Time for Distraction

Previous chapter: What is the Opposite of Kidnaping?

My contract complete, normally I’d take a break somewhere then head back home to look for more work. Instead, I’m finding myself reluctant to move on. I’m infatuated by this intelligent, deadly and beautiful woman and want to stay in her presence. Because it was a busy week, I really didn’t get my exercise in like I normally do. Since I’ve come in contact with that heavenly body a number of times, I’m quite sure she regularly exercises. I decide to challenge her.

“Do any sparring? I’ve gone soft on this job and need to work out.”

She gives me a strange side-long look and responds with, “I believe I can spare some time to exercise. I recall seeing a state park close by that looked like an excellent place for Parkour.”

“I think I remember that place. About fifteen miles outside of town, right? An excellent idea, just the sort of thing to work the kinks out. I guess starting here now would attract too much attention. Shall we wait for dark or make the drive?”

“Let’s drive. Bring your gloves and pads; I have some aggression issues and you’re the perfect person to work them out against.”

We head out to the park, Isabel at the wheel. It’s a nice summer day. Though still on the hot side, the air has dried out somewhat making it more enjoyable to be outside. With the heat, maybe she’ll wear a skimpy outfit. Of course, if I can’t manage to focus again I’ll probably get hurt, but two can play at that game. As we travel, I remove my cheek pads, slip off the beer belly and love handles and wipe off the makeup that made me look sallow. I slip on some skimpy shorts of my own. I know from the reaction of a lot of women that, though not the muscle-bound Schwarzenegger type, I do have the hard body and six pack sought after by women. She’s not obvious, but I think she’s checking me out. After we get there, she changes on the other side of the vehicle. She looks lovely in her sports bra and tight little shorts; the combination of her curvy hips with her narrow waist is amazing. She ties her hair up into a ponytail. Without a glance back or sound of warning, she takes off running.

While not caught totally flat-footed, I was staring at her after all, she does manage to get a few steps on me before I get up to speed. I follow her lead through the woods, leaping over dead-falls, scaling large boulders, dodging between trees. Her behind is mesmerizing. It seems she once again takes advantage of my lack of focus to begin the sparring phase. She drops down for a leg sweep and manages to catch me off guard. I twist as I go down and reach out to grab at her ankle. She pulls it out of reach and begins dodging back toward the car. I’m guessing the “work out aggression” phase is about to begin. I wonder if getting punched in the head will allow me to focus.

Having been caught out, I stop staring at her rear and use my longer legs to catch up and dodge past her. Now in the lead, I detour toward a meadow and do some tumbling and “pronging.” There are few people in the park, it’s the middle of the day during the week, so our actions aren’t attracting any attention. She shows she’s just as capable and I start to lose focus again watching her chest as she prongs. Man, she is deep inside my head!

Back at the car, we drink a little water and put on the sparring protection. Without a word, we head back to the meadow. We face each other. I decide to wait for her to start. She seems to have made the same decision. I’m good at patient, watchful waiting, let’s see how long she can take it.

After a few minutes, I start to notice the sweaty sheen on her thighs. Just as I realize I’ve lost focus again, she attacks. I have reach on her so she isn’t able to tag me on the noggin, but she gets a shot in my abs as I defend her swing at my head. We settle down on some focused sparring and each wind up planting a few good ones on the other. She uses her legs a lot to make up for her shorter arm reach, but of course I know that approach.

She has a trick, though, of stepping into my kick and getting in a jab or twain before I push her aside. I’m not trying to hurt her, but it does seem to be a remarkably fair fight considering I outreach and outweigh her. Yet another reason to be impressed. Damn this woman for her hold on my brain!

We take a break after about an hour. I’m starting to get hungry, so I suggest lunch. We head back to the car and, for the first time since I broke down that door, she seems relaxed. I don’t want to break the spell so soon, so I keep that observation to myself.

“Let’s pick something up on the way back, grab a shower and eat on the porch,” she suggests.

“Excellent idea, I’m itchy from rolling around in the grass.”

