Johnnie Faero in Miami

by Cristiano Caffieri

Introducing Agence Vingt-deux Vingt-deux and Johnnie Faero
NOTE: If you’re just looking for sex scroll down to next heading.

In a little side street off the Avenue des Vosges in Strasbourg, France, you’ll find Le Moderne Carwash. It does a steady business even though it was never intended to be a profit-making venture.

Operatives of the Agence Vingt-deux Vingt-deux, dressed in three-piece business suits drive their unobtrusive Renault Meganes and Peugeot 108s into this establishment on a regular basis. However, they don’t take advantage of the wash, wax and shine features and instead of turning left to exit, as regular customers do, they turn right and proceed down a long tunnel to an underground parking lot.

Once an agent emerges from the elevator he or she enters a bullet and bomb-proof area, where they are required to deposit their firearms and other weapons before passing through a gateway that detects metal objects and explosives. Electronically operated doors then open to give then entry to the guard room that is watched over by agents disabled in the line of duty and no longer able to operate in the field. From here they invariable head for, what the staff refers to as, “The Inner Sanctum,” presided over by Max Thibodeaux, a grey-haired, portly man with the face and temperament of a Pit Bull.

Max is a man who gives orders, orders that must never be questioned. He knows the risks his agents take every day and he does everything in his power to protect them but when they are captured or exposed in any way he denies any knowledge of them and moves on. It’s the only way 22-22 can continue to operate in the shadows.

Only a few people know about the existence of 22-22 and most of those people are the highly trained operatives within the organization. Men and women, who are sworn to secrecy, are not allowed to marry during their tenure, or even have close friends.

Their headquarters on the Avenue des Vosges bears a small shiny brass nameplate that says, “Henri Delorme, Expert-Comptable, Commissaire aux Comptes;” translated it simply means accountant and auditor. Anyone who phones or ventures into the front office hoping to secure services are simply told that the firm is not taking on any new clients at this time. The fact is – no one there knows beans about accountancy but they do know a great deal about espionage, political kidnapping, and targeted killings.

The exterior of Agence Vingt-deux Vingt-deux’s headquarters is unimposing but inside there’s a state of the art monitoring system keeping tabs on both political and business activities throughout the world. Its special windows keep out prying eyes; its underground parking and cleverly concealed entrance hide the coming and goings of its members.

Johnnie Faero is perhaps one of the organization’s most dedicated operatives. A one-time member of Britain’s SAS, he’s known for his cunning, his daring, and his tenacity. He was chosen to serve with this elite agency not only because of his distinguished military service but as a child his father was a member of the European Commission based in Luxembourg, consequently, he was educated in both French and German. Later he graduated from Oxford in Oriental Studies followed by three years in the military.

Johnnie’s appearance, just like his car, is deceptive. In his apartment on the Quai des Bateliers, in casual dress, he looks like your average action movie star, handsome, well built, and sexy. In the suit and tie, that he’s required to wear when reporting to the Agence Vingt-deux Vingt-deux HQ, he looks like a straight-laced boring accountant but that’s the whole idea.

He’s been with the agency for just four years and is aiming to retire in another six. Most of his predecessors didn’t live long enough to collect their generous pensions – he doesn’t intend to let that happen to him – but just in case his life is cut short he tries to enjoy it to the full.

Women are attracted to Johnnie, and his covert and sexual activities often go hand in hand. However, he always follows the rules and never gets emotionally involved. He occasionally entertains beautiful young women at his apartment on the Quai des Batelier, where he’s known as Jean-Paul Binoche. However, most of his sexual exploits are conducted while on missions or in areas outside of Strasbourg where he is not known.

Johnnie has little time for domestic tasks and passes these on to a jovial little woman who fusses over him like a mother hen. Madame Lalonde has been with him since he arrived in Strasbourg, she is the soul of discretion, and even though personal attachments are something he cannot afford to have, Johnnie can’t imagine life without her.

Follow Johnnie Faero as he travels the world neutralizing political tyrants and corrupt business enterprises, whilst satisfying the sexual needs of women of every color, nationality, and social status.

The Landlord’s Daughter

The Agence Vingt-deux Vingt-deux always goes the extra mile when establishing a cover for their agents. And so, when operative Johnnie Faero was destined to pose as a volunteer for a bogus charity in Miami his background was mapped out meticulously.

This involved spending three weeks in a somewhat Spartan room over a pub in Derby, England, where the only consolation for suffering such deprivation was the publican’s daughter Barb. She was a short bubbly character, quite pretty, with a substantial rack and skirts that rode halfway up her ass.

Barb would bring up his meals along with a coffee for herself and sit and talk to him. It was obvious that she fancied Johnnie and talked incessantly about the fact that she’d recently ditched her boyfriend and was very, very lonely.

Johnnie, now known as Jerry Waldron, a market stall owner and volunteer at a local charity selling secondhand clothing, seemed the kind of rough diamond that she was looking for. He tried to explain that he was a bit of an itinerant, here today and gone tomorrow, but Barb hung in there regardless and one night she simply slipped into his room naked and climbed into bed with him.

Barb didn’t waste any time seeking out his dick and putting it in her mouth. Because it all happened so sudden it was a bit relaxed but not for long. As she stroked and sucked it with incredible enthusiasm she kept breaking off the action periodically to make such remarks as, “It tastes so good,” and “You can cum in my mouth if you want to.” A rather unnecessary question to ask any man.

She may have acted a little immature at times but Barb knew a few things about giving fellatio. With her finger a thumb she would pull on the skin of his scrotum and do the most incredible moves with her lips. It was not long before Johnnie felt his load surging up from his balls and into her willing mouth.

His body felt spring-loaded for a few moments as he twitched and took deep breaths before he could regain his composure. Barb moved up from underneath the duvet and held onto him tight.

“Am I good,” she asked, “Really good.”

“You’re very good,” he replied, giving her an extra tight hug.

“Why don’t I move in with you – Dad wouldn’t mind if we shared a room.”

“I’m sorry Barb but I need my privacy to do all my accounting and so on.”

“Come on – you’re a fucking market stallholder – you’re not Lord Sainsbury.”

“It’s just that you’re just too hot,” he explained diplomatically, “I’d be fucking you three times every night and I would totally neglect my business and go broke.”

“You find me that sexy?” she asked with an extraordinarily big smile on her face.

Johnnie didn’t answer he simply grabbed her by the waist, raise her above his body, and began to suck her tits like a man who hadn’t had a drink for three months. Barb started to moan and she struggled to get her cunt to make contact with his big stiff dick. He let her slip onto it and she began to gyrate her ass all over the place, while he continued to play with her large rosy pink nipples.

He let her ride him like a bucking rodeo star for a while and then without warning he quickly turned her over and drove it deep inside of her. Barb gasped for breath as his dick rammed in and out at an incredible pace. At one point she grabbed hold of his hair and held onto it tightly as she could feel herself cumming.
Johnnie, sensing she was about to explode increased the speed and shot his load as she threw her arms back to grip onto the bars of the bed head, screaming quite loudly as she did so.

She gave a sigh of disappointment when he pulled it out but then started to kiss him and explore his mouth with her tongue.

“I see what you mean,” she said at naively, “I just loved it but I don’t suppose I could do that every night – I would be too tired to work in the bar.”

