** 

The meet-up had been set beneath an underpass on the shadier side of town. Not the most original, but it was effective enough on such short notice. Liz couldn't trust any of her usual spots; no telling what Vincent had staked out.

She traveled by cab, and when she arrived Mishin's car was already there. She was a little surprised to see that it was something as flashy as a black, stretch limousine, but then again, she wasn't sure what else to expect from the playboy.

Thanking the cab driver, she paid him a hefty tip to forget about the trip before exiting. She waited until he was out of sight before she crossed the street and knocked on the glass of the limo.

The window rolled down and the handsome Russian was there in aviators and an askance fedora. "May I help you?" he asked with the flash of his white teeth.

"Open up, Mr. Timberlake," Liz laughed.

"How can I trust you?"

"I'm about the only person you can trust. Now open up before I draw too much attention!"

The door popped open and he moved inside, making room for her. "Can I fix you anything?" he asked, swirling a martini in his hand. His dark brows bounced over his mirrored sunglasses.

"Do you take anything seriously?" she asked.

"Not many. But that's why all the girls adore me, yes?"

Liz rolled her eyes, refusing to admit that what he said was true. "Let's get business out of the way, first."

"I like the way you phrase things, Ms. Hawkins. So what is this business all about?"

Liz related Vincent's plan, the one he'd given to the rest of C.L.O.A.K. that morning, as well as how he was intending to eliminate all loose ends tomorrow night. "Loose ends mean you, Alex. You and Trey."

The entrepreneur was nearly finished with his martini. "Are you worried for me?"

How could the man be so blasé about this? It was his life on the line, and yet all he did was sit there and grin like an idiot. She forced her gaze out the tinted windows. She couldn't look at his smug face, no matter how handsome it was.

She was surprised to see the city recede behind them as they flew up Route 101. The sun was blazing over the sparkling, blue ocean. It looked like a blanket of diamonds in nature's jewelry store; a place Liz could only ever hope to window shop.

"Where are we going?" the redhead asked abruptly.

"Palm Springs," Alex whispered softly into her ear. Liz jumped, not expecting him to be so close. "I have a place there, off the books. It'll be safe."

"Safe?"

"No one knows about it. Some think it may be prudent to lay low for the next day." As he said it, he looked up into the front of the limo, where Ilena was driving. She didn't acknowledge him. "I think that we all need to relax a little. Conserve our strength and get our minds focused."

He kissed Liz's exposed neck, sending a shiver through her body. His motives, she suspected, had nothing at all to do with conserving strength. She sighed, tilting her head to one side and giving him unfettered access to her throat. He took it, nibbling down her jugular as his hands slipped around her. They cupped her full breasts with the same self-assurance he exhibited in everything.

Outside, the coast continued to roll by. She'd never fucked in a moving vehicle. This could be fun.

Turning, her lips sought his. She pulled him close, tugging on his ears as her tongue snaked into his mouth. He returned the voracious kiss with fervor and she felt her outfit being dismantled. First the front few buttons of her blouse. Then the buttons of her tight, black jeans.

Liz found him hard through the seat of his trousers. Her pussy twitched at the memory of the way he'd taken her the last time. The way he'd dominated her with that cock. She needed him badly. But he had other plans.

He tugged her jeans down her lean thighs, yanking them impatiently over her ankle-high boots. They'd been low enough that she hadn't bothered with panties, something she was now thankful for. Less to remove to get to the good stuff.

Alex pushed her back along the bench seat of the limo. She could still see the ocean whiz by, but she was suddenly more caught up in the man crawling down between her thighs. 

Draping her legs over Alex's broad shoulders, she wondered if he ate pussy like he fucked. He leaned forward, piercing her compact lips with his stiff and slippery tongue.

He twisted his head, shoving his tongue into her quivering hole like a little cock. His scruff felt oddly reassuring against her bare skin, although even without it, there was no mistake that the person between her legs was a man.

"Ah!" she cried as he rapidly shifted his focus from slit to clit. She pushed her hips up, lifting her ass off the leather upholstery as she supported herself on his shoulders. His tongue went wild, slashing and swirling with practiced abandon.

Matching the dominating cunnilingus, she began to hump his face. Her palms were damp as they supported her taut body behind her, slipping noisily across the leather as she lifted herself higher. "Fuck ya!" she cried, linking ankles.

Alex's tongue went flat, lapping over her swollen button again and again until she couldn't take it any longer. "Yes! Ugh!" she cried, her voice cracking like the waves just outside the limo windows. Arching her back, she squeezed Alex's pretty-boy face between her thighs like the teeth of a nutcracker and came.

***

"You know, it doesn't go back to the way it was. It can't." Alicia's voice felt weak as she let it out. An exhalation that decided to make a thought. But it was true. Her life was all kinds of fucked up, and for good or bad, it had changed her. She couldn't go back to the way it was. The new Alicia didn't want to.

On his side, his hair rumpled from their love-making session, Trey nodded. His brown eyes were sad. "I know."

"Tomorrow, I need to go back to the new me." She kissed him softly, the merest brushing of lips.

"I know. And… it's important that you're the new you. Just... be careful, OK? You're a smart girl, don't get too caught up in the, you know, the scene." She nodded. She'd let the drugs and sex lifestyle seduce her, and while she enjoyed it, she knew he was right. She had to be careful.

"Will you be there? Tomorrow night?"

He hesitated for the longest time. Was this part of some kind of secret mission of his? Was that hesitation one of secrecy and spyness? "No, I won't." She nodded. "I've been reassigned. Too close, I guess."

"What are you talking about?" she joked, squeezing him against her. They laughed weakly at the joke. "You know, you're not the man I married, either. Maybe after this is over, we could—"

"Don't," he stopped her. "Just don't."

She nodded. "I love you, Trey."

"I love you, too." No more talk. They loved each other one more time. For those last few moments, they turned back the clock: a lifetime ago. 

***

Erin Small watched the sun warble on the edge of the horizon, casting orange and red rays where ocean met sky. She held her flute of champagne up, letting light catch in the bubbly liquid before taking her first sip.

In twenty-four hours, the ship on which she was standing would be open. Her grandest entry into the world of club elegance. Nothing would stand in her way. Not Vincent or Alexander or those two agents. Certainly not the FBI. She was setting a course for international waters. This was a party that no one was going to crash.

Erin let the crisp champagne warm her pallet. She was all alone (aside from her tight security team), which is the way she preferred the evenings before the biggest of her parties. She needed time to think before everything got crazy.

Security had been instructed to keep an eye on Alexander and Vincent, who'd both been invited, although they were not to act on anything they saw. Simply report. Her list was secure enough. No one would be able to break the encryption, even if they managed to get to the server.

She wasn't going to let a little intrigue get in the way of her good time. No, tomorrow would be fantastic. The party to end all parties, as she'd started thinking of it. Certainly the party to end Vincent's parties, once and for all.

***

Alexander Mishin's cock drilled down into Liz's buttery opening, her moans hitting the walls with rhythmic ferocity. His body dripped with sweat. The muscles in his arms and legs burned from exertion. And he felt so fucking alive.

They were in the bedroom of his Palm Springs villa. The windows were open, allowing the fresh, night breeze to filter in from the wooded plot of land that surrounded the home. He took a moment to look up, watching the breeze ruffled the still water of his private, manmade lake.

"Fuck me!" Liz cried beneath him, drawing his attention back to the feisty redhead. He clutched her hips harder and obliged.

Liz's tight body was balanced on her shoulders, her legs stretched out above her where she'd wrapped them around his slender hips. Alexander was semi-crouched above her, using his body weight to angle his cock again and again into her smooth perfection. Each thrust was like a mini-squat. His legs screamed.

"AHHH!" he shouted gutturally, vocalizing the burn in his muscles. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up, but Liz's burning grey eyes urged him to continue.

He'd already cum twice and his third was a long way off. The multi-orgasmic Liz was another matter. She was close. He could feel it in the walls of her cunt as they rippled around his member.

"FUCK!" he cried, his cock flopped free as he withdrew too quickly.

"Ah no!" the redhead whined before he was able to slot it back into her softness. She was so open. So relaxed. It was exactly the way he'd wanted to get her.

"Are you close?" he asked, feeling a trickle of sweat make its way across his nose.

"Uh huh!" she moaned, tightening her legs around his waist.

"Fuck baby, don't hold back!"

Seizing her full, flopping tits above her, she shut her eyes and came in a loud, ear-piercing wail. Good thing the next house was a mile away, he thought, glancing again out at the lake. Someone would have called the cops by now!

