Hotel Splendid, Main Reception
"I don't know about you, Jen, but I'm hungry," Kelly announced. "Shall we head to the dining room, or find a restaurant nearby?"
Though she wasn't especially hungry Jennifer was just about to reply in the affirmative, to be polite, when she happened to glance to one side - and saw Lucija, obviously coming off her shift. Now's my chance...! "Um, I think I'll take a rain check, Kelly, I'm not really hungry." Well, not for food, anyway, though I am planning on eating something...!
He followed the direction of her gaze...and noted the slight flush to her cheeks, plus the telltale dilation of her pupils. She's on the prowl again. Might've known. He sighed in resignation; Jennifer was who she was, and it was incumbent on him to accept that. "Have fun...but watch yourself. Remember why we're here."
"Yes, sir," she acknowledged, meeting his eyes, quietly but soberly reassuring him that she knew what she was doing. "And thanks."
She nonchalantly made her way over to Lucija's side as Kelly departed, and made a brave attempt to greet her in Croatian, recalling what she'd read in her tourist guide and remembering how Kelly had pronounced her name. "Zdravo, Lucija."
Lucija turned to her and smiled. Just to tease this woman, who she knew found her to be very attractive, she replied in Croatian, "Madam, s dužhim poštovanjem, vi više ne govorite hrvastski nego vaš ljubavnik." Her smile broadened. "But like him, you are courteous and I do appreciate it. Hvala vam."
Jennifer laughed ruefully. "I'm sorry, I didn't understand a word of that apart from the first."
Now Lucija laughed. "I'm sorry, too, I was teasing you. I said in Croatian, my native tongue, 'Madam, with all due respect, you no more speak Croatian than your lover does'." She sobered. "But I really meant what I said about your courtesy; it's so rare, especially when it comes to English tourists. No offence meant," she hastily added.
"Oh, no, none taken," Jennifer assured her, boldly stroking the girl's soft cheek. "Sadly you're right; English tourists can be so provincial, I'm afraid. I've seen a lot of that on holiday and I always want to apologise for it. But my grandmother, who's travelled a lot, told me when I was a little girl to always learn a bit of the language and customs if I ever went on holiday; she held that it was only polite, and I agree." She smiled. "In some countries, like France, it tends to get you much better service."
She was briefly lost in fond memories of her family trip to Paris when she was fifteen, and her eagerness to try out her GCSE French on the young and very handsome waiter who'd served them at a restaurant on the banks of the Seine. In her mind they'd had a torrid love affair lasting all of fifteen minutes...until it transpired he was ten years older than he looked and had been married for three. But he'd responded to her best linguistic efforts with warm praise, and she'd actually wiggled in her seat...hoping she wasn't leaving pussy stains on it.
He'd had the sexiest accent she'd ever heard, and beautiful dark eyes she wanted to get lost in...
Lucky bitch, she'd groused on seeing his wife, who was only about four years older than Jennifer and unutterably gorgeous. No wonder he hadn't been more than politely interested in this teenage fillette with an obvious huge crush on him.
Oh well, she conceded pragmatically, at least he was polite about it and didn't make fun of me, and the service was perfectly wonderful. Dad was so proud of me, ordering our meal in French and everyone getting exactly what they'd asked me to order, even though he was trying not to laugh at my crush. He was a terrific Dad, I miss him...
"Sorry - woolgathering, as we say in England," she apologised, putting the memories aside and returning to the business at hand...namely getting this cute little Croatian sprite out of her clothes and into bed!
"I'm in no hurry, I am off shift for today, madam," Lucija replied.
"My name's Jennifer," she told the girl softly, stroking her cheek again, and this time Lucija reciprocated. Her hand was warm on Jennifer's cheek. Their eyes met, and there was a soft, silent explosion. Neither looked away.
"Jennifer, I confess that I know little of English customs in these...matters," Lucija ventured, "and I hope I am not - reading you wrong, is that the right phrase?"
"Yes, it is, and no, you're not," Jennifer answered sensually, moving close enough to her to pick up on her scent, which was delicious. She no more knew Croatian sexual customs than Lucija knew English ones, so she decided to be bold about it. "I think you're beautiful, and very cute, and sexy, and I would very much like to take you to bed and make love with you."
Lucija's beautiful blue eyes lit up at that. "O moj Bože," she breathed, delighted and aroused, "you are a bold one, Jennifer!"
Further emboldened by this, Jennifer gently laid her hand on Lucija's left breast.
To Jennifer's delight she wasn't wearing a bra; Jennifer could feel the hardening nipple under her fingers. Lucija's breasts were quite sizeable considering her petite frame - C-cup, surely, but lovely and firm...and natural, too. I should hope so at her age, she can't be more than 20.
"You like your lovers to be bold," she opined. And I love a C-cup who's bold enough to go braless!
"God, yes," Lucija readily admitted, enjoying Jennifer's caress. She was excited by the fact that this woman, who she guessed was very experienced with lesbian sex, was fondling her in public, and was tempted to reciprocate. "Room 217, as I recall?"
"As you know damn well, you sexy bitch," Jennifer returned, holding the girl's earnest gaze with her own. She got the distinct impression that Lucija liked lewd talk; she seemed excited. Oh, I am SO having you, you sexy little Croatian tart!
"I love English dirty talk," Lucija confessed, confirming Jennifer's guess. "I lost my virginity to an English tourist when I was fourteen." She giggled. "I wanted him so badly I lied to him; I told him I was sixteen. He talked dirty to me, complimenting me on my tits, my ass, and I got so wet, so quickly..."
"Hey, you could teach me the Croatian equivalents," Jennifer suggested, and lowered her voice, paying lip service at least to public propriety (while still fondling Lucija's breast!). "For instance, how do you say 'pussy' when you're not referring to a cat?"
"The word is stidnica," Lucija answered in a whisper, and deliberately slid her hand between Jennifer's legs. I should be bold, too.