Later she left the room shaking her head, shocked to discover that she had an animal magnetism that was verging on the dangerous.

Johnnie really needed his privacy because most nights he talked on Skype with a Mrs. Clara Seale in Miami who collected clothing for the Harry Gowan Trust. She was a straight-laced religious woman and quite unaware that she and her colleagues were abetting a criminal organization.

She was delighted when Johnnie said that he was planning a winter get-a-way and would like to spend it helping her little group to collect clothes for the needy. Immediately she offered to provide him with accommodation and the opportunity to work with her little operation.

Most charities are on the up and up and do a great job alleviating sickness and hunger all over the world. However, The Harry Gowan Trust did things a little differently; they used their charity as a cover for their real business of manufacturing and smuggling highly destructive explosive devices to Asia and Africa. What concerned the Agence Vingt-deux Vingt-deux was the fact that some of these materials were finding their way to radical groups in Europe. In the wrong hands, these devices were capable of causing enormous damage to say nothing of the loss of life.

Johnnie’s mission was to go to Miami, not only to destroy the operation but to find out how they got hold of the new advanced technology that was supposed to be top secret. The only logical explanation was that someone in the US military was passing it on to them and no doubt making a substantial financial return for their treachery.

Johnnie knew that telling Barb that he was going away wasn’t easy, especially as he knew he would never be back. He did consider just disappearing but it was better to tell her about his trip to help Clara Seale in Miami as this meant if asked she could back-up his story perfectly.

The poor girl was devastated and immediately wanted to fuck his brains out as a going-away present. Johnny certainly wasn’t going to turn her down and she gave it her all.

First, she sucked his dick until he came all over her face, and then as he lay back on the bed she lowered herself onto it in a reverse cowboy and rode him like a champion. There was a big mirror on the dressing table and he could see her tits bouncing up and down as he lay there taking it like a man. Her eyes were closed and her lovely face looked so intense and a little tear-stained.

Barb’s cunt was extremely well lubricated and even more so when he exploded inside of her. She came around the same time and began to whimper like a Japanese porn star. Breathless she fell on to the bed beside him and asked him if she was to get pregnant if he would come back to her.

Johnnie said he would because he knew that with a “temporary,” vasectomy he wouldn’t be fathering children any time soon. He felt very sorry for Barb, she was a sweet girl and he spent the night with his arms around her telling her so.

Miami Bound

Max Thibodeaux, the chief at Agence Vingt-deux Vingt-deux cautioned Johnnie to avoid getting into confrontations with the law as the Americans have a reputation for handing down ridiculously long jail sentences. To assist him to control his trigger finger the laboratory in Strasbourg made a completely new kind of weapon. A tranquilizer gun that, when it was stripped down it looked like a bunch of innocent objects. The barrel was a shiny steel travel toothbrush that could be unscrewed and attached to a handle and firing mechanism disguised as an MP3 player. When these parts were fixed together with a couple of other nondescript pieces it produced a very effective weapon. Johnnie was also to be provided with a semi-automatic pistol and some explosive devices that were to be delivered to him by a sleeper based in Florida.

With his background established as a seller of linens in various market towns in Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire, a reputation for standing a round of drinks in the pub, and as a Saturday volunteer in a Derby charity shop – he was prepared for any questioning by immigration officials, the police or criminal elements.

Before taking off for the States however Johnnie had to take a quick trip back to Strasbourg, not only to pick up his new weapon but also to pay a visit to Doctor Hauschildt. This genius of a man had given the Agence Vingt-deux Vingt-deux one of the most effective tools in the world of covert operations – the Transdigitalizor – a sophisticated piece of medical apparatus that can temporarily change a person’s fingerprints. If gloves are worn to do tasks that might cause wear and tear the effect can last for several weeks. When on an assignment the operative can check whether the changes are still in effect by using their OpsPhone. Although the phone will respond to both the new and old prints it will detect any significant deterioration.

Johnnie arrived at Miami International Airport in mid-December, it was quite warm and a refreshing change from the miserable winter weather in Derby. Clara, a spry 70-year-old, was the one who met him at the airport. She shook his hand warmly in the arrivals and even offered to carry his case.

On the way to the house, Clara gabbled on about her charity work saying that they gathered up enough clothing for five shipping containers last year, three which were sent to Africa and two to the Middle East. She was so excited about what she was doing Johnnie felt somewhat guilty about the fact that in the next few days he was about to burst her bubble.

“The Harry Gowan Trust looks after all the transportation charges,” she said, “Of course we’re not the only ones collecting for them,” she added, “there are organizations all over Florida, Georgia, and Alabama.”

She was obviously very happy with the work she was doing and once at the house, where he was to be accommodated, she proudly showed him a big old panel truck in which she toured around Miami making her collections.

“Are you the driver?” he asked, not really expecting the diminutive old lady to say yes – but she did.

“I wouldn’t trust anybody else with my baby,” she laughed, patting the truck affectionately, “It belonged to my Dad, he used to move people’s furniture in it. When he died I wanted to find a use for it and thanks to the Gowan Trust – I did.”

In the house, Johnnie was introduced to Clara’s husband Frank, who was disabled and bound to a wheelchair, and to a strange character who lodged with them named Ronnie Evans. Ronnie was like a time traveler from the 1950s. His haircut, his clothes, everything about him made him look like a refugee from “Rebel Without a Cause.”

Clara showed him to his room, which had been taken away from Ronnie for the duration of his stay and whose decor predated its former tenant’s clothes by another 20 years. However, it was clean and comfortable even though the window overlooked a vacant lot full of scrub and garbage. Poor Ronnie had been relegated to a tiny closet-sized room at the other side of the house and had not only been deprived of his space but of the unusual view.

There were a number of challenges staying with Clara but it would have looked suspicious if he had insisted on staying at a hotel. After all, he couldn’t appear overly wealthy – he was only supposed to be a market stallholder.

Mealtime proved to be quite an experience, saying grace took so long that Johnnie wondered if they were ever going to eat. The meal proved to be well worth waiting for as Clara was a great cook and Frank an equally good conversationalist. Ronnie, who was quite slightly built, shoveled away enough for two people and was unable to say much as his mouth was full most of the time.

When he did talk, Ronnie seemed most interested in what Johnnie did for a living and whether there was any real money to be made selling things from the back of a van. It appeared that he had great plans for the future and on his laptop, he showed Johnnie the house, car, and boat that he hoped to own one day. Frank just rolled his eyes as if to say, “Here he goes dreaming again.”

The following day Johnnie had to meet with a sleeper called Debbie, she was a very attractive woman in her late twenties but quite stuck up, as if she felt he was a bit beneath her social class. They had lunch together at a restaurant in South Beach, which is a beautiful art deco area, and that was the best part of it.

Even though he thought she was a bit of a snooty bitch he couldn’t take his eyes off her tits. They weren’t too big, just a little more than a mouthful, but they protruded through her dainty top quite provocatively. When they entered the restaurant he’d also noticed her trim figure, beautiful round ass, and long legs. However, he had a feeling that she would only be prepared to fuck someone with a name like Richard Delevigne III. He didn’t think Jerry Waldron, which was the only name that she knew him by, would find his way between those delightfully long and shapely legs anytime soon.

