Scene from a book

A few pages slipped onto the floor from the wooden desk....Would you read more...???? A scene from a spy book...

He sat down in a corner. A corner that was dark and hidden away in the shadows. He couldn’t understand why he was ordered to this place where normal humans meet and socialize. He was above most humans and considered the average person dumb, easy to manipulate and control, and there was nothing he hated more than the large masses. Anyone with the capability to command their attention knew that the masses were the easiest to use and…of course, the most deadly.

The club was filled as usual, being the hottest and most expensive joint in the city where only the city’s posh elite could afford to frequent the trendy dance floor and smooth rich liquor. Ian’s tastes were impeccable, and he had and only ever used the best of the best. His clothes were always appropriate, his hair and his regard to jewelry only helped to enhance his looks. And of course his thirst for the finest in alcohol made him a bar man’s best friend. But there is only one word that can really describe Ian, and that was charm. He surrounded himself with it, he had an air about him that would make women flock to him in numbers, and when it suited him, he could and easily become the social highlight of any blue-blood event. His dry humor and extensive knowledge on virtually every subject made sure that he was always the center of attention. But all that is just a front, a front that works and never fails. It was a front that has ensured him victory every time and brought defeat and pain to his enemies.

The music, the lights, the atmosphere soon induced him to want to wet his throat. Not with water but with the wetness of strong spirits. He walked calmly from his corner seat and onto the dance floor. His posture was ramrod straight and the crowed of half dressed people cleared and made space for this human perfection. Many of the girls who were trying to get at least some sort of partner for bed, looked at him with longing eyes. Tonight was not their night and he passed by them without so much of a glance. No sooner had he sat down on the plush leather bar stools was the barman at his side. “Hey, what can I get for you sir?” “Double scotch.” “Sure, one minute.” The barman reached for a tumbler and after a few fancy tricks that failed to impress Ian began to fill the glass. Ian stopped him with a firm, iron grip. “None of that cheap mixed water, where’s your best?” “All…all I have is….Just a minute sir, I have something you you’ll no doubt enjoy,” replied the jolly bartender with a smile. Ian smiled back but it was the smile that was anything but humored.

The man returned within a few minutes wiping off what seemed like a very old bottle, and the dust certainly helped add that effect. “Here you go sir, the finest I have, purchased it off E-bay we did…..paid a pretty penny for it too. But why don’t you give it a try. It’s a 1921 bottle, only 3000 bottles were produced by a single man whose name was…..” “Paul Britman, it is rumored that his scotch was the best that was ever produced,” Interrupted Ian. “Unfortunately a fire burnt down his factory in 1922 and killed him and his secret recipe; luckily for me I have the last thirty bottles.” The bartender burst out laughing an opened the screwed lid to the precious liquid. But before he poured his customer Ian motioned that he should serve two shot glasses. Happily he did and before he drank toasted to his health. The bartender slowly sipped his, savoring the malt taste, but Ian downed his, barely even tasting it. “So what do you think? Do you think that it is the best ever produced?” “As I said….It is rumored.”

From his body language Ian made it clear that he was not interested further conversation and the barman left him to tend to other customers, wowing them with his bottle flipping and other jovial matters. The DJ changed the music from techno to the sensual, throbbing beats of tribal music, inducing the passion of the night. the strobe lights were replaced by deep red and blue flares that when mixed with the smoke machine only added to the sensuality. Those on the dance floor slowed from jumping and soon began to swirl and grind against each other. The heat increased and so did the lust. Hands groped, lips met, and bodies joined as the rhythmic pounding of the bass led them to further ecstasy

It was then that something caught the ever moving eye of Ian. It was two girls, and it seemed that the music was centered around them. Their hips rode with every pulse of the beat their legs glided with ease and their bodies glistened in the strange lighting as sweat ran down their perfectly formed bodies. The light man saw them two and soon all lights were being focused on these two masterpieces. They were Asian beauties and they were dressed to kill. One of the girls wore a black glittering shirt. If one could call it that. It had long black sleeves that covered both hands like a glove, yet it exposed her entire back, tying around her neck. The front of the shirt came down and the material stretched tightly across her chest stopping right under her small yet perfectly formed breasts. Her legs were toned to perfection and were covered with enticing fishnet stockings. She wore a white skirt what was cut longer in the front then in the back and to top it off, she proudly showed off the sexiest red colored thongs that were visible showing from above her skirt. She had the perfect combination of good-school-girl-gone-bad.

