THE NEW RECRUIT

Chapter 2

Warning there is some mild adult content in this chapter but nothing too steamy.
Only one chapter written and I've already failed miserably in my intended schedule – this is definitely not going to be finished in 2 chapters but I promise you that neither will it stretch to 21!!

Scene: The Mansion House, London

The situation did not improve when they were all detailed by Juliet to mingle amongst the Commonwealth leaders and their retinues at the welcome function organised at the Mansion House. It was a very formal affair with blazing chandeliers that gave the lie to any suggestion of conserving energy in the face of global warming and a full silver service banquet laid out in great splendour on the huge refectory table that stretched the length of the great banqueting hall. Section D, unlike their grander counterparts at 6, had been detailed to arrive after the guests had risen from the table:

"Obviously not wearing the correct school tie to qualify but good enough to stop a bullet if required" Harry had remarked bitterly to Juliet when she had informed him of the security service apartheid that was in operation.

"It's nothing to do with old school ties Harry don't go all bourgeois on me, it's just a question of protocol, many of the heads of state do not expect to sit down with what they perceive as glorified policemen."

"Bugger protocol" said Harry with warmth "anyway what are 6 for God's sake except a bunch of arrogant city rejects who all imagine they're James bloody Bond?"

Despite Harry's protests Juliet remained obdurate and the team arrived at the Mansion House just in time to hear the Jazz Band warming up in the main reception area.

Naturally the dress code was formal black tie, which provided Catherine Palmerston with a perfect venue to parade her physical attributes. The reception room was crowded with guests who wore a dazzling array of clothing ranging from exotic national costumes to barely there haute couture creations set off by discreet but fabulously expensive jewels. Catherine and Ros appeared together and presented an empowering if somewhat alarming vision of two sleek predators who would show no mercy to their intended prey. Catherine seemed to have been physically fused with her gold sequined sheath that was backless to the cleft of her perfect bottom and only just covered the vital parts of her pert breasts; it was a dress so explicitly not worn over any undergarments that it would have made Donatella Versace blush. Ros was dressed in a similarly dramatic if not quite so revealing creation of black stretch satin with a plunging neckline accentuated by a diamond encrusted necklace that certainly was not purchased on an MI5 operatives salary. They glided over to the bar, barely acknowledging the open glance of lust that was lavished on their bodies by Zaf as he served drinks to the Ugandan delegation.

Adam noticed Ruth enter the room shyly, with her eyes sweeping the gathering for a familiar face. Whilst he acknowledged that he had responded along with all of the other red-blooded males in the room to the sexual siren call of Catherine and Ros; Ruth was the epitome of a rarer beauty: refined and elegant, her fascinating ethereal features would have captured the imagination of any artist seeking an enduring muse. Ruth was dressed in her favourite outfit of a corseted gown of deep Venetian red velvet that was draped in elegant folds across her décolleté and was set off by an antique ruby and gold necklace that glowed against her pale skin. The combination of her upswept hair, classic dress and wistful expression, made her seem a walking embodiment of one of the Edwardian portraits of society beauties that lined the walls of the room.

Harry was deep in conversation with the Indian Foreign Minister as they shared a drink. His attention seemed wholly focused on the discussion of the problem of Kashmir, but in fact he had duly observed the entrance of the two willowy figures who were already raising the testosterone levels in the room. He had only felt a frisson of sexual desire however when he saw Ruth arrive. She was looking particularly exquisite – her formal gown set off her curvaceous figure with elegance and aplomb and for not the first time in his mind's eye he crossed the room, put his arms around her shoulders and drew her soft plump cherry lips to his. Harry blinked himself back to the task in hand.

"Of course we have to remain even-handed in relation to the problem. Pakistan remains a key strength as well as weakness in the front-line defence against Al Qaeda insurgents, but I do appreciate it is a dangerous and difficult matter for you to deal with." Moving on before he could be too deeply embroiled in the political morass of the Indian subcontinent, Harry retreated to the bar. Seconds later he was aware of a pungent , musky female perfume close to him.

