The Naked Truth
A/N: Happy Thanksgiving, all! Thanks goes out to Asha (commanderinblue) for giving me title suggestions.
Inspiration brought to you by:
Esmee Denter's Just Can't Have It
The Police Don't Stand So Close To Me
Meghan Tonjes' cover of The Clovers Love Potion #9
Lemon Demon Eighth Wonder
Summary: "You're a hot mess and I'm fallin' for you." – Grant, Bex, and a recipe for seduction. Fun-shot #3
*random-bolded-letter-game-still-on*
* * *
Irritation and A G G R A V A T I O N are one of the many words that pop into Bex Baxter's head when thinking about Grant Newman. Not that she thought about him constantly. On the contrary, he was probably the last person on her mind.
He was always so… sure of himself. Just like his best friend, Zach Goode. In fact, it was probably Goode that rubbed off on him, making him egotistical and bigheaded. And it wasn't just that it he was just haughty. Oh no, she could have dealt with him if that had been the situation. It was… his mien. He was someone you just wanted to be associated with, no matter how much you despised him. Talking to him made you feel all calm and he had that air of confidence, you know?
But let's stop obsessing over how godly and un-realistically perfect Grant is, and continue on with our story, shall we?
* * *
"You know, I thought you guys were my friends." Bex pouted, trying to weasel her way out of accomplishing the task on hand.
Liz shook her head, taking a sip out of her tiny martini glass. "Sorry, Baxter."
Cammie giggled. "Yeah, Bex. You can't get out of a Do or Die dare."
The Britain native sighed, looking over to the only other person sitting at the table. Pleading with her eyes, she asked Macey to stick up for her.
Macey raised an eyebrow – something Bex was never able to do. She always envied how other people could raise one eyebrow, when the task seemed near to impossible to her. "You heard 'em."
Bex groaned. "Of all the people that work with us, why pick Grant?"
Liz laughed. "Because you like him-"
"You mean love," Macey corrected.
"-love him and we know that you always eye-fuck him." Liz seemed satisfied with her answer.
"I do not!" Her voice was loud and appalled as it rang through the bar they were in.
Cammie rolled her eyes. "Yes you do."
"And how would you know that?" Bex inquired, unwilling to surrender.
"Because she does the same thing with Zach." Macey's answer was precise and all-knowing. Like Yoda. "Takes one to know one."
Cammie started scoffing. Then hiccuping, for she was taking a sip of her liquor at the moment. This just caused all the other girls to erupt into laughter. Cammie shook her head, trying to get rid of her spasmodic behavior and looked at her friends, voice serious. "I do not eye-fuck Zach."
Liz bit her cheek, trying to drown out the giggle that she was about to emit. "Yes you do. And it's because he looks so Goode isn't it?"
"Okay," Bex's accent was layered thick. "Even I know that was a lame attempt at a joke."
"Whatever." Liz smiled. "We all know that you two are in looove."
Before the two best friends had a chance to disagree, Macey started talking.
"Back to the dare," she looked at Bex. "You have to… seduce Grant in his office."
Bex sighed loudly.
"Then make him think you want him… as in want him," Cammie continued.
"And, somehow, you are going to find a way to remove all his clothing, stash it… and push him out of the office, making him stand there in his birthday suit." Liz snickered.
"His skin sweater."
"Go au naturale."
"His-"
"Okay, okay, I get it!" Bex moaned, trying to stop her friends from thinking up of more innuendos.
Then she looked up, eyes peeking through her fingers. "Deadline?" The question was asked warily.
Macey smiled, her irises sparkling. "Three days."
"What?!" It was Bex's voice, of course.
"Oh, don't whine Baxter. You and I both know that this is accomplish-able in a matter of hours." Cammie's voice was trying to reason with Bex, but the Egyptian-looking girl wouldn't listen to them.
"That's what you think. You don't actually have to do it." Bex frowned.
"Whatever." Liz hiccupped. Her goody-two-shoes act might have been thrown away in the garbage, but the fact that she couldn't go past a drink or two in the bar without getting… well, drunk still remained.
