Chapter Two.
Harry was the first to wake up the next morning and, as ever, looked across at the still sleeping Dempsey. Sliding across the bed to him, she entwined her legs with his and began twiddling the hairs on his chest around in her fingers, before lifting herself onto one elbow and looking down at him.
Closing her eyes, she kissed his eyelids, then his cheek, the tip of his nose and finally his lips. As he opened his eyes, he reached an arm around her back and ran his fingers down her spine, feeling her shudder and shiver with ecstasy.
"Good morning, husband of mine." she whispered, her voice husky from a glass or two too many during their evening with friends. "What happened last night?"
"You fell asleep." he answered, quietly, his lips caressing hers as he spoke, his fingers continuing to stroke her spine, her skin fluttering under his light, gentle touch.
"Mmm, I did, didn't I. But, I'm wide awake now, darling." she said, her hand sliding down his body, his subsequent groan of pleasure heralding the unbridled passion that followed.
Later, showered and dressed for work, they sat at the kitchen bar, eating their favourite breakfast of scrambled eggs, grilled bacon, toast and marmalade, the obligatory pot of fresh coffee steaming away on its hot plate.
"What do you make of Belinda, Dempsey?" asked Harry, despite now being married to him, still referring to him as she always had done, old habits dying hard.
"Not given it much thought honey, why?" he replied, finishing his meal and taking a long drink of black coffee.
"I don't know." she said, looking thoughtful, finishing her breakfast too and sipping her drink. "I just detected Angela and Joyce finding it hard to read her."
"Why would you wanna read her?" he asked. "She's a stunning model with curves in all the right places an' puttin' em' to lucrative effect by the sounds of it."
Without warning and as if from nowhere, panic suddenly gripped her.
"Oh yes!?" she answered, memories rushing in of how Robert, her first husband, had changed overnight from attentive partner to cheating bastard once she married him. "I suppose you'd be in there like a rat up a drainpipe!"
"Huh, I wouldn't kick her outta the sack." replied Dempsey, grinning at her, the assumption she was being playful turning to mild shock at the look of hurt and concern on her face.
He instinctively knew where it was coming from.
"Hey princess, no-one, but no-one, will ever come close to you for me!" he exclaimed. "Harry, I ain't no Robert Makepeace!"
She searched his face, swallowing back the tears that were threatening to engulf her and, as quickly as they had rushed at her, her fears faded, the knowledge that the love they shared was deep, true and eternal, calming her.
"I'm sorry, James." she said, quietly. "The damage Robert did to me cut so very deep, it sometimes gets triggered and bubbles to the surface."
Dempsey stood then, took her hand and gently pulled her to a standing position, wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her face to him, kissing her tenderly on the lips. Both her arms went round his neck as she responded, finally saying as their lips parted from each other.
"I love you so very much."
"My love for you knows no bounds, Harry, no bounds at all." he said, his soft brown eyes searching hers. "Sometimes, ya know, I have ta pinch myself to know that this beautiful, sexy, wonderful girl in front of me, loves me as much as I love her."
He grinned then and, as he kissed her once more, she melted, her heart bursting and her fears now fully dispelled, such was the unique and innocent power he held over her. They hugged for a moment before letting go of each other.
"What am I like." she said, smiling and sitting down again. "Just ignore me, darling, I'm being silly."
"No honey." replied Dempsey, still standing next to her, one arm around her shoulder, the other holding her hand. "You're bein' honest an' open an' wearin' ya heart on ya sleeve. It's important ya don' bottle things up. Too many relationships and marriages bust open an' hit the skids 'cos one or other, or both even, jus' clam up. That ain't gonna happen to us, so long as we discuss everything - good or bad, yeah?"
"Yes - and no secrets." she said, caressing his hand.
"Hell no!" replied Dempsey, raising an eyebrow. "Honey, our cupboards are bare. We cleared any skeletons out a long time ago, didn't we?"
"Yes of course we did." smiled Harry, back to her old self as she started giggling. "I probably know more about you than you know yourself!"
"I know somethin'." he said, squeezing her hand that was still stroking his.
"What?" she asked.
"I wanna take you back to bed!" he grinned, as he suddenly lifted her into his arms.
"James we can't! We haven't the time!" she laughed, burying her head into his neck and putting up not the slightest token of resistance as he carried her back to their bedroom.
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Ivan Davidovich was twenty-eight years old and an albino, every hair on his body white blonde. Nevertheless, standing six foot two, he was impressive looking, with broad shoulders, barrel chest, slim hips and muscled thighs. Supremely fit, he ran six miles every day followed by an hour in the gym, lifting weights and carrying out a regular routine of exercises to maintain his toned physique.
He was also a Russian spy and a ruthless killer, trained in the art of self defence, could snuff the life out of an adversary with one blow to the throat and was fluent in English, French, German, Dutch, Spanish, Italian and Chinese.
Despite his rare, almost frightening looks, he exuded a magnetism that women found irresistible - there was something dangerous about him and they were captivated by it.
He'd met Belinda at a function in the Russian Embassy, she on the arm of a French diplomat and merely there for decoration. She had wanted Ivan on sight and slipped away quietly with him into an empty office, giving herself to him willingly.
She had no idea he was a spy, believing him when he told her he worked for the Russian ambassador as a bodyguard. He was mysterious and exciting but she saw him only occasionally, hence her ongoing relationship with Hugo who was rich, handsome and available.
His albinism was of the ocular kind, thus his impossibly pale blue eyes now devoured her naked body next to him, a body he had used most of the night and he was ready for more.
As Belinda slowly woke, she felt warm hands caressing intimate parts of her body and, opening her eyes, stared into Ivan's, his white eyelashes and eyebrows never failing to fascinate her. She reached out and stroked his smooth, hairless chest then lay back and let him take her once more.
