Introduction:
Young Russian Girl, Ekaterina Novikova, aka Yulia Jelic, has been recruited by the Federation's Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR), and deployed into Washington DC. Her cover story says she is a Barista at a Coffee house, which is exactly what the unsuspecting Belarusian Diplomat sees when he buys his coffee … , SWALLOW’S NEST – Sexpionage 1
As the old year became the New Year, and the snow lie thick on the ground, U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo visited Belarus for the first time in 26 years, to offer American aid after Russian decision to cut off energy supplies. Later in the same year, when the snow had cleared and given way to sunshine and flowers, Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs Oleg Kravchenko was appointed the Belarusian Ambassador to America.
As the Belarusian elections drew near Russia intensified its efforts to turn the wheel once more and destroy the bridges that had been built between its border sharing neighbour Belarus and the Soviet’s eternal enemy, the United States of America. New infiltrators were surreptitiously sent into the States to seditiously spy and subvert …
Costa Coffee, F Street, Washington USA
He walked into Costa, the one on F Street North-West near to Ford’s Theatre, and ordered a macchiato. The July day was warm and pleasant and so he headed outside while they prepared his drink. He wasn’t used to such agreeable service … but the barista offered assurance that the drink would be brought out to him.
He sat at a table and stared blankly at the ten-storey office building being constructed across the road. There was an appetising aroma of deep fried something coming from somewhere, but he couldn’t work out what or where from. There was also a thick powdery smell of crushed concrete floating across from the construction site. Mixed with the diesel fumes from the yellow, black and orange cabs, he was feeling the beginnings of a headache. He needed the caffeine.
A pretty waitress in a tight fitting white ribbed sweater placed his macchiato in front of him. He took a sip and could see her looking at him as she cleared away coffee trash from one of the adjacent tables.
“Hangover cure?” she said, smiling at the man. Despite his best efforts he could not take his gaze away from the name badge fastened over her ample breast.
The way she spoke English was with a very familiar accent.
“Do I look like I’ve got a hangover?” He replied, with a slight smile. She was pretty and, though he knew that he shouldn’t, he liked the attention.
She laughed. “Yes actually, yes, you do.”
She was blonde, somewhat statuesque and very pretty. Early-twenties. Long hair hanging loose, very white teeth and a lovely smile. Her giggling laugh was exquisite …
“You’re from Belarus?” he asked, believing that he had recognised the accent.
She looked amazed at his words.
“Hey Mister, that’s so cool! It’s incredible. No one ever can work out where it is that I am from. Have you been to there?”
“Yes. It is where I am from too.” He responded.
“Really?” She continued with her ‘amazed’ reaction. “Where, which town?”
“Minsk.” He replied.
“Wow! That’s amazing, and here we both are in Washington at the same time. I’m from Zhodzina.”
He nodded, “I know it. Very near to Minsk.”
“Yes. Hey.” She gives him a curious look. “Sorry for being so forward, but can I ask you out for a drink or something? I haven’t met anyone who’s even been to my country since I’ve been here, never mind another person who is actually from there.”
He knew that to encourage her offer was wrong, very wrong. But she was so pretty, no, not pretty … she was beautiful. And that laugh … the need to feed his ego overwhelmed him.
“Of course.” He replied with an accompanying smile.
She produced a pen and scribbled a mobile telephone number on a paper serviette.
“My name’s Yulia Jelic.”
He reached out and took her hand in his.
“Please to meet you, Yulia,” he glanced at her name tag and smiled, I’m Anatol. Anatol Radkov.”
She rolls her eyes. “Wow! I still can’t believe it.”
Anatol could not stop his smile from forming. Her enthusiasm was infectious, but it was more than her enthusiasm that he wanted form her. Damn she was gorgeous.
“Cool. You will call me, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
“OK. Cool.” She laughed, “Sorry, I say cool quite a lot.”
Yulia walked back towards the entrance of the Pret. Just before she disappeared inside, she turned around to face him.
“Don’t forget.”
“I won’t.”
He took a sip of his coffee and watched a group of tourists walking towards theCostafrom across the road. They stopped as two of the younger kids broke away and started to point at the toy store that marked the very edge of Downtown.
Two Oriental girls, probably in their late teens, walked past and looked at him, giggling. As they moved away, one of them looked back over her shoulder at him and smiled.
