Warning: Frank and Joe must participate in the events of the weekend in order to effectively go undercover. This was written for a non-fetish audience, I promise; however, if you find the subject of m/f consenting adults repulsive, along with the impersonation of clergy, this would be an excellent story to skip.
Special thanks to xcherryxlipsx and Cherylann Rivers for giving me the courage to post.
Frank's POV. 12 chapters posting 2x weekly.
"Hell," Joe said under his breath. "I need to get focused, Frank. What are we doing? Let's take five minutes."
"Or two," Frank muttered, taking Joe's elbow and guiding him toward the side of the hallway. Miraculously, blessedly, no one was near them, although they could see the full cocktail hour humming energetically down the hallway. "Everyone can see us, Joe. It's only a two-day case. And you know that—"
"Dad's friend Hannibal Lector needs us to do this, and Dad is bribing us with our tuition checks in order to pay back a favor to a friend. Again." Joe rolled his eyes. "I need a cigarette."
"It's been over a year since your last one. Be strong. And, for the millionth time, his name is Haniel." Frank continued to scan his surroundings. "Let's go over what we know one more time while you take a deep breath."
"Don't act like I'm the only one who needs a deep breath, Frank. This is freaky stuff even by my liberal standards." Joe stopped speaking and waited while a couple got off the elevator and giggled nervously, heading to the open doors of the penthouse bar. "What is this weekend called? Spanking bare asses?"
"Barely Spanking Weekend. They use less implements than BDSM organizations, apparently. Quiz time. Who is our subject under investigation?"
"Natasha Romanov, special agent of SHIELD."
"Would you stop? Her name is—"
"I know that much at least, Elder Brother. Her name is Ana Kuznetsov, and she's here for a kinky weekend with a possible uranium transfer to an unknown terrorist organization." Joe straightened his collar, taking a step toward the open door.
Frank fell into step beside him. "Do you need to see her picture one more time?" he asked in a low voice.
Joe smiled slightly. "No thanks. I think I'll know her when I see her."
Frank knew what his brother was insinuating. Ana's case history had stated that she was forty-eight, literally twice his age, but she certainly knew how to clean herself up. A short blonde bob, small black eyes with a hint of beginning crow's feet, and a mouth twisted in a perpetual wry smile. What does that smile hide, Ana? Frank thought. Are you here for business, pleasure, or both? She couldn't possibly have signed up for a sexy weekend in Atlantic City, New Jersey to try to form contacts for her uranium smuggling. Atlantic City had been hit hard by the recession, with only seven casinos still open from their former glory days, and even organized crime had left the city. There was now just plain ordinary crime.
Fifth Harmony was pumping on the loudspeaker as Frank and Joe entered the 18th floor of the casino/hotel. Although the weather was partly cloudy, there was still a terrific panoramic view of the boardwalk, Atlantic Ocean, and city streets. Cocktail waitresses hurried to deliver their wares, and Frank was surprised to see the room look…like a normal party. Frank estimated that there were about a hundred people in the room, with approximately the same ratio of male to female. Friends shrieked and embraced, obviously reuniting from the last Barely Spanking Weekend. The majority of the guests certainly did not fit into the young, sexy, skinny type that Frank had assumed. Decorations were sparse but classy, some clusters of helium balloons held by bowls of marbles on cocktail tables.
Frank and Joe approached the sign-in table at the entrance to the room. Frank noticed Joe's eyes following several woman in short black uniforms, and he poked his brother back to the present. "Frank Hastings and Joe Williams," Frank told the fifty-something, dark-haired woman guarding the registration table.
She leaned over a sign-in sheet simply labeled "Friday, April 20, 2018" and highlighted their names. "Welcome to cocktail hour. My name is Sister Pats. All events this weekend will either be here in the hotel penthouse bar, in the first floor casino conference center, or on the sixth floor suite level in the personal hotel rooms of partygoers. There are labels on the next table where you can write your name, plus designate yourself as a Top, Bottom, Switch, or Not Playing. If it's your first time, don't worry, many people don't play their first time. There is no play allowed during this cocktail hour, as this time is focused on building relationships first."
"Thank you," Joe said, smiling tightly at her. He motioned for Frank to come to the name tag table with him.
"What the hell did she just say?" Frank said quietly to Joe once he was sure he was out of earshot.
"Well, we can't pick 'Not Playing,' no matter how much we want to." Joe kept an eye on the fellow party-goers as he spoke. "That's no way to integrate ourselves. I'll be a Top and you can be a Bottom, so at least one of us will be able to enter every event. A Switch must be someone who likes to spank using a switch."