We do our shopping; simple stuff, like sandwich materials, then head to her safe house. With Jeff and Eric gone, we have the place to ourselves. I shower first, since women seem to take forever. Then, wrapped in a towel, set about laying out the prepared food. Surprisingly, she doesn’t take two hours in the shower, maybe twenty minutes. She also comes out wrapped in a towel with another in her hair in that strange turban thing women seem to favor. I have the meal set up on the porch, comfortably in the shade now. We enjoy each other’s company in silence as we eat the light fare. I can’t stop thinking about how she’d look without that towel. Of course, I’m hoping to entice her with my body. I drag my eyes away from the curve of her thigh as she starts to talk in a somewhat remote voice, staring across the field.

“I was really angry when I woke up after you busted down that door. After realizing you outed me with your clever use of my language, my next thought was, ‘Raped again for my country.’ I was convinced, at the very least, you’d had your hands all over me.

“It isn’t that I haven’t been raped before, my profession requires it from time to time. However, I’ve worked hard to be a team lead and thought my prostitution days were behind me. When we were in the duct I was rather petulantly flashing you with sex appeal, not caring what it was doing to the mission. Your crude joke initially just confirmed the impression you were a typical guy. When you said you’d only patted me down, I realized that I’d jumped to conclusions and stopped trying to bait you.”

“Well,” I remarked, “You certainly had me going. While I enjoy the female form I’ve never had problems focusing on work before. How can you turn it on like that?”

“I’m not totally sure. I learned in my early teenage years that I could manipulate most men, as well as some women, quite easily with my body. As I got into my early twenties, I found it difficult to work with most men and as well with a lot of women. It seemed women felt threatened by me and constantly tried to make me look bad. Men either dismissed me out of hand, or followed me around like puppies. Neither approach interested me. I had to work hard to be considered for anything other than a sex lure. I know I don’t appeal to everyone, people who like skinny, top-heavy blondes won’t find me at the top of their list. For those who like curvy brunettes, though, I have no problem. I found gay guys the easiest to deal with, one of the reasons why I generally partner with Jeff and Eric.”

There’s a pause in her speech and I digest this for a while. I’ve never really thought about these sorts of issues from this perspective. I guess I’ve been guilty of the same sort of thing. When I’m on a job I generally don’t give sex a second thought (this has been a strange experience for me because of the ongoing distractions), and in between I’m generally just thinking about a pleasant one-night stand. I confess, even when working with beautiful spies, I haven’t given any consideration to their being above average intelligence. Indeed, thinking back now, I believe when I first saw her I had a few disparaging thoughts. I’ll have something to think about now on my long transoceanic flights.

I ask, “This rape and prostitution for your government, I presume you’re being figurative?”

“In many cases literal. I started in the ‘biz’ as a sex lure. My goal was to catch the eye of the target and lead him on until he compromised himself. Sometimes I could do that without the act, but when I talk about my government being my pimp I’m quite serious. It wasn’t always bad, but there are very few positive memories I carry from that period. My government likes that I can turn it on and off like a switch and that I don’t get emotionally involved, but I find it all trite and boring. I’ve had to work very hard to get put in charge and though this isn’t my first time as a team lead, I haven’t been doing it that long.”

She shifts around in her chair. My eyes are drawn to the contrast between her tanned thighs and the white towel.

“The ease in which you took my team apart really upset me, but I realized very quickly that you work at a different level. Still, I thought about taking you on once or twice. I know the trick for getting out of those wire ties. However, I wasn’t convinced I could get the girl’s location out of you and knew there would be no second chance. Our little adventure today convinced me I made the right decision. You’re intriguing to me in that you’ve been able to resist my charms. Even when I turned them up to max. I know when a man isn’t interested in me, clearly you are, yet you can focus to such a degree that I haven’t been able to push you around.”

“When we were in that duct I kept losing focus every time one of us moved. I’m not used to that and the lame joke was an effort to break the spell. At the time I thought I was achieving mastery of the situation. I guess I just got lucky with just the right thing to settle you down. During our exercise this afternoon I lost focus a number of times. Were you ‘flashing’ or was it all me?”