Anatol knew that he was attractive. In his early thirties, he kept himself in shape and he had always managed to diffuse many a provocative situation with his smile. It was why he was so good at his job.
‘Hi, girls.’ He said in his head, letting his outward smirk do the talking for him.
A little while later, as he sipped the last drops of his coffee, he caught Yulia’s attention as she sashayed by and he asked her for a pastry in a takeaway bag. She was back with it in just a few minutes and then, much to his delight, she hung around to watch what he was doing as he took out his wallet to pay, but she held up her hand.
“It is free … Anatol, no charge.” The way she said his name indicated that she enjoyed saying it. He felt pleased … no, actually, he felt elated.
“Thank you, Yulia.” He replied with equal delectation.
SVR Headquarters, Moscow, Russia
Despite being Summer, the weather outside was bleak. It always seemed to be bleak even in July. In the third-floor conference room at the SVR HQ in Moscow, Sergei Tretyakov found himself thinking of warmer places that he would rather be this time of year … Kaprino Bay or the Radisson at Zavidovo, where he and his family had spent a wonderful few days last Summer. But there would be no rounds of Summertime golf for Colonel Tretyakov just yet. PROJEKT AKTIV was making sure of that.
“So,” The Colonel brought himself out of his daytime reverie, “She has made contact, yes?”
The green uniformed man to his left looked up from gazing down at the polished table top against which they both stood.
“Yes Comrade Colonel, she has, and her apartment is being prepared for tomorrow evening.”
“Radkov suspects nothing?”
“No Comrade Colonel, he thinks he is on a date with a Belarusian Beauty, and so can hardly believe his luck, or so Miss Novikova would have us believe. She reports that she gave him her number and he had called her within the hour to arrange the rendezvous.”
Tretyakov grinned. “She is very clever, and having a Belarusian mother makes the girl ideal for this job.” He paused reflectively before adding with a satisfied intonation, “… and so now Radkov thinks this is all his idea.”
The Colonel had hand-picked Ekaterina Novikova from the Institute himself, knowing that she was always destined for success.
She was suitably trained and expertly so, he had made sure to get first-hand experience of that fact before she was sent over to Washington. To say he thought of her as a daughter would be wrong on so many levels given what he had her ‘do’ for him, but he knew that she was destined for success and thought benevolently towards his young protégé, that was for sure.
“Good, that is very good, you may go …”
The Senior SVR Officer dismissed his subordinate and returned to his daytime dreaming of warmer places and an idyllic golf course.
High Street North West, Washington, DC, – 7:20pm
He arrived at the corner of High St NW and 6th at twenty past seven and stood in the shadows. This was across the road from the Momiji Restaurant and allowed him to see Yulia arriving for their seven-thirty date.
He had to be a little suspicious of her, he could not afford to trust anyone, and so he wanted to see if she arrived alone. He stared across at the door and the large glass frontage. The restaurant was her recommendation and so he was happy to go along with it. There was a door to the left of the Momiji, which seems to lead to a separate part of the building. He assumed it was the way upstairs into the second building story.
Actually, this would be quite a cool place to live, walking distance of Washington’s Chinatown and a few blocks from Ford’s Theatre. If you liked Chinese food and the theatre, spiced with a little history, you’d be in heaven. Very cool.
As those words entered Anatol’s head he smiled. Yulia said ‘cool’ a lot, or so she had said. As her smile came into his mind’s eye he began to relax. “You’re here to enjoy yourself Anatol, forget business just for a few hours,” he muttered to himself.
Across the street a group of three young guys walked by, all laughing at something and talking animatedly. They kept turning and glancing behind them, and one of them almost fell over his own feet. Anatol checked the time: seven twenty-five. Somehow, he just knew what they were staring at.
He was right. Yulia looked spectacular.
She was wearing a tight black, leather-look mini dress. This in itself would be outstanding enough, but from the top of her left thigh, where, incidentally the dress hemline stopped, there was a length of ever-widening lace that exposed her hidden nudity all the way to where the leather stopped to reveal her ample cleavage. The widest stretch of lace held the dress front apart clearly exposing the swell of her braless breasts and encouraged the suggestion that quite possibly Yulia wore absolutely nothing at all underneath this provocative garment! Would Anatol find out … with all thoughts of caution gone, he now hoped so more than ever.
