Georgia– Aka Heaven Ch. 03
Being kissed awake is good anytime. Begin kissed awake by Kiefer the next morning was exquisite. I was not jolted awake. I was simply suddenly aware of the warm breath near the top of my head. Slowly, his lips brushed my hair, ear, neck, shoulder, forearm, and then, even more slowly, traced the now tingling path back up to my cheek. This lazy traveling up and down of those lips against my skin should have had me shaking uncontrollably, but I found myself calm instead. Why not be calm? Enjoy this? I’m either dreaming or, if it’s real, it’ll probably never happen again.
I don’t know how many seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks this heavenly assault continued, but my body’s response was to flush with heat and go limp. Kiefer’s body smelled of some maddening male musk–some divine, or diabolic, pheromone to drive me to distraction. My nostrils sucked up the precious scent. My eyes finally flickered open when the lips stopped at my cheek and pulled away. So close. So close. His face so near to mine. His breath was warm and smelled faintly of tobacco. Finally I thrilled to hear Kiefer’s growl in my ear. It was bliss.
“Good morning,” came the growl.
“Good morning, to you, ” came my near breathless response. My body found life again. I squirmed. His face was near enough to my eyes that I could almost count the individual facial hairs comprising the captivating stubble. The stubble had lent itself to the sensations that had accompanied the voyage of his lips up and down my body only moments before.
Kiefer’s upper body rested on his bent right forearm and he smiled down at me from this position, a half-mocking grin on his face. The hair was slightly mussed. The eyes sparkled with mischievousness. I marveled to see them so close to my own.
“God, I thought you’d neh-ver,” he emphasized the word, “wake up!” His left hand went to my hair on the pillow, twisting a bit of it around his fingers. “I thought I was gonna hafta dial 9-1-1,” he softly chuckled.
The husky whisper had my stomach in knots, my insides quaking. He could easily have been delivering the NASDAQ report and I’d have known no difference. One hand twisting my hair, the other extending from his bent elbow resting on my arm, I struggled to make clear to myself that I was really here. That he was really here.
The raspy voice continued in my ear.
“Sleep well,” came his query.
Ummmm, I thought to myself. Heaven.
“Very well,” I whispered. Pause. “Very, very well.”
“Ahh,” he whispered back. “Very well, eh?” He winked at me as he uttered the word “eh.”
“Uh huh.” I smiled up at the face lit with animation as I nodded my head up and down.
A tap at the door. My first thought was that somehow Shirley had divined Kiefer’s presence and was here to haul him out and back to the big house, so to speak. Busted. Damn. Every fiber of my body tensed in anticipation.
Kiefer must have suspected what I was thinking as he read my body. He began to chuckle again, shaking his head.
“No, no. It’s Del. He’s bringing coffee and something . . . dunno what.”
As he finished the explanation, Kiefer had already backed out of the bed, rounded the end of it, and crossed the room halfway. My eyes were glued to his buttocks, the smooth snow-white fabric hugging the form tightly. I leaned up on one elbow in order to get a better view. I envied that underwear.
I also missed that warm body. The air conditioning vent was pumping out cold air–its response to the humidity–a humidity high enough that I was frightened about what my hair might look like at this point. Any moisture in the air and the straight, polished look was gone within seconds. I sat up fully, reaching up and smoothing the palms of my hand over my hair in an attempt to tame it.
It suddenly occurred to me that indeed I had been sleeping well since I had no recollection of Kiefer calling anyone. I wondered how long he’d been awake as I watched him glide across the room. What had he been doing while awake? Watching me? Oh. Was that possible? Desirable?
As my eyes remained on him, Kiefer reached for the door’s bolt and slid it free, opened the door, and ushered Del in with a “good morning.” Del rolled in a cart laden with silver-domed dishes and Kiefer closed the door behind. He and Kiefer spoke softly for a moment, then I heard Kiefer clearly extend his thanks as he re-opened the door. I envied Del for hearing distinctly the words that Kiefer uttered to him. I was consumed with a jealousy over the voice. I wanted to swallow each and every captivatingly raspy word, chew them, digest them, assimilate them into my being. I wanted that voice near my ears again. Del briefly glanced my way before silently retreating from the room. Kiefer re-engaged the bolt on the door and turned, the cart before him.
