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Spy Games Ch. 13

Amateur

This chapter of Spy Games coincides with chapters four through ten of Real Estate Games and chapter one of Realter Revenge. If you haven’t read those two books, or haven’t read them recently, I suggest you read the afore mentioned chapters either before or after reading the text below. Some of the sex scenes that I only mention in this chapter of Spy Games are covered in much greater detail in the previous books. You might also enjoy experiencing the same scenes from Janis’ and Raven’s viewpoints.

Spy Games Chapter 13

I bought two houses that day. It should have been three, but the lady who owned the house on Sundress Street had second thoughts and wanted to re-negotiate. Which she did. She negotiated herself out of her clothes and onto her kitchen table. Once all was said and done, she got the same price for her house that I’d previously offered plus a rousing orgasm out of the deal. In my mind she won. Miss Moorehead disagreed. She took exception to my bargaining technique and, instead of having dinner with me that night and possibly looking at yet another property, she forced me to go home early.

I stopped at the local Piggly-Wiggly grocery store on the way to pick up some fried chicken, wine and beer. I wanted to avoid eating Sixty-nine’s cooking even if I couldn’t avoid the conversation that needed to occur between us.

Sixty-nine, Flanagan and I each had our own vehicle. I drove a rental car, which I changed out every few days. Sixty-nine had a small compact and Flanagan made do with an old pickup truck which fit in well with the locals. He also had use of a city issued police cruiser but kept it parked at the station. A cop car parked in front of our hideout would draw undue attention.

Flanagan’s truck was gone when I pulled up, but Sixty-nine’s Mini Cooper was parked in the gravel driveway.

“I only sold two today,” I told Sixty-nine when I plopped the sales contracts on the dining room table she used as her workspace.

“Agent Foxtrot is on a call,” she told me. “The burglar alarm at the house you bought last night went off and he went to investigate. He thinks Miss Moorehead may have accidently set it off. He told me to tell you that ‘if he’s lucky, he won’t be home for dinner’.”

“Not a problem. Either way I’ve got enough chicken for all of us. And quit calling him Foxtrot. Always use our cover names when on assignment. Even if it’s just the three of us.”

“Yes sir. I’m sorry.” She gave me a shy smile and then picked up the contracts.

I ignored her apology and returned to the kitchen.

“Beer or wine?” I asked from the other room.

“Wine please, if it isn’t any trouble.”

“All I could find was a mediocre red and what might be a palatable white. What’s your choice?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

“I’m drinking beer.”

“Then I’ll just have a glass of water.”

“Damn it Sixty-nine, if you want a glass of wine, drink a glass of wine. Don’t settle for water just because I’m drinking beer. We’ve got a half billion-dollar budget. This stuff is fifteen bucks a bottle. It won’t break the bank.”

‘Yes sir. I’m sorry sir. I’ll take the white.”

That was two “I’m sorrys” in less than five minutes … after I specifically forbade her from using the term in my presence less than twenty-four hours ago. Is she purposely trying to piss me off or can she not help herself?

I poured her a glass of wine, popped a beer for myself and went back into the dining room.

“Take a sip of this,” I said, placing the wine in front of her. “If you don’t like it, we can always try the red.”

“Oh no sir, I’m sure this will be fine.”

“Well taste it anyway. There’s no sense in drinking something you don’t like.”

She took a small sip. “It’s wonderful. Thank you, sir.”

It could be pure vinegar and she’d most likely say the same thing.

“Listen Sixty-nine. We need to talk about what happened last night.” I sat down across from her, placing the heavy wooden table between us for her safety and mine.

“I’d rather not sir.”

“That would be my choice as well, but it happened and if we want to avoid a similar occurrence, we need to discuss it. Tell me, what do you think happened? And don’t say you’re sorry.”

“You and Agent … You and Flanagan were gone. I didn’t have anything to do, so I decided to clean your pistol. But I spilled some of the gun oil on the kitchen floor and must have put too much cleaner in the bucket when I tried to clean the mess because it was really slippery. Flanagan said that you wouldn’t be home until the next morning, and I didn’t know what to do about the floor, so I just left it and then you came back, and I didn’t know it was you and I was scared, so I grabbed your gun –“

“And all hell broke loose,” I said. “I know the rest … I was there. But what I really wanted to discuss is what happened next. After you tried to kill me.”