"I thought you were here to mingle with the delegates?"

"Oh I will, all in good time but I'd like to loosen up a little first. How about a dance?"

The band was providing accompaniment to a soul singer who was crooning old Ella Fitzgerald and Nina Simone numbers. As Ruth watched Catherine Palmerston leading Harry by the hand onto the dance floor her stomach constricted and she felt she was going to be sick. Harry began by holding Catherine at a decorous distance once he had delicately negotiated his way around the large expanse of exposed bare flesh but she took the opportunity of a change in tempo to wrap herself around his contours and place her cheek next to his. Adam moved away from the wife of the Nigerian consulate he had been chatting to and made his way across to Ruth. He didn't know what game Harry was playing but he wasn't prepared to stand by and watch Ruth's haunted eyes following Catherine Palmerston's well rehearsed moves without trying to ease her misery.

"Come on Ruth, let's give it a twirl. You know you want to."

"No Adam … really I .. I couldn't"

"I won't take no for an answer, you'll dent my fragile ego if you turn me down."

Ruth smiled up at him, her large pale blue eyes liquid with emotion.

They made a striking pair: the devastatingly handsome Adam in his black tie outfit which fitted his tall, lean figure like a glove and set off his blond Nordic looks to perfection, accompanied by the petite dark beauty with the beatific smile and captivating eyes. Adam moved with elegant professionalism around the dance floor and within a few minutes had manoeuvred alongside Harry and Catherine. In a seamlessly smooth move he dropped his hold on Ruth, cut across Harry and extracted Catherine from her boa constrictor grasp on Harry's torso.

"Excuse me, but I think you've monopolised this irresistible woman quite long enough."

Before Catherine had chance to utter a protest she was gone. Whirled away in a flurry of turns in Adam's unyielding grasp. He placed his mouth to her ear.

"Back off Catherine and stop your games, we've an operation to focus on."

Catherine scowled a reply at him.

"None of your bloody business Adam Carter, just because you're second fiddle in love as well as position."
"Love's certainly got nothing to do with it and Harry doesn't need me looking out for him. It's someone else you're hurting with this behaviour who I'm very fond of and if you don't stop trying to seduce Harry so blatantly you'll be flying back to 6 so fast you're elegant feet won't touch the ground. Now get on with what you've been brought her for and make yourself available to the guests."

Adam smiled his most dazzling, charm-ridden smile at her and led her firmly by the elbow to a large table of boisterous inebriated young bloods from Australia House.

Meanwhile Harry and Ruth were left facing each other on the dance floor, momentarily at a loss for words.

"May I?" Harry's voice was low and cracked with desire. Ruth nodded her agreement as she couldn't think of a good excuse to refuse him and soon she felt Harry's arm around her waist pulling her closer towards him.

"You look exquisite and desirable Ruth" he whispered into her ear.

Ruth tried to smile her thanks for the complement but she still felt too tearful to totally conceal her distress as she looked after the retreating bare back of Catherine.

"Well there are degrees of desirability Harry"

He snorted his response "That is certainly available but not desirable, at least not to me"

Ruth glanced up at him.

"Are you sure of that? You seemed to be making a convincing case to the contrary."

"Come on Ruth you know me better than that. There's only one woman here who can tempt me to lose control."
Harry's murmuring sensual voice caressed her with a physicality that was like the touch of silk on her skin; but she fought against letting her emotions run away with her. She was conscious that her heart was hammering so hard that Harry must be feeling it as he pressed her body against his chest.

"I, I think we should be mingling Harry. We are meant to be watching out for an attack."

"I agree, but a couple dancing raise less suspicion than single agents lurking at every corner. We can watch the room and still keep moving, it's called multi-tasking Ruth."

"Oh very funny".

