Part 1
Advisory-- This story for adults only, and is not intended for anyone who is not a legal adult in their community.
Pam lifted herself out of the swimming pool, seemingly oblivious to the attention she attracted from the male bathers gathered at the luxury hotel's patio. Her dark hair and deep tan gave her an exciting, exotic, gypsy-like character quite in contrast to her actual background of wealth and prililege. And she possessed a voluptuous, athletic body that transcended all class barriers-- young or old, rich or poor, anyone of the masculine persuasion would find themselves enthralled.
That included me, of course, and as Pam approached I got up from the sunning bench and met her halfway. Taking her into my arms, I leaned into her and gave her what would appear to be a very passionate and very public kiss. She leaned back in my arms and smiled up at me.
'Let's go get ready for dinner, sweetheart,' I groaned at her, pointedly ignoring the dozens of envious eyes that were upon us. 'Anything you say, dear,' she breathed. She was overplaying it a bit, but the male onlookers would be quite incapable at the moment of making such critical distinctions. And female witnesses would be too busy shooting tiny little knives out of their eyeballs to notice the cadence of Pams' performance.
We turned and headed back to the hotel, arm in arm like the perfect honeymoon couple. And we kept up appearances until we were past the threshhold of the hotel room door.
Inside our honeymoon suite, however, the emotional climate would make a meat locker seem balmy!
Pam turned on me, and I got a fusillade of the aforementioned tiny knives from her blazing baby blues. She didn't speak, she was too disciplined for that, too cautious to say anything that might be overheard. Instead, she grabbed the pad of hotel stationary and began writing. When she was done she thrust it at me, and gave me a devastating look that almost made me fumble the pad when I took it.
'How dare you FRENCH me!!' It said. 'How DARE you take ADVANTAGE of this situation! Do you think for one MINUTE that I LIKE being handled by you? Are you forgetting that I'm going to REPORT YOU to COLONEL HENDRICKS if you get out of line?!?'
Now, truth to tell, I would have loved to take advantage of the situation if I had the nerve to. I'd have loved to find out just how soft every inch of that tanned body of hers was, and how that softness segued into the tight, catlike little muscles. I'd have loved to play cartographer with her anatomy, measuring how many kisses it took to travel from the tip of her nose to the nape of her neck (taking the scenic route, of course!) But it was not to be, and I accepted that with a characteristically noble attitude of self-sacrifice.
What I wrote in reply to her was-- 'This is not a game, it's serious business. We have to be convincing as a honeymoon couple, and that means public displays of affection. I am only acting, and I can assure you there is no personal feeling behind it. Everything I'm doing, I'm doing for the sake of the mission.'
She glanced at the script and threw it on the table with a 'harumph!' Then she stalked off into the bathroom to keep her own counsel.
This is to be expected, I thought. She doesn't have any experience in undercover work; she's in way over her head. If Colonel Hendricks hadn't taken pity on the grieving daughter of his recently-assasinated colleague, she would never have been permitted to get mixed up in this business.
Too bad I didn't merit as much of Hendrick's consideration! What had I done to get saddled with a revenge-driven amateur who couldn't stand the sight of me?
Well, it was supposed to be a low-risk venture, anyway. Posing as honeymooners, we planned to 'run into' two of Pam's acquaintances, the Wallaces, and thus, maybe, provide me with an incrementally closer vantage point to a circle of crypto-monarchists who might be funneling support to a secret organization. That secret organization was suspected in the death of Pam's father.
When I lose track of how many mights and maybes there are in a mission, I breath a little easier-- it means I only have a 60-40 chance of being shot at. But this time it was impossible to relax-- partnering with Pam was like walking across a minefield with a beaker of nitro-glycerine balanced on my nose!
...
It was a hot night, and the Banana Bunch Nightclub's crowd was wearing as little as possible. The club's waitresses and floorshow entertainment wore even less! The sensuous bodies all around me and the nightclub's phallic-themed decore had my erotic imagination working overtime!