The second girl was a little taller then the first, but just as beautiful. She wore an extremely tight leather pants yet they seemed rather flexible because it didn’t hamper her erotic movements. Her top was also made of leather except that it was left open in the front, with three big silver rings clasping the material and keeping her large breasts from being exposed. Her hair was divided in tiny braids that whipped around her face and shoulders as she danced in wild abandonment. The two girls were cavorting, dancing and sensually touching the other. Although their movements were no more explicit then the couples next them, they just oozed with wild passion and energy. Then, just like that the spell was broken, the music changed, lights flashed, and the crowed cheered as a new DJ spun the disks around and the party atmosphere returned.

The two girls seemed forgotten as they sauntered up the bar. Ian eyed them with an amused look, and his mouth cracked into the smile that girls fell for. The girls saw him smile and approached for they liked what they saw. Ian gestured for two more shot glasses, and when the bartender approached he poured all three of them their drinks. “You have impeccably tastes,” spoke one of the girls after sipping her alcoholic beverage. “Might I ask why you don’t dance?” asked the second girl who obviously made no effort to hide her growing attraction to the dubnier assassin. “You may,” “So then…Who don’t you dance Mr.….?” “Mr. Fleming, Ian Fleming, and maybe I’m not that interested in dancing.” “Then what are you interested in Mr. Fleming?”

The elevator rose slowly, at just the right speed. The two girls clawed at him, their lips fighting to possess his, their hands roamed freely across his body and muscular frame. And his large arms encircled around their petite waists. Their lips were full and fresh, with a hint of mint that he could taste when they kissed him, their skin was smooth and created desire in the mind of the assassin. It was then that he felt hands come in contact with the two hidden knives that were always on his body. The hands froze for a moment as they touched the cold blades that had silenced many lives. “You come fully loaded, don’t you Mr. Fleming?” “In more ways then you think,” he replied before finding her soft lips yet again.

The doors to the elevator opened and Ian walked calmly out followed by two half-dressed girls who were breathing heavily. No sooner had he shut and locked the door did he find himself get thrown to the floor, the two girls pounced on top, eagerly stripping the beautiful stranger. Clothes, flesh, soft moans were all a flash, as the three were consumed by the moment. They ravished him with their bodies and he them with his skill. Their cries of ecstasy rang out as orgasms shot throughout their nervous system, followed by the heavy breathing of Ian.

All too soon silence engulfed the room. Smoke rose from the cigarette that hung lazily from Ian’s mouth as he lay wrapped in the bed sheets. The two Asian beauties lay on the floor still recovering their breath and a wry smile spread across the face of Ian. It was a common sound to him and yet, it still held his interest. “Strange,” he thought, “Must still have a soft spot.” He closed his eyes and dragged slowly on his cigarette and blew two smoke rings, one through the other. Yes, Ian was relaxed and unarmed.

When he opened his eyes he saw that the two women were now standing at the foot of the bed, each pointing a handgun directly at his head. Ian didn’t budge, didn’t flinch. He knew that every dog has its day, maybe this was his time now. He shrugged and sighed uninterested at his now would be killers, Ian who had always admired beauty couldn’t help but appreciate the view. The two girls didn’t even bother to get dressed and were standing before him totally naked. “Men, they are so easy…so predictable.” Said one mockingly and obvious the leader of the two. “Yeah, just show them a bit of body, offer them a bit of pussy, and what ever guard they had, just gets washed away.” “Kind of a waste though, he is so cute…cutest one we’ve had.” “I know, but orders are orders.” Ian smiled again and looked over their bodies with a keen eye. They were sure beautiful, and man, were they good…in bed…that’s it, no more, no less. It was damn shame he thought.

The two girls let out a short gasp and fell to the floor. Ian didn’t move from the bed and once again silence entered the room. With a sigh he threw his legs over and walked over the fallen girls, gun in hand, silencer attached. They lay there gasping for breath and this time it wasn’t from pleasure. Two shots from under the sheets had entered their fragile bodies. One lay with a bullet through the lungs and had shattered her ribs slowly suffocating her while the other was almost dead with a clean shot through the neck, her blood staining the wooden parka. Ian walked over to the one that was still alive and looked at her with an air of non-interest. He kicked the gun out of her open hand and proceeded to dress. As he buttoned his shirt he bent over and whispered softly, “Thank Mannie for the most enjoyable evening.” And he walked out of the room not even bothering to close the doors. The elevator swung open, “Women…so predictable…always over confident.” The doors shut behind him.