"Fine." Frank grabbed the corresponding color-coded name tag, writing his name on it. He and Joe weren't famous enough to have to disguise their first names as well as their last, but that was a dream of his for the future. He and Joe affixed the labels to the front of their white-collared, button-downed shirts. Fortunately, he and Joe had dressed appropriately, with the majority of the room also in business casual.
"There's an orientation going on in the far left corner," Sister Pats called, gesturing to where a small group had gathered. "It's for anyone. If you're not new to these types of events, you can still give pointers to the beginners."
Frank nodded at her in appreciation. "We're going to have to admit we're beginners," Frank said, touching Joe's shoulder to nudge him toward the orientation. "People will definitely figure it out anyway."
"Whoa—uh, maybe this weekend will have its fringe benefits after all," Joe said. Joe gestured toward a small group of women in the short black uniforms. Now that they were closer, they could see the bushy white cotton tails. The women were now adjusting headbands with ears on them. Their pinned name tags included the words "Bunny Greeter."
As the group was arranged in a circle, not a row, Frank and Joe were forced to integrate themselves into the group to be able to see. A man in his late 50s, pale skin, on the shorter side, was sitting in a chair addressing the group.
"This weekend is really more for the ladies. Every year we crowd-control the numbers of single men permitted to attend," he was saying. He saw Frank and Joe and stared at them pointedly, then looked down at their name tags and relaxed his shoulders slightly. Frank easily read the body language: he no longer considered Frank and Joe to be a threat to the ladies here. Frank was grateful but wondered why.
"I am Headmaster Cane, and those of you attending the Schoolgirls Event tomorrow will see how I got my name. A few rules of etiquette: No forcing or nagging anyone to play with you. No means no, and if a woman says 'maybe,' that also means no. She'll come find you later if she wants to play with you. Make sure you get to know the person somewhat before asking them to play, and make sure to communicate before every scene as to how much pressure the Bottom wants, whether implements will be used, and how long the scene will be."
"Anyone who wants to use safe words can use safe words." A dark-haired woman in a Bunny Greeter suit spoke up, her arms crossed. "If anyone tells you they don't use safe words, come see me immediately."
"Now a few techniques to make sure no one gets hurt." The Headmaster stood up and called to a bunny greeter standing away from the circle, chatting to a nervous-looking couple. "I need you now, Love."
"Any time, Headmaster," she responded playfully, gently breaking through the circle and heading toward his chair. She had light blonde hair instead of reddish-blonde, pigtails rather than a ponytail, and shiny purple lip gloss, but Frank instantly recognized her and felt his knees go weak from shock. He felt Joe's palm pressing hard into his low back, the only supportive gesture Joe could give without calling attention to themselves.
Headmaster Cane patted his right leg, and Nancy Drew took her cue and bent over it. She completed the awkward maneuver quickly, suavely, as if she had done it many times before. She rested her torso on his other leg and positioned her hands on the floor for balance.
"You have to strike at the appropriate angle, right where it's most padded, or you could really do injury," Headmaster Cane explained calmly to a circle of about fifteen people who were also behaving as if this were a perfectly normal and sane activity to be demonstrating. He pushed her bunny tail up to her low back and out of the way. "See the angle of my palm, the curve I'm aiming for? Resting my other hand on Nancy's back, but not putting my weight on it? Similarly, if you're using an implement, you always have to be prepared that your Bottom might move positions in anticipation. Red, can you grab my pointer from the bag?"
This Frank could not tolerate. He mentally turned to go, but found that his feet were made of lead. He found himself entranced against his will as the pointer repeatedly met its target with precise accuracy. Headmaster Cane was swinging his arm heavier than was necessary, in Frank's opinion. At one point Nancy grimaced from the pain, and Frank clenched his teeth and thrust his hands in his pockets in his efforts not to interfere. Blood roared past his ears, rendering the lesson useless as he heard nothing but muffled, irrelevant voices for the duration of Nancy's undeserved punishment.
Nancy leaned back, transferring her weight from the headmaster's lap back into her legs. As she stood up, straightening her skirt, her keen eyes assessed each member of the group until her gaze landed on Frank's.
Her eyes registered nothing. The detective portion of Frank's brain admired her restraint, her ability to completely assume her undercover role, but he couldn't help but wish that her eyes revealed some small portion of emotion. Regret would be preferable, but he'd settle for guilt.
To his shock, Nancy walked straight toward him as the circle disbanded. Her four-inch heels gave a natural sway to her stride, and caused her to be only an inch or two shorter than Frank and Joe when she stood before them. "New here, guys?" she said pleasantly. "I'm Nancy, one of the Bunny Greeters, and I'm here to answer any questions you might have about the weekend."