After they’d identified each other with the usual codes and had eaten their meal she handed him a bag containing a new pair of shoes. He knew by the weight of it that it contained a lot more than what was printed on the outside of the bag.

Back at the house his bag just solicited a brief, “See you’ve been shopping,” from Frank and a smirk from Ronnie, who probably had plans to have his footwear handmade somewhere in the very distant future. Johnnie didn’t say anything but headed straight for his room.

Once inside he examined the contents of the bag. In addition to a rather smart pair of shoes, that fit perfectly, there were three small but powerful explosive devices and an HK VP70 handgun together with several magazines of ammunition. The problem was – where to hide them. He obviously couldn’t carry them when he was on his rounds with Clara, the weather was just too warm to warrant wearing something heavy enough to conceal weapons. His tranquilizer gun was a different proposition. He certainly meant to keep that with him in case he was caught doing a bit of snooping and needed to make a quick getaway.

The Infamous Harry Gowan

The following day Johnnie, Clara, and a nice looking Hispanic woman called Miranda Rodriguez crushed into the truck together, and off they went collecting the bags that Clara had left at dozens of houses the previous week. Johnnie had made sure to wear a pair of gloves which, unfortunately, added to the feeling that he was going to perspire to death in the small cab that felt like an oven. When Clara commented on him wearing gloves on such a hot day he said that his hands were a bit sensitive to the sun. She nodded, thinking it was quite plausible, and then went to explain a little more about her folksy operation.

“I just drop the plastic bags off with a little note asking them for a donation of clothing and a good fifty percent respond and leave them out for collection,” she said, with rather a big smile of satisfaction on her face.

Some of the bulging bags made it seem as though some people had donated their complete wardrobes. Others felt as if they’d only managed to spare an old pair of socks. Johnnie tried not to ask too many questions but did manage to find out that they dropped off their clothing at the Gowan Trust Depot once the van was full. It looked as though they might have enough to make their drop that evening.

He was more than pleased when they tossed in the last bags and Clara said they had to dump them that night. When they arrived at the depot, that was close to the docks, the first thing he noticed was the heavy security. Not the sort of thing you’d expect to protect a warehouse full of used clothing. There were two miserable-looking guards on the gate, dogs, cameras, and lots of razor wire. Even to a rank amateur, it would be obvious there was something more valuable there.

When they’d passed through the gatehouse, the humorless guards checked their papers and they proceeded to a docking area where the bags were to be unloaded. Clara stepped out of the truck and was greeted by a well-dressed man with the smile of a TV evangelist, who hugged her and quickly turned his attention to Johnnie.

“O this is Jerry Waldron, he’s from England,” she said.

The man, who turned out to be no other than “the Harry Gowan,” stuck out his hand and welcomed him to America.

“It’s a long way to come to do charity work,” he said after Clara had explained the situation.

“I just thought it was a nice way to spend a holiday helping other people,” Johnnie replied, trying his best to sound humble.

Harry looked at him as if he thought he was full of shit and began to quiz him, asking what he did for a living in England and what area was he from. All the time he maintained that supercilious smile, the kind that so many con men use to cover up their evil deeds.

Before going into the office with Clara, so that she could collect her check for the gas money, he slapped Johnnie on the back, “Thank you for helping us to help the people of Africa,” he said, with as much sincerity as he could muster, “Our ancestors pillaged their resources and wealth now it’s up to us to help launch them into the future.”

Johnnie hoped he wasn’t suggesting that sending them American castoff clothing was going to turn things around – he knew there was a deeper more sinister meaning. He shuddered as Harry, putting his arm around Clara guided her into the building. There was something awfully creepy about the man.

He wanted to stand around and wait for Clara’s return so that he could absorb some of the layout but Miranda seemed to be very anxious for them to get back into the truck. Her English was not very good but she did manage to convey the impression that she fancied him. This was re-enforced when she put her hand on his thigh and began feeling for his dick. When she located it she unzipped his flies and began to massage it.

“That’s nice – no?” she smiled, showing her beautiful white teeth and gold fillings.

Johnnie thought it was nice – yes! but he didn’t want Clara to come back and find cum splattered over the windscreen. Miranda looked very disappointed when he fought for re-possession.

“You not like me?” she whimpered, doing what amounted to an impersonation of a five-year-old.

“I like you but I don’t want Clara to catch us.”

“We could meet after work,” she suggested, “I could give you a real good time.”

Although her English sounded like some very bad dialogue from a black and white movie, she certainly looked as though she could deliver on her offer. However, before he could think up an answer her proposition Clara returned waving a check and with two men in tow who proceeded to unload their cargo.

“Thank the Lord for giving us the strength to help his children in far off lands,” she said, climbing in the truck and slapping Johnnie good-naturedly on the thigh, narrowly missing his dick that had become swollen after Miranda’s warm hands had run up and down it.

It took about ten minutes for the men to unload and then they closed the doors and banged on the back to signal they were ready to go. Clara crunched the gears and they drove out of the yard and headed for home.

As they were driving back to the house Johnnie was thinking about how he could get inside the warehouse to take a look around. On the surface, it seemed like Fort Knox but he figured there had to be a way – there was always a way.

He couldn’t concentrate as much as he would have liked as Miranda kept giving him the eye and squeezing up a little more than was necessary even in the small cab. It didn’t take Clara long to catch on.

“You cut that out Miranda,” she said sternly, “Remember you have found Jesus now, you have to behave yourself.”

Miranda pouted and then when Clara wasn’t looking she put her tongue out, and smiling at Johnnie she suggestively wiggled it about a little with a cheeky look on her face.

That night he tapped into information on his OpsPhone that provided satellite photos of the complex. The only possible way to gain entry seemed to be via the building next door. There was about a ten-foot gap between that roof and Harry’s warehouse. It could hardly be achieved with a standing jump but Johnnie figured if there was enough space to get a little run he could make it.

The following evening, after a hard day of bag collecting, and trying to avoid Miranda’s wandering hands, he went out and rented a car. He told Clara that he would like to have the freedom to explore the city and at the weekend and that he was hoping to drive along Alligator Alley so he could see something of the Everglades. What he didn’t mention was that you can’t very well turn up at a break-in with a taxi.

Driving back to the house in his modest Ford Focus, he began to think about the operation that Harry Gowan was running and whether any of the people he’d met so far could be involved. He knew that somebody was supplying the technology, possibly somebody with a high level of security clearance, and he figured that the assembly of the devices was most likely carried out in the warehouse. The deadly cargo was then being packed amongst the used clothing and sent to Africa and Asia. It was unlikely that containers owned by a charity would get the same scrutiny as others and so it was a perfect cover.

Slashed Tires

Late that night he decided that he would enter the building next to the warehouse and just do some reconnaissance; he needed to see whether his plan to jump from one building to another was feasible. Packing his weapons and a ski mask he quietly made his way through the hallway past the other bedrooms. Frank was snoring like a Water Buffalo and all was well until he stepped out onto the porch. There he found Ronnie taking advantage of the cool evening breeze and working on his laptop.

He wasn’t sure how to explain his sneaking out at two in the morning to Ronnie but he didn’t have to, he spoke first.

“I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere in that car,” he said, with a serious, almost disturbing look on his face.

Johnnie looked towards the vehicle and saw that his tires had been slashed.