Ruth desperately tried to think of neutral conversation as she avoided the intense gaze of Harry's warm hazel eyes that were expressing a pent-up desire and passion that both excited and frightened her. If he was going to get carried away by the heat of the moment then she had to stay focused. She couldn't allow him to make an open show of affection to his subordinate in the middle of a high profile operation. She made fluttering movements to try and release his hold on her so she could put distance between them before she lost all ability to control her responses. As if predicting her thoughts, Harry strengthened his hold on her. At that moment the band slowed down the tempo even further and the Chanteuse began to croon the classic number "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" :

" I'm wild again
Beguiled again
A simpering, whimpering child again
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I

Couldn't sleep
And wouldn't sleep
Until I could sleep where I shouldn't sleep
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I

Lost my heart but what of it?
My mistake I agree.
He's a laugh, but I like it
Because the laughs on me.

A pill he is
But still he is
All mine and I'll keep him until he is
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered
Like me.

Seen a lot
I mean a lot
But now I'm like sweet seventeen a lot
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I

I'll sing to him
Each spring to him
And worship the trousers that cling to him
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I

When he talks he is seeking
Words to get off his chest
Horizontally speaking
He's at his very best

Vexed again
Perplexed again
Thank God I can't be over-sexed again
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I ……"

The more the song progressed and the more intimate the lyrics, the closer Harry held her. Ruth made a gesture to move off the dance floor but Harry placed one hand on her lower back whilst with the other he brought her arm into his chest, drawing her into a close embrace as they moved in slow circles to the music. Ruth allowed her head to rest against him and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear as he whispered

"Your heart is beating rather fast Ruth, are you frightened of something?"

"Oh that's just an adrenalin rush, as you are always fond of pointing out to me it's a natural response when in a field operation."

Harry chuckled and the vibration travelled through their united forms. Ruth felt as though she was in a state of hyper-alertness – it seemed as though her very nerve ends were tingling. She was intensely aware of Harry's physical proximity – the bulk of his broad, strong body grasping her in a rather presumptuous, almost indecent manner whilst the scent of his expensive spicy cologne blended with his body heat, giving off an alluring and intoxicating aroma. A pent-up tension hovered between them like sparking wires. So close to crossing the line, so close, so tempting; but she called on the very last reserve of self control to stop her irrepressible desire to anoint his skin with lingering kisses. She closed her eyes to separate herself from the source of her desire. All the more intense then was the sensation when Harry's soft full lips brushed lightly against her ear as he murmured.

"I think this can definitely be construed as mingling."

Ruth felt her knees tremble as her body yearned for Harry to ease her sexual frustration.

He was likewise fighting a mental battle with his animal urges that were giving lie to his claim to always be in control. He loved Ruth, he admired her intellect, morality and strength of character and he appreciated her refined beauty; but tonight he was also overcome by unadulterated lust. The sight of her soft curves swelling above the swathes of velvet and her exquisite expressive eyes looking up at him stirred his passion to the point that he didn't care who was watching or what he was meant to be doing. He just wanted to taste those soft inviting lips, to part their palpitating fullness, to possess them and sink his tongue into her mouth. With such thoughts the inevitable happened and Ruth's eyes snapped open with alarm and incredulity as she felt the pressure of his erection against her body.

"Harry!"

"I'm sorry Ruth, sometimes mind over matter doesn't always work."

Ruth inwardly groaned with desire as her imagination conjured up the image of her lying on a bed and Harry entering her slowly. The thought was so intense she could physically feel it happening and her muscles contracted with anticipation. She glanced down briefly. There was no way she could leave him like this and not subject him to the speculation and ridicule of his entire team, never mind the remainder of the distinguished gathering.

"We can't dance indefinitely Harry. You're going to have to take a mental cold shower and quickly."

"Yes I know, but initially we have to hide the evidence" responded Harry in a voice charged with honeyed desire, who seemed unperturbed by the potentially embarrassing situation he was in. His hand lowered onto the top of her bottom and imperceptibly pressed her against his hardened, pulsating erection. Ruth gasped.