Joe's eyebrows were raised. "Seriously?" he said in a low voice. "Right here? Right now?"
"You'd prefer to ask your questions in private?" Nancy pulled on Joe's shoulder playfully, guiding them farther away from the group. The three detectives each scanned the room, quickly determining that the fellow attendees were far too interested in forming their own connections and making play dates to notice other people's conversations.
"You're two single guys, beginners, and I'm a Bunny Greeter. It would look more suspicious if we weren't speaking right now," Nancy said, but kept her voice quiet. "I'm here trailing Pasha Romanov, suspected for uranium dealings. He's had private investigators on his tail for almost a year now, and I'm handing him off to someone else after this weekend."
"There's your Romanov, Joe, but your Black Widow turns out to be a man," Frank said, keeping his eyes trained on Nancy. "We're here for Ana Kuznetsov."
"At the bar, as of twenty minutes ago," Nancy said. "I'm not surprised. I figured they would send someone to cover her too. Come on, don't look at her at the same time, guys. It looks like our cases connect, so if your cover is blown, so is mine. Did you guys bother to do any research at all about this weekend?"
"Well, it's not exactly like that—" Joe began.
"Uh-huh." Nancy nodded toward Frank and Joe's name tags. "I went to their January event so I'd already be on the inside by the time this weekend came. A Top is someone who only does the spanking, a Bottom is someone who only wants to be spanked, and a Switch is someone who's comfortable with either role. You guys know full well that you don't look related, so by one of you being labeled a Top and the other labeled a Bottom, you guys look like you came…together."
"Oh, God." A blush crept up Joe's neck and headed toward his ears. "So you think we should be Switches, Nancy, to make sure we have…every opportunity to follow our subjects?"
"Sounds like a logical deduction to me." Nancy was already scanning the room for her subject. Frank followed her eyes and saw a man in his mid-50s, balding, a little extra in the middle. She nodded at Frank and Joe to confirm his identity.
"We've got to get different name tags, Joe, before we do any more damage to our identities," Frank began, but Joe held up a hand.
"Correction: I will go make us different name tags." Joe looked pointedly from Frank to Nancy and back to Frank. "I know there's history between you two, but we need to put it on the back burner until Sunday afternoon, which is in what, forty-five hours? Say whatever you need to say to each other to be able to make it until then. After the case you two can have whatever kum-ba-ya you need." Joe ripped off his name tag, then Frank's, and began shredding them into pieces as he headed back toward the sign-in table.
Frank turned toward Nancy. Her eyes were still expressionless, which triggered a flame of annoyance. "I can't believe you let that man do that to you, Nancy," he said in disgust. "Whether for a case or not."
Nancy's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Last I checked this is my body, not yours, and this is a voluntary weekend for consenting adults. Except for the two of you, I suspect, who were yet again ordered to do a case in exchange for your parents paying your tuition. When we last met you were just about to graduate college, so by now you must be finishing up with graduate school. Am I right?"
Frank said nothing at first, even though he knew that his hesitation was confirmation. "There's nothing wrong with wanting letters after my name."
Nancy nodded as if confirming something to herself. Then she sighed, her shoulders lowering. "Who are we kidding. The odds are very low that our subjects are actually going to make a move on another uranium deal this weekend. All we have to do is keep an eye on them and get along. Try to relax, Frank, and don't judge me again, please? As I recall, you like to try a few new positions yourself."
Frank's eyes sparked with fresh anger, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I would appreciate it if you would speak of our marriage night with a little more respect," he said darkly, turning to leave.
Nancy's expression registered surprise, uncertainty, but by the time she opened her mouth to speak Frank was already gone.
Joe hurried to catch up as Frank swiftly exited the cocktail reception. Frank took the proffered new name tag and slapped it onto his upper chest while he walked. "We're staying only until Haniel can find a replacement," he said to Joe, arriving quickly at the elevator and pressing the button for the seventh floor. They were by themselves in the hallway. "I am too emotionally involved to be able to participate in this case."
Joe lifted his hands palms-up in a helpless gesture. "What am I supposed to say to that, Frank? You've spent over two years now making sure we're never assigned to cases with Nancy, but we work in the same network that she does—it was bound to happen eventually, and it's going to happen again. I don't mean to downgrade your relationship with Nancy, but…someday, can't you begin to think of her as a business associate rather than your ex-wife?"
Frank shook his head, his mouth tight. "The thing is, Joe, Nancy and I never quite got divorced."