Good food, cool drinks and a beautiful woman sitting next to me-- I should have been having the time of my life! But I was too much the sensitive sort to get any pleasure out of keeping company with a young lady who hated my guts! Sure, we both smiled at each other sweetly-- but I avoided making eye contact, I just kept staring at the center of her pretty little nose. It was a Herculean effort for me to keep the conversation going, dragging out one stale gambit after another. Ten minutes with Pam was like an hour stranded on a broken-down subway! When I reflected that we'd have to keep up this act for another two days before the Wallaces arrived, I cursed Hendricks for the fool he was!
Just when we'd finished our fifth inquisition on the changeable nature of the weather, an older couple approached our table. 'Excuse me,' said the man, a short, portly gentleman in his 50's. 'I've promised my wife that we would see the floorshow, but the club has become so crowded... would you be willing to share your table?'
'Of course,' I said, turning to Pam and asking, 'you don't mind, do you honey?' Pam smiled pleasantly at the newcomers. 'You're welcome to enjoy the show with us,' she said.
We made our introductions. I gave them my alias, Ward Green, and introduced Pam as my wife, Pam Green. The gentleman was Thor Dansk and the woman, a slender redhead in her late thirties, introduced herself as Monique.
Their witty repartee was like a reprieve from a prison sentence. Monique hadn't a tenth of the beauty Pam possessed, but her flirtatious glances alighting on me were like a cool breeze in the desert. Thor's risque commentary on the cabaret dancers had me chuckling.
Presently, Monique said, 'My Gawd this heat!' , and invited Pam to accompany her to the powder room. Pam got up and followed her out.
A quarter of an hour later, Thor was enjoying the floor show, saying, 'Ha! Ha! She's going to slap him in the face with those big ones if she's not careful!'
'I wonder where Monique and Pam are,' I ventured.
Thor frowned. 'I suppose we should go see if someone's been sick,' he said. 'A shame to give up this table, though!' He gave the buxom dancer one last longing look, and we got up.
'A well-tanned American woman,' Thor explained to the maitre d'hotel. 'She was with a redheaded woman.'
'The women you described left for the parking lot ten minutes ago,' said the headwaiter. 'Perhaps to get some air?'
Thor shrugged his shoulders to me, and we proceeded out into the parking lot.
'Monique! Monique!' called Thor as we walked out into the night air.
With his bellowing, I didn't hear the footsteps that quickly caught up with us from behind. Two men, one who settled in beside me, the other behind, poking the barrel of a gun into my back.
'Just keep walking, Mr. Samuel!' said Thor, as we proceeded towards a waiting van.
...
As I lay on the floor in the back of the traveling van, handcuffed and with a gun still pointed at me, my mind raced.
'Mr. Samuel' was the alias I'd used on a previous mission. Thor apparently thought that's who I really was. If so, it followed that he didn't know I was an agent.. and thought that I was the professional thief I pretended to be when I was Samuel.
The whole picture became clearer when I stopped staring at the gun pointed at me and took a good look at the thug who was holding it.
'Ya recognize me, Samuel?' he said with an evil grin.
'I almost didn't, Gristle, with you wearing that tux. You should dress up more often-- you look good!'
'Heh, heh, heh, I'd forgotten what a wise-ass you can be!' He smiled meaningfully. 'Lucky for me we crossed paths again...'
'Yeah,' I said. 'Small world, isn't it?'
...
When my body hit the chair I almost knocked it over.
'Careful, Mr. Grisaille!' said Thor. 'If Mr. Samuel were to receive a sprained shoulder, he would no longer be of much use to us!' Gristle snorted. He didn't like being kept on a short leash.
'I can be more useful to you if you'd take off these handcuffs,' I suggested. My wrists were still manacled behind my back.
Gristle stepped over and I saw his open hand swing towards me. Then it felt like my face collided with the business end of a steel girder.
Through a field of spiralling stars I saw Thor settled down into his easy chair across from me. 'That is how my friend Grisaille shows affection, Mr. Samuel,' he said. 'I caution you not to persuade him to like you too much...'