Now emerged from the toasty bedcover from the waist up, the cold air was also enough to make my nipples stand up and salute. I would be less than honest, though, if I failed to admit that the cold air was only half the stimulus. The thin fabric of the t-shirt could not hide their condition. My gaze rested on Kiefer’s face. I watched as he grasped the handle and raised his head to push the cart to the bed.
The movement of the cart abruptly ceased. Kiefer blinked and looked at me for a full two or three seconds before a sly grin appeared on his face and he asked a question.
“You cold?” The eyebrow went up.
“Well, yeah. How did . . .?” I stuttered.
Then I realized the erect nipples had told the story clearly. Kiefer swiftly maneuvered around the cart and jumped into the bed, facing me this time, lying on the side of the bed I’d been on all night.
“Wanna come over here and get warm?” he rumbled. The eyelids lowered halfway.
I didn’t answer. I suddenly felt indescribably sweet. Well, that’s not right. I didn’t feel sweet–the moment felt sweet. Kiefer smiled at me, a lopsided smile, then his eyes widened and the brows went up again.
“You don’t wanna be warm?” he asked softly, teasingly.
I knew I had to, should, speak. But I still couldn’t find the words. I’d slept so well. I’d been awakened with sweet kisses. I didn’t feel like talking. My response, finally, was to smile back, as engagingly as I could, as I scooted the short distance across the bed. As I moved towards him, Kiefer’s arms managed to wrap around me, one under my neck and one over my waist. Each of us on our side, facing one another, I simply stared into his face, my hands finding the right places. My right hand went under his cheek that rested on the pillow, my left went to his chest and softly rubbed his skin.
Kiefer’s smile widened.
“Should I rub your chest as well? That seems to be where you’re the coldest.” The grin was evil now.
Kiefer’s personal smell radiated from his body–those pheromones again–calling me as the Sirens had tempted Odysseus. His scent filled me, making me lightheaded. But unlike Odysseus, I was unbound–my hands free to roam. I grabbed his chest hair and tugged in protest to his comment about my own chest.
“Ouch,” he exclaimed softly, reaching the hand that had been resting on my back around to rub the spot where I’d pulled the curly chest hair. “That huh-urt!”
His lips pouted in mock-pain. I couldn’t resist them. Resistance was futile. I inclined my head forward and up, making my lips reach his and softly brush against them. His response was to rub his nose against mine, making slow circles with the tip of his on the bridge of mine. His head came to rest with his forehead on mine. The contact between our foreheads struck a warmth deep within me.
When Kiefer’s head nestled again into the pillow, his right hand went to the side of my head. The fingers rested lengthwise above my ear from my hairline back. The thumb made slow circles on my temple as if to soothe me. I didn’t, however, know if I wanted to be soothed or the opposite. The fingers of my left hand languidly traced figure-eights on Kiefer’s back. We were silent, enjoying each other’s touch. Finally, Kiefer spoke as he pulled back and turned away, positioning himself on the edge of the bed.
“Let’s see what Del’s brought.” A pause before he continued. “Coffee?” Kiefer asked as he turned his head back to look at me.
Again, I elevated my upper body by resting on my elbow and forearm.
“Umm. Yes. Black, please.”
I watched as he poured coffee into two cups. Simply watching his fluid movements sent an unbidden electric current down my spine. He then swung his legs back up onto the bed and pulled the cart to the edge. Arranging pillow and body to lean against the padded headboard, he reached over to the cart, cradled one cup and saucer, and passed them to me carefully. I scrambled to a similar sitting position, careful not to move the bed unduly, and accepted the offering.
As I settled against the headboard, I stared straight ahead and slowly sipped the hot coffee. It was good and welcome. I could see Kiefer following suit via my peripheral vision. We silently sipped until the cups were emptied. I turned to lean over Kiefer and replace my cup and saucer on the tray. Moving to return to my position, Kiefer’s left hand caught me around the waist as his right moved to replace his cup and saucer.
Kiefer’s hand on my waist was more than a light touch. It was insistent–again the Sirens’ call. I moved and lifted my left leg, placing it down on his right side, in order to straddle Kiefer’s body as he pulled me to him. The heat spread feverishly from the places where our skin touched: my inner thighs on his outer, my hands now–palms down–on his chest and his hands on top of mine. I’d kept my weight on my knees, but now settled back on my behind, resting it somewhere around Kiefer’s knees. I wriggled my bottom into a comfortable position, not to be provocative, but simply because I felt comfortable in doing so.
