It was a simpler time. The Great War had been over for a few years now. Jay and Daisy were living their lives in New York; across the pond, Bertie and his brainless friends were making daily fools of themselves. In the nation's capital, however, things were going great at one of the larger hotels. A fundraiser/cocktail party was going on in one of their more fancy ballrooms.
Many of the city's finest were attending the party. The gentlemen in their finest suits; the ladies in their finest attire. Nobody looked up as a dark-suited man headed to the fully-stocked bar. His dark red hair trimmed neatly, his only real distinguishing feature was the small scar over his right eyebrow. The bartender sauntered over to the man.
"What'll it be, sir?"
"Just give me a la fée verte, slice of lemon, extra ice." The bartender's eyebrow cocked at this order. Understanding what it meant, he began working quickly.
As Jack enjoyed his drink, he noticed a message written on the napkin underneath his glass. It consisted of two words and an illustrated symbol: "Behind You."
"The sun certainly was bright today," a female voice behind Jack said.
Jack turned to look at a lady about ten years older than him. Her dark hair was elegantly styled, with just a touch of grey making her look even more lovely. The dress she wore, the jewelry, the purse, all of it exclaimed Wealth.
"Yes, but there are still patches of ice," Jack replied. He took the lady's hand gently, like he was greeting a diplomat.
"It's good to finally meet you in person, Mrs. Stanford. Care to join me for a drink?" Despite the two of them acting like a couple of socialites, Jack Doyle and Deirdre Stanford each knew that their co-worker was a force to be reckoned with.
"Gladly, but perhaps we can go a bit more . . . private, Jack?" Deirdre leaned forward to whisper lustfully, "I've got a suite upstairs. Perhaps we can enjoy it tonight."
To avoid drawing attention to themselves, Jack simply chuckled, as though Deirdre had merely shared a bit of gossip. "Sounds interesting, but firstly, won't anybody miss you if you vanish, and what about your husband?"
"Long-winded speeches with the city's biggest showoffs always knock me out, and Mr. Stanford is in London for two weeks. The Crown wanted his expertise with some incident or another." Running a hand up Jack's arm, Deirdre leaned forward again, whispering into Jack's ear, "Plus, we didn't have a chance to have sex before he left, and I'm really really horny." Her voice nearly took on a pleading tone with this last part.
Jack was a bit shocked. He'd heard rumors from other agents that Mrs. Stanford had a high sex drive, though he never gave it much thought. After all, technically, Deirdre did outrank him. After thinking about her offer for a split-second, Jack finished his drink in a single gulp. Linking the older woman's arm with his, he remarked, "Let's go."
After stopping to pick up Deirdre's coat at the check room, the duo headed upstairs. Nobody looked up at them as they left. Going upstairs, Jack took a moment just to enjoy the look of the suite. In the past, he'd occasionally had meetings with his superiors in the bar downstairs, but surprisingly, had never actually been in one of the rooms.
He only had a moment to observe, though. As soon as the door closed, Deirdre pinned him to the wall, planting a long, passionate kiss on him, as they began to dry-hump one another. Soon, their tongues began to intertwine, as their hands roamed over each other's bodies. After a few seconds, Deirdre broke off the kiss.
"Well, now that we have that out of the way, let's just enjoy the evening." Deirdre said with a smile. Her hands still on each side of Jack, she just stared into the agent's blue eyes. "You wanna take it slow, or should we just get to it?" |