“It not a great neighborhood for parking your car in the street,” he mumbled, “A lot of social misfits live around here, a lot of funny things go on.”

As he seemed as though he could easily be taken for the poster boy for social misfits his point was well taken. It seemed that Johnnie had to cancel his trip to the warehouse and so he turned around and re-entered the house leaving his time-warped friend typing away like a good fellow. The next morning, after arranging to get his tires fixed, he sat down to breakfast with Frank and Clara. Ronnie was absent and he commented on this.

“O he was probably up late last night,” said Clara, “he’s a writer you know, sometimes he writes into the night and stays in bed until noon.”

“Is he a published writer?” asked Johnnie, sipping on his coffee.

“He doesn’t write stories or anything like that,” she replied, “he does technical stuff – real boring stuff.”

“He writes specifications for electronics companies,” Frank interjected, “he does diagrams and instructions and that kind of thing.”

Johnnie was surprised, Ronnie was the last person he would suspect of being involved in that kind of work. He thought of him as a halfwit.

As soon as he had consumed his eggs bacon and a pretty good cup of coffee Clara was ready to hit the road. They picked up Miranda at her apartment several blocks away and then started out for Fort Lauderdale to do the pick-ups.

After the revelation that Ronnie was some sort of nerd, he became interested in what talents Miranda might be hiding, in addition to giving handjobs to casual acquaintances. It turned out she was a former stripper that Clara had saved from a life of sin.

Reading between the lines, Johnnie figured that she was part of some kind of social experiment conducted by Clara’s church. They paid her a small salary to help out and she committed herself to work for charity and to stay clear of drugs and the urge to dance around every pole she came across.

They had packed lunches that day and parking near the beach they sat and munched away while listening to Salsa music on the radio. Every time that Clara took her eyes off of Miranda she would make obscene gestures to Johnnie even taking he left tit out of her low cut blouse then quickly putting it back again as Clara turned round. She treated it like a little game.

As the day drew to a close and he could see they had a big enough load to dump off at the warehouse but Clara said she was going to drop him and Miranda off at home and proceed there on her own.

“I have some things I want to discuss with Harry,” she said, “it could take some time.”
Johnnie insisted that he wouldn’t mind waiting in the truck but she wouldn’t hear of it. Consequently, he was denied an opportunity to get a better look at the layout. When she dropped them off Miranda, knowing that he now had a car, asked if he could drive her over to her place, “I so tired,” she sighed, leaning on him to demonstrate just how tired she was.

Johnnie knew what she was after but he thought he’d better get it over with. With her navigating, they eventually turned up on a piece of wasteland and she asked if they could park for a little while.

A Ford Focus isn’t the best vehicle to have a fuck in but Johnnie figured it was just another challenge. Miranda started the ball (or his balls,) rolling, She took out his dick once more and thrust it into her mouth making the noise you hear people make when someone asks them if they like their desert and they say “mmmm – it’s delicious.”

Miranda worked on his dick for a while sometimes maneuvering it so that she could look up to see his expression. She certainly knew how to suck and he was wondering if she was going to swallow, however, she changed course before that situation arose.

Encouraging him to move onto the passenger seat she proceeds to slip off her panties and then she sat on his dick with her hands on the dashboard. Johnnie put his arms around her and shoved his hands up her top grasping her tits as he slipped further into her warm wet groove. It felt really good but even better when she started to move her ass up and down.

“I give you best fuck you ever have,” she said with her lovely accent, “You like it?”

“I like,” said Johnnie, breathing heavily as she pounded up and down banging her head on the roof as she did so.

It wasn’t long before Johnnie’s balls started to catch fire and his hot cum spurted through his veins and deep inside of Miranda’s tight pussy. He held on to her tits as she continued to pump every last drop out of him and then suddenly she went into a giant orgasm herself, which made her pump harder and harder until he thought he dick would fall off.

Breathless they both sat there for a minute – his dick still inside of her. When Miranda climbed off she sat sideways in the driving seat and pulling up her blouse she begged him to suck on her tits. While he was doing that he fingered her pussy and it wasn’t long before her body started to tremble and she came for the second time moaning and groaning and babbling in Spanish as she did so.

Johnnie did eventually drop her off at her apartment building and she gave him a quick kiss and made her exit as though she didn’t want to be seen with him. He drove away straight back to the house to pick up a few things as he intended to explore Harry Gowan’s building that very night.

Clara hadn’t made it back when he arrived so after he’d picked up his things he made the excuse to Frank that he was going to meet a girl he been talking to on the internet. Frank shook his head disapprovingly and simply waved him on as if to say, “Go on – you young people are all alike.”

Danger Afoot

Johnnie had supper at a pleasant Italian restaurant and then drove around the city taking in the sights. He contacted HQ at one point and told the duty commander that he was about to proceed with the first part of his mission. When darkness fell he parked a block away from the building he intended to break into and walked down the deserted street keeping in the shadows. Less than a hundred feet away from his intended destination he saw three hooded figures, two men and a woman, walking toward him. It was not until they had passed him that he sensed danger.

As he looked back the two men lunged at him, presumably intending to rob him. Johnnie responded by kicking the first of his assailants swiftly in the groin and hammering the heel of his hand into the other’s nose driving it up into his face. With her eyes bulging out of their sockets the woman, simply said “WOW,” turned and took off like a Jackrabbit. The man with the groin injury gallantly tried another swing but Johnnie grabbed his arm and sent him crashing face-first into the wall. Both men now lay on the sidewalk nursing their newly disfigured faces and didn’t seem anxious to engage in further combat and so he continued along the street.

Before picking the lock on the building he was to enter he looked back to see what had happened to the two injured men. He saw that they had managed to pick themselves up and had disappeared into the darkness. It was all clear for him to go ahead.

Opening the door and disabling the alarm system was no problem and once inside he shone his flashlight from side to side looking for any stairs that might lead him onto the roof. The place was full of coils of rope and they gave off a special pungent odor that he didn’t find particularly pleasant. However, there was no security guard or dogs and so he felt quite happy about that.

On finding a metal staircase he proceeded cautiously upward through the second and third floors until he reached the roof. The yard belonging to the Gowan Trust was very well lit but the roof was in shadow making it unlikely he’d be seen.

He crawled on his hands and knees to the edge of the building and looked across the gap that separated it from the Gowan warehouse. It looked as though there had been some razor wire there at one time but it now hung down over the edge of the building and he was confident he could clear it quite easily. Johnnie looked back to see how much space he had to build up speed for his jump and decided it was sufficient for a good take off.

Before making his move he took out his OpsPhone, which could be used as a telescopic lens, and scanned the area he was about to enter. He saw at least two security guards with dogs walking the perimeter of the yard but as he intended to enter the building from the roof he thought he might be reasonably safe.

He walked back a few paces, took a deep breath, ran toward the edge of the building, and jumped. The landing could have been better as he tripped on some uneven asphalt and ended up doing a couple of somersaults and tearing his pants in the process.

A little shaken (but not stirred), he dusted himself off he began to look for the entrance to a stairway that would take him down into the warehouse. He was hoping that he could find the lab where the devices were being made and plant an explosive charge that could be detonated at a later time. Before he blew the place sky high he wanted to discover who was leaking the technology. He thought he might find evidence of that in one of the offices.