We looked at one another in silence. Considering the circumstances, I was quite at ease. I felt none of the anxiety, none of the angst, one sometimes feels when about to be intimate with someone for the first time. That’s not to say there wasn’t excitement–oh, there was–but it’s safe to say that negative apprehension was nonexistent. Kiefer’s eyes smiled at me. He looked so fresh, so engaging. And still, his scent filled, crowded, my olfactory system, obliterating even the smell of food I knew was wafting from the nearby cart. Kiefer’s hands scooped up mine and brought them to his lips where he kissed the backs of them alternately, repeatedly, softly.
I leaned down nearer to his face, my hands pulled away from his and rested on his chest, my breathing more labored as I anticipated what might come next. I wanted to speak, but didn’t know whether it was the right thing to do. I determined perhaps it was best to let my lips, literally, speak for me. I allowed them to lightly brush his forehead, his ears, his cheeks, his eyelids, and, finally, the tip of his nose. I continued to hold my face near his, our heated breath mingling in the small space separating our lips.
Kiefer’s hands had come to rest on my waist as I’d kissed his face. They now moved lower, slowly, his hands cupping my buttocks, his fingers burrowing into the skin and pulling me more tightly to him. Surely the fabric of my panties had disintegrated, disappeared with his touch. I held my breath for what seemed moments, but was only a second or two. Then I pulled up, gauging the expression on Kiefer’s face. I did not wish to destroy the magical spell I felt filled the room and hovered over the bed. I took a deep breath and whispered clearly but softly.
“We said we’d know when the time was right.” I stopped, continued studying Kiefer’s face for signs of direction. I saw emotions, but could not read them. I continued. “Is it now? The time?”
I stopped breathing. I was both afraid to hear and not to hear the response.
Kiefer did not smile. He did not frown. He simply blinked his eyes and nodded a yes. I’m unsure how long we were silent, how long we were still. Finally, the charged air palpable, Kiefer spoke. His voice was husky with desire, his breath warm and inviting.
“It’s time,” he nodded again. “At least . . . time for me.” Kiefer’s head tilted slightly as he looked at me questioningly. “You?” His inflection and tone rendered the one word more important than would seem possible.
I shook my head affirmatively. I wanted to move ahead, but didn’t know whether to proceed slowly or to forge boldly forward. Perhaps I should just ask. Don’t want this first time to set the wrong mood, the wrong precedent.
“Slow?” I asked tentatively. Kiefer looked questioningly at me, so I continued. “I mean, should we take this slow?” I paused again, struggling, in my near-uncontained excitement, to make my meaning clear. “Take a shower, a bath?” I paused again, staring into Kiefer’s eyes.
What I saw there didn’t communicate patience for a shower. He visibly swallowed and then said in a soft voice, a voice that did not match the hardness beneath me.
“Uh uh. Not now. Don’t think I could last that long.” His eyes scorched my face as he slowly blinked. I could feel the heat as he, now, struggled to communicate. He continued. “Quick now.” Then he added, “Slow burn later.”
It’s difficult for me to explain what the words “slow burn” communicated to me–to my body, my brain. Or perhaps those words shot straight into my soul. Slow burn. Was that not what I was now feeling as he spoke those words? Could I burn anymore without igniting?
Without warning, Kiefer sat up and somehow I was lifted up, turned around, and placed onto my back. The move was seemingly instantaneous. I was there underneath him within the blinking of an eye. His right inner thigh rested over the top of mine. He exerted enough pressure to signal that he wanted me to know, to feel, his strength. But the pressure was not enough to hurt. His right hand clasped the left side of my neck, again, firmly, but not as to cause pain. What followed was a string of dizzying, hot kisses. Hard and insistent. Our hands flew from spot to spot. I found myself moving my touch from Kiefer’s head to as low on his thighs as my arms would allow. All parts in between were fair game.
Moments after the kissing began, Kiefer rolled fully onto me, his body clamping down on mine, hot and hard. He was more muscular than I’d imagined. It was amazing how ponderous his light body felt on mine. It’s not easy to put in plain words. It was not his weight that held me fast. It was his being. It pressed me down and into the bed’s plush mattress. My hands went instinctively to Kiefer’s buttocks and I began to knead them with deep intensity, a move immediately rewarded with his body thrusting into mine. This could have lasted forever–I wouldn’t have minded–but all movement unceremoniously ceased.