"So let's go and get some stidnica," Jennifer giggled.
To the delight of a couple of guests who'd picked up on what was going on, they kissed passionately and then took off at speed...to cheers. The maître d'hôtel saw all this and sighed; doubtless word would get back to the manager as it usually did. Lucija was an excellent receptionist, to be sure, but she was notorious for her frequently -unprofessional -behaviour with guests, particularly if they were attractive mature women. On the other hand, he reflected wryly, none of said guests had ever complained, so...
It wasn't long before Lucija delighted Jennifer again wardrobe-wise...because she wasn't wearing any knickers either, as Jennifer discovered by fondling Lucija's neat, firm bottom as they walked and failing to feel any hint of panty line on the girl's perky derrière. Not even a G-string, I love a girl with daring! "Ooh, going commando, are you? I like!"
"I often go without," she confessed, enjoying the way Jennifer was groping her (especially in public!), "as a girl I often left them off because I don't like wearing them, and every time I got caught out I was chastised by my mother and grandmother." She sighed. "I would get so tired of lectures on 'proper' behaviour, but a lady must always be proper in Croatia. It was a way of rebelling without getting into too much trouble." Lucija smiled saucily. "But now I am a woman with a mind and with choices of my own, and I will wear knickers or not as I please!"
Jennifer returned her smile in kind. "I agree; being a lady isn't all it's cracked up to be. In England, women who go commando are usually regarded as sluts...but I reckon sluts have more fun!"
They laughed together as they arrived at Room 217. Jennifer opened the door whilst French-kissing Lucija, they entered the room with lips still locked, and things went on from there...
Room 217, Hotel Splendid
Two hours later
"I should call the maid to air out the room," Lucija, lying naked on the bed and streaked with sweat, sighed ruefully, "or Kelly will know what we have been doing."
Jennifer, equally naked and sweaty, shrugged, kissing the girl's nipple and gently sucking on it, while stroking her bare labia. Lucija had completely shaved off her pubic hair except for a small tuft on the mons veneris, doubtless to prove to a lover that she was a woman, not a little girl, and that she was a natural blonde. Her labia felt wonderfully soft and smooth. "He's very much a man of the world, darling. He already knows what we've been up to, believe me."
Lucija sat up, surprised. "He does not mind?"
Jennifer smiled lazily, sat up herself and enveloped her young lover in her arms. "Darling, Kelly and I have an understanding: it's none of his business what I get up to on my own time, or with whom. By the same token, it's none of my business what he gets up to." She chuckled wryly. "Not that he does, since he's monogamous by nature - it's just that he's perfectly willing to accept that I'm not. Sometimes I actually wish he would bonk someone else, just to level the playing field."
Lucija frowned. "It seems strange for a man not to take such an opportunity, if he knows you wouldn't mind."
Jennifer smiled fondly. "For most men I suppose it would be, yes. But Kelly maintains that I'm the only person he wants or needs in bed, bless him. By his terms, I'm more than enough for any man."
Overcome by a sudden rush of passion, Lucija kissed her deeply and declared throatily, "You're more than enough for me, too!" Her hand slid between Jennifer's legs, two fingers slipping into her pussy and her thumb caressing Jennifer's clitoris. "I want more, darling!"
The older woman's breath caught in her throat as she readily responded to Lucija's intimate sexual caress, instantly wet and willing. "Dođi po malo stidnica, you sexy cunt," she gasped lustily, deliberately using the blunt Anglo-Saxon expletive because she knew it would turn Lucija on all the more.
Come and get some pussy...!
Lucija did just that. Before long they'd 'assumed the position', i.e. a sixty-nine...
Room 216, Hotel Splendid
As Jennifer and Lucija are climaxing
Soundproofing in a hotel is usually more of a hope than a certainty, and as Gareth and Helen Brown were now discovering, Hotel Splendid wasn't cutting it. The middle-aged couple could hear everything the enthusiastic young lesbian lovers were up to.
Not that they had any intention of calling the front desk to complain...far from it. After 30 years of married contentment, they'd opted for a romantic getaway in Montenegro in the hope of recapturing some of their youthful passion. But they hadn't had much success...until now. They were shocked and delighted to discover they were both turned on by the raucous lesbian sex occurring next door, and they made the most of it.
They were, of course, rather more discreet, which might have disappointed Jennifer somewhat had she known that they had an audience...she might have invited them to watch or even join in.
"Ooh, I didn't even know I could get wet any more," Helen enthused. Gareth, similarly relishing his erection, eagerly went down on his wife for the first time in, oh, too long, after which they quietly but joyfully made love. Afterwards they were content to listen to the young lovers, who hadn't gone any quieter after their second mutual climax.
"I think I recognise the younger girl's voice," Gareth murmured. "I'm sure it's that pretty blonde receptionist."
"Trust you to notice a pretty young thing like her," Helen scolded, not meaning it. Her husband was right, Lucia (I think that's how you say it) was pretty, the sort of girl people liked to see at reception desks. "So who was she making love with? Who was she...ooh, how long's it been since I swore, darling?...Who was she...fucking?" She gave a little gasp at her own daring; ladies normally didn't use such words, even in bed. Then again, she thought saucily, if you can't talk explicitly in bed, then where can you?
"Who exactly is this woman, and what's she done with my prim and proper wife?" Gareth quipped.
Helen giggled, sounding embarrassingly like her granddaughter Gemma. "And who's this sexy stud who's replaced my husband, not that I'm complaining!"
They hugged and kissed like the teenagers they'd been when they'd met, then gradually settled, Helen leaning into the husband she still adored after 36 years of knowing him and 30 years of marriage. Both had come from broken homes and, having learned from terrible examples, had sworn to do better than their parents - and they were proud that they'd managed it.
"Hmm...you know, I think it was that tall redhead, looked a young thirty-odd, Croydon accent," Gareth mused, then nodded. "Yes, I'm sure of it. Now there's a fine figure of a woman and no mistake," he grinned.