He crashed down beside her, finally allowing his muscles to relax. Lying prone never felt so good, even in his awkward position: on his stomach, ass propped up in the air.

Liz laughed breathily, slapping his wet buttocks as she regained her own energy. "That was good," she huffed.

"The best?"

Again, that laugh. "Sure, Alex. The best."

He smiled, rolling onto his back and reaching for the phone. It connected to one person – the only other person on the grounds. "Ilena, could you bring us some water? A pitcher will be good."

He hung up before she even said hello, although she wouldn't have been expecting anything but.

"You're still hard," Liz said, wrapping her delicate hand around his juice-coated manhood. It looked so small like that. How could a petite girl like her have so much energy?

"I am, but I'm fine with that for now." He didn't stop her as she began to slowly jerk him off; he hadn't had a good hand job since he was a teenager. "I hope you're more relaxed."

"For tomorrow?"

He nodded.

"You still haven't told me your plan," she pointed out. "How are you going to get the list? You didn't seem too upset when you heard that Erin had used the fail-safe."




Models and Super Spies Ch. 12



He grinned. She was a bright one. Didn't miss a thing. "No, because that, my dear, is part of my plan." Her arched brows squeezed together in puzzlement. "I had our old friend, Gabrielle Dubois, warn Erin of the attack."

"So she knows that we're on to her?"

"She knows someone is, yes. But then, I think she's always suspected something's up. No doubt Vincent Silva's made sure of that. Now, we're all on equal footing."

"But it's now even more secure than ever!"

And then there was this. His master stroke. "You mean the database is now held in a secure location, under lock and encrypted key?"

She nodded once before she put it all together. "You have the key. And you know where it is!"

He kissed her. How could he not? She was beautiful in her pride. "Yes and yes."

"Are you going to tell me?"

Alexander could have lied. He knew that. He could have given her a false password and she would have believed him. Most of all, though, he could have saved the list for himself and his own power. But he'd seen what it had done to the people he'd trusted. In the end, the thing was more trouble than it was worth.

"F-A-N-T-A-5-I-A. Fantasia, with a five for the 'S.' Pretty clever."

"How did you—"

"Get it? I had Gabrielle slip a bug into Erin's bedroom aboard the Solstice. The server is in the left side nightstand. I've watched her access it twice already."

Liz kissed him hard and deep. "You're a genius!" Her hand squeezed harder around his cock. "How can I ever repay you?" she joked.

Ilena cleared her throat from the entrance to the bedroom. She was still wearing her chauffeur outfit, which Alexander had insisted she wear when driving them out here. He liked the way the pleats of the short black skirt looked against her shapely thighs and how the fitted white blouse accentuated her large bust. Like the sexy girl that she was, the brunette had unbuttoned it enough to tease them with the lacy black bra she wore beneath.

"Your water?" she asked, carrying a silver tray with a pitcher and two tall glasses on in. She walked with grace, balancing on her tall, chunky black heels.

Neither Liz nor Alexander made a move to cover up their nudity. They'd fucked openly in the limo all the way here, after all, and Ilena had openly watched them. Probably masturbated, too, knowing the Russian woman.

"Set it on the table there, my dear," Alexander said, turning to Liz. "I have an idea how you can repay me…" His lecherous glance at Ilena, who did a good job bending at the waist as she set the tray down, was filled with suggestion.

The redhead glanced over, getting lost in the "housekeeper's" deep décolletage. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well…" he laughed airily. "It's been a while since I've gotten a great double blowjob."

"You don't mince words, do you?" Liz laughed loudly.

"As a good friend once told me, 'life's too short.'"

Ilena glanced at them sideways through her long lashes, filling the cups with crystal clear water. She said kept quiet, although Alexander saw the hint of a smile on the edges of her lips.

"That's it then? Just want two girls to suck your dick?" Liz asked sarcastically.

"Well, my balls could use some attention, too."

Liz rolled her eyes, pushing him forcefully on the shoulder. He flopped back without a choice as she crawled down between his legs. Slurping his pussy-stained member between her lips, she gave him two quick sucks before pulling off and holding her hand out to Ilena. She didn't hesitate.

"Hold on, hold on," Alexander interrupted as she climbed up onto the bed. "Someone's way overdressed." He propped his arms behind his head leisurely and ordered, "Strip!"

Liz went to work on his cock as his sexy driver unbuttoned the rest of her blouse, shaking her wavy, light brown hair with each button. The lacy bra was a thing of beauty, encasing those monsters of feminine flesh.

The skirt went next and Alexander was treated with a view of Ilena's matching boy-short panties. "Is this OK? Or more?"

"What do you think?" he asked facetiously.

She sighed heavily, reached behind her back, and popped the bra off. Her fleshy tits bounced free, unfettered in their glory. Sauntered up to him, she slipped her fingers into the sides of her panties and slid pushed them over her rolling hips, stopping just as the top edge of her brown curls came into view.

"More?" she asked.

Liz, who'd stopped sucking, answered for him. "Yes…"

"For you, I'll strip," Ilena smiled, pulling the panties the rest of the way free. The full lips beneath her greatly reduced triangle of pubes were as juicy as a freshly pressed orange slice. Liz unconsciously licked her lips. Ah, such a good sign.  

Ilena joined her between Alex's legs, the two beauties wordlessly communicating their roles. Liz went back to work on his shaft while Ilena bathed his balls with her practiced tongue.

"Ah, yes, ladies…" he moaned. He could have fucked all night, but this had him teetering almost instantly. They switched, treating him with new yet equally delicious techniques. But it was when they both went to work on his cock – each taking a side – that he nearly lost it.

"I think he's close," Ilena whispered to Liz as they met at the tip of his manhood.

"Think we should slow down?" Liz asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"With him, maybe," the brunette replied. She had a soft grip on the base of his cock and gave him a little squeeze. The two girls closed the hair of a distance between their lips and kissed. It was soft at first, both enjoying the plush caress of the other's touch. Then it got hard. Fast.

"My two angels," he sighed, each hand running through a different girl's hair as their heads bobbed and rocked against each other. They were the strongest girls he knew, and to see them so intimate was almost spiritual.

When they broke from one another, their eyes again silently communicated what to do next. Liz gave the briefest of nods before sitting back. Ilena climbed up onto Alex, facing away from him, and eased his cock into her familiar pussy. The whole room sighed as she adjusted.

It wasn't long, though, before he felt the silken locks of Liz brush his thighs. The touch of her tongue was next. It trailed lazily along his perineum and the lower half of his shaft before swallowing his exposed scrotum whole. Again, Alexander was on the brink.

"Jesus!" he cried as she rolled each ball with her tongue. Hips in hands, he bounced Ilena with the remaining strength he had in his arms, hoping to somehow shake the ravenous redhead off his swollen nuts. 

She did leave, although judging by the way Ilena cried out, she'd simply moved her attention to the girl. It gave Alex enough time to bring his breathing and his lust back to controllable levels. He was prepared, this time, when her wet mouth returned to his balls.

"She's teasing us," Ilena mumbled in Russian the second time Liz's lips left him. "Mmmm… ahh…"

"Don't hold back, Ilena my dear. We have the whole evening before us."

"Uh! UH! AHH!" she cried, fucking him hard through her orgasm. Somehow, Alexander weathered the storm, despite the delicious way her pussy walls enticed him to release.

Ilena lifted her slippery grip away, although a wet mouth quickly replaced it as the Russian woman slithered up his trim frame. Liz shifted with her, straddling his lap as Ilena straddled his face. No one wasted any time. Alex curled his tongue along the creased flesh in front of him as Liz enveloped his cock.

"Ha!" Alex groaned, breathing in Ilena's heady aroma. Liz's snug pocket was so different than his housekeeper and bodyguard's. Despite the hours they'd been fucking, she was still a tight fit. And like the rest of her little body, she seemed to have boundless energy.

He could hear the girls above him, their kisses making wet, smacking sounds as they humped him. "Agh!" Liz moaned. Ilena's fingers joined their union, diddling her clit as the redhead bounced furiously, racing herself to an orgasm. Alexander wasn't going to be far behind.

To keep his mind off the inevitable, he concentrated on Ilena's sweet folds. He used the rigid tip of his tongue to flip her warm bud like a light switch. On and off. On and off. She grinded harder into his face, burying his nose in her snatch. He worked harder. If she didn't get off soon, he'd suffocate.

"Oh my God!" The cry was of pure, overwhelming sensation. Alex didn't know if it was Liz or Ilena. Shit, he didn't even know if it was himself. Next thing he knew, they were all coming. His balls emptied for the third time. Each aching jolt driving him deeper and deeper into his sexual stupor.

