~*~A/N: Hellll yeeeeaaaaaaaahhhh. De's turn. (Have I mentioned that I LOVE Bond??)
Luca Jurskadov couldn't believe his luck. He'd been in France on his very first mission to deliver a case of explosive weaponry to his boss's advisor, when he ran into a beautiful French woman by a fruit cart in the center of a market in Paris. She had been purchasing ripe grapes from a vendor when he noticed her, and before long, they were engaged in a long conversation on the sidewalk. He didn't know French, but he spoke some English, as did she, though, she had a heavy accent, but they were able to communicate. Her name, she told him, was Clarissa Neupon, and he was immediately drawn into her deep cat-like green eyes. Within thirty minutes of knowing her, he had asked her up to his hotel room, and she accepted the invitation wole-heartedly. When they'd arrived in his suite, she pulled off her long black coat, draping it over a nearby chair, revealing a short black skirt and red silk blouse. It wasn't long before both their clothes were shed, and they were tangled in the sheets on the large king-sized bed.
Luca groaned with ecstacy as Clarissa moved on top of him. His boss, the Russian spy named Rahl Fedrochav, had warned him not to mix business with pleasure, as it *was* his very first mission, but he couldn't resist Clarissa's sex-appeal. Everything about her, from her breathtaking looks to her mysterious accent, was intriguing. He climaxed quickly, clutching handfulls of the thin white sheet as he gasped with pleasure. He collapsed against the pillows as Clarissa moved off of him, standing, and shaking her hair free of tangles. Luca reclined in the bed, admiring her sunkissed skin as she put on her black lace bra and skirt.
"Why are you in such a hurry to leave?" he asked, wishing she'd stay a little longer. Clarissa laughed, turning to her coat, rummaging through the pockets. She was probably searching for a cigarette, Luca figured. He leaned over to the nightstand to retrive his lighter, prepared to ask for a smoke. Suddenly, an ear-shattering sound filled the air, and Luca cried out as an unbearable pain sliced through his chest. He glanced down, seeing his thick crimson blood run down the bare skin of his stomach, and he looked up in shock at Clarissa, who held a black smoking gun.
"Didn't anybody ever tell you not to mix business with pleasure?" she said, her scarlet lips twisted in a half-smile. Luca stared at his wound with despair, and he clutched at his chest, his fingers becoming slippery with his own blood. She fired again, and his world slowly turned to black.
~*~
The bright red Ford Thunderbird raced through the streets of Paris. Danielle Stronghold sat in the driver's seat, holding the steering wheel casually with one hand, the toe of her black leather boot pressed on the gas pedal. She lowered her black sunglasses over her emerald eyes and focused her attention on the winding road in front of her. Her left hand snaked into her pocket, and she felt the handle of her beloved black pistol, which was still warm from the day's events. Danielle laughed to herself. Luca Jurskadov was, by far, the most gullible man she'd ever met. Someone ought to tell Rahl Fedrochav to find new men for his missions, she thought. The Russians were surely losing their edge.
Danielle's 'Bird squealed to a stop on the corner of 3rd Street, in front of a large brown building. A sign hung on the front door, which displayed the words "Soon to be Renovated". The building was shabby, and, from the outside, appeared to be falling apart. It looked as though it hadn't been used in decades.
Danielle stepped out of her car, locking it immediately. She bent to the side mirror and raised her glasses, inspecting her reflection thoughtfully.
"Tres formidable," she murmered to herself, pleased with what she saw. She straightened, and headed for the building, knowing she looked fantastic, as always. Her thick, wavy chestnut hair was never out of place, and fell just below her shoulders. Her chiseled features gave her a sharp, intimidating look, and her green eyes were mysterious and reminiscant of a cat's. Her full lips were always red and moistened, drawing attention wherever she went. Danielle's skin was naturally bronze, and her body was well-fit and toned, causing every female to be envious of her, and every male to desire her.
With a quick look over her shoulder, Danielle unlocked the heavy metal door and slipped inside the building, which was actually the secret station of one of the largest headquarters for British Intelligance outside of England.
~*~
"Bonjour," Danielle said to her secretary, Nicole Nouie. She strode past confidently, waltzing right into the grand office that belonged to her boss, Pierre LaSalle of Station F.
"Ah, Ms. Stronghold," Pierre said, upon seeing her. "How did it go?"
"Excellent, as expected," Danielle reported in a bored tone, perching on his desk, and lighting a cigarette. "These missions are getting too easy, Pierre. I can kill these ridiculous spies in my sleep."
Pierre chuckled.
"Well, Ms. Stronghold," he said. "I suppose you will be happy with what I have to tell you."
Danielle looked at him curiously, raising her sunglasses to the top of her head.
"Continue," she urged.
"I have a brand new assignment for you," he said, settling back in his chair. "And it doesn't involve ameteur Russian agents."
Danielle smiled, revealing her startlingly white smile.
"Tres bien," she replied, leaning forward with curiosity. "I'm listening."