And when you were a spy, getting wasted was a big no-no. So that's why the girls adjourned their chat and moved it to the sidewalk where there was idle talk of what Bex was going to be wearing to accomplish the Do or Die.
Through the window, the bartender heard yelps of, "No, I don't think a thong is necessary!" and a contradiction of, "Rebecca, darling! Thongs are a vital part of every woman's lingerie. Now grow up and let's buy you one. I bet with that ass, they'll look great!"
* * *
Remnants of sparkly eye-shadow, a case of black mascara and a tube of rich cherry-brandy lipstick were left behind in a huge clump on Rebecca Baxter's desk. There was a compact mirror held in her hand and she made a face while she looked at her professionally applied make-up (translation: Macey). Then, Bex picked up a tissue a dabbed at the corners of her lips, all while staying completely still (Liz was curling her dark locks of hair) so that she wouldn't look too done up. Now that was skill.
"I'm back! And I have the foundation." The door slammed shut.
Bex's eyes traveled to Macey's perfect figure – the one that was leaning on a file cabinet. "Mace. Do you really think I need all this…" her arms flailed around, "goop on me?"
Her response was a roll of those emerald irises. After two minutes of inspecting Bex (walk around, fix some of the eye shadow, smudging the already-smudged mascara) Macey gaped, horrified.
"Who put the freaking blush on her? Everyone knows it's foundation first, then the blush!"
As Macey's eyes traveled around for the culprit, everyone's feet stood planted on the ground, eyes looking at Macey innocently. Everyone except for Cammie Morgan who was trying desperately to look for someplace to throw the tiny box that held mink-colored blush all while seeming blasé. But her attempts were no match for McHenry… since well, Macey sniffed her way towards the blush. That girl's got a good nose.
"Cameron." God, Macey sounded like her (Cammie's) mother now. "I demand to know what's in the heel of your shoe."
Chameleon's mouth twisted up into a smile, but not before basically everyone in the room caught a sheepish look from her. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mace."
The stylish girl that was donning a Zac Posen outfit (yet still make it look work-appropriate) scoffed. "Please. I can totally see the blush box that's like… popping out of your sneakers." (Note that she also made a side comment at this time. "But if you'd worn those sexy boots I bought for you, they would've totally disguised it.")
"Please, Macey. If I wanted to kill myself, I would've just used my lipstick instead of wearing those death-traps."
The fashionista's response was a smirk. "And you call yourself a spy."
"Whatever. It's not like she needs foundation to cover up zits or whatever. Her freaking skin is acne clear," Liz said, voice incorporating a southern twang.
Everyone's eyes moved to look at Liz.
"What?" The blonde appeared to be frazzled.
A shake of the head from everyone and an anonymous "nothing."
The room was silent for a couple more minutes until Macey clapped her hands. "Okay, people. Can we get this show on the road before Bex chickens out?"
A scoff erupted from the Duchess.
Cammie walked forward to Bex and put her hands on the supposed Egyptian beauty's shoulders while Liz took out the hair curler's plug from the outlet.
"Alright." Cammie looked straight into Bex's eyes. "Rebecca Irene Baxter. The mission you are about to go on may be the most dangerous of them all. This hypothetical mission involves using the art of flirting that which consists of batting eyelashes, the flipping of the hair, and giggling in a loud-pitched voice that is sure to put Tina's to shame. This mission also uses the skill of seduction – where it is vital for you to…"
"Cop a feel!" interrupted Liz.
Macey narrowed her eyes in on Bookworm.
Cammie continued on with her ridiculous pep-talk. "With those words said, Rebecca Baxter, are you ready to face your ultimate doom?"
In mock-seriousness, Bex replied, "Yes. Yes, I am Agent Drama Queen."
Cammie, keeping up pretenses, gasped.
"Okay, now. Can you freaks please let me out of this room before I become as crazy as you all are?"
"Sadly, you're already one of us, Bexter." In a flourish, Macey opened the door widely, gesturing Bex to get outside.