Ilena rolled off him and he breathed deep and hard. Opening his eyes, he saw stars there. And through the stars, the vague, yet lurid details as the girls rearranged themselves beside him. They kissed. They nibbled. Ilena pushed Liz onto her back and situated herself between her legs. The last thing Alexander saw was his cum leaking from the special agent's pussy. Then Ilena was there, lapping it up.

The entrepreneur broke out into a smile so big it should have split his head in two. If tonight was the last night he was alive, could he really complain?



Models and Super Spies Ch. 13



The conclusion to Alicia and Trey's saga.

Chapter 13: The Party to End All Parties

Black, stretch limousines lined the pier, each letting out a handful of party-goers wearing masks and black capes. Paparazzi was prohibited, although that didn't stop a few brave souls armed with telephoto lenses from climbing onto the rooftops of neighboring warehouses and water towers.

The Solstice floated proud and preening in the last rays of the summer sun. In a few short hours, as it cut through the dark waters of the Pacific, it would be lit up like a Christmas tree, every rail and beam coiled with white lights. A floating party. It had been Erin Small's fantasy since childhood.

Each invitation was carefully considered. She'd spent months on the guest list, carefully considering each man or women. Were they rich enough? Were they hot enough? Each was allowed one guest; were their friends and associates worthy of this opening?

It was the exclusiveness that created the buzz. It was the mystery that would have the world talking about this club opening like it was a blockbuster movie.

As each limo rolled to a stop and deposited another set of revelers at the end of the Solstice's gilt-laden gangplank, Erin grew more and more excited. How many attending tonight knew the power she had over them, or would have over them soon? 

Her girls did, of course. She'd called on her entire roster. Tonight needed to bleed decadence. The hottest and sexiest women in the world could infuse a gathering in an assisted living facility. Throwing them into this crowd of sexed up celebrities and the sons and daughters of the wealthy was like a match on a gasoline-drenched pyre. 

Erin didn't need drugs to feel this high. She breathed deeply in through her nostrils and smiled. She'd sent Gabrielle Dubois to pick up Alicia. They'd be arriving together, and unlike most of the crowd, they'd be arriving without their masks. This was Alicia "Stile's" coming out party, and the princess was going to be escorted in by the queen.

***

Gabrielle Dubois's loud sniff echoed through the intimate confines of the limo's interior. Just a few hundred feet away, beautiful men and women in masks and cloaks were making their way up the decorated ramp into the Solstice. Just outside the tinted windows, day was turning to night.

Alicia watched the supermodel, Gabrielle Dubois, tilt her head back and close her eyes as the cocaine-rush washed through her. Her time with Trey was still fresh in the younger model's mind; as was her vow to be smarter, to clean up her act.

But when the brunette handed her the short, platinum tube and sank back into the leather bench, Alicia knew that it wouldn't be so easy. She licked her lips as she regarded the powdery white lines on the pro-offered mirror, tasting her glossy lipstick.

"Mmm, tonight iz going to be fun, mais oui?" Gabrielle commented, snuggling into herself. Her eyes remained closed.

The blonde watched the French woman in the dim light of the limo. A few short weeks ago, she'd only ever admired the supermodel from afar, never dreaming of even meeting the brunette, let alone partying with her. As Gabrielle breathed deeply through her nostrils and her long lashes fanned out as she shut her eyes, Alicia thought that this woman truly was super.

This evening, she'd worn her dark, nearly black hair braided down the hollow of her back, although she'd left a few strands to frame her glamorous face.

"I think I'm going to pass for now," Alicia murmured, setting the tube onto the mirror. She shivered, remembered the rush that the drug brought. Tonight, she needed to be herself. Tonight, she couldn't take risks.

Gabrielle shrugged as though to say, Suit yourself, and finished up the lone line herself. Nothing more was said. Alicia breathed a sigh of relief. She'd passed the test of peer pressure. She was strong enough to stand on her own, and now even Gabrielle Dubois acknowledged that.

"You would have loved Condo's opening, Alisia," the French model said in her affected English. She rubbed her graceful nose. "So many beautiful people. The music. The dancing. The sex."

For a moment, Alicia thought the other woman was going to kiss her. For a second, she wanted her to. "You will love the sex, my sweet," she whispered into the blonde's ear.

Alicia shivered as Gabrielle gave her one of her oft-photographed smiles and withdrew. "Time for our grand entrance."

The door opened and she could already hear the clicking of high-speed lenses. At first, she thought it was paparazzi, although she'd heard rumor that Erin Small was tightly controlling the publicity. When she saw her friend, Isobel, behind one of the cameras, and realized all of the photographers were wearing some form of white bikini or swimsuit, she realized these people were paid to be here.

Alicia felt light in the warm, summer air. As she rose along the creaking, metal ramp, she felt like a down feather caught in an updraft. She didn't need the drugs to make her feel high. 

They'd timed it to be one of the last guests to arrive. Only a handful of limos were lined up behind theirs. And unlike the guests who'd arrived before them, they walked up the ramp without their masks on, hand-in-hand. Only the best of the photographs would be circulated to every gossip magazine Erin had a tie to; the others would receive them second hand.

Alicia didn't feel just the eyes of those cameras on her. She felt the eyes of the world. To walk with Gabrielle Dubois. To be seen at such an exclusive event. This was it. She'd made it.

The models stopped before a well built African-American holding a clipboard and wearing nothing but a little white Speedo. His cock, outlined in the small "uniform," looked monstrous. Gabrielle nudged her. All she could do was suppress a shiver.

"Ms. Dubois. Mrs. Kennedy?"

"Um, it's Ms. Stiles now," Alicia corrected, blushing as she felt Gabrielle's eyes turn on her. "It's easier this way." She felt inclined to explain, even if she hadn't been asked.

"Of course," Gabrielle nodded.

"Welcome aboard the Solstice. If there's anything you require, any member of the help staff will gladly accommodate you."

"And how will we know who's help? I see that even you are wearing a mask." Gabrielle asked.

"We're all wearing white. Guests are wearing black."

"When we're wearing anything at all," the French model laughed, pulling Alicia gently into the entrance to the floating club without waiting for a reply. To the blonde, she whispered, "I'll have to track him down..."

Another attendant took their cloaks just inside the entrance, telling them that they must put on their masks now. "In the main ballroom, all guests are required," he explained apologetically.

Alicia was actually thankful as she tied on her little, golden mask. It didn't cover much – merely the bridge of her nose and her eyes – but it gave her a sense of anonymity. Especially now that she was covered in nothing but a little black, thong bikini. How Erin had talked her into that style was still beyond her.

"Is this not exquisite?" Gabrielle asked, squeezing the younger model's hand.

As Alicia's eyes surveyed the room of scantily clad, very beautiful party-goers, she realized how exquisite it really was. It was the perfect word to describe the warm, sinuous feeling that wrapped itself around her senses like a tendril of sweet-smelling smoke. Why should she feel exposed? She was no more out in the open than anyone else, and she had the body to shine.

"It's incredible," she said, her soft brown eyes flashing.

A woman in a white, haltered bikini swept by with a tray of champagne. Each model took one, sipping it as they waited for the last guests to arrive. "Well don't you two make a pretty pair," Alexander Mishin's English-Russian accent whispered between them.

Alicia turned, her eyes immediately flicking over the sexy Agency-owner's body. His black swimming trunks were tight, like a pair of boxer-briefs. In fact, with his slim frame, he looked like a male model – minus the tattoos, of course.

"You are not so bad yourself, mon cherie," the French model flirted, striking a pose with a hand on her hip. 

"Don't worry, I know" he replied, winking at Alicia and drawing a blush.

They exchanged friendly cheek-kisses, although their hands lingered on each other's exposed flesh a little longer than was customary. Alicia was already growing warm with all the sexual energy that was buzzing through the ship.

"So what do you think?" he asked them, although his stare had turned fully on the blonde.

"I love it," Alicia bubbled enthusiastically. "Erin really knows how to throw a party."

Alexander laughed warmly. "This? This is nothing. The real party starts in two hours." She pointed to a grand staircase on the opposite end of the high-ceilinged ballroom. "Up those steps are the more secluded quarters, I believe. If you get an invitation back there, you won't want to pass it up."

The way he said it sent a shiver down Alicia's spine.

Alex placed a hand on each of their lower backs, ushering them deeper into the party. The blonde looked at her mentor, who was smiling coyly, as if to say, Let him have control... for now...