He had no doubt that the sensual lattice work was the focus of those guy’s attention, and to complete the look, Yulia wore a pair of four-inch black heels. Ostentatious restaurant-wear for sure, but she looked a million dollars. She needed to hook this man, and Yulia knew that this dress on its own pretty much achieved her goal.
Anatol looked over the road, from left to right, and while several heads were turned looking at his gorgeous date, it didn’t seem as if she had any specific company, intentional or otherwise. Yulia approached the door and headed inside the restaurant.
He stood on the street for a little while longer, enabling him to see if anything or anyone caught his attention. Nothing. He crossed over the road, walked up to the door and exchanged a pleasantry or two with the doorman who stood to one side so that he could enter.
Momiji Restaurant and Cocktail Bar
Wow, he thought, this place is nice, very nice. He had somehow expected the décor to be reminiscent of a traditional Chinese restaurant, but he was faced with a contemporary looking, minimalist, modern cocktail bar that looked like most of the upmarket ones in downtown-anywhere, with pinpoint lights aimed at the row upon row of alcohol bottles sitting behind the barman.
There was a door to the left which led into the restaurant. Yulia was sitting at the bar, waiting. When she saw him, she smiled, got up and placed her hands on his shoulders as they quickly kissed each other’s cheeks. Stepping back, he stared down at her body, Appraising her from her stunning features to her exposed toes.
“You like it?” She asked with a coyness that belied her dressing style.
Anatol wanted to speak but his throat had dried and so he settled for a definite nod of the head. He sensed that she was wearing a different perfume from yesterday. He didn’t recognise it, but it was explosively sensual; oranges, musk, smokey after-scent, and that’s just for starters. It was simultaneously intoxicating and unsettling for him … maybe that was her intention.
“You look simply stunning Miss Jelic,” he was finally able to say.
“Cool thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr Radkov. Shall we order some drinks?”
They sat at the bar and took a look at the cocktail menu.
“I’ll have a Moscow Mule,” Anatol said with maybe just a touch of irony.
Yulia ordered a Revolver. The barman smiled making no attempt to cover up where his eyes were roving.
“I simply must ask Yulia, what is that perfume you’re wearing?”
“That’s so cool you ask me. You like?”
“More than that Yulia, I love it. It’s extraordinary.”
The girl smiled and took a drink from the cocktail that had now arrived.
“It really is cool of you to notice Anatol. It’s called My Insolence. Made by Guerlain. Would you like to buy me some?” She giggled as she said this, knowing that the quiet laugh, her dress and her perfume were already delivering the necessary knockout blows to poor Mister Radkov.
“You never know,” he responded with a similar sense of mystery.
“You think it makes me sexy and mysterious Anatol?”
“Without a doubt.” In fact, it made him want to grab her and take her right there and then, but he was far too civilised for that sort of thing.
A young, open neck-shirted man of Asian, maybe Japanese, origin given where they were, walked over to them, rubbing his hands together, ogling the delicious looking girl that had entered his restaurant with an enthusiastic familiarity. His welcoming demeanour turned suddenly serious as he bowed at them, smiled at Yulia and shook Anatol’s hand. “I am very pleased to see you, both of you, but as always especially you Miss Jelic. I hope you will be enjoying your evening here with us and that you will also enjoy our food.”
“Thank you. I’m sure we will.” Anatol replied, and then waited until Mr Han had disappeared back into the restaurant before speaking to Yulia again.
“What was all that about? Does he own this place?”
Yulia smiled. “That was Mr Han. He is the owner and he is so cool! I know him, I use this restaurant quite a lot,” once again the girl smiled with a demure glance through her lashes towards her male dinner companion, “… for takeaways.”
Yulia turned around on her seat to face her date, and crossed her legs. In a mini dress like the one she was wearing; the effect was extremely … stimulating. Anatol tried to avert his gaze from her well-toned thighs and supple but delicate calf muscles, but ended up simply staring at her cleavage. Yulia noticed and tilted her head downwards, once more exuding a modesty that her dress did not suggest she had, her eyelashes fluttered once more.
“So, have you got a wife or a girlfriend, back at home Anatol?”
“Me? No, no most definitely not.”
“Why not?” Yulia pursued the line of questioning with vigour.
“Too busy. What about you, Yulia? Boyfriend?”