“When you punished me?”

“Exactly. That shouldn’t have happened. I had no right to hit you and I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” She said it in a meek whisper, but she said yalova escort it.

“You’re not sorry I spanked you? You wanted to be punished?”

“Not at first. But after you did …”

She looked away.

“What? What happened after I spanked you.”

“I think … I’m not sure … I’ve never had one before … But maybe I had an orgasm.”

“When I spanked you?”

“Yes sir.”

“But you’re not sure?”

“It hurt, at first. And then it felt good. The harder you hit me, the better it felt. And then my vagina did something funny. I thought I’d peed my pants, but it was different …”

“Are you saying you’ve never had sex before.”

“No sir, I’ve been with a few guys, but …”

“But you’ve never had an orgasm.”

She shook her head in the ‘no’ direction.

“Not even when you masturbate?”

“I try, but I can’t quite make it happen.”

I was dumbstruck. How was it possible that a twenty something girl who, although not a raving beauty, was far from plain … how could this girl never have experienced an orgasm? Was it because she lacked confidence? Or perhaps she lacked confidence because she couldn’t find sexual satisfaction.

“Is it true what they say?” she asked, interrupting my train of thought.

“Is what true?”

“Your training. I’ve heard a rumor that you were trained to seduce women. That you have never failed.”

“Who told you this story?”

“Some of the women in the Company.”

“Can you be more specific? Which women?”

“All of them, actually.”

“Even our handler?”

“If you mean the Ball Busting Bitch … yes. She even warned me. Told me to avoid being alone with you.”

“Probably good advice. You should have followed it.”

“Does that mean you won’t help me?”

“You want me to show you how to seduce women?”

“No. I want you to teach me how to have an orgasm.”

Unlike many women I’ve known, the fewer clothes Sixty-nine had on, the better she looked. She wasn’t model material, which was good, because most girls who worked the New York City fashion scene had fewer curves than a pool cue. Sixty-nine had somehow hidden well-toned legs, a squeezable ass, flat tummy and C cup breasts under sufficient layers of clothing to convince the world she was nothing more than a dumpy office nerd.

Far from it.

I took my time. I removed one item of her camouflage, starting with her blouse, and caressed the newly revealed flawless skin until she got accustomed to her present state of undress before removing the next clothing item … her skirt followed her blouse. I removed my own shirt and pants at the appropriate times, so she wouldn’t feel self-conscious about her increasing degrees of nakedness. Keeping her wine glass full also helped with her initial nervousness.

Once she was completely naked and I was stripped down to only my boxer shorts, I suggested we move to one of the bedrooms. She politely asked if we could stay on the living room couch. I agreed and started a purposeful search for her buttons. For a woman who supposedly never had an orgasm, she had plenty of hot spots. A shoulder rub quickly brought her stress level down a notch. Her palms and elbow joints responded well to my touch and a slight nibble on her left ear lobe extracted a giggle and then a sigh.

Her nipples were already firm by the time my lips got to them and were even harder by the time I moved on. I got absolutely no response from her feet or calves, but a light fingertip up the inner thigh spread her legs like I’d spoken the magic word and, by the time my tongue reached her outer lips, they were already swollen and puffy.

I spent an inordinate time playing between her legs before sending an exploratory finger into her carnal cave. It sllipped in easily and came out wet … which made me believe I had her. With two fingers stroking her g-spot, a nipple between the thumb and forefinger of the other hand and my tongue dancing with her clit, it should have been just a matter of time. Her heart was racing, her breathing rapid and shallow … and they stayed that way … for way too long. She didn’t climax. She was on the edge, ready to take the plunge, but something was holding her back.

I considered bringing out the big gun. Unleashing the Kraken and letting her have the full experience. But I specifically promised the BBB that I’d keep my dick out of her young agent and, even if I didn’t, it probably wouldn’t do the trick. Sixty-nine needed something else. Something other women didn’t.

“I know you’re doing your best,” the panting girl said. “But this is as far as I ever get. I’m sorry, it’s not your fault.”

That’s it. That’s the missing ingredient.

It was so obvious I cursed myself for not thinking of it before. But when she said she was sorry, I knew exactly what to do.

I immediately got off my knees, sat on the couch, threw her body over my lap and spanked her. Hard. No warning. Again and again.

