The lounge at the Baur au Lac hotel in Zurich was dark and intimate. Chocolate-colored wood covered every surface, lightened only by the creamy leather upholstery of the barstools and booths and the golden pools of light cast by subtly-placed pendant lamps.
Bond could easily believe that Genevieve Bruder had chosen the setting to perfectly showcase her assets. Her creamy freckled skin shone gold in the puddles of lamplight, her auburn hair glinting penny-bright against the dark wood paneling.
Bond ordered a martini at the bar and slipped into the booth across from her. She smiled warmly and leaned back against the cream leather upholstery. The plum-colored dress hugged every curve of her body as Bond let his eyes wander over her appreciatively. Her firearm was holstered to her left thigh as usual, but there was the slightest hitch in the softly-draped fabric of her dress over her right inner forearm as well.
Bond inclined his head. "Genny," he said, taking her right hand, tracing a soft spiral in the palm before letting his fingers trail teasingly up her forearm, identifying the shape. A sheathed throwing knife. Interesting.
Genny's mouth twitched in acknowledgement. "Something new," she said.
She leaned forward, kissing his mouth slowly and lingeringly, her left hand tracing over his suit jacket. "I'll give you a closer look upstairs," she whispered. With a bright smile, she picked up her clutch from the table and slid from the booth.
Bond sipped his martini, letting it settle crisp and bitter on his tongue. He finished the drink leisurely before making his way to the elevators, pulling out the key card she had slipped into his breast pocket.
"Q," he murmured quietly in the elevator. "Room 739."
"Copy that." Bond heard Q's quiet breathing, the soft tapping of his fingers on the keyboard. "Hall looks clear. Do you think it's an ambush?"
Bond chuckled. "I've known Genny for years. If she wanted me dead I'd have a knife between my ribs already. But, yes, I always think it's an ambush. Keeps me on my toes."
Q hummed thoughtfully. "The CCTV footage goes back twenty-four hours...I don't see anyone but housekeeping entering the room. Your tiepin camera is transmitting well, leave it where I can watch your back."
The elevator dinged and Bond made his way down the hallway, unbuttoning his jacket for easy access to his firearm.
He opened the door and stepped in the room.
Genny was laid out on the bed sumptuously, her dress rucked up to mid-thigh.
Bond laughed, shedding his jacket to sit next to her. "No small talk?" he smirked, sliding his fingers up behind her knee.
"Afterwards," she purred, wriggling a little to slide his fingers higher up her thigh. "I've missed you."
Bond leaned down and kissed her, humming into her mouth. "I understood you had some information for me," he murmured. "Something the Bundesnachrichtendienst would rather you pass along through 'unofficial channels'?"
Genny pouted, sliding off the bed in one sinuous movement and presenting Bond with her back. "Unzip me, James. I've missed you." She pulled aside the long fall of her hair, peeking over her shoulder with a mischievous look in her brown eyes. "If you're a very good boy you'll get your information."
Bond kissed the nape of her neck. "I do appreciate a challenge..."
He followed the line of the zipper with little kisses and nips over every inch of golden freckled skin that was revealed. The silk dress fell to the ground in a puddle and Genny turned, standing between his thighs in just her bra, panties and two weapons.
Q's tiepin camera must be getting quite the view. The thought made Bond surprisingly uncomfortable, but he dismissed it immediately. Q had been his eyes and ears on many a honeypot mission; whatever had happened between them didn't change that. They both knew the job.
Genny started unbuttoning his collar, her clever fingers working quickly, and Bond distracted her by picking her up and tossing her on the bed before she could reach for the tiepin. She giggled, bouncing a few times, and Bond smiled.
In an act of good faith Bond shrugged out of his shoulder holster first, dropping it by the side of the bed within easy reach. His hands lingered on Genny's creamy skin as he slowly unbuckled the holster from her thigh, tossing it next to his.
"Mmmmm." She threw her head back as he brushed his knuckles up over the soft silk of her panties, nibbling on the skin of her belly. He captured her right hand, sucking a finger slowly into his mouth before kissing up her wrist to the sheath strapped to her inner forearm.
He traced his fingers over it. "Beautiful," he commented. It was, in fact, quite impressive — a perfectly-balanced and whisper-thin contraption, straps of webbing holding a throwing knife securely in place, hilt down for easy access.
His left hand scratched blunt fingernails down her back as his right hand felt the straps of the sheath, looking for the clasp.
"He might not be as brilliant as yours, but our Quartiermeister is very good..."
Bond's head jerked up, his jaw clenched, his heart thumping. "What?"