"That's true," Helen had to agree. "But surely she's married to that fellow she came in with, so whatever is she doing in bed with a younger woman? - Apart from the obvious," she chuckled. Somehow she couldn't quite get the picture out of her head of those two lovelies touching and licking each other intimately...going down, she was sure the term was. She was very sure she wasn't gay in the least, and yet...she found herself wondering what it'd be like, what another woman's...pussy...would taste like. But the only woman whom she was certain was gay and whom she knew personally was Diane Turner, who owned the corner shop on their home street, and she was only ten years younger than Helen.
Then again, she speculated, did that really matter...?
"Well, there's all these modern ideas these days, love; maybe they have an open marriage, or maybe they're not married."
"But she's a mother, I'd swear to it," Helen noted, "from the way she walks. Only mothers walk like that."
"And you should know, with five of your own," he kidded.
"Well, you're the one who kept knocking me up," she teased back. For the first time in nearly 12 years he tickled his wife; she retaliated, both gradually became aroused and before too long they were again quietly, discreetly...
...fucking.
Room 217
"I'm sure the couple in the next room could hear us," Lucija murmured. Gareth and Helen Brown, she recalled, a nice middle-aged couple.
Jennifer chuckled saucily. "I hope they did. I hope they enjoyed it. Hell, I hope they got turned on and fucked themselves!"
Lucija couldn't help gasping at that. "You are shameless!"
"Yes, I am," Jennifer readily admitted. "To tell you the truth, I love watching people fucking, and I love being watched while I fuck. I'm a total voyeuse, darling. I'm into group sex; when I was 18, in my first year at university, I took part in an orgy." She thrilled to Lucija's shocked/excited gasp. "At one point I was fucking with five men at the same time," she grinned.
"How - how does that work?!"
Jennifer leered at her lover and answered with relish, "We started with me straddling one man, taking him up my pussy. Then another man stuck his cock up my bum -" Another shocked/excited gasp. "A third man put his cock in my mouth so I could suck him off, and finally I started wanking the other two. God, I was exhausted afterwards, and I was coated in spunk...but I came so hard and so often I lost count, darling. It was a really intense experience." She laughed. "I found out later that I'd been screwed by the Chancellor and buggered by the Dean...both of whom were married!"
Lucija too laughed, and asked, fascinated, "Where were their wives when this was happening?!"
"Oh, they were lost in a sixty-nine with each other, while being buggered by male students!" Jennifer laughed harder. "It turned out they'd both been bicurious for years, and they finally got a chance to give it a shot. They loved it." She gradually calmed, still chuckling. "Normally in a British university that sort of behaviour would get people expelled...but because the Dean and the Chancellor were involved, the whole thing just sort of 'softly and silently vanished away'." She giggled. "The last thing a uni's Board of Trustees wants to hear is that their Dean and their Chancellor were unfaithful to their wives when taking part in a full-blown orgy...in which their wives were also participating!"
Lucija shook her head, chuckling. "Surely you are making fun of me. It is a good and sexy story, but still."
Jennifer sobered. "No, I'm not, Lucija, honestly. I have proof. A so-called friend of mine had a miniature camera and secretly took shots." She shook her head in disgust. "He was intending to use them for blackmail at first, and I'd have called the police if he had - plus I'd have called my martial arts expert cousin to give him a good hiding, the perv - but they came in handy to encourage a cover-up.
"He made sure every student there got copies, and that the Dean knew we had them, so he couldn't touch us. I still have mine, though I debated for a long time whether or not to keep them...but in the end I had to admit they were sexy, so I scanned them years ago..."
She tapped at her phone. Lucija was intrigued to see Jennifer had put 2FA on the photos, so clearly she wouldn't show them to just anyone.
Which had to mean she was telling the truth...
The phone was displaying the most explicit pornographic photo Lucija had ever seen, and she'd seen plenty, many of them from Holland when Tomislav took her there on what he called a 'sex holiday', which turned out to be fun (more so for her when she got off with a 30-year-old whore behind his back!). The woman was clearly identifiable as a younger Jennifer - and she did indeed have a man's kurac in each hand, one up her pussy, one up her bottom and one in her mouth...!
Lucija was instantly dripping wet.
Jennifer had photos of her lesbian experiences, too; one showed her in a sixty-nine with a woman who had to be twice her age...and a man her own age was fucking her from behind at the same time. That made Lucija even wetter; that was surely the best of both worlds. "I'd like to try that," she moaned softly whilst frigging herself.
"Oh, let me do that for you, darling," Jennifer whispered seductively. Lucija managed to reply in the affirmative, and Jennifer's fingers took over from her own, whilst her gaze remained fixed on that deliciously sexual explicit photo, imagining herself in Jennifer's place. God, what would Tomislav think if I suggested that?! Would he want to fuck Jennifer, too? Oh, of course he would, who wouldn't?! Oh, I'm loving this, can I reach her pussy and do the same for her...? Yes, I can!
She did, and Jennifer threw her head back in ecstasy as Lucija gently pushed her entire hand into her lover's wet pussy.
God, she's fisting me! Oh, YES! Go for it, you cute little bitch!
She didn't quite scream as she came.
Gareth and Helen couldn't help wondering just what those two beauties were up to now...but they were too turned-on, again, to care overly much. Helen excitedly requested her husband 'do her' from behind, and he gladly obliged, pleased he was able to sum up the stamina to fuck his wife for the third time in a single day at his age. She found herself even more excited by the implied compliment, namely that even after all these years he still found her desirable and sexy. She loved him for it, and warmly told him so once they'd climaxed.
They resolved to keep this newfound sexual spark alive when they went home; Gareth suggested getting to know a younger couple to try a bit of swinging. Helen's shock at the very idea didn't last all that long...because it occurred to her that it might be an ideal opportunity to experiment with lesbian sex. Perhaps Gareth might try a bit of gay sex with the husband, she suggested saucily, and was startled (but aroused!) when her husband confessed to a brief, drunken liaison with another lad when they were 18...