Despite the masks, Alex seemed to know who most of the company was. He brandished the knowledge with the suave grace of an accomplished mingler and conversationalist. He looked everyone in the eye; he used their first names; and he smiled, even when they did not.

Alicia tried to follow his cue. She borrowed some of his confidence, perhaps, but she was surprised to find herself quite comfortable with working the crowd. The fact that everyone, men and women, keep looking down at her tits – or that when she walked away, she put an extra wiggle in her thong-clad ass – helped get over her early jitters.

"Have you met Leonardo Garza yet, Alicia?" Alex asked, stopping before a barrel-chested man with a shock of long, white hair spilling from the back of his mask.

"No, I have not," she said, although there was something oddly familiar about him. The name, maybe, or his mannerisms?

"I think, perhaps, you know my son," he said in a warm, Italian accent. It was as deep as his chest was broad. "Tony Garza?" The blonde blushed, suddenly putting it together. "He is somewhere around here, getting into trouble, no doubt."

"Very nice to meet you, Mr. Garza," she practically curtsied.

He laughed, hearty as a lion. "Please, let's dispense of the formalities. My friends call me Leonardo, but beautiful women call me simply 'Leo.'"

Gabrielle took the moment to reintroduce herself into the conversation. "Nice to see you again, Leo."

She offered her hand and he took it, kissing it like a gentleman. "Always a pleasure, Gabrielle. You are more stunning than your photographs do you justice." She nodded. It was her right. She was a supermodel, after all. Turning back to Alicia, he took her hand, too. "And I must thank you, Alicia, for all your work with my latest fragrance, Nudity. I have seen the comps already; it will be a spectacular launch."

Not wanting to alienate the French supermodel, he turned to her and continued. "You are both invited to the launch party in Milan, of course. I was hoping to get at least one shoot of the two of you together before then; that would be spectacular!"

Gabrielle grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server and gave the three of them her characteristic smile. "Well, if you'd like to see the two of us together, I'm sure something can be worked out."

***

For Trey, the day hadn't been quite so glamorous. He'd arrived at 9 that morning and been in rigorous training ever since. Tia, the Amazonian black mistress of staff, was relentless. They'd gone over the hors d'oeuvres again and again. The way to hold the trays up. How much to fill each glass of champagne. Hell, she'd spent a half hour going over how to walk!

In the end, Trey felt battered down into a new man. A servant to the rich. A second class citizen. But at least Tia gave her stamp of approval and let him board the ship.

Not all the catering staff was so lucky. The reasons varied. Too short. Too fat. Not confident enough. Too confident. Couldn't cross the room without spilling a glass of wine.

"The people gathered tonight are from the upper most crust of elite society. Some are richer than small countries. Others are very renowned actors and actresses. Or rock stars. Or models. And all of them will get what they want, when they want."

The message was clear. Everyone was hired on knowing what to expect, but when Tia said it, the point was really driven home. 

Nothing could have prepared Trey for the Solstice. Even stepping into the grand ballroom from the galley was awe-inspiring. Three magnificent stories of gold and gilt vaulted up to a crystal chandelier, bathing the tall chamber in rich yellows like a palace. Balconies followed the contours of the ship's hull, supported on balustrades that recessed into private cubbies and even more private rooms.

And it was all floating like some miniaturized Titanic.

A broad stairwell dominated the side of the room opposite the main entrance, made of marble and adorned in a blood-red carpet. "Up there are the private lounges and VIP halls," Tia explained, although she didn't elaborate other than to say that some will be required to work them when they began opening.

Trey felt like a tourist being led along Hollywood Boulevard for the first time. He couldn't stop gawking at the immensity of the Solstice. And yet, once the swimsuit and mask-wearing crowd began to fill the grand chamber, he started to understand the significance of this party – although calling it a "party" was like calling the Solstice a boat. 

The masks ranged from outlandish, theatrical affairs right off the set of Phantom of the Opera or the streets of New Orleans at Mardi Gras. The designer swimwear was as insubstantial and ostentatious as the haughty conversation that quickly followed. 

The swelter of decadence was almost palpable. It was like secondary smoke from a menthol, strong enough to give even the catering staff a buzz.

Masquerade meets an LA beach party. Never in a million years would Trey have believed that the combination could feel so chic. So stylishly elegant. As he watched a leggy blonde wearing nothing but heels, a g-string bikini, and an ostentatious peacock mask strut by, he had to tip his hat to Erin Small. She knew how to throw a party.

The "uniforms" of the catering staff were small, white bathing suits. For the guys, speedos; for the girls, bikinis that weren't quite thongs, but required a very firm ass. After about a half hour, Trey realized just how much of a problem this was going to be.

"Relax," Tia said as they passed one another on the second floor balcony. "You're doing well, Trenton." Her voice was softer than it had been all day, although still firm.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

She stopped him, whispering, "I know you I was supposed to let you aboard no matter what today, but you deserved it anyway. Whatever is going on here, I can't jeopardize this party, understand?"

Tia was still worried about her job, when her employer, Ms. Small, might be behind bars by morning. "I understand," he replied quietly.

"Good."

He watched as her dark eyes shot over his shoulder. "Ah, possibly your first test," she laughed cruelly, stepping away and continuing down the balcony.

Squaring his shoulders, Trey swiveled around to face whatever monster headed their way. Michelle Park, winner of Season 2 of Supermodel, wasn't even wearing a mask. Instead, she simply held one that was affixed to a stick, gesticulating wildly with it as she talked to Tony Garza, her on-again, off-again beau.

Trey gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to curl his fist into a ball. Tony was the man who'd allegedly slept with his wife. Or at least so the tabloids were reporting. The truth was disputed, but it didn't stop the burning hatred he felt for the LA playboy.

"Look, sweetheart, forget that bitch. You've got me, why do you need anyone else?" she was saying as they paced closer. "She's a slut, like everyone else. A couple nights ago, she was spotted with Vincent Silva. Who knows who she's gonna fuck tonight?"

The man's jaw tightened beneath his long-nosed mask. "Alicia is special."

Michelle rolled her eyes. "Gah!" she exclaimed in exasperation, throwing her arms in the air. Tony walked on a couple more paces before he realized she'd stopped. "Fine, go chase her. You're killing my buzz, anyway."

"Michelle..." he pleaded, but her attention was already on Trey.

"Champagne?" he asked lamely as her eyes traveled down his muscled torso to the semi-hard erection.

She laughed, the smile turning her harsh face beautiful. "Yes, I could go for some champagne." Before Trey knew what was happening, the lithesome Asian model had her arm looped into his. "Let's go back to my... champagne room."

Trey spotted Tia, watching at a distance. If he tried to weasel his way out now, he'd be more than busted. She was liable to throw him out, no matter what deal had been made to get him in here.

Glancing at Tony with a farewell wink, Michelle pulled Trey into the closest private room off the balcony. 

***

Liz Hawkins cut the engines of her glossy black waverunner about 100 yards from the floating party, just out of the radius of its bright lights. The Solstice dominated the dark water, beautiful in its glowing radiance. Liz had never seen anything like it.

It was the perfect place for her final showdown with Vincent Silva. Aboard that ship, the years of deceit would end.

She flipped on the waverunner's homing beacon; they'd retrieve it later, when the dust had finally settled.

Pulling the scuba goggles over her face and checking once again that her wetsuit was tightly sealed, she slipped into the cold Pacific waters and submerged herself.

She moved through the water gracefully, covering the distance in only a few minutes. Growing up in Hawaii, the ocean was like a second home. Beneath its waves, a strange and quieter world greeted her. When she was a little girl, she imagined herself a mermaid, able to join that world. Now, she knew she had to deal with the one she'd been born into.

She emerged at the stern of the ship, using the turmoil of the engines to mask her rise out of the water. It was early, still, not even 10. Everyone should still be inside the grand ballroom.

The redhead kept her wetsuit on, scaling the side of the ship like a ninja. Black against the brilliant, white lights. A spec. A shadow.

Carefully, she peered over the rail, finding the stern deck empty, although she kept a wary eye on the sliding glass doors the led into the ship. The hallway behind it was still dark, and after watching it for a solid minute, she determined that no guards were stationed there.

There were security cameras, however. Two of them, one perched above that entrance, the other cast out over the rest of the deck. "That's a problem," she muttered to herself as she shuffled along the outside railing until she could climb over off camera. Of course Erin Small would have this place rigged with cameras, she thought.

Setting her waterproof bag just inside the railing, Liz balanced there long enough to slid her flippers off and let them fall into the roiling water. The polished wood of the deck was warm under her bare feet. Inviting.