Kiefer sat up on his knees. His hands reached slowly to the bottom edge of my t-shirt. His eyes locked on mine, again with neither smile nor frown, and he stared deeply as he slowly, excruciatingly slowly, pulled the garment up. The edge finally rested just above my breasts. Kiefer’s eyes remained steadily fixed to my own. Quickly, his glance rested on my breasts. Then his eyes fastened onto mine again.
Before I knew what was happening, my palms still on Kiefer’s buttocks, his hot mouth found my left breast. His left hand found my right one. His hand, his mouth, were lightning strikes burning my body. I was even more breathless than before. I’d not anticipated the jolt I felt with his touch. The searing. My palms moved up Kiefer’s back to his neck and the back of his head. I held his mouth close to my breast, pressing his head more tightly to me in an attempt to get him to suckle me more intently. As if by telepathy, not only his mouth became more insistent but his fingers as well.
I discovered Kiefer’s hands slipping under my shoulder blades. He pulled me up, into a sitting position, and continued the upward pull of my t-shirt until it came up and over my head and then it disappeared. Good. Nothing, please, I thought. Nothing between us.
Kiefer’s eyes smoldered, never leaving my own as he pushed me back down onto the bed. Kiefer moved down, straddled my knees. His fingertips curled between the thin elastic at the top of my panties and my now overly-sensitive skin. As his fingers touched me, I imagined my skin rising to meet them, he so slowly, so maddeningly, lowered the fabric to near above my knees. His head bent, and his mouth, lips, scorched my skin as he planted kisses on my soft, pliant belly. Shifting his right leg back over my body and away, Kiefer’s fingertips continued to roll the tuft of fabric down my legs. Down, down, down. Down my shins, down over the ankles, down, up, and out over the feet. This swatch of fabric, too, landed who knows where. Near the t-shirt. Not. It made no difference.
The most striking thing about the removal of my underwear was that we never broke eye contact, and, still connected via this visual bond, Kiefer’s palms moved purposefully down my upper thighs, back up my outer thighs, and down again. I squirmed, shuddered almost, as Kiefer’s hand rested between my parted thighs and he slowly thrust two fingers deep inside me, our eyes still engaged. It was intensely personal. The eyes, it seems, are truly windows to the soul. Few men have ever maintained the amount of eye contact with me during sex as did Kiefer, and none had matched the sheer intensity of his gaze.
My mind was in no shape to focus, to form any plan. I was only acutely aware that I wanted to make him feel as he was now making me feel. I was working on instinct, and my instinct was to get his underwear down. To bury my head between his thighs. I suddenly wanted nothing more than to burrow my head there, perhaps clamped between those powerful thighs at which I now glanced. But Kiefer’s thumb had made its way upward and caressed my now-swollen and sensitive clit. I wanted to pull him on me, into me, and I wanted to taste him at the same time.
I grabbed Kiefer by the shoulders, too excited, too impatient to fully enjoy his hand between my thighs. His left hand had moved under my waist, raising me ever so slightly upward. His right knee moved inside my legs and he used it to push my left leg out, allowing him better access with his fingers and thumb. I could not hold back. I wanted to prolong the build up, prolong the frenzy, but the sensations created in me by his manipulation coupled with his frank and earnest stare had me over the edge before I knew it.
It was one of those orgasms that leaves its marks. Slowly, snail-like, my body rumbled, shuddered, shook as my inner muscles contracted, groping, searching, for what I knew was within reach. I was aware that tears had sprung to my eyes, but they were from the intensity of the moment, mine and Kiefer’s eyes still on one another as he witnessed my utter vulnerability to his touch. My insides ached to be filled, sated with his stroke. My arms, during the orgasm flailing all around, now settled once again on Kiefer’s shoulders. I pushed him over rather roughly in my haste to taste and feel him, not extending to him the same consideration and patience he’d shown me. I was too anxious. Too eager. I grasped the waistband of the underwear and pulled the white cotton fabric over and down the hard-on nestled within. I remain unaware of how the briefs were fully removed. Later in the morning, I found them on the floor near the foot of the bed.