Later, Lucija asked her, "Are you here for the poker game?"
"Sort of," Jennifer smiled, "but I'm acting more as Kelly's arm/eye candy. Think of me as Vesper Lynd, that's my role." Her smile turned seductive. "You should see the dress I've got - a Versace original. I guarantee it's the sexiest dress you're ever likely to see."
"I'm off duty tonight," Lucija told her, with a dirty promise in her eyes.
Tonight...oh my God...!
It was only then that she abruptly remembered her mission...which was to seduce Natalia, not Lucija. Plus Kelly would doubtless be calling for her before long. Oh, no, I've gone too far, what am I going to do? I can't just push her away, I don't want to hurt the poor girl's feelings...unless...wait, what if I seduced both of them? I'll have to talk Lucija into it, if I can...
"Um, I have a confession to make," Jennifer began. "Do you know Natalia Ivánovna?"
Lucija frowned. "She's one of the players, yes."
"She's my mission," Jennifer stated simply, and proceeded to tell Lucija part of the truth, namely that she was required to seduce the girl and find out what she knew about certain classified matters.
"You are a...secret agent?" Lucija wondered incredulously, realising that that was the only explanation for what she was hearing. Until two years ago, when the hotel manager had quietly directed his staff to aid a CIA agent tracking down a broker believed to be funding terrorists, she would never have believed such things could happen in real life, but now she knew better. She'd spent two of the most frightening days of her life hoping nothing violent would happen.
And nothing did; it turned out the agent's lead was a false trail. The broker wasn't even in Montenegro, let alone in the hotel. Lucija had never been so relieved.
"Yes, I am," Jennifer answered, bringing Lucija back to the here and now. And if you only knew how secret, darling...! "For obvious reasons I can't prove it; I need you to take it on trust." Then she had an idea, and armed the anaesthetic flechètte projector. "Watch carefully..." She fired at a champagne flute on the bedside unit; it shattered, and Lucija gasped. "How many civilians do you know who have flechètte projectors implanted into their fingers, mmm?"
"To je nevjerojatno," Lucija breathed, expressing her amazement. Then she looked frightened. "But...surely you should not be telling me this...?"
"You have to know who to trust, it's true," Jennifer conceded, "but I believe I can trust you. We had the entire staff checked out before we arrived, and none of you have any connections with the people we're after. So I'm taking a calculated risk." That was true, but not in the way she was implying. Since Lucija knew nothing about the Aliens, she knew nothing worth knowing. It is by definition impossible to reveal a secret you don't actually possess. Thus in a sense the risk was zero. Besides, there was always the amnesia drug, even if Lucija did learn something she shouldn't.
"But...who are 'we'?" Lucija asked plaintively.
"I'm sorry, but there is absolutely no way I can tell you that," Jennifer informed her flatly. "It's classified all the way up to UN level."
"That means it's global," Lucija deduced, awestruck.
"True," Jennifer admitted, "and that's all you're allowed to know."
"Oh, I do not want to know," Lucija cried, her memories and fears of two years ago flooding back. "I am only a receptionist! This is...this is beyond me! No, no, I want no part of it! Please!"
"Lucija -" Jennifer attempted, realising worriedly that she'd screwed up somehow, scared the poor kid.
"I - I have to leave," the girl told Jennifer, her voice trembling, her fear all too obvious. She untangled herself from the older woman and reached for her clothes, clearly intending to get dressed.
Oops, I seem to have accidentally solved the problem, Jennifer sighed to herself. For a moment she wanted to beg Lucija to stay, but with a mature woman's perspective she knew that would only demean both of them and cheapen the wonderful experience they'd shared. No, Lucija was right; better to let her go and so make a clean break. Oh well. "I'm sorry," she murmured sincerely. "I shouldn't have started this, but...I just couldn't resist you, darling. You were so beautiful, so sexy, so willing...but I swear I never meant to hurt you. Please believe that," she pleaded, genuinely near tears.
Oh, God, when will I ever learn? Jennifer despaired, feeling the all-too-familiar sensation of having unintentionally hurt someone she cared about. This is Ursula all over again - I never meant to hurt her, either, I'd sooner have cut off a limb than do that, but it happened anyway...
Lucija paused for a moment, considering Jennifer's words and the tears in her eyes, and then sighed, close to tears herself, stroking her lover's cheek. "I...I do believe that. No, of course you meant no harm," Lucija acknowledged. "We're only human, we all make mistakes."
"The only mistake was my lousy timing and lack of self-control," Jennifer sobbed, her tears falling now. "You didn't do anything wrong, darling. I should've waited until the mission was over." She tried to smile. "I just have such a thing for cute little blondes - not a fetish, just a very strong preference - but that's no excuse. Please forgive me."
She means it, Lucija saw. Perhaps she just got carried away. Perhaps she, what is that lovely English phrase - wears her heart on her sleeve. She did this on impulse, and I can't hate her for that.
I won't. She doesn't deserve that. Following your impulses can be fun, and I think that's all she intended. It's just that her timing was wrong. Well, I've made that mistake myself...no, I should forgive her. Father Ivan would be proud of me for that, she decided wryly, remembering the priest of her local church which she'd attended as a child, before reading Darwin at age thirteen and declaring herself an atheist shortly afterwards.
Lucija managed a smile and kissed her. "I forgive you, my love. Perhaps you, or we, should have waited, yes. A pleasure deferred is a pleasure doubled."
"At 35 I surely have to have fifteen years on you," Jennifer told her ruefully, "so how is it you're being the mature one here?"
"My grandmother once said maturity and age aren't the same thing." Lucija looked wry. "She was speaking of her sister, who was an utter brat considering her age."
"Well, she was right; there's more to being an adult than just turning eighteen," Jennifer concurred.