In fact, this whole deck was inviting. It was straight out of the pages of a sultan's private harem: loungers covered in gauze sheets; plush pillows in purples and reds heaped along the floorboards; and on each of the low sitting tables was a hookah.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 13



Liz could practically see the lazy minglers who'd inhabit this lounge later tonight. Beautiful intellectuals talking nonsense – an art show without the art yet amped up on the sensuality. The fleeting vision brought a tingle to her spine. Her nipples tightened, even through the wetsuit, and she had to shake her head to focus.

She pushed the hood over her head, releasing her long, copper locks. She'd had them brushed out at the salon just before making her trip out here and hoped that they looked half as glamorous.

She caught her reflection in the darkened glass entryway, laughing to herself as she slowly slid the zipper down the front of the suit. Was this how all these models felt, she wondered, as first her hefty cleavage slid into display, then the flatness of her stomach.

Beneath, she wore a simple – although expensive – black string bikini. Her job tonight was to blend. Nothing too understated, nothing too outlandish. The mask she removed from her bag fit the criteria: porcelain white and detailed with purple and gold gems beneath the eyes, it covered her forehead, nose, and cheeks before sweeping up in a bouffant of purple black feathers.

Liz tossed the wetsuit over the side once her mask was in place. Once she'd dug her black, clutch purse and her open-toed sandals from the bag, she discarded that, too.

Now the cameras.

Both were set to sweep the area, swinging back and forth in 120-degree arcs. It took her a few minutes to work out their pattern, and another few minutes to realize that there was about a 10 second window when she should be able to cross the room without being seen by either.

Taking a deep breath, she let the first window pass without going. Nerves. Two minutes later and she made her dash, realizing as she was out in the open that if the door was locked, she'd be screwed. Her adrenaline spiked; a flash of heat licked across her body.

Holding her breath, she reached for the brass latch and pulled. For a second, it didn't budge. Her heart skipped a beat. She glanced at the camera above her, watching it arc back in her direction. Pulling harder, she felt it give. Hands shaking, she yanked it open enough to fit her petite frame through and snapped it shut.

Only when she was inside, in the darkness, did she let herself breath easily. "Jesus Christ, Liz, that was stupid," she cursed quietly to herself. The next time she was that careless, maybe she wouldn't be so lucky.

Listening, she could hear the distant chords of an orchestra. The redhead had studied the floor plans of this ship again and again. She'd committed every corridor to memory. But finding the main hall would be easy. Follow the sounds. She could feel the reverberation under her feet. She could almost smell the money and decadence.

Slotting nearly invisible earbud into her right ear, she tapped it once to test it. "Dorothy has just landed in Oz," she vocalized over the Comms.

A crackle later and the return. "There's no place like home." It was Alex's smiling voice on the other end. "Welcome to Oz, Dorothy."

Liz warmed at his familiar accent. Last night's dalliances were still fresh in her mind. "Thank you, Tinman." It was a sad, private joke, when assigning names. As much as she liked Alexander Mishin, she knew that deep down, he was incapable of love. At least, incapable the way she wanted. "And Toto?"

Alex snickered at the name she'd given Trey, although her young protégé didn't check in. That was troubling. "I think your boy has wandered off, Dorothy. But he'll be back later on." The man's snicker turned into a laugh.

"Moving into position now," she muttered, flicking the mic to mute.

Light beneath a set of double doors. Success. Liz crept closer, putting her ear against it. On the other side was definitely the rest of the party.

The spy extracted a fiber optic camera from her purse and slid it under the crack, checking to see if anyone was there. When she was satisfied that no one was, she tried the handle. Unlocked again.

Deep breathe, purse in hand. This is it, you belong, she told herself. Opening the door, she stepped out into the party like she had every right to be back there. If anyone asked, she was using the ladies room. No one did.

She was on the upper most balcony, overlooking the warren that was the ballroom floor. It was a sight to behold. The full orchestra, playing next to dramatic staircase right out of the movies, had several en-masked guests waltzing across a parquet floor like they'd been choreographed. Despite the lack of wide ballroom gowns – or any clothing, really – they looked elegant and in their element.

Liz let her fingers trail along the warm, wooden banister, taking a glass of champagne from a passing server, and began looking for her marks. She was so busy glancing down into the crowd that she nearly ran into one of them. The most dangerous of all. 

Vincent Silva was leaning over the railing himself, people watching not twenty feet from the door she'd entered. Taking up position behind a pillar, she watched him for a moment, looking for a chance to get away without being seen. If she was recognized, their mission would have failed before it had even really begun.

That was when she noticed it. The movement in his jaw. The unnatural way he was swallowing. He was talking to someone on his own comms. He wasn't alone.

***

Vincent Silva could taste it. Victory. Success. After so much scheming, he was nearly there.

He watched from above, alone but for his flute of champagne. He watched them all below him, hiding behind masks that didn't disguise their true identities.

Vincent found Trey just as he was dragged into a side room with some Asian slut. The man had a sad story and it was only going to get worse. All the evidence was already in place. No matter what happened tonight, the young analyst-turned-agent was going to take the full brunt of the blame. Someone besides Vincent needed to, and Trey had been his scapegoat from day one.

He watched Alicia and Gabrielle Dubois flitter about the main floor, chatting up the top designers and fashion representatives. From above, he could practically see the ripple effect around them as heads turned to the beautiful women, envious or lusting. Alicia's end game was different than his own, but the two would meet up when this was all over and take the stage as the hottest couple LA's ever seen.

Alexander Mishin was with them, but that was to be expected. The man had proven a more worthy adversary than he'd thought. Despite the thick file the CIA (and probably the FBI) had on him, the man was nothing more than what he appeared to be: a shrewd businessman and playboy. Unfortunately, that shrewdness had nearly endangered the mission.

"I'm in place," a soothing feminine voice whispered into his earpiece.

Vincent smiled. It was good to hear Emily Lester's voice. When Mishin showed up alive, he'd assumed the worst. It had taken some pretty hefty strings to track her down, alive, but they would be worth it. Now she was his surprise and having someone on the inside only ensured his success.

"Wonderful," he returned, smiling into the open air of the ballroom. "Are we clear?"

"We're clear." 

Mishin detached himself from the blonde, leaving her with Gabrielle and fragrance guru Leonardo Garza. Harmless, although Alicia was most likely in for a wild night in the company of those two.

"Excellent." Again, he could taste it. Like a cold beer after a long, hard day. "How long before you're able to hack the doors to Erin's suite?"

Emily and one of C.L.O.A.K.'s muscle had smuggled aboard the ship before it launched, located the central surveillance and computer room, and had taken out the security guard there. Vincent had a good idea what the security code was to Erin's infamous "list," he just couldn't get into the damned room it was being held in.

"It's more complicated than I thought. I got in touch with support back at C.L.O.A.K. and they sent me a cipher. Maybe an hour?"

"An hour? Christ, why so long?" 

He could practically hear her shrug over the phone. She didn't respond.

"OK, an hour then. The party shouldn't have moved there yet." When Erin began entertaining in her boudoir, it would be impossible to take the database without force. And he didn't' want to do that. When this was all over, he wanted Erin on his side, although in a much more subservient role. "Keep me posted."

"Of course, sir." Emily's voice was laced with sarcasm. 

***

Shit, Liz thought. Someone's inside and they're going for the list right now! So much for waiting and watching. Vincent seemed a little displeased with the hour delay. She recognized that scowl on his face, but usually associated it with when the guys they were after were winning. Not the other way around.

Stiffly, he marched over to the stairs and began to wander back down to the main floor.

Liz allowed herself to relax a little, stepping out from behind the pillar and going to the rail herself. She had an hour. An hour to stop them. Or delay them, she considered.

There seemed to be a miniature exodus toward the great staircase below. Not everyone was leaving, but there definitely seemed to be a flow up and out. The first of the VIP receptions had begun, perhaps?

"Dorothy to Tinman, we've got company."

Scanning the crowd, she spotted Alicia and Gabrielle Dubois first, ascending the stairs on either side of a burly, older gentleman. They had their arms looped in his like they were walking the carpet at a movie premiere. A fitting image.

She found Alex, also on his way to the next, exclusive party. He wasn't one to miss something like that. Pretending to scratch his ear, his voice crackled through the comms a moment later. "What kind of company?"

Liz quickly explained what she'd overheard: how Vincent was already making his move and could have the list within an hour. By the time she'd finished, she felt hysterical. It didn't help that Alex's only response was a smug, "That's all?"