She actually blushed. “No. No boyfriend. Too much work, too many coffee shifts,” she laughed kind of nervously, and then leaned forward so that her mouth was about six inches from his ear and she whispered …
“So, maybe, if this is a date for us, you can put your hand on my leg … but only if you like.”
Anatol almost laughed, about the same time as he wondered which planet she was from.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
With a somewhat hesitant movement he rested his right hand on her thigh, about six inches up from her knee. Her skin was soft, and goose-pimpled as soon as he touched it. Yulia wriggled with pleasure and took a sip from her cocktail.
“This is now what I call a proper date,” she said, “Sipping cocktails while a good-looking guy has his hand on my leg. Say things to me like you would normally say to a girl when you were on a date.” She giggled. The delightful sound made him stiffen.
This time, he could not prevent himself from laughing. “Let me think.” Anatol looked into her eyes with mock sincerity. “Yulia, you are almost certainly the most beautiful woman in this bar.”
This got a delicious laugh from her and she looked down at her chest, before looking up again so that he could see her blushing. He already liked her … a lot. She was so damned cute!
“That’s no good!” She said with mock indignation. “We are the only people in this bar. What sort of love-talk is that?”
He knew that she didn’t really need compliments. He was right.
“Is it always this quiet here?” he said by way of reply.
‘It is very quiet this evening, almost just the two of …”
Before she can finish his sentence, Mr Han appeared again from somewhere.
“Your table is ready. Please come with me, and I hope you will have a delightful evening, the both of you.”
Finishing their drink, they followed Mr Han into the dining area, with Anatol resting his hand in the small of Yulia’s back. As well as the lace frontage, there was a long zip at the back of her dress which he visualised slowly pulling down. The thought stiffened him even more.
Evening at the Momiji Restaurant continues …
The restaurant area was bigger than it first seemed and, like the bar, it is slick and modern, with subtle backlighting on the walls and ceiling. The only concession to Asian culture was a row of three big red ceramic pots next to one of the walls, each with a different picture etched in white. Inside each of the pots was a scattering of tall, dried, black bamboo canes. There was a large aquarium at the back of the room containing a dazzling variety of multi-coloured fish.
As they moved from the bar Yulia noticed how Anatol could not keep his eyes averted from the swell of her unfettered breasts. She smiled to herself.
Mr Han directed them to a half circle booth set for two on the right-hand side of the room. They sat opposite each other … the curved sofa seat was in black leather and smelled new. A smiling waiter materialised and handed them the wine menu. Yulia took a quick look and pointed to a twenty-pound bottle of White Zinfandel.
“Is this nice?” Anatol asked.
“Better than what we would get in Belarus …” she grinned.
They took a look at the food menu. Anatol ordered the appetisers for them both. Yulia let him without objection, knowing that was the Belarusian way. He ordered Pork stuffed snail shells with lemongrass and mushroom and chili corn cakes on one plate and chrysanthemum soup buns stuffed with thick crab soup, sprinkled with crystal sugar and powdered star anise on the other. All to share.
“And that’s just the starter Anatol?” She laughed, seemingly relaxed.
“You just wait. I’ve also ordered two main courses, but we can split them between us, so we can both try a little bit of everything.”
Yulia nodded, “Of course Anatol … It is what lovers do on a date,” she looked up, her eyes gazing wide at him through the curtain of her long blonde hair.
There was a pause between them before he spoke again. “Will we be lovers Yulia?”
“I think we are already lovers, Anatol,” Yulia replied, allowing her gaze to drop. “As my grandmother used to say – it is in the stars … So, what have you ordered for our main course?”
“Steamed whole sea bass with siu haau sauce and sliced sea cucumber. Also goose with ginger and black fungus with four spice. There will be bowls of rice, three types of noodle and various vegetable dishes. It will be too much for the both of us, but that is part of the fun isn’t it Yulia, when lovers dine out together,” he grinned joining in with her teasing theme, feeling like this already had the makings to become one of the best nights of his life!
“I can’t wait.” She responded provocatively while chewing on her bottom lip.
The wine arrived and the waiter poured them a glass each.
Now to work – she thought to herself.
“So, my new lover, you know that I am coffee girl, what exactly is it that you are doing over here in America?”
There is a brief pause before he answered, but it’s enough to tell Yulia’s trained mind that he has just checked himself from speaking too openly.