Both sobered. Lucija asked quietly, "Jennifer...can you tell me what is going to happen? Is...O moj Bože, Jennifer, is anyone in danger?"
Damn, that's a mature, sensible question if ever there was one, Jennifer thought worriedly, and she deserves an honest answer...but can I give her one without revealing too much? Then it occurred to her how little she and Kelly actually knew about what was likely to happen - the purpose of this mission was, after all, partly fact-finding. The question of Alien involvement was still very much an open one.
So...fuck it! I'll tell her the truth!
"To be honest, I don't really know," she admitted. "Part of our mission is to determine whether or not Natalia's father has had dealings with the...hostile powers we're concerned with. At the moment all we have are suspicions; it's quite possible we're wrong and that there's no connection, in which case nothing's going to happen. Here's hoping," she added with feeling.
"But...if you are right...?" Lucija asked very softly, sounding very young.
Jennifer sighed. "Then I still don't know. This may sound strange, but we actually know comparatively little about them and their capabilities, though I'm afraid I can't explain why."
"Should I tell the maître d'hôtel?" Lucija ventured, but Jennifer immediately clutched her hand.
"No!" she blurted. "Don't tell anyone!"
"But if people are in danger, surely they have a right to know -" Lucija protested.
"Lucija, please trust me on this: they'll be safer if they don't know. Trust me," Jennifer insisted.
Reluctantly Lucija agreed. "I suppose you know more about such things than I, so I will accept your word on that. But...what should I do? Is there any way I could help?"
Jennifer looked kindly at the younger woman. "Lucija, it's brave of you to ask, but you're a civilian with no combat or military training at all, so the best advice I can give you is the same advice I'd give to any other civilian: keep your head down, stay well out of it and above all, please, do not try to intervene." She squeezed Lucija's hand again. "I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt, darling."
"Then...there may be -" Lucija began, apprehensive.
"- fighting? It's possible," Jennifer nodded. "But in that event I don't think they'll be too concerned about bystanders; Kelly and I will be their primary targets." She found a grin somewhere. "Not that it'll do 'em any good, because despite appearances our clothes are bulletproof."
Lucija looked relieved at that. "I'm glad to hear that. So...you are trained in combat?" she asked, intrigued. Her first lesbian lover had been, a sergeant in the Croatian army. Ivana wasn't hard with muscle, not butch or mannish at all, but neither was she civilian-soft; she was as tall as Jennifer and so strong she could easily pick Lucija up, a fact she'd found very exciting...when Ivana held her up with her head between her lover's legs in a vertical sixty-nine.
Despite the upset which had occurred, she couldn't help wondering: Can Jennifer do that...?
"More in training," Jennifer sheepishly confessed, "but Kelly and our backup team, who are close by, are fully trained and very experienced, believe me. If any trouble starts, I promise you they can and will handle it." I hope. "Lucija, I'm really sorry I've gotten you involved in this, however indirectly." Tears welled up in her eyes again...mainly at the horrifying thought of seeing this young, beautiful sprite lying dead with an Alien bullet in her heart from a stray shot or a ricochet, though she didn't dare say so.
SHADO HQ, Firing Range
Six weeks ago
Once during firearms training Denise mentioned the issue of stray shots, and Jennifer was sure a flicker of pain crossed her face. At the end of the lesson, once the other cadets had left, she gently asked about this, and her instructor confirmed her intuitive guess:
Katniss Dobson was the victim of a ricochet.
"That was the worst of it for Kelly," she confided, "they didn't even mean to kill her. It was more of an accident than anything else." Denise sighed deeply. "It was bad enough for us both dealing with her death at all, but to find out it wasn't even intentional..." She shook her head. "Jennifer, please don't ever tell Kelly I told you that."
"Not a word, I swear," Jennifer vowed solemnly, "on Sophie's life."
"More than good enough for me," Denise nodded.
"But how do you know?" Jennifer asked, puzzled.
"From the post mortem," Denise answered soberly. "Bullets that ricochet are deformed by the impact; that and the angle of entry are usually conclusive." She sighed again. "Commander Straker would have preferred we'd never found that out, but the pathologist didn't know we'd been involved with her; he just thought we were asking out of professional curiosity. To be frank, we shouldn't have asked. I wish we hadn't."
"I'm so sorry," Jennifer murmured sincerely. "From what little Kelly's told me about her, I think I'd have liked her."
Denise managed a smile. "I'm sure you would have, Jennifer."
"Maybe you can make it up to me when you are done," Lucija suggested, as Jennifer put that memory aside.
"I will, I swear," Jennifer vowed, meaning it. They exchanged mobile numbers so as to stay in touch, then Lucija finished dressing, kissed Jennifer once more to show there truly were no hard feelings and walked out, heading for the bar - and a stiff drink or two.
It took half an hour for Cadet Harrison to stop crying.
When Kelly came in, having enjoyed a delicious three-course meal, he was able to instantly size up the situation (rumpled bedclothes, Jennifer mostly naked and red-eyed from crying, room reeking of pussy) and readily deduce what had happened. As he'd halfway expected, Jennifer had gone too far, too fast, with Lucija, until her awareness of her mission had conflicted with her sexual shenanigans...and now, judging by her tear-reddened eyes, she was paying the price.
A less perspicatious Commander might have either chastised her for unprofessional behaviour or said 'I told you so'. Kelly McAllister, ever compassionate, did neither. He sat beside her on the bed, gathered her into his arms and murmured, "I'm sorry, Jen. I know you really liked her." Overcome by the sympathy in his voice, she sobbed anew. But he had to ask, "Sweetheart, how much did you tell her?"
"N - nothing, sir, nothing significant," she managed. He deduced from her inflection that she meant she'd revealed nothing about the Aliens or SHADO, and only the bare minimum regarding their purpose here. Good.
"C - Commander, I think I disobeyed your order, sir," she confessed, "you said to remember why we're here, and I - I think I forgot..."