"What the hell do you mean, 'That's all'?!" she practically screaming. A couple party-goers gave her queer looks before shuffling further along the balcony, away from her.

"Trust me, Dorothy," he whispered. Below, he began moving up the stairs again. "If Ms. Small's bedroom is in use, then hacked locks or no, Vincent's not going to waltz in there."

Liz wasn't so sure. He'd come this far. If a few innocents had to be sacrificed for his ultimate power, then she didn't think it would weigh too much on his conscience. She said as much.

Again, that maddeningly self-assured laugh. "Then we'll make sure that the occupant is someone he cares about, yes?" Liz followed his eyes up the stairs, finally connecting the dots. He was looking at Alicia as she passed through the grand arches out of the ballroom. The redhead was glad Trey wasn't with her to catch his true meaning.

***

The door had barely shut behind Trey before the tall Asian had her light brown body wrapped around his. He caught the glimpse of brass-rimmed portholes, a lacquered, low-sitting table, and satin pillows of purple and red. Then his vision was consumed by Michelle's lustrous black hair and full, kissable lips.

"I need to get fucked," she whispered huskily into his ear. Her hands were already tugging his white Speedos over his thickening member. "And so do you."

It was like being kissed by a lightning storm. He was defenseless. Impatiently, the Asian model tore his mask from his face and threw it into the corner so she could rake her long nails through his short red hair and maul his lips even harder.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked, pulling away abruptly so she could reach behind her and untie the black bikini top. "I'm a star! A supermodel. And right now," she smiled wickedly, dropping down to her knees, "I'm going to suck your cock."

"Fuuu..." Trey groaned as she swallowed his entire length at once. There was no easing into this blowjob. The girl had no gage reflex. Before he could get a word out, the head of his manhood was sliding down her talented throat.

In the center of the room, Trey barely remained balanced as she sucked him. Her nails pricked along his flexing buttocks, squeezing with each bob of her head. Another minute of this and he'd be through. Maybe not even that long.

"You like that, don't you," Michelle asked, pulling off until just the tip was in his mouth. She tongued the purple crown, toying with him as she looked up into his eyes with those mischievous amber irises. "You like it when a supermodel blows you, don't you?"

She was looking for an answer. He nodded vigorously, and not just because Tia would have ordered him to. He'd had his dick sucked by too many mouths recently for a man that was technically married, but this model's was by far the most energetic.

"Then you're going to love fucking one," she winked. Sliding to her feet, she made sure to his cock passed in between what had to be store bought tits. He didn't care. Fuck, at that hypersensitive moment, all he cared about was getting his dick wet.

Michelle kissed Trey again. In heels, she was nearly as tall as him. Taking his hands in hers, she placed them on the ties on each hip. The ties of the string bikini. He knew exactly what to do.

Yanking them hard, she broke the kiss and moaned at his show of strength. Keeping his hands on her hips, he positioned her just in front of the low-sitting table and shoved her across the polished wood. Her eyes danced with excitement as she spread her legs.

Her oily smooth cunt was ready for him, already opening like a flower in spring. Setting his knees at the edge of the table, he leaned into her, cock in hand. Her pussy swallowed his thickness up like a milkshake through a straw: slow and satisfying.

"Fuck!" she cried, tossing back her shimmering black hair. It fanned out behind her on the table. Perfect as a picture. He pulled free until most of his shaft was exposed, then lunged forward, sinking ball-deep in her slippery snatch.

"God, fuck me! Fuck ME!" she cried, grasping at the edges of the table. Trey panted above her, surveying her splayed, naked body. It was flawless. No excess fat. Nothing but lean, tawny skin that shimmied and shivered with each deep thrust.

The table scraped along the floor as he pushed into her, going up onto her toes to change angle. "Yes!" she screamed as his shaft stroked directly across her swollen clit. "YES! YES! YES!" She thrashed as she came, the wall of her cunt crashing around his cock.

His balls slapped heavily against the slippery-soft space between her legs. He angled higher, feeling the padding grow softer. Wetter. He jammed into her hard, compressing his testicles against the engorged petals of her labia. The pressure was all it took.

"Cumming, baby?" she asked shrilly.

Trey lost it. He couldn't hold back any longer. His balls emptied themselves into Michelle's velvet cavity. "Ah – fuck!" he cried, clipping his exclamation like someone flipping through the radio stations. He couldn't contain it all.

Michelle writhed across the smooth surface of the table as she accepted his cum. "That's it, baby. Fuck your supermodel!"

***

The crowd of masked partiers moved down a wide, mahogany-dominated hallway. This was the central boulevard of the ship, connecting the ballroom with the smaller lounges and, ultimately, the bow, where the largest of the lounges was housed. Right now, that forward lounge was the only door open, and it was where everyone was going.

Halfway down the corridor, Alexander could hear the thumping bass and female vocals. The guitars had a slightly bluesy quality to them, although this was no country-western bar he was walking into.

The bow-side club was an intimate one and was already filling up to capacity. Alex knew now why each guest was checked at the door before he or she was allowed entry. Later on, it would be open to all, but for now, it was invite-only.

Shaped like a wedge, the low-ceilinged room narrowed with the hull. On the far side of the room, at its narrowest point, was the slightly raised platform of the stage, where the band was playing. Alexander immediately recognized the lead vocalist.

"What's that smile for?" a familiar, refined voice asked behind him. Alex felt a soft, warm hand squeeze his tattooed biceps as Erin Small stepped up next to him.

"Lisa Welles? You really pulled out all the stops."

The strawberry blonde laughed openly, running her fingers through her light, page-boy haircut. "When did I ever install these 'stops,' darling?"

"Fair enough." Together, they entered the loud chamber. The band must have just started playing, but already the dance floor was packed. He searched for Alicia and Gabrielle, finding the two of them cavorting amidst the crowd, sandwiching Leo Garza as the older man laughed.

Lisa Welles's energized lyrics brought his eyes back up to the stage. Despite all he knew about Erin and his many years of working with the former supermodel, this was still impressive. The country acid house solo star had three number one albums in the last two years and was the hottest ticket since Britney Spears in her prime. And that was nothing compared to the following she had in Europe.

The petite songstress bounced her slim hips to the bass, holding the mic in both hands as she hypnotized the crowd with her voice. Yet as pretty as that was, it wasn't her sound that had Alex hypnotized.

"The swimsuit dress code was brilliant, Erin," he smiled as he admired Lisa's little, black bikini. He became mesmerized by the sway of her hips, encased in her low-sitting boy-short bottoms.

The club-owner looked down at the bulge forming in his own tight suit and nodded. "You can thank me later," she winked.

Her accessories were almost as intriguing as her bikini. Unlike everyone else present, the blonde wasn't wearing a mask, although her signature, oversized aviators were more concealing than some of the other masks he'd seen. Paired with the turquoise, gossamer shawl she'd wrapped about her long neck and the black cowboy boots, she projected attitude with each step.

The crowd swooned as the guitar riff broke into a solo. The stage-lights jumped in time with the beat, catching in the rotating disco ball above the dance floor. A muted cheer went up, barely heard as the guitarist went to town.

Lisa paced across the stage in her boots, wide strides, mic still clutched in her little fists. She clapped with each heavy thump, getting the crowd into it. Wiggling her hips. Light caught in the jewel that dangled from her belly button.

"Do you want to fuck her?" Erin asked, never forgetting her role as the tempting snake in her self-created Garden of Eden. Her hand ran across his semi-hard erection. "You do," she purred.

Alex grew harder as the blonde retook center stage. She stood with her back to the crowd, legs spread wide, arms stretched high above her head. And still her hips continued to bounce. Alex drank her deep tan, following her long blonde hair down to the deep dimples of her lower back. This girl knew how to work a crowd.

The heavy, almost gravelly music built. The DJ manning the keyboards twisted a knob and pushed up some sliders and the crescendo grew. The guitarist's fingers flew from chord to chord while the drummer dialed back all but the driving bass and an occasional flirtation with the snare.

Lisa Welles tapped her booted foot, knowing that all eyes were on her. The crowd mimicked her sway, grinding and bouncing in time with the bass and her perfectly formed ass.

And then she spun, the music went up, and her voice returned in force. The crowd went wild.

"You could arrange that?" Alex asked, practically out of breath at the thought of taking the performer's tight, little body.

"Do you really have to ask?" Erin smirked. "She's not scheduled to sing all night. Maybe you'll bump into her... in my bedroom..." Her hand hadn't left his crotch, and when she felt him grow to full size in her palm, she nipped playfully at his ear.