Johnnie found the stairs and stealthily crept down one at a time. He had no idea what to expect, he was not even sure if his entry through the door on the roof had set off some kind of alarm.
The third floor was mostly storage space for old office furniture and boxes of files. On the second floor he hit pay dirt, he opened up a door and there it was – a large fully equipped laboratory. As he panned his flashlight around he could huge carboys containing liquids, tables that appeared to be for the assembly of the final products, and filing cabinets. He carefully attached two charges underneath a table where the carboys were stored and then started to work on the lock of one of the filing cabinets. After a few seconds, the first drawer slipped open, then all the lights in the room came on, and before he could turn around to see what was happening he was delivered a vicious blow to the back of the head. His flashlight skidded across the floor and he followed it.

“Who the hell is this joker?” asked one of two security guards as he pulled back Johnnie’s ski mask. The other didn’t answer right away as he was checking his pockets stripping him of his gun, fake MP3 Player, and his OpsPhone.

“He doesn’t have a wallet,” he said, getting up and handing the items to his colleague, “so there’s no way of knowing who he is. I guess we could check his cell phone.”

“I’m trying but the battery must be flat or something – it’s completely dead.”

“What are we going to do with him Joe?” asked the first man, “Harry’s going to go crazy and he’ll blame us for allowing him to get in here. Beats me how he managed to do it.”

“There’s a container leaving for Africa in an hour or so, why don’t we throw him in there?”

“He’ll probably come to and start banging on the container before it’s loaded.”

“I don’t think so,” Joe replied, brandishing his nightstick, “We’ll give him another good bang on the head.”

Cautiously they carried him down the stairs, and making sure they avoided their colleagues patrolling the yard, they opened up the container, Jim smashed Johnnie extra hard on the head once more and the pair of them heaved him in among the bags of clothes.

“If they find him they’ll think he’s a stowaway and he hurt his head being bumped around during loading,” said Joe.

“Not many Americans stowaway on ships to Mauritania,” his buddy laughed as they bolted the door.

Out to Sea

The control room at Agence Vingt-deux Vingt-deux HQ was soon abuzz as Johnnie’s OpsPhone, which could only be activated by his thumbprint, showed signs of being tampered with. His implant showed his exact location but did not indicate if he was in any kind of trouble. Even when it was evident he was aboard the geared cargo ship Theresa Meijer and moving out to sea they could not confirm whether or not he was in control of the situation.

A quick check made 22-22 aware that the Panama registered vessel had a Filipino captain and crew and its port of origin was Tampico in Mexico. The ship was destined to stop off in three different West African ports before proceeding to Rotterdam in the Netherlands.

Deputy Commander Soschen stood by the monitors trying to assess the situation but to some extent, his hands were tied. He had to proceed cautiously as he did not want to alert the American authorities to the fact that 22-22 agents were operating in their territory with false credentials and intending to blow up a charity based warehouse.

As Johnnie remained stationary for several hours Soschen decided to contact Captain Calibuso to see if he was aware that he had a Jerry Waldron on board. It was a tense moment because if he was hiding there for some reason it could blow his cover and endanger his life.

The skipper said that he was pretty sure that nobody had stowed away on his ship but that he would do a thorough search and report back. It was when a crew member heard a faint banging inside one of the containers that panic began to set in. The door was opened to reveal Johnnie, covered in blood and too weak to even stand.

Crew members quickly took him to the ship’s infirmary, where one of them, who had had some medical training, began to examine him and treat his wounds. Captain Calibuso was very concerned about his uninvited passenger but realized that he didn’t have any other option but to try to give him the best care possible in the circumstances.

The captain and crew were totally in the dark regarding Johnnie’s true identity but when they received a call from the ship’s owners in Rotterdam to co-operate fully with the staff of the European Metal Furniture Manufacturers Association, (a cover quickly put in place by Soschen), they assumed they had a VIP on board. The crewman named Reynaldo Sanchez, who was taking care of Johnnie, was eventually hooked up to the 22-22 doctor in Strasbourg, who gave him instruction on how to treat his patient and on the second day there was a marked improvement in his health.

On the third day out to sea Johnnie was able to use the ship’s phone to talk to Max Thibodeaux, the head of operations in Strasbourg, as the crew was in earshot he conversed in Chaff, the secret language used by the agency. On the fourth, he was given access to the ship’s computer allowing him to send a coded report regarding what had transpired in Miami. HQ informed him that Debbie, the snooty looking bitch sleeper, had called on Clara to tell her that Johnnie had been involved in a slight car accident and was staying with her until he’d recovered.

Frustrated that Johnnie had seemingly spent lustful nights with some bimbo Clara quickly gathered his things, shoved them into Debbie’s arms, and told her to tell him he was no longer welcome in their good Christian home. The only loose end was the remaining explosive device he’d hidden in the hollow leg of the old metal bed in his room. Although it was unlikely to detonate on its own – it was a cause for concern.

Debbie also managed to recover his car although all four hubcaps were missing. It was arranged that she would keep everything at her place until his possible return, although nobody could say when that would be given the circumstances.

As it was going to take a further five days to reach Monrovia, Liberia, the first port of call, Johnnie decided to relax and recover from his wounds. The Filipino crew was a jovial bunch, they liked to eat well and to sing Karaoke at every opportunity. And this was no more evident than on Christmas day when there was rapturous carol singing in Tagalog and greetings of Maligayang Pasco.

Johnnie felt a bit embarrassed on Christmas morning when the crew presented him with gifts that ranged from chocolate bars to a special cake baked by the cook. He had nothing to give them but they were quite happy when he agreed to put aside his reservations and to sing a couple of songs for them that evening.

The Theresa Meijer was not a large ship by modern standards but there was enough room for a jog around the deck and there was a small gym where the crew kept in shape pumping iron. Considering the amount of hard work they did on board a ship of this type Johnnie didn’t feel they needed too much additional exercise. Sometimes he would help out with some of the small jobs and he could see that this was really appreciated by the men, however, Reynaldo, the man who acted as his nurse, was always expressing his concern about him doing too much too soon.

When the ship reached Monrovia there were tears in the eyes of some of the crew. The Captain, a man who any passenger would have had the utmost confidence in, shook hands with him warmly and invited him to join them on board any time he felt like a change of pace. Agence Vingt-deux Vingt-deux had arranged for him to be picked up by a man who only wanted to be addressed as Mr. X. He was totally caught up in the spying game and wanted to remain completely anonymous.

After exchanging code words, which Mr. X did most ceremoniously, he was handed a package that contained a new passport, a credit card, a plane ticket to Paris, another fake MP3 player, and an OpsPhone. However, he was ordered to check into a private clinic for two days for tests, and to add to the inconvenience he was to wait another three days in Monrovia as flights were heavily booked during the New Year period.

The Lovely Jamille

One of the nurses at the clinic took quite an interest in him and when he mentioned that he had to hang around Monrovia for a couple of days Jamille, a rather sexy looking lady, suggested he could crash at her place as most of the hotels would be fully booked at that time of the year. Whether she was telling the truth or not he didn’t bother to check, she was very attractive and he figured if she treated him in her home like she treated him at the clinic it was going to be OK.