A/N: Take it away, Ian. (And, yes, for the record, Danielle = me.)
Luca Jurskadov couldn't believe his luck. He'd been in France on his very first mission to deliver a case of explosive weaponry to his boss's advisor, when he ran into a beautiful French woman by a fruit cart in the center of a market in Paris. She had been purchasing ripe grapes from a vendor when he noticed her, and before long, they were engaged in a long conversation on the sidewalk. He didn't know French, but he spoke some English, as did she, though, she had a heavy accent, but they were able to communicate. Her name, she told him, was Clarissa Neupon, and he was immediately drawn into her deep cat-like green eyes. Within thirty minutes of knowing her, he had asked her up to his hotel room, and she accepted the invitation wole-heartedly. When they'd arrived in his suite, she pulled off her long black coat, draping it over a nearby chair, revealing a short black skirt and red silk blouse. It wasn't long before both their clothes were shed, and they were tangled in the sheets on the large king-sized bed.
Luca groaned with ecstacy as Clarissa moved on top of him. His boss, the Russian spy named Rahl Fedrochav, had warned him not to mix business with pleasure, as it *was* his very first mission, but he couldn't resist Clarissa's sex-appeal. Everything about her, from her breathtaking looks to her mysterious accent, was intriguing. He climaxed quickly, clutching handfulls of the thin white sheet as he gasped with pleasure. He collapsed against the pillows as Clarissa moved off of him, standing, and shaking her hair free of tangles. Luca reclined in the bed, admiring her sunkissed skin as she put on her black lace bra and skirt.
"Why are you in such a hurry to leave?" he asked, wishing she'd stay a little longer. Clarissa laughed, turning to her coat, rummaging through the pockets. She was probably searching for a cigarette, Luca figured. He leaned over to the nightstand to retrive his lighter, prepared to ask for a smoke. Suddenly, an ear-shattering sound filled the air, and Luca cried out as an unbearable pain sliced through his chest. He glanced down, seeing his thick crimson blood run down the bare skin of his stomach, and he looked up in shock at Clarissa, who held a black smoking gun.
"Didn't anybody ever tell you not to mix business with pleasure?" she said, her scarlet lips twisted in a half-smile. Luca stared at his wound with despair, and he clutched at his chest, his fingers becoming slippery with his own blood. She fired again, and his world slowly turned to black.
~*~
The bright red Ford Thunderbird raced through the streets of Paris. Danielle Stronghold sat in the driver's seat, holding the steering wheel casually with one hand, the toe of her black leather boot pressed on the gas pedal. She lowered her black sunglasses over her emerald eyes and focused her attention on the winding road in front of her. Her left hand snaked into her pocket, and she felt the handle of her beloved black pistol, which was still warm from the day's events. Danielle laughed to herself. Luca Jurskadov was, by far, the most gullible man she'd ever met. Someone ought to tell Rahl Fedrochav to find new men for his missions, she thought. The Russians were surely losing their edge.
Danielle's 'Bird squealed to a stop on the corner of 3rd Street, in front of a large brown building. A sign hung on the front door, which displayed the words "Soon to be Renovated". The building was shabby, and, from the outside, appeared to be falling apart. It looked as though it hadn't been used in decades.
Danielle stepped out of her car, locking it immediately. She bent to the side mirror and raised her glasses, inspecting her reflection thoughtfully.
"Tres formidable," she murmered to herself, pleased with what she saw. She straightened, and headed for the building, knowing she looked fantastic, as always. Her thick, wavy chestnut hair was never out of place, and fell just below her shoulders. Her chiseled features gave her a sharp, intimidating look, and her green eyes were mysterious and reminiscant of a cat's. Her full lips were always red and moistened, drawing attention wherever she went. Danielle's skin was naturally bronze, and her body was well-fit and toned, causing every female to be envious of her, and every male to desire her.
With a quick look over her shoulder, Danielle unlocked the heavy metal door and slipped inside the building, which was actually the secret station of one of the largest headquarters for British Intelligance outside of England.
~*~
"Bonjour," Danielle said to her secretary, Nicole Nouie. She strode past confidently, waltzing right into the grand office that belonged to her boss, Pierre LaSalle of Station F.
"Ah, Ms. Stronghold," Pierre said, upon seeing her. "How did it go?"
"Excellent, as expected," Danielle reported in a bored tone, perching on his desk, and lighting a cigarette. "These missions are getting too easy, Pierre. I can kill these ridiculous spies in my sleep."
Pierre chuckled.
"Well, Ms. Stronghold," he said. "I suppose you will be happy with what I have to tell you."
Danielle looked at him curiously, raising her sunglasses to the top of her head.
"Continue," she urged.
"I have a brand new assignment for you," he said, settling back in his chair. "And it doesn't involve ameteur Russian agents."
Danielle smiled, revealing her startlingly white smile.
"Tres bien," she replied, leaning forward with curiosity. "I'm listening."
A/N: Take it away, Ian. (And, yes, for the record, Danielle = me.)