Models and Super Spies Ch. 13



The pain brought him back to task. He had things to do, first. Things to arrange. "Speaking of your bedroom, I was wondering if you could lend me a copy of your key."

Erin's hand swept away from his erection, although he felt it on his hip, not far from the mark. "Ah, ah, ah, my dear. Let's not get impatient."

Mishin rolled his eyes. "Me, impatient?" They laughed, both knowing that he was just that. "This time, though, it's not for me."

Once again, he found Alicia and Gabrielle in the crowd. They were dancing with one another now. Their long limbs were wrapped around one another and their lips were inches apart. More than a few dancers had nearly come to a stand-still at the sight. Leo Garza made no pretense. He wasn't moving at all, a wide grin smeared beneath his mask.

Erin followed his gaze and smiled. "Ah, always thinking business first. I admire that, Alexander. Let the man sample the faces of his brand." She reached into her purse and removed a keycard, but snatched it away before he was able to reach for it.

"I have an even better thought," she said, her dark brown eyes bright through her mask. "Why not let the women put on a real show."

This time, it was Erin's gaze being followed. Right across the room to a tall, ebony-skinned male model. Daniel had worked with both Alicia and Gabrielle before, and had appeared in both Le Petite Mort and Nudity. What she said made perfect sense, but still, Alex didn't like it. That wasn't jealousy prickling his spine, was it?

"Sure, why not," he forced. "Your room should be christened with a foursome, anyway."

"I love it when you talk sense, darling," she smiled, kissing him lightly on the side of the lips before pushing through the crowd, toward Daniel. Alex looked back at Alicia, finding the three of them meandering to one of the bars as the song came to a close. She looked happy. He hated using her, but there was no other way.

***

Alicia threw back the shot of tequila, letting it singe the back of her throat as the night kept picking up more and more speed. She was so horny she could scream, and the Mexican liquor wasn't going to help matters at all.

Leo had made sure that she knew exactly how aroused he was as well, and based on what she felt, he was just as thick as his son. Then, of course, there was Gabrielle. Dirty dancing nose-to-nose with the hot French woman had her at her boiling point. The way their long, bare legs twined together. The way she could feel the brunette's sweet breathe on her lips.

But most of all, Alicia was almost ashamed to admit, what got her off was the crowd around her. Watching her. Wanting her. It was the high she got on a modeling shoot. It was the high of Alicia Stiles' life.

"Another!" the Italian man demanded, slamming his hand on the bar and ordered another round of tequila shots from the bartender.

"Why not get a fourth, mais oui," Gabrielle suggested, looking up the bar. 

Alicia's heart skipped when she saw the African model passing through the crowd. Daniel was always smiling, displaying those bright, white teeth that looked so sexy against his dark chocolate skin. She remembered his touch. How gentle he was on their shoot.

And yes, she remembered his cock. Now, in her current state, it was practically all she could think about.

"Four then, barkeep! For the best fucking models in the business."

While Leo was only a little taller than the two female models, Daniel towered over the three of them, his near naked body spectacular. His crisp, muscled torso gleamed like dark satin in the strobe lights of the ship's club, prompting Gabrielle into reaching out to touch his warm, hairless flesh.

"Hello there, Danniii," Gabrielle purred, rolling out the "e" at the end of his name as she traced the contours of his pecs. "It's been far too long."

The bald-headed man inclined his head politely, flashing his bright, white teeth as he smiled at Alicia. The man was always smiling. Always friendly.

"Have you met Leonardo Garza?" the blonde asked, finding a voice at the bar.

"I have not, no, but I know the name," he said in his thickly accented voice. It was as deep and resonating as she remembered. "Thank you very much, Mr. Garza, for all that you have done for me."

"No, no, my friend, it is you whom I must thank. You make these women so beau-tee-ful. Let me start by offering you a drink." Enthusiastically, he handed each of the models another shot of tequila, raising his own glass. "This round goes to the... how do you say it in your language, Gabrielle? To the ménage au trios of beauty before me."

Leo's mischievous eyes behind his mask drove home the innuendo. Alicia did her shot like a good girl, wondering what the evening had in store for her. The older man quickly answered some of that question. "So tell me, you three, have you fucked yet?"

Alicia nearly spit the remainder of her tequila, she was so shocked at the directness. Instead, she ended up coughing as the powerful liquor didn't hit her throat well.

Gabrielle laughed. "Not all three at once, no. Why, would you like to see that, \ cherie?"

"Very much so," Leo whispered, barely heard above the music of the band.

"I have spoken with Ms. Small," Daniel interrupted shyly. Always so apologetic. "She has anticipated this and..." he searched for the words in English. "...and she has given me the keys to her private quarters."

Gabrielle smiled at the three of them. This wasn't her coy-half smile. This was one of all-out lust. Taking Daniel and Alicia's hands in hers, she said, "Follow me, my friends, it's time for us to show Mr. Leo our gratitude."

***

Emily Lester was crawling up the walls with boredom. Watching the red, LED progress bar slowly crawl across the control box she'd hotwired into the Solstice's security system was worse than watching a kettle come to a boil. Was the fucking thing even moving?

The bank of monitors didn't provide her with much entertainment, either. Just a bunch of boring rich kids chatting about nothing. The rooms that would be more entertaining – the private ones with beds and locks – were going unused, for the most part.

There had been an interesting show between Trey and some hot Asian girl, although that hadn't lasted long enough to really satisfy Emily. All it did was leave her horny and even more bored.

"I wish we could have gotten together, Trey, my friend," she said longingly, kicking her booted heels onto the control panel in front of her. She always thought the redheaded analyst was hot in a cute way. Now, watching him fuck the model in full force, she realized how much fun they could have had.

Emily kept tabs on Alexander Mishin as he wandered into the club, although he wasn't doing anything suspicious other than flirting with anything with tits and legs. It grated on her that he was still alive. If she had her way, he wouldn't be by the end of the night. The man had spared her life; that was going to cost him.

When she'd woken up in the pitch-black cell two days ago, she thought for a moment that she was dead. Her head still hurt from whatever that Russian-bitch had struck her with; at the time, it was all she could think about. Despite the pain, though, she was pretty sure she hadn't given Mishin much. He'd somehow already figured out that it was Vincent who'd sent her, and they had some idea that they were after Erin's list. She continued the charade that it was a list of spy names, though in the darkness, she wasn't sure what they knew or if they bought it.

And then they left her alone. Every once in a while, she heard a tray scrap along the floor and smelled a meal. She refused the first few, wondering if it was poisoned, but after a day, she succumbed to her hunger.

And then, she was freed. It was one of C.L.O.A.K., sent by Vincent. He brought her to a safe house, wanting to keep her freedom a secret, and Vincent came himself and briefed her on what was happening.

By the end of the day, she'd been smuggled onto the Solstice with a control box specially crafted by the techs back at base and the master plan was nearly realized.

Checking the progress bar again, it was nearly there. So close. Five minutes more, maybe, and they'd doing their victory lap. Vincent had promised her a more prominent position at C.L.O.A.K. and she was looking forward to reaping the benefits of all this maneuvering.

"Almost there," she radioed her boss, finding him on the monitors. He hadn't gravitated out of the main ballroom, although he'd kept himself in the upper reaches, near the exits. "Maybe five minutes – shit!"

As Emily's eyes hopped across the monitors, she caught movement on the one positioned inside Erin Small's bedroom. Someone was entering!

"What?" Vincent demanded, his voice agitated.

Two women entered, hand-in-hand: one with dark hair in a playful, French braid and the other with long, blonde locks that hung in loose ringlets around her tanned and lithesome body. Despite the masks, their identities were obvious. On their heels were a pair of men, as different as night and day. One, a black man with a body of a Grecian statue, was obviously Daniel, the male model. The other was Leo Garza, who'd been hanging off the other models all night long.

The door shut behind them.

"Abort," Emily hissed, stalling Vincent before he was able to leave. "The room's not clear."

"Not clear?" Vincent repeated stupidly.

Glancing at the monitor, Emily watched the female models cross the room, heading for the king-size bed that sat against the port-side windows. Emily considered herself a fit person, but these women were perfect. It wasn't fair. The blonde, Trey's wife, had an ass designed for thongs, somehow making the normally trashy bikini style as elegant as a ball gown.

"No, it's occupied. Understand?"

"Fucking hell." Emily watched him slam his fist on the railing and shut his eyes. He was thinking and she knew not to interrupt him when he was like this.

Back on the other monitor, Emily's heart skipped a beat as the two models wrapped their arms around one another and pulled their scantily clad forms into a warm, sex-laden embrace. In the soft yellow light, their bodies formed silhouettes. Emily watched as their lips drew against one another, parting to allow their tongues to play.