He lit a pipe and puffed on it, studying me expertly. 'The handcuffs will come off presently, but I prefer that you wear them, as a formality, while we get down to business. As you may have surmised, Mr. Samuel, I acquired you because of various skills you possess. When you and Mr. Grisaille first made your acquaintances, you worked together on a job where he was the 'muscle' and you were the 'mastermind.' A very successful job, as I understand it...'
'Are you kidding?' I said. 'That job blew sky-high!'
'Only because you pulled a double-cross!' growled my former partner in crime.
'Let's be frank, Mr. Samuel,' said Thor. 'The jewels in question went missing from their former illicit owner, and recently turned up in the Guademalan National Museum. And you turn up in a luxury resort with a pretty debutant on your arm.'
'Yeah,' said Gristle. 'And three men dead, and me on the lam with bullets in my gut!'
'Unfortunate,' said Thor, 'but irrelevant.'
Gristle bit down on whatever he was going to say next.
Thor continued, 'We had our own 'mastermind' for the operation we're planning. A fellow by the name of Mazli. Unfortunately our collaboration with this Mazli fellow unraveled a few days ago; the man was excessively greedy. Lucky for us that Grisaille recognized you and told us about you. You appear to have the qualifications, and I trust we won't have a problem with your greediness. After all, we have your beautiful wife.'
'What have you done with Pam?!?' I snarled, struggling in my handcuffs.
'We've done nothing to her, at least not yet.' Thor picked up the phone and dialed an inhouse extension. 'Monique, sweetheart, could you bring the young lady in? Thank you.'
Moments later the two women entered the room. In spite of our feigned honeymoon, I'd never seen Pam in the nude before. It was with very mixed feelings that I took in the sight of her now-- incredibly beautiful and voluptuous, her full young breasts bouncing enticingly; but her expression was one of fear and apprehension, her posture cowed, her movements cautious.
Monique came in behind her, still dressed in her nightclub gown, but with a very different attitude. Cruel and triumphant, she put an affectionate arm on Pam's naked shoulder. I surmised the other emotion flickering over Pam's distraut features-- shame and humiliation, at being captured and disrobed by this small, slender, older woman.
Monique roughly pushed Pam across the room towards me, and the luscious tanned nude stumbled into my lap.
'Pam... Pam...' I muttered.
'Oh, Ward,' she confessed tearfully. 'She took me by surprise-- I couldn't stop her! What are we going to do?' She was using my alias, I noticed with some relief. She'd kept her head in spite of everything.
'Are you alright?' I asked.
'Yes.'
I looked her in the eye and said, very softly, 'Trust me.' She nodded her head slightly.
Monique took hold of Pam and pulled her away. 'Come along, dear; these men have much to discuss.' Pam struggled in vain as Monique held her in a hammerlock. The diminutive redhead smiled at me. 'Don't worry about your wife, Mr. Samuel. I don't intend to harm her-- she's just going to be my plaything for a while. I never break my human toys, at least not by accident! Of course if you fail us, I'll have no recourse but to take out my frustrations on her lovely anatomy...' Pam whimpered, helpless in the older woman's grip. Monique laughed, and marched Pam out of the room, obviously in complete control of the younger woman.
'She's not from the same life as we are, Dansk,' I said to Thor. 'I'll cooperate with you, but you've got to give her back her clothes, and your wife has got to leave her alone.'
Thor nodded sadly. 'Quite impossible. Alas, I find it difficult to control Monique. You should have seen what she did to poor Mazli-- and with her bare hands! She was only supposed to interrogate him, but she got carried away... no man should die like that...'
'DAMN IT!' I growled. 'WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?'
'When you've successfully completed the job Mazli was supposed to do, we will return your wife-- unharmed. Obviously you'll wish to expedite matters, to minimize her propinquity with my dearest Monique. And if you fail, Monique will do to your wife what she did to poor Mazli. But let's not think of that-- you are not going to fail.'
From some room beyond the one we sat in, I heard a frantic scream which was abruptly cut short.