I pushed Kiefer’s legs apart, knees bent, not relinquishing my hold on his thighs. My head went between his legs, moving slowly side-to-side as I felt the warmth of his body, the hardness, smelled the smell. Then I lifted my head, my face only inches from the thoroughly masculine appendage I knew I would soon feel deep inside, and my eyes clamped once again on the clear blue-green ones peering down at mine. I curbed my desire to feel him in my mouth and began to softly lick Kiefer’s inner thighs, switching from left to right. I was rewarded with both verbal and kinesthetic response. Kiefer’s moans made my own body shiver, and his body ever so slightly pushed upward with each lap of my heated tongue.
The garment fell to the floor, and I tilted my body backwards, shifting my eyes down at the same time. Even in the harsh lighting of the dressing room, Virginie’s breasts looked perfect, spread an even distance apart, the erect nipples jutting out proudly.
I went to move my hands to feel them, wanting at the first opportunity to experience the contours of her body. Even at this early stage of foreplay, my excitement, and the lump in my trousers was steadily growing.
Suddenly Virginie dropped to her knees, denying me what I wanted. I let out a small growl to show my disappointment.
“You don’t want me to do this?” she asked.
Without waiting for a reply she ripped my boxers down, exposing my cock, now fully hard in anticipation. Without a word she grabbed it with her hand, stroking her fingers up and down my shaft, while using her free hand to cup my balls. Her long nails tickled my skin, almost overloading my senses. I could barely wait for what she was going to do.
Very slowly and deliberately she moved her head towards my dick, she blew her breath out through her mouth, the warm air felt great on my balls.
I finally regained physical control over my body, and immediately took my hands to her hair, running my palms through it. The long black locks felt great against my fingers, and whenever Virginie gave me a little extra pleasure I gave a small tug on it.
Virginie finally took me into her mouth, gently easing my cock inside her as she ran her tongue along the side. It was so gentle, but amazingly arousing. She seemed to be quite experienced in this art, and it somehow aroused me even more to think of this elegant actress as a slutty cocksucker.
I stood silently as she sucked me off, concentrating totally on the sensations she gave me. Virginie was always varying her actions, so I was never allowed to settle. She almost took my entire length inside her, then withdrew again. Sometimes her pace was fast, others it seemed like she had almost stopped.
Virginie took great delight in biting at my cock with her teeth, and finally pushed her pace to an extreme, forcing me nearer to an orgasm. I looked down, her tits were swaying gently with her body as she was shifting, trying to get a better angle on my cock.
I had used every fibre of my mental strength to hold out and delay my orgasm, but it was now coming whether I liked it or not. I tried to pull back from Virginie, who drew her hands around my legs, and clamped down on my shaft gently, preventing me from withdrawing.
I let out an involuntary shudder of excitement. No woman had ever let me cum in her mouth before, now I had a sexy celebrity on her knees practically begging me to do so.
Virginie took me back slightly so that only my tip was inside her mouth, and then gently ran her tongue over it.
Before I knew it I was cumming, firing out into her waiting lips. Her swallowing action felt amazing with the cum being sucked out of me, it was one of the most intense orgasms of my life.
In seconds it was over, my softening cock and heavy breathing the only evidence of my pleasure. Without realising it I had closed my eyes, I reopened them and focused downwards.
Virginie looked up at me, a slight rope of my cum running down her chin. She used the back of her hand to wipe it, and then gave me a wide smile. I just stood, with a dizzy grin on my face, not quite believing the last few minutes weren’t a dream. The whole experience suddenly got too much for me, and I tried to sit down.
Therein was my basic problem. I tried to sit down with my trousers bunched round my ankles, and no chair in sight. With a hard thump I sat on the floor, fortunately carpeted so I didn’t hurt myself too much.
Virginie burst out laughing, compounding my misery. I was well aware I had just made a total fool of myself without having it rubbed it. I hung my head sheepishly and tried to play for the sympathy vote.
“Guess I killed the mood, huh?” trying to mask embarrassment with humour.
“Oui,” was all she managed before dissolving into another fit of giggles.
She finally stopped, looking at me apologetically.
“I’m sorry.” Her face made it plain that she wasn’t in the slightest.
I shrugged. Her mock sorrow made me feel no better. Her next words though, did.
“Want to go again?” she asked.
I tried to crawl across the floor towards her, but she placed her hands on my shoulders, stopping me from rising to meet her.