“I admit I chose my skimpy outfit with the intent to distract you. I tried earlier, seemingly to no avail. I was interested to see if your resistance was due to being on the job or if I wasn’t your type. This afternoon I briefly felt I had an edge on you, but you responded so quickly I couldn’t be sure.”

I think she’s starting to “flash” me again. This time I can relax and enjoy the sensation. She takes the top towel off and shakes her head to spread her hair out. As she does that her other towel loosens and one beautiful breast is exposed. She reaches up to run her fingers through her hair and the towel drops away from her waist and I see quite clearly it’s my favorite: the full Brazilian!

I stand up at attention, in more ways than one, and gather her into my arms. She leans her head on my shoulder and nuzzles my neck as I carry her toward the door. Though she doesn’t appear to be wearing any perfume, nonetheless I find her scent intoxicating. I carry her to the bedroom, lay her on the bed and marvel again at her beauty. Just possibly I’ve been with women with the same physical beauty, but her combination of amazing intellect and deadly attributes put her way off the charts. She’s already made me a happy man. I hope I can satisfy her in some small way.

As we make love she seems to be studying me. Most women have their eyes closed; she’s intently looking at me. I don’t mind. I like to have my eyes open to feast upon my lover, one reason I prefer doing it during the day or with lights. Eventually, it seems my efforts are paying off. Her intent stare is replaced by the normal closed eyes and pleased expressions of ecstasy.

I run my hands up and down her back, really liking the way her muscular back has a dip where her spine is. Her hair cascades around her face and down her back as we move around. I put my lips on her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair. Now and then I run my fingers through it. Such lovely, silky hair. Easily among the best I’ve ever felt. Generally when women have hair that looks this good it feels like a horse tail. Since I know she just got out of the shower it’s clear that this is her natural hair.

I’m usually a one-and-done kind of guy. When a teenager I experimented with more, but seldom found it worth the effort. Unlike most women, for whom it appears to get better with repetition, I found exactly the opposite. However, Isabel is proving that I may have given up too soon on my “research” as she’s been able to get things going again for me. Her efforts inspire me to dig through my “bag of tricks” to be even more diligent than usual at pleasing her. Presuming her physical responses are genuine, it seems my efforts are rewarded.

Normally I don’t linger afterwards, but normally there really isn’t much going on besides sex. As we relax afterwards, engaging in random conversation, I find myself reluctant to move on. I guess part of my brain, that base part that’s only interested in procreation, hopes there’s more to come. It doesn’t seem quite that simple, though. Usually I have much better control over my thought processes. She also doesn’t seem that eager to wrap things up, so we spend the evening together, finishing up the rest of the food we bought, and talking. Though our conversation isn’t that deep, I find her responses considered and well thought out. I’m enjoying our conversation almost as much as the sex. Maybe even as much.

Another first: after we make love again I decide to spend the night. Actually, I don’t think I made any conscious decision, I just wanted this pleasant feeling to continue. I surprise myself; each time I wake up as she shifts around, rather than feeling my sleep is disturbed, I find it an excellent excuse to snuggle closer and enjoy her smell. She responds in a positive manner as if she also likes the spooning.

In the morning, as the light shines in, I find myself ignoring the call of nature to gaze upon her perfection. Her beauty, if anything, seems even more enhanced, despite her tousled appearance. I can’t resist and start to caress her face and run my fingers through her hair. She smiles, showing she’s awake, and reaches out to take my hand and kisses it. As I lean forward to kiss her, she responds with alacrity. Nature, however, calls out louder and we decide to adhere to its demands.

There isn’t much in the fridge, some eggs and a little bacon. I prepare what’s there and make coffee as she wraps up her morning toilet and joins me.

“You’re even more beautiful in the morning’s light.”

“Thank you! And thank you for breakfast!”