* * *
The stilettos were killing her. Her top was way too transparent. Her skirt was literally making her waist become thinner. And her top was really transparent. No, seriously. You could see her strapless bra. She could have not worn her bra at all. But that would have been worse. In summary, Bex Baxter was not a happy person at the moment. God, what good a Corona would do her right now.
As she walked down the thin carpet-roll to Grant's office, the lucky people with their doors open caught a glimpse of this comely woman and nearly fainted. That is, if you don't count Tina.
Tina Walters just stomped her way right behind Bex, took a hold of the Duchess wrist and turned her around.
"What the hell?!" The gossip's voice was squeaky.
Bex tried to pull out of the girl's vice grip. Unfortunately for her, Tina was actually way stronger than you would predict. "Ti-na! Let go!"
"Not 'till you tell me where you're going."
"I'm just going to get some coffee." Shit. This make-up crap was starting to weaken her lying skills. She'll have to talk to Liz about this.
"Not dressed like that you don't! Spill, Baxter." Walters tapped her heel.
"Seriously, Tina. Do you really think that I'll tell you where I'm actually going?"
A very loud shriek erupted from Tina. A moment later, she said, "fine" in a strangely calm voice. Then, she turned around and waltzed back to her office.
And that left a very puzzled Bex standing there, wondering what the heck was going on.
* * *
Grant was astonished. Mesmerized. Crazy. Crazy because there was no freaking way in hell that Bex Baxter had entered his office wearing… that. And she sure as heck did not just close the door, turn around and smirk at him with those ruby red lips of hers.
He wondered what else those lips could do.
Wait. No. Stop right there. He had to control himself. Because Bex Baxter did not come in his office. She did not shut his door. She did not just smirk at him with those tempting lips of hers. This was all just a dream. A damn good dream.
"Hi, Grant." She licked her lips.
Oh. My. Lord. He was whipped.
He cleared his throat. "Hello, Rebecca." Rebecca? Really? Who the fuck are you, her boss? "Is there anything I can, uh, help you with?"
She slowly strutted towards him. "Actually, now that I think about it…" her fingers traveled down his forearm, "I have this small favor I need help with."
"Y-yeah? What, uh, what is it?" He bit the inside of his cheek to stop from moaning. All she did was touch him. God. Since when had he become such a pansy?
"Well, you see," she removed her hand from him and put it on the arm of the twirly chair that he was sitting on, turning him around slowly, "I lost this micro-chip that Liz made."
He couldn't concentrate, her hands were freaking all over the place. "A-and?"
She took her hand and placed it on his fingers that were rapidly typing letters on the keyboard. All typing seized when she look at him with her eyes. "I'm looking for it."
It was quiet for two minutes and 34 seconds. "I-I'm sorry, Bex. I… didn't catch that." He gulped.
* * *
She looked at his face, narrowing her eyes. Now was her chance. She took a small breath, hoping he didn't notice her hesitation. Bex leaned in, eyes zeroing on his lips that were seriously enticing her.
One… Two… Three.
Pull away.
Pull away.
Pull away, damnit!
Why couldn't she pull away?
What the hell was wrong with her? Did that lipstick have superglue on it or some shit resembling that?
…Well, she had to run out of breath eventually, right?
But her record for holding breath was over ten minutes. Grant would surely think she was a freak if she didn't stop kissing him after ten seconds.
Crap. Crapcrapcrap.
Ohmygosh. She pulled away! Finally. The first thing she was doing when she got back to her office was throwing away that tube of lipstick (who knew it actually made lips… stick together?).
"I was saying…" Bex started. She bit her lip. Alright. Think of a lie. Any lie. Well… one that'd make sense would be good, too.
"That I lost my micro-chip and that… since it sticks easily to fabric, I have to check everyone's clothes." That was her quip. Indeed, it was lame-ass, but it'd have to do.
"Oh." Oh? Oh? That's all he could say? Idiot. And I fall for him.
"So… uh… would you mind?" She asked flustered. She hoped Grant would understand what she meant.
"Mind…?" He crinkled his eyebrows.
"Uhm." Cough. "Removing you're… a…" Cough. "Clothes."