Genny wove her fingers into Bond's hair, playfully pushing his head down again. "Come now, James. Your clever little boy is the talk of all the agencies..."
The next thing Bond knew Genny was face down on the bed, his knee in the small of her back. His left hand pinned her neck while his right hand held her forearm twisted sharply behind her, his palm over the hilt of the knife. "What do you know about my Quartermaster?" he gritted out.
Genny kept carefully still, breathing in short quick pants. "Let me up," she spat. "Lass mich, du Bastard!"
"007." Q's voice was low and furious in his earpiece. "What are you doing? You'll blow the deal. Let her go."
Bond's whole body prickled with a cold sweat, his pulse thrumming. He took a deep breath, loosening his grip. Genny immediately squirmed free, the knife hissing like a viper as she pulled it from the sheath.
"Verdammt du Hurensohn! What the fuck, James?" she growled, holding the knife in front of her.
"What were you saying about our Quartermaster?" Bond repeated, forcing his voice into calmness.
Genny's eyes were steady on his. "Just that everybody's talking about him, du verdammtes Arschgesicht! Everyone sees the gadgets you are all carrying these days. Everyone knows that you can't even stick a toe past SIS's firewalls anymore, our Schwachkorb do nothing but complain about it. And everyone knows you have a brilliant young man in the Quartermaster's chair." She was calming down now, her voice laced with amusement. "It's hardly a secret, du Blvdes Arschloch."
Bond breathed shallowly through his nose, trying to steady himself and bring his pulse down. "Just that? No name or location? No talk of...acquiring him?" He felt the words catch in his throat, his thoughts scattered by visions of Q shoved into a van on his way home from work or taken from his bed, cuffs biting into those slender wrists and that beautiful mouth bloodied.
"Of course not." She sheathed the knife and then held her hands up, her mouth tilting up in a seductive smile. "I've never seen you so...protective, James." She wiggled her way back onto her back, spreading her legs. "I like it."
Bond looked at her, spread out in front of him, pink and lush, and his stomach turned. His mind revolted at the thought of touching her. "We look after our own," he said woodenly.
He was still kneeling on the bed. She held her arms out to him, but he felt thick-headed and frozen, unable to force himself to move. Genny's seductive smile started to falter, her brow furrowing.
"Bond," Q said quietly in his ear. "Are you all right?"
Bond shivered, forcing an easy smile onto his face. He leaned forward, taking her mouth in a deep kiss, his hand tracing up her thigh.
"Sorry I was a little rough with you, Liebchen," he murmured.
It was like a hackneyed script, Genny responding just as he knew she would. "You know I like it rough, James."
She laughed as he growled, scraping his teeth up her neck. "Do you know what we need?" he purred into her mouth.
"What?" she gasped as his hand slipped down, petting her softly through the silk.
"Champagne." He nipped her earlobe. "And chocolate sauce. Like that time in Bruges."
She giggled, and Bond sat back on his heels, pulling off his tie and dropping it pin-down on the bedside cabinet. He started unbuttoning his shirt. "Call room service, Liebchen. I'll be right back."
He strolled to the bathroom, shedding his shirt carelessly along the way, shutting the door firmly behind him. He turned the water on at the sink, refusing to meet his own eyes in the mirror.
"Q," he said.
"I'm here, 007. Your camera —"
"I know," Bond interrupted in a harsh whisper. He splashed cold water on his face and dried it with a towel. Q wasn't going to like this. "I need you out of my ear, Q."
"What?" Q's voice was blank with shock for just a moment. "No," he said, a flat denial.
"Q." Bond couldn't explain, didn't even know what it meant himself. Just the thought of Q in danger, and every single wall had come crashing down. He needed to compartmentalize to survive. He used to be a master at it and now suddenly he couldn't get back that detachment — not with Q's breath in his ear. "It won't be every time, I promise. Just...just for now."
"This is my job, 007."
Bond braced his arms on the bathroom counter, forcing himself to look in the mirror. He looked old and tired in the harsh bathroom light.
"I can't do this with you in my ear, Q. I'll put the camera back, I promise, just — just get someone else to monitor," he said. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to calm his shattered nerves. "Please."
He could hear Q breathing unsteadily. "Copy that," Q finally said, his voice carefully neutral. "R has the comm. Q signing off."
"I have you, 007," R's steady voice said in his ear. "Is there anything you require?"
"No," Bond murmured. "Thank you, R." He turned off the tap and stood at the bathroom door, willing his body to relax, forcing his face into a familiar expression of predatory interest before opening the door.
"Now where were we, Liebchen?"
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