"Harry. You'll make it worse. For goodness sake, you couldn't have chosen a more public spot. You're an MI5 Section Head conducting a vital mission of state security. Have you totally taken leave of your senses?" She sounded far more controlled and rational than she was feeling. Harry's body was irradiating heat and in response her heart felt that it was going to go into full cardiac arrest, its beat was so accelerated and intense.

"Well at least Harry seems to be having a good time playing the field" grumbled Zaf as he offered Adam a drink from the tray he was carrying.

"How come I always get the waiter's job, it's discrimination."

"No it isn't Zaf, it's just limiting your charm offensive.

"Well Harry doesn't seem to be setting a very good example at the moment in respect of discretion. Have you seen how close he's holding Ruth?"

"That's just his cover" said Adam with more conviction that he felt.

"These events are always full of aging Lotharios chancing their arm; he's just blending in."

"Yeah right, if that what you call it I think I'll go off and do some blending in of my own."

"Oh God and they say women gossip" interjected Ros's dry caustic tones, "haven't you two got anything better to do than stand discussing the symptoms of Harry's male menopause?"

Zaf smiled guiltily at her but with an appreciative glint in his eye as his gaze swept down her contours before he breezed off with his tray, leaving the two tall blond agents standing briefly and strikingly together.

"I'm glad you saw off that Lacroix clothes horse earlier but Zaf does have a point. This is an important op and all Harry can do is make sheeps eyes at our resident Dark Lady. I wish he'd just bed her and refocus his attention on what he's being paid for."

"We're all entitled to a private life Ros."

"Not in this job we're not. If Harry wanted to spend his time chasing his subordinates round the office table he should have stayed in the Army."

Meanwhile Harry had manoeuvred his way through the crowd on the dance floor and unobserved by all except the narrowed stare of Catherine Palmerston, had drawn Ruth through a heavy, elaborately inlaid door and slammed her against the wall. His hot passionate kisses engulfed her and she surrendered helplessly to a response of sensation and desire. His hands were relentless and intimate in their exploration of her contours, stroking the thick luxurious fabric of her dress up and down her thighs and bottom, whilst his mouth sucked her open lips and his tongue slid against hers. She kissed him back with equal passion, stroking the back of his head with a trembling hand. His mouth moved searingly down the skin of her neck as he murmured "I want you Ruth". The word, purred in an ecstasy of carnal desire made her dizzy with their intensity, but also set off warning bells in her head..

"No Harry, stop. This is wrong. Not here. Not now."

Harry groaned and pressed his forehead against hers, his hand still stroking her inner thigh through her dress.
"Yes. Regretfully you're right." Harry released his hold on her and fumbled with his trousers in an attempt to disguise his tumescence.

"But the night is not over yet" he warned in a low, dangerous voice.

"No neither is the operation" replied Ruth faintly as the significance of his words sunk in.

"A Bientot" murmured Harry and as a parting shot reached in with a heated, passionate, demanding kiss that left her breathless and light-headed.

Harry slipped through the door and when Ruth followed him moments later, having given her flushed face a chance to return to a less tell-tale colour, she saw him chatting away to the Emir of Bahrain as if the events of the last five minutes were purely a figment of her fevered imagination. She headed for the Ladies, feeling the need for a few moments of privacy to collect her thoughts before she assumed the mask of deception once more. She stood in front of the mirror tweaking the clips that held her hair in place whilst she tried to make sense of what had happened. Suddenly the painstakingly constructed world of tact and control that was her daily life had been torn apart by a passion and urgency that even Ruth had not believed possible. The calculating, private persona of Harry Pearce had been revealed as only a surface mask beneath which impassioned and intense feelings created a turmoil of desire and longing. In this brief breathing space she had to decide rationally what had to be done; for much as she had been overwhelmed with the force of Harry's desire for her, she realised that it was she who would determine the outcome of the evening. It was very clear what Harry intended: a satisfactory conclusion to the operation followed by a night of intimacy and ecstasy with her. It was what she had hoped for, had dreamed of, in so many imagined scenarios for so long; and yet, and yet it was not too late to pull back from the brink before they were both consumed in a vortex of sexual passion and intense love that could destroy them both. The words of T S Eliot's The Love Song of Alfred Prufrock rang in her mind:

"And indeed there will be time
To wonder, 'Do I dare?' and 'Do I dare?'
Time to turn back and descend the stair ….
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse."