He gently shushed her and broke the hug, facing her. "A minor, forgivable slip, Cadet. You're already punishing yourself more severely than I ever could even if I were so inclined, so we'll let it go. Are you okay?"
Jennifer took a deep breath, gathered herself together with visible effort and replied, with the barest tremor in her voice, "Yes, sir. I am back on mission." She sighed. "I'll make it up to Lucija somehow when we're done."
Kelly nodded in satisfaction. Jennifer was strong; she would get over this, he knew, and quickly regain her mission focus. "Okay. I'm just about to head up to the casino for the check-in and the preliminary rounds; meanwhile, you should take a shower," he gave her a rueful smile and she found a laugh somewhere, "and start getting ready, okay?"
"Okay," she nodded. "I'll come up when you call, sir. Um, when will that be?"
After a moment's reflection he decided, "At the start of the third hand, I think would be the best time. That should give you enough time to prepare."
"I'll be ready, Commander," she promised, and gave him her best sultry smile. "Ready to knock 'em dead!"
He grinned in approval. "That's the spirit, Jen!"
Hotel Splendid, 10th Floor - Casino Royale
Fifteen minutes later
Kelly passed through the security scanner with no fuss whatsoever, confident the detector wouldn't pick up the flechètte projectors; hell, even SHADO's equivalent but far superior equipment could only barely detect them. The professional body search also revealed nothing untoward; he mentally gave the security staff full marks for a spot-on search. If there was any trouble - at least, anything not pertaining to the Aliens - he was certain these fellows could handle it.
The chief of security checked Kelly's face against the ID displayed on her secure tablet, and nodded. The game director, one Claude Renoir, greeted him heartily. "Welcome to Casino Royale, monsieur." He smiled broadly. "We shall commence in just a moment," he added, seeing that the last player to enter, Alexandra Lavoisier, had just finished checking in with security. "Welcome one and all! I am Claude Renoir, and I shall have the honour of serving as your game director tonight at this hopefully record-breaking event."
The players applauded, and there was a brisk session of hand-shaking. Nicholas Holt, Kelly observed, was hugging one of the women, so obviously they were friends. Lovers, maybe? Kelly speculated, but then mentally shook his head. No, their body language was wrong for that - they were friends and/or business acquaintances.
"As you know," Claude continued, "the game is no-limit Hold 'Em poker. Five communal cards, two in the hole." He chuckled. "Mr. Holt and others might have spotted by now that I appear to be quoting from a certain, most excellent Hollywood movie, but," he shrugged, smiling, "why not?"
There was polite laughter, and Holt commented merrily, "Yeah, word perfect so far, monsieur!" More laughter.
"Monsieur Franz Müller," Claude nodded politely towards a slight, dapper man at his side, "represents Credit Suisse Group AG, Switzerland, holding the stakes."
Müller smiled broadly. "Mesdames et messieurs, you have each deposited $100 million buy-in -"
"Oops, we've gone off-script there," Holt remarked in a stage whisper to his lady friend.
She pinched him. "This whole bash was your idea, Nicholas!" Players chuckled.
"A further buy-in of $50 million can be made by electronic transfer. The money shall remain in escrow until I return and the winner of the contest enters his or her password into this encryption unit," Müller indicated the small armoured suitcase on the table next to him, "whereupon the entire sum will be electronically transferred to any bank account in the world you nominate." Kelly recognised the unit, manufactured by nCipher, and nodded in satisfaction. Their encryption and hardware were almost as good as SHADO's, so transactions would be guaranteed secure.
Okay, here we go.
"Please be so kind as to enter a password of your choice, six letters or more. Monsieur Akinde?"
They proceeded to enter passwords in surname alphabetical order. Thus Jafari Akinde, a successful business consultant from Johannesburg, was first. Holt was next, quipping, "No, it won't be 'vesper', so don't get ideas!"
Despite himself, Kelly couldn't help but chuckle. He was starting to like Holt; for all his flamboyance and romantic boyish streak, he had a good sense of humour.
Natalia stepped up with a demure smile Kelly didn't believe for a single second. For some reason his command intuition was warning him. Something about the girl was...off. He couldn't pin it down, but there was definitely...something.
He found himself unconsciously arming his flechètte projectors, and stopped himself. No-one noticed as far as he could tell. That could wait.
I hope.
Trixie Laplâce was a late entry to the event, so Kelly's intel on her was scant. Then again there was really only one player here with whom he was concerned, so he dismissed the matter. Next came Alexandra Lavoisier, who was a much-travelled, married entrepreneur with, if Kelly recalled correctly, six kids, two of them now adults.
Then it was Kelly's turn. He briefly debated spelling Jennifer's name backwards, an old but still effective trick, but then he had an idea. "Monsieur Müller, if you and my fellow players will bear with me a moment, I have a password generator app on my phone."
Müller smiled in understanding. "A wise precaution, Monsieur. By all means."
It was a little white lie, of course; Kelly accessed not an app but SID, which offered an extremely strong password he dutifully entered. The encryption unit accepted it without a hiccup. Kelly smiled sheepishly at the others. "Sorry to keep you folks, but I'm just terrible at making up good passwords," he fibbed. But it was clear no-one held it against him. One could never be too careful these days, they agreed.
They were more right about that than they knew. The moment the encryption unit went online a group of Russian crackers monitoring the hotel's Internet traffic went immediately to work, having received word of the event via underground contacts and deciding to seize a get-rich-quick opportunity. They got as far as establishing contact with the unit...only to abruptly run aground in spectacular fashion. Suddenly everything that could go wrong, did.
The reason was very simple:
SID.
As a precaution Kelly had ordered the satellite to monitor all electronic transactions to and from the hotel. It instantly detected, traced and blocked the cracking attempt.