The head physician said that tests did reveal that he had a slight concussion but that he would be fit to resume whatever he did for a living after a few days rest. When the shapely Jamille plumped his pillows leaning over him with her tits pressing against his nose he wondered if he was going to get any rest at all.

Jamille’s house was a modest place in a modest area. Women hung around their doors chatting and when a white man stepped out of a cab with one of their neighbors you could hear the tongues flapping like a flock of flamingos taking off.

Johnnie, who had left all his clothes in Miami had to do quite a bit of shopping so that he had something decent to wear. Captain Calibuso had provided him with a couple of sets of coveralls with the Meijer Shipping Line emblazoned on the back but he could hardly take a lady out dining and dancing in one of those. At the Junction Shopping Mall he picked up some things for himself and, as she was saving 22-22 money by offering him her hospitality, he indulged her a little.

He sorted through his shopping bags and found something that he thought might be appropriate for New Year’s Eve but Jamille shook her head. “It’s a night to celebrate and let yourself go,” she laughed, “you need something brighter.” Johnnie tended to wear subdued colors and after she’d searched his recent purchases for something that was more festive she threw up her arms in despair.

“At least I’ll be able to find you in the crowd,” she laughed, putting his shopping bags down, “It seems I’ll have to be the colorful one.”

She stripped off her crisp white uniform, stood there for a moment in her bra and panties, and then put on something traditional and very flowery. When she paraded around the room to get his reaction to it he couldn’t help but think what an exotic beauty she was.

He’d met someone like Jamille once before, they were not physically alike, as Eska was Inuit but there was something very special about them. A deep inner beauty and a genuineness that generated an immediate bond of trust and respect.

It was during a wild goose chase, so to speak when 22-22 had sent him to the Canadian Arctic.
He arrived in a small isolated community in a single-engine bush plane looking for a missing European intelligence officer who had reportedly been seen there. When the tip proved to be an obvious hoax and Johnnie was to fly back to Winnipeg, the plane developed engine trouble and they had to wait almost a week for spare parts.

Eska, whose husband had taken off on her years before because she couldn’t bear children, managed to live quite comfortably by selling her magnificent soapstone sculptures. She took Johnnie back to her house, which was also her studio, and she treated him like royalty. Eska not only fed him, but she also gave him the kind of intimacy that few men have experienced or even deserved. When Johnnie looked at her lying on the bed staring up at him with her beautiful warm brown eyes he thought that if he ever did manage to settle down one day, it would have to be with someone as gentle and as caring as Eska.

Each time they made love Eska would make him stand by the bed and she would very slowly and gently rub his body with an exotic oil. It was like a little ritual. Also naked she’d begin by standing at the back of him and massaging his neck running her hands down his body a little at a time with him dying for her to work her way to the front.

When she eventually got to his balls she would work them with her fingers occasionally kissing the end of his hardened dick but not taking it fully into her mouth. Eska loved to do it standing up and her next move, as she was shorter than him, required that she use a small footstool, then she would guide his dick into her and pressing her tits against his chest.

Johnnie would put his hands around her bum and start to slowly ease it in and out of her tight groove. As the pace was quickened their bodies were slapping against each other and her tits would wave from side to side and he’d wish that she was seven feet tall so that he could suck them at the same time as he was fucking her.

When he was about to cum Eska would get very excited and would dig her fingernails into the cheeks of his ass and start to move hers in time with his. When he shot his load they would normally just fall on the bed together and she would just hold him as tight as she could sometimes for fifteen minutes or more.

Johnnie was convinced that she had fallen deeply in love with him, he could tell by the way she looked at him, the way she treated him, the way she’d light up when he walked into the room. It was one of those situations he dreaded, particularly when his feelings are also getting out of control.

Eventually, the parts for the plane arrived and he had to say goodbye. In the cutting arctic air, they hugged for a good five minutes before he had to climb aboard the plane.

He didn’t want to offend her by suggesting that he pay her for her kindness but he insisted on placing orders for soapstone sculptures for several of his colleagues and charged them to the agency. When he arrived in the mail he discovered it was of two people hugging and he recognized the pair right away.

When Johnnie and Jamille hit the town about 9 p.m and there was a lot of energy being released, to say nothing of fireworks. Hundreds of people dressed in bright colors were lining up outside clubs and restaurants ready to make it a truly Happy New Year full of laughter and good wishes. Johnnie is not the social type but it was difficult for him to escape the goodwill that permeated the air in downtown Monrovia that night.

The pair of them visited a couple of clubs before ending up at the posh resort hotel where they had a wonderful meal and sang in the New Year. Johnnie leaned forward to give Jamille a friendly kiss but it developed into something extra-ordinary. He suddenly became so horny he wanted to take her in his arms there and then.

Although the sign said No Vacancies he thought he’d ask at the desk just in case. Low and behold they had had a cancellation for the exclusive Presidential Suite. He signed the register, grabbed Jamille’s hand, and escorted her to this beautifully appointed suite. At the door, he picked her up in his arms and carrying her across the threshold as if it were their wedding night. She was overwhelmed and danced around the room like as if she was in a Julie Andrew’s movie.

Johnnie ordered champagne and the two of them wished each other a very Happy New Year before taking off their clothes and diving onto the king-sized bed. Jamille was an unusual woman as she took the lead in the lovemaking that night. It was her that pinned Johnnie down and when she did she sat on his dick driving into her pussy right up to his balls. She then proceeded to dance around on it, jiggling her tits as she did so.

He just let her get on with the job, she was enjoying herself and he was just lying back prepared to take whatever she could throw at him. A couple of times she almost brought him to the stage where he thought he was going to cum but she skillfully pulled back.

When she climbed off of his stiff dick she did a little acrobatic move and throwing her leg over him she reversed her position with her pussy in his face and her with his dick in her mouth. As he thrust his tongue deep into her warm and very damp flower she got very excited and went up and down on his dick as if she was determined to make him cum.

The two of them actually came at the same time and Jamille’s body went into a spasm. Her body was shaking and she was groaning and moaning as the orgasm seemed to continue for several minutes. When she rolled off of him Johnnie decided it was his turn to take control and Jamille burst into laughter as he held her down in a mock wrestling move.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she cried, as he mounted her body and rested his dick between her tits. It had already hardened again and Jamille seeing that he wanted a bit of a titty fuck took them in her hands and closed them tight on his throbbing eight inches.

This woman had such an amazing effect on in it took no time for him to cum all over her tits. She started to giggle and to spread it around with her hand. He wasn’t quite ready to go for a hat trick so he used his fingers to play with the lips of her incredible pussy until she started to vibrate all over again.

As soon as he realized she was having an orgasm he climbed on the top of her and rammed it in as far as it would go. He then proceeded to give it all that he’d got. Jamille was in absolute ecstasy and was screaming all kinds of gibberish as she hung on to him as if her life depended on it.

When Johnnie shot his load it felt like molten lava running up through his dick. Both of them were completely out of control for a few minutes and when it settled down they both lay quietly beside each other and held hands.

“I’ve been fucked a few times in my life,” said Jamille, in a hoarse whisper, “But I have never been fucked like that before. Happy New Year.”

They turned towards each other smiling and kissed and that was the last bit of intimacy for the night. The next morning as they sat there having their breakfast in their elegant surroundings she kissed him gently and thanked him for making her feel like a princess.