"Patch me through to Milton. He's on standby, right?"

Milton, their support, was indeed on standby, one of the only people left at the C.L.O.A.K. offices at this time of night, but she was hesitant for a direct link between the two. It was risky if anyone was listening. It was also a show of how agitated Vincent was that the man used Milton's real name. "Now," he said sternly.

"Yes, sir."

Flipping a few switches in the control briefcase she'd brought, she spoke, "Support, this is Controller. I'm patching you through to Field."

"Go ahead, Field," Milton's nasally voice replied.

"I need you to work on a hack on the Small Server. Can we download it directly off her drive?"

There was a long pause, filled only by the vague sound of typing on Milton's end. "Well, kind of. I'll need Controller to patch a few things in from there, and she should be able to download it into the control room. But..."

"What?" Vincent asked impatiently.

"It's going to take some time."

"How much time?"

"Three or four hours?" Milton's voice was hesitant. Like Emily, he recognized Vincent's mood.

"Three or four hours?! Why so long?"

"Well, it's going to take an hour for me to write the software. And then at least two to transfer it all off, depending on how much there is."

"Christ. Can't you just get it all off the ship? Why does it need to go to Emily?"

Fuck, stop using my name, she thought.

"Well, we could, sir, but then we're looking at closer to ten hours."

Emily watched Vincent pace on the monitor. "Fine, do it. To the control room. As quickly as you can. Emily, tell me when you've patched your system."

"Yes, Vincent," she said, vindictively using his name. Christ, maybe four more hours in this cramped room? Glancing at the monitor showing the models making out, she thought, At least I've got entertainment.

***

Leonardo Garza set his mask aside, letting his face breath at last. He appreciated the feeling of anonymity it fostered in this gathering, but he was never one to care about propriety. 

The swimsuit dress code was another of the things he loved and hated about this event. It was nice on the women, but it made it impossible for him to carry a damn thing! He'd had his assistant make sure to get him a loose pair of swim trunks with pockets, so he could at least carry around his wallet. But he truly missed his cigars, and now would have been the perfect time for one.

Reaching into the pocket opposite his wallet, he withdrew a silver cigarette case. Flipping it open, on one side it contained a Zippo lighter, the other eight meticulously rolled joints. This'll have to do, he thought, popping one into his mouth and lighting it up.

On the other side of the room, the two supermodels crawled onto the bed, on their knees, and embraced again. Gabrielle's hands first undid Alicia's mask, then her own, before circling behind Alicia's neck. The blonde ran her palms down the other woman's back, pushing them into the skimpy bikini bottoms. Her fingers found the bows on the brunette's narrow hips.

Gabrielle kissed harder, rising up on her haunches as she felt her female lover loosen the ties of her swimsuit. The women broke their wet kiss, staring into one another's eyes with palpable lust. For a moment, it was like they were all alone. No watchers. No gawking revelers. Just the two of them.

Then Gabrielle Dubois broke the spell. She glanced over at Leo on his lounger, and then at Daniel waiting at the foot of the bed. She gave the two her signature smile. It said, "Watch this."

Alicia shivered. Gabrielle reclined on the round mattress and tossed the bikini bottoms to the polished floor. At his angle, Leo watched with barely contained desire as the French supermodel spread her legs before the blonde. Alicia licked her lips. They parted in a silent gasp as Gabrielle ran her fingernails over the postage-stamp sized tab of black hair she kept. She spread her smooth lips with her index and middle finger, right out of the pages of a raunchy lad's mag.

"Come and get it," she mouthed to the blonde.

Alicia sucked her lower lip between her teeth as she made of show of thinking it over. Reaching behind her, she untied her top, but held it in place over her firm tits. Her eyes never left Gabrielle's.

The French model gave a quick nod. Alicia let the bikini fall to the bed between them. Gabrielle's intake of breath was echoed Leo's. Such perfection of the flesh. Such raw beauty.

At last, the blonde crawled forward, dragging those flawless breasts along the satin sheets. Ass high, head low, she dipped right into Gabrielle's pussy and ran her tongue along the other woman's pink folds.

"Yes, my dears," Leo groaned, taking a hefty drag from his joint. His cock was tenting his black swimming trunks. Loosening the tie with his free hand, he pulled them off and released his thick manhood to his fingers.

Gabrielle Dubois spread her fingers through Alicia's thick blond hair, sinking back onto her elbows as her body contorted into a gasping S. It was pure beauty; like seeing the face of eroticism for the first time.

"NGH!" the French model cried out, bucking her hips up into the blonde's bobbing head. "Mon dieu!" she exclaimed. She came so hard that she partially dislodged her skimpy top, exposing a dark nipple.

Rolling up Gabrielle's spasming body, Alicia used her tits to caress the other woman. Her lips and face – slick with girl-juices – latched onto the hard nipple. Her fingers were still thrusting in and out of the brunette's cunt. "Please... please..." she pleaded, overloaded.

Alicia silenced her with an open-mouthed kiss. "Gah," the supermodel moaned as the blonde twisted her fingers in her sex.

When her orgasm had passed, Gabrielle removed Alicia's thong bottoms, leaving both models nude but for their black heels. Sliding their legs together in a scissor position, they reclined on their hands away from one another and began to rub sex on sex.

Leo felt his head become lighter than air. The high-grade marijuana hit him hard and he sank back into the chair, barely remembering to stroke himself. 

The fucking models crashed from one orgasm to the next. Alicia tossed her long, blonde hair; Gabrielle gnawed on her full, lower lip. Both women furrowed their brows, caught in an endless loop of release.

Stoned and uncomfortably aroused, he needed to complete the picture. "Daniel, why don't you join them. I want to see my models, all together."

Rising from his spot on the end of the bed, his sculpted black body seemed to glisten with oil, like he was stepping from the pages of Leo's perfume ads.

The man rounded the bed, his enormous cock was protruding from his black Speedos.

Alicia didn't see Daniel approach. Gabrielle did, but said nothing until the muscular man sat softly just behind the blonde. She gasped when he put his broad hands on her shoulders, glancing quickly over her shoulder. Alicia's wide, brown eyes softened at the black model's raw masculinity.

"Hi," he mouthed down at her. 

"Hello," she mouthed back.

Daniel leaned down and kissed her over her shoulder as the black-haired model slid away from Alicia so she could reposition herself between the blonde's legs. 

It was beautiful. Daniel's midnight brown skin and bald head next to Alicia's fresh, golden hair. Leo watched as her jaw went slack in the sexy man's kiss. Gabrielle's lips had found her bare sex. Daniel held her, cupping her soft mounds as she became the center of the show.

"Ngh!" Alicia cried out. She broke the kiss, overwhelmed by the sensations the brunette was producing. 

Daniel adjusted his position on the bed, more to Alicia's side than behind her. He faced Leo, nodding his head in thanks as the blonde twisted her body and pulled at his swimsuit. The rest of his elephant-sized cock sprung free, made even larger by the complete lack of pubic hair.

She reached out, took the thick, black rod in her white hand, and pulled it to her mouth. Her fingers couldn't close around the shaft, but her mouth could.

***

Three hours. Maybe four. Whatever Alex had done, it had given them a little room to breath. Not only that, but she now knew that it was Emily Lester, back from the dead, who was helping him out. They were getting help from Milton, although the techie probably had no clue he was doing anything but helping his director.

She relayed what she found over comms, this time getting a reply back from Trey.

"Dorothy, we need to get to that control room."

"There's my little dog!" she quipped, but she was right there with him. "I'm on it, although I'd like to wait a little longer. The rooms between here and there are empty right now. Sneaking through them, with all of Erin's cameras, will be tricky. In an hour or so, that shouldn't be a problem."

"Sit tight then," this time it was Alex. "I'll see if I can get those parties started up a little earlier."

"I bet you will, Tinman. Have fun."

"But not too much," Trey added. "We have a mission."

"So serious, Toto. Someone needs to take you for a walk!" Alex laughed; Trey didn't respond. "Dorothy, make sure you get to the Blue Lounge when things get started. Any means possible. Otherwise, you may find yourself cut off..."

"I'll do my best."

"Toto, aren't you going to tell her not to have too much fun?"

Again, the quip was met with silence.

***

Alicia pumped her head along Daniel's enormous cock, using the back of her throat to massage the soft, fleshy head. It was easily the largest thing she'd ever sucked and it took all her concentration not to gag. As good as Gabrielle's tongue felt on her pussy, it was too much.