"When will I see you again?" she asked later, lying in the bed and watching him as he got dressed, the rippling muscles of his arms and shoulders doing nothing to dampen her desire for him.
"In a few days, my kotyonok." he replied.
"What's that word mean?" she asked. "Coatie-onnie or something."
"Kitten, you're my little kitten." he smiled. "Or I could call you my kotik, zaika or malysh. They mean pussycat, bunny or baby."
"I love all of them - so sexy!" she replied, as he made to leave. "Put a message for me on my ansaphone when you're back?"
"I will malysh." he said, then he was gone.
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It was lunchtime in Washington DC and Melissa Dunstone was in a hurry. For a forty-five year old she was in great shape, with blonde hair, blue eyes and a curvy figure and although married for twenty-five years, she was rarely without a lover.
She was meeting one of them now and running ten minutes late. Although both Americans born and bred, they were Communists and Russian agents, having been recruited in their teens.
He, Alex Ford, also forty-five, worked in the archives section at the CIA and had stumbled across the thick file detailing the Philadelphia Experiment. Stamped 'Top Secret' and 'Highly Classified' it had no business being where it was. Just how it found its way there was of no concern to Alex - and after quickly speed reading the contents, he knew he'd hit the jackpot so was quick to spirit it away in his briefcase.
Contacting his handler, he'd been instructed to hand it over to Melissa and give her a description of the agent she was to meet, who was flying in from London later that afternoon.
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In London earlier that morning, Ivan, having left Belinda, was now sitting in front of the Ambassador's huge oak desk.
"Ivan Davidovich, I have a job for you." said the Ambassador. "You are booked on the midday flight out of London Heathrow for Washington DC. You will proceed immediately to the Topaz Hotel where a room has been reserved in the name of Hans Bensinck. You are a Dutch teacher specialising in twentieth century politics on a fact finding mission. Our asset will be in touch with further instructions."
"Can you tell me the essence of my mission at all, your Excellency?"
"You have been chosen to collect some documents that are highly confidential." replied the Ambassador. "Then to bring them back to me."
"Thank you for your trust and choosing me to carry out this task." said Ivan. "I will not fail you, your Excellency."
Having left the office, Ivan collected his false passport, identity papers and a five hundred dollar float, then returned to his apartment to pack an overnight bag.
It wasn't yet nine o'clock, so he changed into his running gear, the obligatory six miles taking him forty-two minutes. Stopping off at the gym and punishing his body for another hour, he was still in plenty of time to get to Heathrow and boarded his flight at eleven forty, which took off on time at midday.
He met with no trouble at passport control, speaking in deliberate broken English and was ushered through. By four pm local time, he was entering his room at the Topaz Hotel, half an hour later receiving a call instructing him to go to the hotel bar and wait for a blonde woman, wearing a dark green overcoat.
Entering the bar, he ignored the stares, some surreptitious others blatant, at his appearance, ordered a Jack Daniels on the rocks, sat at a vacant table and waited.
After a while an attractive middle aged blonde woman walked up to him. As previously instructed he stood up as she kissed him in welcome, then went to the bar and bought her a vodka and tonic.
Having finished their drinks they got up and left, anyone watching assuming they were probably going for an early meal somewhere or simply moving on.
Instead they went to his room.
When she took her coat off, Ivan was pleasantly surprised. She was voluptuous, clothed in a figure hugging dress that slid higher when she sat at the bedroom table, exposing shapely thighs in black tights.
"What is your name?" he asked, staring intently at her.
"Melissa." she replied. "And you?"
"Anyone you care me to be." came his reply.
Smiling, she transferred the thick file of papers to his briefcase and brushed her hand lightly across his as he closed it. Looking up at him as he stood next to her, she became excited as his pale blue eyes devoured her.
"Now our business is concluded, can I buy you dinner?" he asked, making no secret of the fact that he found her highly desirable as his eyes wandered over her body.
"Let me make a 'phone call." she replied, picking up the room telephone, punching nine for an outside line. "Hi honey, I'm gonna be workin' late. Dunno when I'll be finishin' up. May have to grab a room somewhere's for the night. Don' wait up, see ya in the mornin'. Okay. Love you too, baby."
She replaced the receiver, then levelled her blue eyes at Ivan.
"I'm all yours honey." she said, reaching for the belt to his trousers.
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Dempsey and Harry were half an hour late arriving at the SI-10 offices and were met with the playful wagging of fingers and tut tutting from their grinning colleagues.
"Traffic was hell this mornin'." said Dempsey. "Wasn't it Harry."
"Oh yes, awful." she replied, keeping her head down at her desk and shuffling through a pile of papers.
They were saved from any more newly wed based ribbing by Spikings who, on hearing their voices, appeared at his office door, gesturing with his forefinger for them to join him.
Dempsey assumed his normal stance leaning up against the wall, while Harry sat down opposite Spikings.
"Somethin' up Chief?" asked Dempsey.
"There is, Dempsey, but as yet we're not involved." replied Spikings, continuing. "But that's not to say we won't be."
"Sorry sir, but I'm not sure I understand you." said Harry, puzzlement on her face.
"MI6 were notified by the CIA that a highly confidential file has gone missing from Langley." explained Spikings. "And we, in turn, have been alerted too, as have Interpol."
He then went on to describe 'The Philadelphia Experiment', Dempsey and Harry's mouths falling open ever wider with disbelief and horror as the details unfolded.
"Holy Moses, boss!" exclaimed Dempsey. "If that file winds up with the Ruskies or the Chinks, an' they iron the hitches outta that experiment, we're in big trouble!"
"Quite so, Lieutenant." agreed Spikings. "And no-one has the foggiest idea who took the file or where it might be."