“No, not here. Tonight maybe. You have a hotel?”
I frantically searched my mind for the details.
“Yes. Hotel de Paris, Suite 34.” I said.
Virginie raised her eyebrows, apparently impressed with my choice of accommodation.
“8 o’clock?” she asked. As if I was going to say no!
I settled for a nod, and with that she pulled on her sweater, stuffing her bra into a handbag that I had failed to notice previously. Within a few strides she was at the door and opening it. Turning, she blew me a kiss before departing.
I lay back full length on the floor, well aware that anyone entering would wonder what I was doing fully exposed.
Not wanting such an idea to come to fruition I stood up, pulled up my trousers and then swiftly put my shirt on.
Finally making myself presentable again I gathered my belongings and left, my mind spinning at what had just transpired.
I’d never really thought of politics being a sure fire chick puller, but it seems I was wrong. The thoughts of Government cleared my mind instantly, reminding me that I was still investigating this corruption. All that could wait until the morning though. I walked back to the hotel, scarcely containing my excitement at the thought of what the evening might bring.
* * * * *
After spending the rest of the afternoon and part of the early evening walking in the main part of Paris, I headed back to the hotel.
I walked along the main corridor, cursing the fact that I had returned just as the cleaning staff had started on my hallway. I almost went flying over a cable, and gave the man using the appliance a shake of the head. There was something odd about him though, like he just looked out of place. I dismissed the notion, and fumbled for my wallet.
The swipe card opened the door first try, and I stepped into my hotel room, enjoying the warmth. Paris in March is cold, and walking all the way from the Universite had made me exposed to it. I began to remove my jacket, when I was shocked by a voice.
“I was wondering when you’d get here,” a familiar tone said.
For just a fraction of a second I couldn’t place it, then it came to me. I turned, a greeting smile on my face.
“Paul. What the hell are you doing here?” I held my hand out, which he grasped and shook.
Paul Deighton is a member of MI6, assigned directly to the Government. Threat detection was his specialty, and he had been working inside the Culture department as an intelligence source for a while now. Probably due to the fact that we were the same age and had a lot in common, we had become quite good allies, if not really friends.
“I figured you could use my help,” Paul said.
I began to get some beers from the minibar. “Oh, how’s that?” I questioned.
I offered a 1664 to him, which he rose to accept.
As I handed Paul his beer, he settled back in his chair, preparing for a story.
“At 8:30 Friday morning, MI6 screened a call to your mobile. MI6, or to be more precise, me. I heard the guy who threatened you, he sounded as if he meant business. I may have some information for you, but first, I need to know what you are investigating.”
I paused, before starting to tell my story. I trusted Paul implicitly, his security clearance went almost to the top, and he was in line for a top job at The Firm within 10 years.
“You remember the London Olympic bid last month?” He nodded. “That bid divided most of the cabinet, and it ended up a 50 / 50 split on the vote. Among those who didn’t want the bid to proceed were the Prime Minister, and my boss, the Culture Secretary.”
I walked to the window, and observed the Eiffel Tower, preparing my next words.
“The others who voted against the bid were easily swayable though. So, an independent study was commissioned by my Office, which subsequently found that such a bid, if successful would most likely create a positive effect for London during the next 15 years.”
I paused to take a hit of my beer, then continued.
“The report they produced was delivered to me, and I prepared to present it to the Cabinet. The data in the report was sure to mean a yes vote to any bid, as it could sway the undecided ministers. Before I gave that speech, the report was taken and destroyed. My investigation is to find out by whom”
“Couldn’t you just get another copy of the report?” Paul asked.
“No. Since it was classified Top Secret at that point, only the PM could request another one. I could hardly go to him and say I lost it, could I? Anyway, I had no idea who produced it. As I said, it was an independent report. To ensure that we can’t influence the researchers, we aren’t told who they are.”
“So who destroyed the report?” Paul continued his questions.
I subtly glanced at my watch. I really didn’t want Virginie arriving with Paul here. I wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of this evening’s fun.
“My boss, I presume. You see, to be elevated to the very top level in this Government, you have to get on with the PM. One of the Cronies, if you like. Anyway, the Chancellor and the PM decided against the Olympic Bid since they didn’t want to allocate the funding. By siding with them, my boss probably hoped to get a spot in the Home or Foreign Office in the next reshuffle. I know it’s a little thin as far as conspiracy theories go, but it’s all I can think of.”