He was tempted to take the suite for another day but Jamille said she wanted to get back to reality and she had to work early the next morning. For the remainder of his stay, they had a glorious time together, and then, like with Eska, it was time to say goodbye and get down to the serious business of being a cold calculating covert operative once again.

Back to Miami

The journey from Monrovia back to Paris was a mammoth undertaking that involved changing planes and then traveling by road to Strasbourg for a final medical check and a re-finger printing. After he’d suffered through all the prescribed procedures it was back to Paris and then to Miami. Here he was met by Debbie who took him to a hotel where she’d booked him a room and stowed his belongings.

She seemed quite a different person to him from their first meeting, she was quite concerned about his health, inquired about his head and said how terrible it must have been to wake up in a container on the way to Africa. Debbie even ran the shower for him and ordered some lunch to be delivered to the room.

It was as if she’d adopted him as her hero. She wanted to know more about his voyage on the Theresa Meijer and what it was like spending the New Year in Monrovia. Johnnie was beginning to yawn and desperately wanted to hit the sack, and even though his colleague had become a lot more attractive to him of late he wanted to go alone.

The next morning bright and early Debbie woke him out of a deep sleep. Apparently, she’d hung on to one key and had let herself in. Next, she ordered breakfast for two, and after Johnnie had showered once more the two of them sat down to eat and to discuss what had happened with the Miami mission so far.

It seemed that Max had taken her into his confidence as she had some of the loose ends to tie up, such as calling on Clara Seale and repatriating his vehicle. Now, for all intents and purposes, she was his partner and a well informed one at that. She produced a local newspaper with an advertisement that said the Harry Gowan Trust was not accepting used clothing at that time due to a revaluation of their operations abroad.

“That’s because he was spooked when the explosives bound for Mauritania were intercepted,” said Debbie, “and,” she continued, “he’s moved the lab to what was an old rock mine quite a way out of town. We can tell that because the explosive devices you planted are still attached to whatever you attached them to, and we know that because they’re still giving off a signal but – the one you hid at Clara’s house was never activated and we can’t be sure if that is still there.”

Johnnie was most impressed, he loved the use of “we” all the time that indicated good solid teamwork.

“Max doesn’t want me to destroy the lab until I’ve.” he paused, “until we – have found where the information is coming from to make such advanced weapons. There we have a real problem.”

He was still only wearing the robe he’d put on after the shower and Debbie had moved close beside him to show him the advertisement. She was wearing rather a nice perfume and the light from the window caught her profile in a rather delightful way.

All agents are a little nervous about sharing passionate moments with people involved with the agency because the rules against fraternization are a bit ambiguous. Of course, close long term relations are forbidden because a person to whom an agent may have a close attachment could be threatened or even kidnapped in an attempt to sabotage the outcome of a mission. It’s not an easy thing to deprive one’s self of real love and affection but that was the nature of the game.
When Johnnie first met Debbie he would have thought she was the last woman on earth that he would want to go to bed with but that had now changed. As she turned towards him to make one more suggestion their lips were so close it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to kiss her.

What happened next staggered him. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and hugged his neck so tight he thought she was going to break it. Johnnie moved his fingers along her left tit until he located a nipple and as they were kissing he moved it between his finger and thumb.

It was almost as though Debbie was going to have an orgasm there and then. She moved away from him just enough to allow her to take her blouse over her head to expose a great pair of braless tits. Before Johnnie could make a move to fondle them she grabbed his hands and place them there herself. She then leaned back and enjoyed the thrill of his strong hands massaging them.

Things got even steamier when he leaned over and took one of her nipples in his mouth. She let out a loud moan and pressed her tit hard against his face. He sucked furiously and then moved to the other side. She was in sexual heaven and she was not ashamed of showing how much she was enjoying the whole thing.

It wasn’t long before Johnnie’s robe opened up revealing a huge hard dick. Debbie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw it and she just dropped off the sofa and on to her knees. As her mouth engorged it Johnnie gasped and held onto her long blonde hair.

He leaned back and enjoyed the tongue licking he was getting for a time but then he grabbed hold of Debbie’s shoulders, stood up, and swept her up in his arms. Taking her over to the bed he lay her on top of the covers and then proceeded to remove the rest of her clothing as she moaned and groaned in anticipation of his dick penetrating deep inside her body.

It was quite a body too. Johnnie always appreciated the fact that she had a nice figure but as she lay there naked it looked even more beautiful than he had imagined. With her golden hair spread out on the white pillow and her big blue eyes looking up at him he couldn’t wait to drive it into her shaved flower.

Debbie put her arms and legs around his back and pulled him into her as far as he could go. She began to tense up the muscles inside of her flower and then release them again – it was almost like she was sucking his dick with it.

Johnnie was feeling as horny as hell and he began to drive it into her at a furious pace. Her tits were bouncing all over the place as he continued to pound her until he shot his load. Debbie almost went into a seizure at this point, her body shook and she squirmed and flayed her arms about like a madwoman, then she reached up to kiss his face, dug her nails into his back and kept whispering “Johnnie – O Johnnie.” Jerry Waldron had faded into the past.

In all his sexual encounters he had never met anyone who could go from cold to very, very hot quite like Debbie. When they first met he thought she was saving herself for the American aristocracy but now it seemed she was quite happy fucking a humble covert operative.

When the steamy atmosphere had cleared a little and both were fully clothed and back to business Debbie pointed out the suitcase and laptop that he had left with the Seales, she thought that he might want to check them over. The contents of the case seemed to be in order but the laptop had been accessed. As everything of importance was stored on the mainframe computer at HQ and a complicated series of codes had to be entered to find anything classified it was unlikely that the hacker had discovered anything of importance.

However, even being able to bypass the password showed a certain amount of resourcefulness and technical know-how and that person was probably Ronnie Evans. Because the Seales had a basic land-line coupled to a wireless router it was fairly easy to establish the server and then to set about monitoring the activity taking place from the house.

Between HQ in Strasbourg, Debbie, who had considerable technical ability, and Johnnie, they devised a program to log the keystrokes on his computer. Over the next 24 hours, they discovered it was Ronnie that was hacking into a military laboratory at Fort Pierce around 200 kilometers outside of Miami. It was this insignificant-looking little man with the Everly Brother’s haircut that was responsible for men, women, and children being blown apart in half a dozen countries.

Shattered Beams

Whether Clara and Frank were involved in any way was not clear but the targets for the pair of operatives were Harry’s newly established lab and that little son of a bitch Ronnie Evans. The next day Johnnie drove out to the mine and boldly walked up to the front gate. Unbeknown to him the security guard on duty was Joe, the one who beat his head in. It was quite a different layout to the previous premises and it seemed that Joe and his snarling dog might be the only barrier between him and being able to come face to face with Harry.

“I want to see Harry Gowan,” said Johnnie, gripping his tranquilizer gun in his pocket.

“He’s not seeing anybody today.”

“I think he’ll see me.”