We sit adjacent at the table, feeding each other, just like I’ve seen in some romantic movies. Those actors were wearing clothes, though. I caress her face between bites, sometimes running my fingers through her hair. She leans her face against my hand, prompting me to kiss her. Our kisses get more passionate, so breakfast is ignored as we return to our lovemaking. I haven’t had sex in the morning often. Generally it was at the end of a very long day. After yesterday’s activities I find her smell stronger, but rather than being a turn off, I’m turned on even more. I’ve always been aroused by women’s responses to ecstasy, one of the reasons I work so hard to bring them to climax several times. However, her responses seem to reach me in a more visceral level. Each time I’m successful just makes me want more. She’s as adept at bringing joy to me; a night’s recovery has recharged me. Nevertheless, an hour or so later and I need a pause to continue. She seems to recognize this. After we finish the now cold breakfast and clean up, she suggests some sparing as a change of pace.

I decide to test her stamina outside the bed and am equally impressed. We’re able to spar for a couple of hours, though her nakedness often distracts me. Afterwards, we shower together. She puts this strange plastic bag on her hair. I’ve often seen one in a woman’s bathroom, but this is the first time I’ve seen it put to use. First she wraps her hair into some sort of knot or bun, then tucks it inside the bag. Clearly this is something she does a lot as she barely pauses as she preps for the shower. Though I’m interested, I haven’t recovered enough physically, so content myself with soaping her up and running my hands all over her slicked body. I get a similar treatment and we stay in the shower until the hot water runs out. Fortunately, “cold” water in these parts is still lukewarm, so it isn’t shocking when it happens.

“I need to work on some reports. OK?”

I nod, thinking about what I can do while she works. Rather than sit at the desk, she lays on the bed, still naked, with pad and paper. I just stand staring for a while, a warmth suffusing me. As if drawn, I sit next to the bed and start to caress her magnificent rear. This doesn’t appear to affect her focus, so I yield to my temptation and start kissing her butt and back. Then I kiss my way down her nearest thigh, along her calf and to her foot. To give equal time, I kiss my way back up the other side. Her back is so sexy. I start to rub harder to feel her muscles. She lets out a pleased hum, so I start to give her a back massage. She pauses in her note taking from time to time as I knead her, giving pleased sighs. I move from her shoulders down to the small of her back and press hard against her muscles. I feel some tension there and she responds by setting her writing aside and lays her head down with a long drawn out “yes.”

After about twenty minutes, she resumes her work. I focus on her amazing rear for a while longer. In this case I spend more time caressing than massaging, sprinkling in more than a few kisses. Though I don’t really tire of this, I figure I need to spread my attention around, so I massage her thighs. Under the beautiful padding, her muscles are well defined. I love the feeling of them as she shifts her weight around. I work down to her calves, then massage the soles of her feet as well. I guess she’s done with her work; she rolls over, sits up and hugs me.

“Thank you, that was amazing!”

“My pleasure, I assure you!”

“I’m ready for lunch, but I think we’ve cleaned this place out. Shall we shop or eat out?”

She asks this interspersed with kisses. Part of me wants to keep touching her, but another part of me tells me I’m not yet ready for more. Going out is probably a good way to continue the recovery my body needs. She selects a light-colored, airy dress that reaches to just above her knees. Her underwear is more utilitarian than sexy, though not quite granny panties. Still, it looks sexy on her. Then again, anything might look good on her. I go with shorts and a white button-up with short sleeves.

She picks the restaurant; I’m not familiar with what’s good, bad or indifferent here. When I’m on the job I usually go with canned or microwavable. This is a little Mexican place, dim and quiet. We sit in the back. She selects a booth that has a commanding view of the place, yet is well placed for a quick exit out the back. She just keeps getting sexier and sexier.

Afterwards, we walk around the college town, hand-in-hand, looking in the store windows. Occasionally we walk through, checking out the wares. I surprise myself: I rarely take note of a pretty girl, and only when I’m out of sight of Isabel for some reason. We leave the town proper and walk around the campus for a while. As we wrap up our stroll, she heads us toward a grocery store and we get something for dinner.