The effect was immediate. Her back arched, her toes pointed, her arms quivered, and her pussy dumped a quart of nectar all over yalova escort bayan my thighs and the couch. I gently stroked her ass cheeks as she recovered from her first orgasm and then laid into her butt again … smacking both cheeks with an open hand … bringing on a more powerful response than the first.

I truly believe Sixty-nine had two or maybe three more orgasms left in her, but I didn’t want to take the chance of hurting her. Her ass was already redder than a ripe tomato and I didn’t know if swatting some other area of exposed flesh would have the same result. Something to save for another day.

I put a sore but extremely satisfied young lady in her bed that night and then retired to my own … wondering if I had done the right thing.

***

I spent a good bit of the next day with Miss Moorehead. Again, we only bought two houses, but that was mostly my fault. I readily admit that I got carried away in the bargaining process at each residence.

The first house belonged to a recently divorced couple who had some unresolved issues. Namely they still wanted to fuck each other. Their only problem was that they also liked to fuck other people. Thanks to my intervention and Miss Moorehead’s involuntary assistance, we convinced the two to get back together by demonstrating the many advantages of a threesome.

At the second house, I learned that Miss Moorehead not only spoke Spanish fluently, but she also had a soft spot in her heart for the downtrodden. In this case, she took the side of simple Mexican laborers over that of a well-off trophy wife.

I was beginning to get a better picture of who Miss Janis Moorehead was, and I liked what I saw. Sure, her willingness to let me use her wonderful body for my entertainment was a definite plus, but she also was a genuinely good person. Unlike some narrow-minded people, I did not find that enhancing blend of personal attributes — promiscuity and good heartedness — mutually exclusive. She liked to have fun but also put other people’s feelings before her own. A rare combination indeed. Traits most any man looked for in a woman … unless he wanted her to help him blackmail the local town council and subsequently endanger every other resident in the city.

That was the rub. Miss Moorehead had a moral compass that refused to point in the direction we needed to complete the mission.

The following morning was more of the same. Miss Moorehead and I spent an extremely entertaining morning at the local dairy farm. At least I found it enjoyable … Janis might have had a different opinion since she was the one who got tied up and attached to a mechanical milking machine. Regardless, when we left the dairy, my opinion of the good-looking real estate agent had not changed. I enjoyed every minute we were together, admired her as a person and looked forward to making love to her.

Yet I was convinced I’d have to fire her. There was no way Janis Moorehead would do anything to purposely harm the people of Merryville.

The only other realtor in town who we thought competent enough to follow through with what we had started was C. Raven Hardwood. At that time, she was an unknown. Flanagan had met with her a few times, and she seemed receptive to a bit of dishonest quid pro quo. She even asked Flanagan to spy on Miss Moorehead. But she was also a native Merryvillien and we weren’t sure how far she would go.

I got my answer that afternoon.

The next property we looked at was the home of two female professional wrestlers. Unbeknownst to either of us, Miss Hardwood and her client had gotten there just a few minutes before Janis and me. As soon as we saw Miss Hardwood’s white Porsche in the drive, Janis admitted that she and Raven were not the best of friends. “My least favorite person on the planet …” were her exact words. Apparently the two had some history.

Again, what happened next was mostly my doing. I purposely maneuvered the competing realtors into a wrestling ring and the result was the most violent catfight I would ever hope to witness. Surprisingly, Miss Moorehead came out on top … which meant I not only got to buy the house, but I also got to spend thirty minutes alone with Miss Hardwood … on the wrestling mat.

Call it instinct, intuition or plain common sense. The minute I got my dick inside Miss Hardwood, I knew she was the girl for me. Not romantically. I took an instant dislike to the woman as soon as I met her. Not sexually either. Despite a very appealing body, I received absolutely no pleasure from fucking her. But I could sense the evil in the woman. Wickedness exuded through her pores like bile from a gall bladder. She would do anything to further herself. As long as I offered her unlimited power and fortune, she would do my bidding.

She took the bait that afternoon on the wrestling mat. The next morning, we met again, and I set the hook. In exchange for blackmailing the Merryville city Council, I promised her complete control of the town plus a huge payday. And to sweeten the deal, I vowed to fire Janis Moorehead, her escort yalova lifelong enemy, and hire C. Raven Hardwood as my new realtor.