He smiled knowingly but with more than a hint suggesting that he can’t really say too much. However, sensing his reticence, Yulia fiddled with the lace fastening on her dress, loosening it a little more and ensuring that at the same time her actions had the same effect on his tongue.
“I … I am here on Government business, and that really is all I can say.” He raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes. Yulia leaned into the table, her ample cleavage spilling over just a little more.
“You mean you’re like a spy or something, that is so cool! And very hot.” She moved her foot up the length of his calf, and watched as he looked at her, eyes wide.
“Well, no, not exactly … more like an official from the Foreign Affairs Department.”
There! She had her first piece of information about him. Time for more distraction.
Further Distraction at the Momiji Restaurant …
“You like this dress, Anatol?”
“It looks great. I still don’t believe you’re not a model,” he replied. Yulia laughed and waved both hands at her chest.
“You don’t think it’s too much as I’m not wearing a bra? This is dress where bra would not work. It would look ridiculous, I think. I looked at myself in the mirror for an age before I came out. Maybe it was too much, too impudent. I wasn’t sure if I was showing too much of my breasts. But then I decided it was OK. And anyway, I wanted to look sexy for you as we were going on a date.”
‘You look more than just sexy Yulia …” he paused and just looked at her face. He realised that he could quite easily spend the rest of the night just staring at her beauty. But then he added, “… and you speak excellent English. Almost completely accent-less. Have you been over here for long?”
Yulia smiled. “Maybe a few months. But I guess I learn quickly. I can learn most things very quickly,” She purred leaning into the table. Anatol was sweating now.
“Can I ask you something Anatol? Do you think my breasts are too big?”
If it was possible to become even more flustered, then he just did. “Too big. No, not at all …” His gaze now stared at her chest, this time with an excuse. “… they are just perfect.” He felt his throat drying.
“Size shouldn’t be important,” She said, continuing this very provocative theme, “Mine are maybe a little too big, but they’re a good shape. They are a sexy shape. I know they are.” He needed a drink, and gulped at his Zinfandel. The starters arrived and they ate in silence for a few minutes. The food was delicious.
The main waiter placed the sea bass and goose at the centre of the table, while his colleague arranged the auxiliary dishes around it. Yulia poured the last of the wine and it was instantly replaced with another bottle in a fresh ice bucket.
She kept looking up at Anatol and smiling as she filled her plate. ‘Is she having a good time with me’ Anatol thought to himself, ‘I so hope so.’ It was certainly one of the most delicious meals he had ever eaten, and whilst he continued to ogle her breasts, he began to wonder what it would like to stroke her skin. Having so recently had a very dry throat, his mouth now began to water.
Yulia knew where he was looking and smiled to herself, closing her eyes briefly, as if giving him permission to stare for a little longer, which he unashamedly proceeded to do.
They sit back and drink more wine while the waiters cleared away their plates.
“Do you want to have dessert?” Yulia said.
Anatol was full, but in truth his mind was already on other things.
“I’m fine. Maybe another time.” ‘
“So, you have busy day tomorrow?” Yulia asked, before adding coyly. “I have work, never any time to myself, but tonight I am just for you.” Once again, her foot ran up the back of his leg, and she saw him shudder. Yulia needed to know his schedule if her plan was to succeed.
He sighed, “I have meeting at ten o’clock in the morning.”
“Where and who with?” She asked, deliberately appearing too keen and intrusive. “Oh, I’m sorry Anatol, sometimes I can’t help my nature. I just love getting to know you better, but I know you are a secret spy, and have big, important job. Please … I’m sorry.” She looked away momentarily.
“It’s fine Yulia. And I’m not a spy.” He paused and then added, “… I am meeting two White House Officials at Willard’s Hotel.”
“White House people! Oh my, you are important man, make me feel like my job is so small.”
Once again Anatol found himself wondering why Yulia wasn’t a model, earning a fortune all over the world.
“That is all very cool,” she said in quiet tones, “… but can we stop talking business and continue our date, now?” Yulia changes the mood again.
“Of course.” He was only too keen for that.
“Come on.” She pats the sofa seat. “Come and sit next to me.”
He slid around the seat until he was sitting right next to her. She smiled at him. “Because we’re on a date, you can maybe put your hand on my leg again. But only if you want to.”