"Wait, you want me to remove my clothes?" Amusement was stapled to his question of incredulity.
* * *
This is just fucking crazy, were the words floating through Grant Newman's head. First, she walks into my office. Then she kisses me. And now she wants me to remove my clothes. This woman will be the death of me.
Wait. No. No. I did not just quote Twilight. This is not happening. I'm becoming fucking Edward Cullen. Next thing you know I'll start stalking innocent, naïve girls and show them how I sparkle in the sun. This shit is so not happening.
"Unless… you want me to remove them for you?"
Grant looked up at Bex, snapping out of my revere. Her cherry lips were smirking at me.
"You-you…uh… you." He couldn't finish the sentence.
"I asked if you wanted to take of your clothes, or if you wanted me to do it."
"Uhm. Uh. Well-"
"Fine, I'll remove them myself." She began walking towards him.
"Wait!" He put his hand up. "Why can't you just get Liz to make you another one?"
"Because the cost of each one is 2.3 billion dollars. Do you really want me to ask if she'll make another one? It would just be easier to check everyone's clothes. Now come on, I have things to do. People to kill." Her high heels made a click-clack sound as she strutted towards him.
* * *
The buttons of his shirt were slippery and she just couldn't finger them open. Bex looked up into his eyes… that were clouding with lust.
"Uh. I can't remove the…" she pointed to his shirt.
He cleared his throat. "Oh."
Quickly untying his green tie, slitting open the buttons through their holes, he proceeded to take of his shirt.
Whoa. She looked over his half-naked form. It should be a crime to cover that up.
Shakily, Bex proceeded down to take his pants of. But she stopped as her fingers rested on his zipper. She couldn't let the fun end so fast. She had to savor it. Taking a deep breath and looking back up into his eyes that were probably midnight black with the amount of sexual frustration pent up in them, she let her fingers roam over his top half.
So soft. A shiver rippled through him. Did she do that?
* * *
Ohmygod. He could barely take it anymore. The things that woman does with her hands should be fucking illegal.
Breathe.
His shoulders were leaning towards her involuntarily. His lips opening just a tad bit. His eyes making a move to close.
That is until he heard the door start to crack open. Making a move to lock it, though, he saw that it was too late.
* * *
Tina Walters was standing there; hand on her hip, lips quirked up into a smile. And Joe Solomon, head of CIA was right behind her, face aghast, eyes scanning the room rapidly.
Bex Baxter, face crimson as a tomato. Grant Newman, biting his lips, no shirt. Bex's hand near his zipper. She was dressed like a prostitute in those heels and that mini-skirt. A smudge of Duchess's lipstick was staining Grant's lip.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
"Uh… sorry to have disturbed you. Go back to whatever you were doing." With that, he closed the door feverishly quick and made a sprint.
All the two spies could here was Tina yelling at him. "You left them in there?! What is wrong with you? By now they're probably doing god knows what!"
* * *
Her face felt like it was burning. Tina was going to die. It would be slow and painful. Crucify. Bex would crucify her.
And as she returned promptly to her office, biting her cheek to keep from getting further embarrassed, she heard laughter.
Loud laughter. And the ruckus was coming from her office. Eyes narrowed, she stepped in, only to find Cammie, Lizzie and Macey clutching at their stomachs, laughing their asses off… and looking at a computer screen.
Cammie was the first to notice Bex. "Oh my god, Bex. I can't believe Joe walked in! Did you see his face?" The room burst into laughter all over again.
"How?" Bex interrogated, voice stiff.
"Necklace Camera," Macey choked out in all her giggling.
Horrified, Bex looked down at the cute medallion like charm hanging from a thread at her. She couldn't believe this. Noting her expression, the three others just cracked up more.
A day in the life of a spy.
A/N: Who got the VD quote I put in there? Oh, and the bolded letter game is still going on. All the random bolded letters in here make a sentence. Figure out the puzzle and PM me for a teaser of fun-shot #4. CLUE: It's the saying of a really rad icon on GG/ning.
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S.W.I.T.Z