Paul sat there nodding.
“You’ve got it all worked out. And, to a point you’re right.”
My jaw was almost on the carpet in disbelief, so Paul continued.
“MI6 monitor most Government communications. Last Monday I heard two phone calls, each less than 20 seconds. The first one instructed that report be destroyed. We know the number dialled, it was your bosses’. So, she did destroy the report. The second call was the reciprocator, confirming the destruction. The problem is, we don’t know who made the first call. No one answers when the number is rung.”
“Can’t you trace the SIM Card?” I had a feeling I was asking a patronizing question.
Paul’s withering look confirmed it.
“What do you take me for? Anyhow, the phone is simply registered to Government issue, a Pay and Go mobile. The interesting bit is though, is that mobile was the one from which the call that threatened you was made. Hence I found you as fast as I could.”
Paul looked at his watch.
“Look, I have to go. I need to be in Geneva by 9 tonight. Damn body guarding business.”
He held up a document wallet.
“This folder has all the information in it, including the number of that mobile, and transcripts of all the phone calls.”
Paul handed the folder to me and made his way to the door. As he opened it he turned and looked at me.
“Oh, one other thing,” he said. “What was it like to fuck Avril Lavinge?”
I laughed. “The only way I’ll reveal that is with a gun pointing at my head!”
Paul opened his coat slightly, showing me the Glock 9mm that all MI6 field officers carry. “Don’t tempt me Carter.” he said. “Later”
I gave a half hearted wave and watched as he slammed the door behind him. Placing my empty beer bottle on the table I collapsed on the bed. Raising my hands, I massaged my temples and then ran then through my short hair. I could feel a headache coming, and that wasn’t the best frame of mind to be meeting Virginie in. This situation was getting worse by the day, and I remembered the warning the Deputy Prime Minister had given me.
“I mean, if she is guilty, fine. But if not, well, you probably loose your job.” I could hear his deep, rumbling voice inside my head.
I thought of the threat I’d received Friday morning, and briefly wondered whether to take heed and drop my investigation. I immediately dispatched that idea ; even if I wanted to, the Deputy Minister knew about it, and would hopefully carry on regardless.
That was part of the reason why I’d approached him in the first place when I had suspected foul play. He was committed to seeing a clean Government, one which had truly done its part for Britain. He was one of the old school, and I knew he wouldn’t betray my trust.
I pushed the thoughts from my mind, letting the anticipation of tonight wash through me. I jumped up and headed for the shower, hiding the folder in my briefcase first.
* * * * *
I used the dimmer switch to darken the room. I had always found a dull light in a room very sexy, darkness even more so. It allows you to concentrate solely on the touch and contours of a body, rather than just visual sighting.
The knock on the door came precisely at 20:06. She was fashionably late. I took a deep breath and opened it, allowing Virginie to enter. She stepped into the centre of the room, and I surveyed her as I closed the door. Her simple short skirt and sweater served only to accentuate her beauty and elegance. Her poise exuded a confidence that wouldn’t easily be broken. I debated how to greet her, eventually settling for a quick kiss on the lips.
“Are you comfortable standing? Maybe you would prefer the floor?” Ginie’s smile made the reference obvious. It was the first time I had seen her sense of humour, and I didn’t really like it, not pointing at me.
Something inside me snapped. It was only a small tease, on a totally minor topic, but it broke me. The pressure that was inside me had boiled to the surface, and Virginie was about to receive the channelled anger.
I thought of her innocent line. Not wanting to be reminded of the latter parts of the afternoon’s events, I strode towards her quickly, immediately trapping her with a forceful kiss on the lips. This was going to be hard and fast; the time for dancing around each other was over.
Virginie eagerly responded to my kiss, obligingly lifting her arms so I could pull her sweater up and over her head. This time I wasn’t to be denying caressing her tits. Again I wrapped my arms around her and unclipped her bra, before moving my hands to her breasts, squeezing them roughly. Virginie’s moans were signal enough to me that she was enjoying the coarse treatment of her body, so I began to let my hands roam over her, returning to kiss her forcefully at the same time.
Ginie just stood with me, giving in to my frantic desires. I couldn’t even think about moving to the bed, I just pulling downwards, sending both of us to the floor. We never broke our kiss for an instant as she landed on top of me. We were now writhing about on the fur rug on the floor in the centre of the room.