Did he ever! In seconds Anatol had complied. Yulia shivered to order as he relished the warmth of her bare flesh to his touch. A grinning waiter pulled the table out to give them more space and then he cleared the meal debris away. Mr Han reappeared and asked if they would like anything else.
“Desserts maybe? Coffee? Liqueurs?” Yulia thanked him and ordered two brandies.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Anatol grinned.
“Would it be problem if I was?” Yulia purred in response. Once the drinks are delivered, Yulia called Mr Han to come closer so that she could whisper into his ear. A few seconds later he bowed, scraped and took his leave.
“What did you say to him?” Anatol quizzed.
“I told him that we needed to be left alone, that we were on a date. You can rub my leg higher now that we’re alone,” Yulia smirked.
“Thank you. I’ve been waiting to do that all evening.”
As Yulia placed one of her hands behind his neck she knew then that she had her man. It looked for all intents and purposes as if she is about to kiss him, but at the last moment, with her lips just inches away from his, she ran a white painted fingernail gently down the side of his face.
It’s a heady experience for Anatol, being so close to that perfume compounded by her beauty. Her touch continued down his right bicep and she gives it a slight squeeze.
“You are strong guy, I think. I like it when a guy has muscles like this. Not too big. I hate bodybuilder guys. You’re more like some sort of athlete. What is your sport, I wonder?”
He says nothing, he cannot, he is transfixed.
Very gently, she moved her fingers around the curve of his chin. “You have very nice face, Anatol. Very good-looking. Women are attracted to you. Very attracted. Attracted despite themselves.” She touched a finger to his lips, and looked straight into his eyes. Yulia adjusted her position slightly, so that she could place both of her hands on his face, then she exhaled slowly and took a hold on the back of his neck once more. This time her mouth closes upon his; small, intense kisses, her tongue flicking softly in and out. His hand is still stroking her thigh, and feeling fuelled by desire he slid it higher up. Yulia pushed herself towards him, opened her legs wide, closed her eyes and groaned.
Closure …
He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back against the seat. “Where did the staff go Yulia?”
“They are still here, but they will not come to our booth,” she gasped. “Do you not find this exciting? Do you think I am bad girl now?”
She picked up his brandy and placed it against his lips so that he can drink.
“I don’t think you’re a bad girl at all, Yulia.” But even as he says this Anatol can feel his heart thumping in his chest.
“Oh, but I am. Come with me back to my apartment and I will tell you how bad I am. I will show you, then you can punish me.”
“What? … Punish you?”
“Would you like to do that Anatol?”
He would like to do it, he would like to do it very, very much!
Yulia’s Apartment, The Aspen Block, 4th Street NW, Washington, DC, – 10:30pm
Yulia’s apartment was nice, of a size that befits a Barista’s wage, but nice nonetheless. However, it is not the size of her home that is uppermost in Anatol’s mind as she took his hand and guided him out of the living room and into her bedroom.
He was fit to burst. His stomach ached, is cock was swollen and he could hardly believe his luck! As they walked the short hallway between the rooms, he didn’t notice the one door that was shut tight. He didn’t actually care!
Yulia dropped his hand and turned to face him. She almost had him where she wanted him, this Belarusian official … almost, but not quite. She turned to face him, her arms wound around his neck, her body pressed against his.
“I’m a bad girl, Anatol. I’ve done very bad things. Do you mind?”
“I don’t mind.” He said confused as to whether this was a role play or not.
“You’re a cool guy, a very nice guy, but as we’re on a date, do you think that you might take off my dress? But I must warn you about something.”
“What’s that?” He managed to say with some difficulty through the dryness of his throat.
Yulia looked down as she blushed. “I might not be wearing anything underneath it.”
“I’ll take my chances with that if you don’t mind,” he almost gasped back, hardly able to wait before unwrapping his prize.
“I like to be naked in front of a guy who’s fully dressed. It makes me feel powerful and submissive at the same time. Does that make sense to you Mister Spy?”
“I understand, but like I already said, I’m not a Spy.”
Yulia nodded and smirked, before purring breathlessly, “I’m so bad, Anatol. Sometimes I am ashamed of the things I’ve done. I wake in the night …” She looked up at him, but didn’t meet his gaze. “I might have to be punished. I want to be punished. I need to be punished. Do you understand? I know you will do it. I know the sort of man you are.”