Joe looked at him a little closer thinking he knew that face from somewhere but then quickly withdrew and in a much more aggressive tone told him to fuck off before he called the cops. Johnnie took his tranquilizer gun from his pocket causing Joe to step back and then as the dart hit him in the neck he lifted one arm as if to protest but then fell in a heap on the ground. The dog was still attached to his hand with a leash but he was about to break that hold when he also became a recipient of a dart and joined his master in the weeds that grew around the guardhouse. A few seconds later Harry charged out of the door of the dilapidated building with two more guards. He’d obviously seen the confrontation on the CCTV camera that was strung somewhat haphazardly from a rotting post.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he cried, stopping short as Johnnie pointed the gun in his direction. Harry peered over his glasses, “Aren’t you the guy from England – the one that came with Clara?”

Johnnie ignored the question and just yelled, “I want you to get everybody out of the building because there are two bombs planted in the lab and they’re going to blow in just a few minutes.”

Harry thought he was bluffing but his staff, who’d been gathering by the door, didn’t want to take any chances. They started to move swiftly away from the building and Harry was itching to follow them but instead, he gave a nod to two guards and they attempted to draw their guns.

Johnnie brought them both down before they could get them out of their holsters and Harry quickly stuck his hands in the air like a quivering coward.

“Put your hands down and pull your three sleepy colleagues well away from the building – if you don’t I’ll put you to sleep and leave your useless body here to burn.”

Johnnie stood over him as one by one he dragged the guards away and sweat began to drip from his forehead. He was puffing and blowing when he got to the last man and then he saw an opportunity to grab one of the guard’s guns that were still lying on the floor. As he did so Johnnie’s foot came down on his hand like a jackhammer.

With Harry groaning as if he’d been castrated with a blunt instrument, Johnnie picked up the gun and pointed it at his forehead, “Now get him out of here and no more tricks.”

“But you’ve broken my hand – how can I drag him with one hand?” he whined.

“Humor me and try,” said Johnnie, grabbing his hair, pulling back his head and sticking the gun barrel up his nose.

Harry took his fallen comrade by the collar and looking as though he might have a heart attack at any moment he managed to drag him fifty yards to where the others had gathered. Then he hid behind a scrawny tree and after a couple of minutes waiting for the explosion to take place his courage came back and he stepped out and yelled to everybody that it was obviously a hoax.

“O did I forget to press the button?” Johnnie asked nonchalantly.

He took his OpsPhone from his pocket and as Harry and his employees looked on nervously he entered three digits. There was one mighty bang, followed by several smaller ones. All the doors and windows blew out and debris from the roof, that was now fifty feet in the air, rained down over a wide area. Undercover of the dust and smoke Johnnie made his way to his car and drove back to the hotel.

Goodnight Ronnie!

That afternoon Johnnie and Debbie got together to discuss how to neutralize Ronnie. There only seemed one clear way to do it and that was to eliminate him. It was possible to activate the bomb hidden in the bed leg and send the spy to sleep forever but the idea of Frank and Clara as collateral damage could not be justified. Debbie came up with an idea to get around the problem.

“You said they were both very religious didn’t you?” she asked.

“Yes – grace at mealtime takes a quarter-hour and they even say grace over coffee.”

“There’s a big revival meeting tomorrow night in Jacksonville with Jesse J Baily.”


“Jesse J Bailey – he’s a well-known evangelist.”


“If you approve the finance we could send them tickets in recognition of the charity work that Clara’s been doing for years – we could book them into a nice hotel for the night and even arrange for a car to pick them up at the house.”

Johnnie loved the idea but pointed out that he had got to work fast, “Once Ronnie gets the word about what happened at the mine today he may go to ground.”

Debbie picked up the phone – “I’d better start right away.”

First, she managed to get two tickets by using the most incredible sob story he’d ever heard and arranged to have them sent down that day by courier. She then phoned Clara posing as Jesse J Baily’s secretary, saying that her boss had heard about the Christian charity work she was doing and would like her to accept tickets to his revival, an overnight hotel stay in Jacksonville and that a limo would pick her and her husband up in Miami.

Clara took the bait, she was overjoyed at having the chance to see Jesse J Bailey in person and so the wheels of intrigue began to turn. Johnnie knew that the bomb was unlikely to hurt anyone else as it was encased in the metal bed leg and the bedroom was on the side of the house next to the vacant lot.

It was the last opportunity for Debbie and Johnny to spend a night together, at least in a comfortable room. They decided to make the most of it, they showered together, put on the hotel’s white robes, opened a bottle of champagne, and snuggled on the sofa. After a few sips, Johnnie put his glass down and slipped his hand inside Debbie’s robe. Her tits were so warm and inviting and he gently opened up the robe and his lips made for those delightful erect nipples.

Debbie sighed, “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” he replied as his hand slipped down between her legs, “we’ve had a great time together.”

He inserted his finger into her tunnel of love and moved it ever so slowly in and out. Debbie moved one leg up to make easier for him and then gasped as he put in the second finger.

“That feels wonderful,” she whispered, “But I like your big dick better,” and she took hold of it as it protruded from his robe. That really turned Johnnie on and took her legs and re-positioned her on the sofa and dropping his robe to the floor he held on to the cushion behind her and thrust his dick in as deep as it would go.

Debbie’s eyes opened wide and she held onto him tight as he began to thrust it forcefully into her pussy. Their colliding bodies created a beautiful rhythm beginning andante, through allegro molto and ending precipitando. As the perspiration from their bodies merged with each other there were calls of O fuck, O fuck, O fuck.

Johnnie started to groan as his balls were tingling and Debbie was breathing in short gasps as she went into orgasm and held onto him even tighter as he shot his load. When he took it out she gave a little sigh and lay back on the sofa with her eyes closed. Johnnie thought how beautiful she looked.

The following day the limousine they’d hired to take the Seale’s to Jacksonville pulled up in front of their house. Johnnie and Debbie parked down the street to watch. The driver rang the bell and it wasn’t long before Clara came out carrying a suitcase with Frank wheeling close behind her. Then came Ronnie carrying a small overnight bag.

“Holy shit, don’t tell me he’s going with them,” Johnnie snorted.

Debbie just took a big breath and didn’t let it out again until Ronnie handed the bag to the driver, said goodbye to the Seales, and returned to the house.

“OK,” said Johnnie, “now we have to stake out the house until tonight.”

Debbie got out of the car and went to get a cab back to the hotel, telling him she would return in three hours. They continued to do three-hour shifts until 10 pm when they both stayed for what they hoped would be the final shift. At this point, they moved up closer to the house so they could see the window to Ronnie’s bedroom. It was 1 a.m. when the light went on in that room and nearly 1.30 when it went off again.

“Do you think he’s in bed?” Debbie asked, seemingly anxious to get the whole thing over with.

“We won’t know until we read the papers tomorrow,” he replied, starting the car and pulling out into the street. About two kilometers from the house he stopped, activated the device, received a location reading, and entered the code. When they heard the explosion, Johnnie simply said, “Good night Ronnie,” and off he drove.

The following morning the local TV stations headlined the news about the blast. It was thought that some that a gang might have targeted the wrong person as a result of a disagreement over drug dealings. There was no mention of the destruction of the old mine building outside of town – just too remote to have been of interest perhaps.

Before leaving Miami he asked Debbie if she’d ever thought of becoming a full-time operative and working out of Strasbourg. “No,” she said with a little smile, “I might get emotionally involved.”

He nodded, “I know what you mean,” and kissing her on the cheek he picked up his case and made his way to the gate for Air France. THE END

book number one

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Copyright Cristiano Caffieri 2016-2018.
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