In fact, 'blocked' was something of an understatement...the attempt was utterly destroyed. As an AI, SID had long since been granted a certain degree of discretion, latitude and initiative when it came to security. Its subsequent actions were not in fact ordered by Commander McAllister or anyone else in SHADO.
Not that Kelly or anyone else disapproved when it became clear what SID had done, and why...
SID injected a virus into the Russian computer, subverting its operating system and forcing it to do several things, none of which the frantic crackers were able to prevent.
First it cloned its own hard drive and sent copies to Interpol and the Russian police, telling them exactly who and where the crackers were.
It accessed their bank accounts and transferred all the money to charities, and to organisations dealing with the aftermath of Covid-19.
Then the virus hacked into the BIOS, corrupting the hardware controllers, causing the hard drive to spin out of control and destroy itself.
SID's coup de grâce was an EMP transmitted through the power cable which caused the monitor screen to overload and explode.
The crackers subsequently received lengthy jail sentences, even though the prosecution could offer no evidence as to who had blocked them, or how. Nor did the judge particularly care, since he loathed crackers. The evidence of their guilt, viz. their own computer records held on the cloned drive, was undeniable; the conclusion was that an unknown rival gang or a group of do-gooder hacktivists had stopped them. Who cared? Justice was done.
Giovanni Marchetti ran an online retail business in his native Italy, as did Damir Novak in Croatia. Covid-19 had caused business to boom for both, so they'd decided to treat themselves to some possibly profitable fun. Ranjit Patel was involved in India's flourishing space program, and was looking to this event to provide extra funding. Finally Hirohito Shimaka, a Fujitsu shareholder for twenty-six years, completed the line-up of ten players and bowed to Müller.
"Mesdames et messieurs, our preparations are now complete; thank you." Müller smiled, bowing slightly and stepping aside, closing the unit.
"Please take your seats," Claude requested pleasantly. With that, the game began.
At first everything seemed to be going smoothly. There was bluff and counter-bluff, and jokes between the players. Natalia, though, was apparently being conservative, betting less than she could or, indeed, should. Inwardly Kelly frowned.
What the hell was she up to?
Holt won the first hand with a full house, Kings full of Deuces. Kelly shrugged mentally; a few losses were inevitable. He would recoup the losses in time; the most important thing was to analyse the other players' strategies and read their tells. Akinde and Laplâce seemed obvious, and so he dismissed them. Lavoisier was playing a flamboyant game, but he could see immediately that she was often bluffing. The other players were more subtle, but after the second hand, which Shimaka won, he was pretty sure about each of them.
Except Natalia Ivánovna.
Her bets were modest, her strategy not at all what he'd expected given her youth (and he suspected she was even younger than she claimed; as the Construct he now believed she was, she could be any age). But a poker game was like a war: you couldn't win with a purely defensive play.
Yet she seemed to be doing just that.
Then the third hand started - and just as he'd planned, Jennifer made her entrance. But even he couldn't believe it, even though he'd had an idea of what to expect.
Or so he'd thought.
The style of the floor-length dress (split to the waist, never mind the hip!) was similar to that which Vesper Lynd received from Bond, and had clearly been inspired by it; the contours of the dress followed Jennifer's trim yet curvy figure as a top-notch racing car might hug the road. It would never have worked, though, had she not been close to six feet in height, making her curves longer than those of a shorter woman.
Those curves were more dangerous than those of the Indy 500, Kelly marvelled. The dress was so sheer, so incredibly close-fitting as to make it immediately obvious that the only thing underneath it was...Jennifer herself!
"Jesus...there's no room for underwear under there!" he breathed incredulously; Giovanni Marcetti, to his left, enthusiastically agreed. There wasn't a single eye in the room not fixated on this vision, this emerald-clad apparition...an angel, with a halo of flame; her hair, worn down and loose, was arranged so as to frame her face. An angel, indeed; all she was missing was the wings.
The dress was cut low in front and back, and somehow seemed to be more absent than present, defined more by the lack of material than by its presence - but this was actually a carefully-crafted illusion created by its cut and dual layers. Gabrielle's team had opted for a subtle interwoven combination of forest green and emerald, with gold trim in genuine gold leaf. No-one except Jennifer and Kelly knew the dress material was slightly thicker at certain points...namely those covering vital organs such as her heart, an elementary precaution.
Her elegant yet practical shoes, custom-made by Manolo Blahnik, emphasised her height without overly adding to it (and, at Jennifer's vociferous insistence, weren't high-heeled - "I want to look good without crippling myself in the process, dammit!").
There was an even more practical reason which she hadn't dared tell the fitting team, of course: if things went south and she got caught up in a firefight, she might need to run and/or dodge, and in high heels such a prospect was problematic at best!
She'd applied the barest minimum of make-up, choosing to accentuate her skin's naturally pale but healthy tone and leaving her freckles alone (many a man had assured her that freckles were appealing, especially on a natural redhead...not that she'd ever been inclined to hide them in the first place; her policy re personal appearance had always been 'take me as I am or take a hike').
Daringly, she hadn't even shaved her armpits, though they were weren't visible.
She'd eschewed foundation and blusher on realising that the high state of excitement she was likely to be in would afford her a natural and hence far superior blush, and there were indeed spots of pink in her cheeks. An emerald choker and pendant with a jade bracelet, both fashioned of gold in a Celtic style ("Mais naturellement, since your hair is Celtic, Madame," Gabrielle had commented impishly), completed the exquisite ensemble.
For her part, Jennifer was sopping wet at the realisation that right now she owned - no, pwned! - the casino and everyone in it. The sheer power of that knowledge excited and aroused her almost as much as popping her cherry had. She was utterly certain the number of hard-ons in the casino matched the number of men. Hell, many of the women were blatantly lusting after her, she observed, and while she wasn't vain in the least, she was loving the effect she was creating.