Was this hesitation just a failure of nerve or a lifeline to avoid an act of absolute folly? She could not deny that she was thrilled to discover that Harry felt about her as she did about him so that she felt happiness blossom inside her like the unfolding petals of an exotic flower that spills its fragrance in the air at dusk, but her rational mind argued back that that was just a rush of chemicals in the brain and she giggled inwardly to herself that Harry was her recreational drug of choice, her amphetamine, her speed, her ecstasy (oh most definitely her ecstasy!). No she must not be sidetracked, she must decide what she was going to do: a night of unbridled and longed for sexual union with an amorous Harry or yet another night of misery and regret at lost opportunities – a no-brainer obviously. So Ovaltine and a volume of Proust's Recherche du Temps Perdu it was then. A failure of nerve, she was an expert at that, perhaps she should have her name changed to Anne Elliott and have done with it except in her case she couldn't imagine that her Captain Wentworth would still be hanging around waiting to give her another chance in 8 years time.

Whilst these thoughts were coursing through Ruth's mind she carried on fiddling with her hair whilst her pale face stared back at her in the mirror partly obscured by the gauze of tears that brimmed on the edge of her eyelids. A slight noise made her focus more keenly and she saw the tall slender figure of Catherine Palmerston appear behind her.

"My, my, you are the dark horse."

"Pardon?"

"Oh don't play coy with me Ruth. I saw you and Harry getting it on. That's fine, you should just have said and I wouldn't have tried poaching your territory."

Ruth was dismayed by Catherine's coarse tones and also at the prospect of her spreading gossip about them throughout the various departments of 5 and 6. This was precisely why she would have to smother the volcano of desire that had exploded to the surface; there was no way on earth that she was going to give the likes of Catherine Palmerston ammunition to ridicule Harry.

"I'm sorry, I've no idea what you're talking about."

Catherine looked at her in the mirror with a sceptical, amused expression.

Don't be silly Ruth it's obvious you and Harry want to make beautiful music together and I don't just mean Ella Fitgerald."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you Catherine, but there is nothing going on. We are just carrying out the brief for the op."

"Oh well in that case I'll carry on where I left off when Adam so rudely interrupted."

Ruth could sense that Catherine Palmerston was testing her and her heart sank at the prospect of Harry once more being the target of the siren's sexual offensive, but she just smiled her acquiescence. Hopefully Harry would continue to keep Catherine at arms length, although given the frustrated state he had been in earlier Ruth couldn't blame him if natural urges got the better of him; particularly if she informed the red-blooded male that lay behind the cool, enigmatic exterior that she would not be available as the main course. Oh God, what to do? Surrender to the desire they both had and embark on an affair that she knew from the depth of their mutual pent-up passion could not be a brief fling and would lead to all the complications and potential disasters she had already pondered or leave him open to the steam-rollering honey-trap that was Catherine Palmerston; who might just be intending to add Harry's scalp to the large number of pelts already taken from the male population of the security services but more worryingly might want to snare such a senior and charismatic figure in a more serious relationship.

Perhaps the solution was to abdicate responsibility. Get absolutely rat-arsed and sink into an oblivion in which the whole quagmire of emotions versus sense of duty would be forgotten. With that comforting thought of a possible short-term solution to her dilemma Ruth walked out of the Ladies and returned to the main reception room, picking up a large glass of red wine that sat invitingly on a side table. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Catherine Palmerston slinking over to the achingly handsome figure of Harry, immaculate in his evening suit and crisp white dress shirt. Feeling she was either going to start crying or rush over and floor the gold lamed stick insect Ruth turned away, raised the glass to her lips and purposefully downed it's contents in one gulp.