***

After my early morning meeting with Miss Hardwood, I had another full day scheduled with Miss Moorehead. With the exception of both being extremely attractive women, the difference between the two realtors was night vs. day … devil vs. angel … sharp and prickly vs. warm and fuzzy. Pick a cliché and they all fit. I thoroughly enjoyed being with Janis and dreaded the time I spent with Raven. But the mission came first and, eventually, I would have to fire the former and deal with the latter.

In retrospect, I should have ended my relationship with Miss Moorehead immediately after my experience with Miss Hardwood on the wrestling mat. I had already purchased several houses with Janis, and she had a substantial commission coming her way. Not near what Raven would eventually earn, but sufficiently more than Janis would have received if she hadn’t worked with me for those few days.

But I wasn’t ready to be done with the delightful blonde. I told myself that if I stayed with her for just a little longer, I could triple her earnings … which was the only excuse I have for my conduct during the next few days. If the truth be known, I continued to lead her on for my own selfish reasons.

What happened on Hippo Street was an excellent example of my supposed desire to increase Miss Moorehead’s income backfiring.

I had every intention of going to the residence, giving the house a cursory inspection, and then making a reasonable offer. Unfortunately, the young woman who owned the house wasn’t as desperate for money as her neighbors. She demanded full price. That too shouldn’t have been a problem. I had a nearly unlimited budget and an extra twenty or thirty thousand wouldn’t concern even the most persnickety auditor. But what the extremely large women used as a counteroffer was too good to pass up.

It’s not like I didn’t give Miss Moorehead a choice. If she had refused, I would have gladly moved on to the next property. But, not only being extremely personal and fun, Miss Moorehead also knew a good deal when it was offered. Which is how her pretty face ended up between the sizeable thighs of the two-hundred-fifty-pound homeowner.

While Miss Moorehead was doing her best to satisfy the woman above her, I thought it only fair to return the favor and soon had my talented tongue and lips working Miss Moorehead towards what I was sure would be a memorable moment.

It would have worked … if the Ball Busting Bitch didn’t pick that exact moment to text me.

* Call me now. Upmost importance. *

I gave Miss Moorehead one last kiss on her lower lips and stepped out of the room so as not to disturb the two women on the bed.

“I’m kind of busy,” I told the BBB. “Can this wait until later?”

“Are you under attack?” she asked.

“No ma’am.”

“Are you surveilling an enemy agent?”

“No, it’s nothing like that –“

“Then put your dick back in your pants and listen.

“Your schedule has been moved up. The Russians and Chinese are ready to move now and are already making offers to other locations … towns and cities that don’t fit into our plans.”

“You mean towns we don’t want to sacrifice?”

“Call it what you want. Your job is to speed up the timetable. You need to get control of the Merryville City Council ASAP and convince them it is in their best interests to offer these foreign entities tax free operations for the foreseeable future.”

“That’s like signing a death warrant for the town, even if the terrorist don’t do them in.”

“The town will die no matter what happens. It might as well go down for a good cause. Buy as many houses as you can. The fewer residents, the less collateral damage.”

As soon as the BBB ended the call, I went back to the bedroom, expecting Miss Moorehead and the obese homeowner to be finished with their side deal. Instead, the large lady was still sitting on Janis’ face and an even larger man was ramming a sizeable cock into Janis’ other end.

“Where the hell did you come from?” I asked the man as I physically pulled him out of Miss Moorehead’s pussy and threw him to the floor.

“She’s my sister,” he answered with a shit eating grin. “This house is half mine, so I get half of the royalties.”

“Shit,” the fat woman said as she climbed off the bed. “She’s not moving.”

“Is she breathing?” her equally obese brother asked.

“I can’t tell.”

I let out a huge sigh of relief when Miss Moorehead’s eyes slowly fluttered to life. I really didn’t want to kill anybody that soon in the mission, but if those two had done any permanent damage to my gorgeous blonde realtor, Flanagan and I would have had to rent a front loader to get the homeowners’ bodies into his truck.

As an atonement for the rough treatment she experienced at Hippo Street, I took Miss Moorehead to lunch at the fanciest restaurant in town … The Sharper Knife. While there, I got to meet the Merryville mayor for the first time and also a few of his city council members. Both the mayor and council seemed more concerned about their reputations than their town, which might explain why Merryville was on the Company’s expendable list.

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