Back at her place, she has to call in to make a report on her observations. Though I never caught her at it, it seems she was using our stroll to check on things. Now that I think back, we did pass the offices of Dr. Hubbard. He was there and seemed to be working. Most of her conversation is in Brazilian Portuguese, though I can tell there are coded phrases being used.

After she finishes up on the phone she looks at me.

“I’m to head back to the office tomorrow, my plane leaves at eleven in the morning.”

I nod. I guess the vacation has to end at some time.

We sit on the couch and chat about some of the sights and sounds of the town. Even though my focus was on the job, my memory still recorded what I saw and I’m able to relate my thoughts when something she says jogs it. She sits sideways at the end of the couch with her legs on my lap. Sometimes we hold hands, other times I caress her calves and reach up under her dress to gently massage her thighs, occasionally reaching so far to lightly touch in between. We take turns kissing each other’s hand as we sit talking, almost always looking deeply into each other’s eyes. This goes on until we hear each other’s stomachs grumbling. With a laugh she hops up and begins making dinner.

She’s clearly more into food preparation than I am and lays out pots and pans. She enlists me in some of the chopping and slicing preparation. In between those duties I relax, leaning against the counter, watching her move.

Dinner is quite good. She proves to have some skills in this area, as if being smart, deadly, beautiful and amazing in bed weren’t enough. We sit side by side as we eat, holding hands when possible, pressing our thighs together otherwise. I help her clean the kitchen, a rather drawn out affair since it seems she used every pot and pan available. As we start to wrap up, I suddenly find myself intently focused on her butt as she stands at the sink. She sways slightly side-to-side and I find my passion inflamed. After drying my hands, I reach around her waist and press against her to show my interest. She has her hair in a ponytail; I lean forward to enjoy the smell. She presses back against me, slowly moving her rear slightly from side to side. I reach up with one hand and down with the other to press and caress. She leans her head back, I use that opening to kiss her neck. After she places the last pot in the drying rack, she turns around, wraps me in her arms and starts some deep kissing.

She works her hands around to get my shorts off. I spring to attention with the release. She uses one hand to massage me, another to work the buttons on my shirt. I work the clasp on her bra through her dress while I bring my other up under to slide her panties down. Very quickly we get each other undressed without anything more than occasional brief pauses as we kiss. I’m starting to get painful I’m so rigid. As much fun as this has been, though, I think being on the bed will be better, so once again sweep her off her feet and carry her there. Our love making is even more rewarding than the first time. Hours later we rest in each other’s arms. As the sun goes down and we cool off from our activities, I pull a blanket up over us and drift off to sleep.

The next morning starts like the previous, though our lovemaking lasts even longer. The intensity is much lower and we proceed much slower, yet I find the impact even greater. As we wind things up, she lets out a long sigh and turns over to lay against me. She idly reaches down to take my hand and intertwines our fingers, then settles her head against my neck. I caress her back again and run my fingers through her hair some more and try to think of any lovemaking that even came close. There are a couple time, but not that many, certainly nothing superior. And never anything that has lasted this long! In my experience, most beautiful women tend to be passive. Even when they like to be on top, they don’t do much else. The better lovemaking has been with the plainer women.

She sighs again, “This has been awesome! The guys I dealt with barely gave me the time of day, let alone hours of lovemaking spread over days. When we were exercising, I was quite glad to see your beer belly was a strapon. I think we would have wound up together anyway, I’ve got quite intrigued by your ability to resist my charms. However, you turned out to have a fantastic body, well worth having the lights on.”

“For my part, I think you’ve ruined me for other women. I sure hope we can work together again someday.”

She gives a wistful sigh. She knows how this has to end. Even if she wasn’t a patriot, I’m a loner and not sure I could be comfortable working with, and depending on, anyone else. I continue to hold her against me, lightly running my fingers through her hair and across her back, thinking about other things than her fabulous body. I’ve put off the real world long enough, life must get back to normal if I’m going to be effective at my job.