I felt Virginie furiously pull at my trousers, it was obvious she was in the same mood that I was. I bucked my hips into the air, forming an upside down u shape with my body supporting her light weight on top of me.
She wrenched my slacks off, sending my shoes flying to opposite corners of the room with the force of her tug. She looked truly amazing, black hair splaying everywhere as she roamed her face over my chest, kissing and biting the exposed flesh she found there.
As she moved over me I removed her trousers as well, displaying for the first time her panties, which matched the dulcet cream of the bra she had just discarded. They were tight to her body, fitting her hips perfectly. I took a few seconds to enjoy Virginie’s touch, so soft, yet so erotic. I idly ran my fingers along the outline of her underwear, before grasping her ass lightly, trying to visualise its perfect curves that were obscured from my sight.
I forced her panties down her smooth legs, I was desperate to get inside her. The intense passion was an intangible presence in the room. We were now both naked, and for two strangers we seemed to be perfectly in harmony with each other as Virginie shifted over my body on the floor.
For the first time Virginie ran her hands over my rock hard erection, and I shifted at the touch. Not because it was unwelcome, but the anticipation was killing me. I couldn’t wait any longer.
Virginie didn’t resist as I guided her in a tandem roll with me. I was now on top of her, and I placed my hands either side of her to support my weight. She had her eyes closed, and was waiting for me, I could sense it. I felt her part her legs beneath me, and the expectation had reached its peak.
I slid into her, enjoying every sensation. Her pussy wasn’t tight, but it felt wonderfully warm around me and I pushed myself in further, finally having all of my dick inside her.
I began to set a fast pace, running myself in and out as fast as I could. Virginie raised her hips as I pulled out each time, and then slammed them back down again as I forced into her, her ass being jolted by hitting the floor each time. Several times she hit the floor so hard the compression was passed through into my cock, serving only to stimulate me further.
Virginie just lay back and took everything I gave to her. Her arms were spread out on the carpet, and her body writhed beneath me, urging me to force herself inside her even further.
If anything, her lack of participation infuriated me, and I thrust into her as hard and fast as I could, and for what seemed like forever I was oblivious to her, totally focused on my needs.
I came back with a snap as I realised Virginie was on the verge of cumming. A thin layer of sweat was on her face, no doubt identical to me. Her breasts were heaving, and immeaditaly I moved my hands to them, squeezing them roughly, inadvertently pushing her on even more. Her tits felt amazing. So firm, yet so supple. I pushed them together as hard as I could, and she gave a small scream, loving the rough treatment. Instantly a word ran through my mind.
“Bitch.” I shouted.
She had no right to orgasm, my pleasure came first this time. Either she didn’t hear me in her mental state, or just ignored me, but her moaning intensified, and her movements became frenetic. Her moans gradually turned into short, breathless screams. This wasn’t the act of love, just hard, rough sex. And she loved it.
I ignored her, and concentrated on myself, pushing my dick into her harder and faster than before. My cum began to build, and I tried to delay the moment, making that most intense moment of pleasure last as long as it could.
It was over in an instant. I blasted my cum deep inside her cunt, forcefully lining with everything I had. The feeling of being totally filled pushed Virginie over the edge, and I was dimly aware of her orgasm as I came down from my own high.
Her head was thrown backwards as far as she could, trying to angle me deeper into her. I was still fairly hard, despite cumming. I leaned down to lick over her right breast, tasting the sweat on it, enjoying the limit I had taken her too.
She gave one final scream, and then her body exploded into a rapture, furiously burrowing around beneath me, trying to force herself onto my dick one last time. Finally she fell still, and I looked to see her black hair plastered over her forehead, and flowing everywhere around her, the dark colour in contrast to the red of the carpet.
* * * * *
My senses gradually returned, and I lay on the rug with Virginie. I stared straight up at the ceiling, hearing my deep breathing provided an echo to hers. I knew she was next to me, but I just wanted to take a moment before speaking. My anger was over, the sexual games had dispersed it.
“That was good. Very good.” In its overly pleasured state my brain seemed devoid of superlatives.
The next sentence though, gave me all the wake up calls I needed.
“A pity it was only a one off.” She said, as casually as if she was describing the weather.
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