Off to one side an off-shift Lucija, in a tight strapless black number (and once again wearing neither bra nor knickers, like Jennifer), gasped in excitement and heady arousal; she was instantly dripping wet. She is the sexiest woman I have ever seen, including Ivana Kovacs - and she took my lesbian virginity at that! I never thought I'd meet a woman who appealed to me more than she did...oh, Jennifer, disagreement or not, secret agent or not, if I could marry a woman I would definitely marry you, darling!
In common with most women Jennifer Harrison liked to look good, not for the benefit of men (though she certainly appreciated it when they liked how she looked) but for herself. Gabrielle and her team were masters of their craft, their art, and of the principle espoused by Her Wisdom Star in Heinlein's Glory Road ("she believed a woman's costume was a failure unless it made men want to tear it off").
Jennifer caught Kelly's eye, sporting her best seductive smile...and read his mind as clearly as if she'd abruptly acquired Andrew Nyquist's talent. He was, she knew beyond question, seriously tempted to whip off the dress (he couldn't just tear it off, alas, since that was beyond human strength - not that he wouldn't be willing to try!) and fuck her, fuck her hard, right here and now on the table - in full view of the clientele and not giving a damn about propriety.
She was equally tempted to indulge him in that. For just one giddy moment, she very nearly gave him a subtle half-wink he would correctly take to mean she was totally up for it - and she doubted even his iron self-control would be enough to hold him back if she did.
Nor was she all that sure she wanted him to hold back...God, it'd be such a thrill to have the man she loved screw her in front of an audience...!
But the mission came first, of course. So she got a grip on herself and subtly turned her gaze to her - their - true target:
Natalia.
The girl's nipples were as hard as her own, she noted happily, and there was a telltale flush to her cheeks and neck. Either she naturally leaned towards women, or she was hetero but willing to experiment. Either way, cutie, Jennifer thought triumphantly, you're mine, you sexy little tart.
She unhurriedly joined Kelly at the table with all the grace she could muster - a lot, in fact; a friend of hers was a prima ballerina who gave her some pointers on carriage the day before they set out - and all eyes were fixed on her as she went; he kissed her and held her close as she flowed onto his lap as if her bones were mercury. He was frankly groping her and she didn't give a fuck, as she was loving it; Abby Lee - or Stephanie - would've been proud of her.
He whispered hoarsely in her ear, "I want to fuck you right now. I want to do you on that fucking table. You are the sexiest bitch this world has ever known. Marilyn Monroe would've been all over you like a rash."
The blatant lust in his voice, the deliberate crudity, only excited her further, as she knew he'd intended. She deliberately opened her thighs slightly, inviting more, and he accepted in full view of everyone, sliding his hand up her dress without the slightest attempt at concealment of the movement. She nearly came just from her startled realisation that he was actually prepared to finger-fuck her and bring her off there and then, totally uncaring as to who was watching.
But she knew that if he did frig her, she would lose all control and succumb to their mutual lust - and that might blow the mission, because surely the casino staff would have to intervene for the sake of propriety and decorum...which might mean throwing them out.
It was a supreme effort to bring her (and his) libido under control, but she accomplished it in the only way she could: she considered the possible ultimate consequences.
If their mission failed, which it might if they let things go too far, SHADO would be in serious financial trouble.
If that happened, the Aliens might gain the upper hand and win.
In that event, everyone on Earth would be endangered...including Sophie.
That did it. Even in the grip of sheer animal fervour and naked, unashamed wanton lust, she was constitutionally incapable of forgetting her responsibility to her daughter, let alone to the world.
We've overdone it, she realised apprehensively, belatedly coming to her senses. I'm supposed to be driving the other players wild, not Kelly as well! Time to turn it down a notch...however much I don't want to stop, and dear God I so do not want to stop...!
Jennifer forced herself to take a deep calming breath, breathed a very soft "Hey, ease off" into his ear and very gently, tactfully moved Kelly's hand back down her thigh, just in time to prevent him caressing her clitoris - dammit, he already had two fingers up her. Whew, that was close - if he'd touched it, no way could I have refused him, I'd have lost all control. God, I never knew he could be so daring, I love it! Abby Lee, eat your heart out!
"It worked, didn't it?" she murmured. "The dress, I mean."
"It absolutely did, yes, but the dress is nothing without the gorgeous angel wearing it," he told her gallantly, with a lusty grin. "First break we get, you are so getting fucked rigid."
"And I am so up for that, as I'm sure you know," she returned readily. She too grinned. "Should we invite a certain cute little blonde to join in?"
He laughed. "You would, too!" Then it seemed he too had remembered his duty, as he made a conscious - and visible - effort to calm down. "Okay, let's do this...but Jen, I still have to say you are unspeakably gorgeous in that dress. I've never seen a woman look better."
"Thank you," she smiled, kissing him warmly and standing up. "Have fun," she finished, stroking his cheek, and slinked to the bar.
To her delight (and satisfaction, since this was what they'd wanted), every eye at the table followed her as she went (even those of the three women). Jennifer wasn't quite exaggerating the motion of her hips, but there was definitely a sexy figure-of-eight thing going on there. The material of the dress was hip-hugging and clingy without being tight, affording her easy (and sensual) movement. Actually the feel of the material against her skin was quite exciting, as if she wasn't aroused already...
"Jeez, she's incredible," Holt managed, gulping at a Vesper - and what else would a Bond fan drink? - though the Kina Lillet, no longer available, had been replaced with Lillet Blanc; the result was rather more palatable than the novel version, certainly less bitter.
"Exquisite," Hirohito agreed, sipping a warm rice wine.
"She even got me going," Alexandra Lavoisier sighed lustily, "and I'm a twenty-four-year-married, 100% hetero mother of six!"
There were polite chuckles of agreement from the other players, until finally the director took a hand. "Ahem. Mesdames et messieurs, as much as I heartily agree with you - the lady is indeed très mervellieux, with exquisite dress sense par excellence - may I respectfully suggest we continue the game? Gospazha Ivánovna is the small blind of $2million; Shimaka-San is the big blind, $4million."