Her eyes were shining as her fingers found the fastenings at the front of her dress and she pulled the sides apart as slowly as she could. Yulia closed her eyes and licked her lips, then shivered as the dress fell to the floor. She moved closer to him allowing Anatol to place his hands on her hips, then he just watched as her body responded.
She was just as he imagined. Smooth all over and sinuous. She moved herself rhythmically against him, almost as if he wasn’t there, panting softly, lost in the sensations she was giving to herself.
“So, what are you then, my big tough dominant man?” Yulia whispered this with her eyes still closed.
“Huh?”
“Tell me,” She maintained her gyrations while she spoke, “… It turns me on to hear about your work, how important it is for our country …”
Warning bells, red flags and flashing lights should have been going off in his head, but Anatol was lost in the moment, and Yulia knew it.
“Tell me,” she moved her lips to his ear and sensed him shiver as her breath flowed over his skin.
“I … we … are … ohhhhh Yulia …”
“Tell me,” she kissed his neck.
“… we are here to conclude new energy deal with the White House,” he gasped.
“So, we will not need those awful Russians anymore Anatol, is that it?”
“Y … Yes …” As her fingertips fluttered over his groin he had lost complete control of anything that came out of his mouth.
“You are so clever, it makes me very wet. I hope nothing happens to spoil those important talks,” Yulia sighed.
He started to run a hand over her flat, muscled stomach, but Yulia turned away from him and walked over to the wall. he listened to the click of her heels, which were the thing that she still wore on her glorious body. He could see the faint traces of straight-line scars across her back and buttocks. She reached down to her left and without looking slid a drawer smoothly open. Still without averting her gaze from the mint blue painted plaster in front of her, Yulia took out a dark brown bamboo cane. With a gasp of anticipation, she ran her hand down its length, whipped it through the air and returned to Anatol. Her eyes met his as she handed him the cane.
“I’m not made from porcelain Anatol. So, beat me hard and believe me, I will make it worth your while afterwards.”
She turned her back on him once more, flicked her hair over her shoulder and pressed her hands flat against the mint green wall.
Her body was tense and she was trembling … just a little.
“Do it … Now.”
Costa Coffee, F Street, Washington USA
“Yulia, are you actually going to do any work today, or what?” The quiet assertion in her Manager’s voice was enough to take Yulia out of her daytime reverie. She had been thinking about Anatol Radkov. She had liked him, but she knew the job that she was here to do, and what needed to be done had to be done.
“Coming … Sorry,” she beamed a disarming smile at him. But even now, as she picked up the two Latte’s, Yulia was thinking about the way he had laid the bamboo cane across her bare bottom. How she had cried out and begged him to strike her harder, and how he had enthusiastically fucked her, almost all night, afterwards …
Yes, she had liked him, and sometimes the job made her feel sad.
“Your drinks, Sir,” she smiled down at the customer whose drinks she had just delivered. In turn he looked at her, well more like he stared at her breasts. But Yulia was used to that, she knew that she had killer breasts … in her line of work they were a weapon. As she turned, Yulia knew that his eyes would be on her ass, and she smirked to herself.
Fleetingly, her mind’s eye recalled the feel of the rope around her wrists, the spread of her legs, the rub of the thick bamboo in between her labia … her response to being submissive was genuine, it was something she truly adored, and Anatol’s performance as her Dominant had been perfect.
Poor Anatol.
The guys who had been stationed in her second bedroom, the room with the closed door, had made their recordings and left quietly whilst she had kept her lover busy. They had had heard the Belarusian Official describe how he hoped that the meeting he had planned would pave the way for an even more productive relationship with America, and how it would hopefully marginalise those ‘Russian bastards’ who were still all ‘Commies at heart’.
Yulia stopped and looked up at the TV perched high at the back of the Coffee bar. It was CNN.
“Talks between the Belarusian Government and the White House have broken down when the planned historic meeting between the two countries was cancelled at the last minute. It is further reported that the Official Party from the small European nation had left the United States without their formally appointed Official Anatol Radkov, who, it is alleged, seems to have disappeared …”
Yulia smiled to herself. Did Anatol decide to defect? Was he harmed in any way? Was he even still alive? No one would ever know because no one would ever find him.
FIN
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