A Life Not My Own Ch. 04

Now there was a hush and I felt Winnie clench my arm tightly in a reflexive sense of horror over what I had just said. The Terrorist/Opium Warlord leaned forward and spoke first in a language I would learn was Pashtun.

"Who processes the product and trains the actors and company; also why an Uzbek?" Winnie translated with the noise of an angel whispering to my soul.

"I know zip about global terrorism or the work necessary to produce opium so I'm leaving that production and transit to the companies in Malaysia up to you. Or, you could give me a week and I'd figure out a rotating cycle of container ships to use. It is an Uzbek because it is a happy friendly word for the Pentagon where Pashtun means terrorist," I explained.

The Terrorist Mastermind nodded thoughtfully.

"How does this help us launder the money?" the Chinese gentleman asked intently and Winnie related. I blinked and looked at him in a way that clearly communicated that I thought he was a moron.

"Do you have any idea on how much is spent globally on children's toys and entertainment?" I didn't wait for an answer. "Over ten billion in US dollars; you are creating your own laundering machine in the companies you are creating for this 'cover'. Any moderately successful accountant can hide it all."

"Why would we need you?" The Sultan was polite enough to say in Spanish.

"Maybe you need me because everyone here except for me and Mr. Harrow is marked for death," I looked to the Sultan. "Face it, you are the reason the United States military has Special Forces and I'm betting Ft. Bragg has a full-sized diagram of your compound."

"You do realize that the past five men to have the top spot in your organization have been assassinated by smart bombs and drone strikes," I looked to Mr. Big Bad Terrorist and his buddy Omar. Winnie translated for me. "It is just the way it is, sorry."

"The ten richest countries on Earth all have governmental taskforces specifically devoted to both weapons and drug smuggling -- you win some and they win some," I kept going. "The object will now be to decide how much you give them now, not how much they take from you. Human trafficking operations are woefully underfunded worldwide, so it is a waste of my time to devote efforts there."

Again, there was a pause followed by all the key players talking amongst themselves and with Harrow who occasionally shot me a smug, perhaps even appreciative look. Winnie kept me quietly abreast of the scope of the dialogue. She even prodded me when my idea was about to die.

"Three words for you gentlemen -- McDonald's Happy Meals. They have franchises in three-quarters the nations on earth and 80% of those include a child's entrée with a cheap plastic toy. McDonald's is selling fast food for God's sake. That is a science -- a series of mathematical equations and nothing more."

"Have you heard of Pokémon? Look it up. It is the story of a perpetually pre-teen boy and his lightning bolt throwing bunny/rat hybrid -- I shit you not. It has been around for over ten years as both a TV cartoon series. I haven't pulled any of this data out of my ass gentlemen. All the proof that this plan will succeed is already out there," I sounded bored.

"How much will this cost us?" a man with a very heavy Russian accent addressed me.

"Do you want an estimate or a precise number?" I said and Winnie translated over to Russian.

"Both," he answered in Russian.

"In the current Chinese, South Korean, Malaysian and petrochemical markets -- I would say around 12 million euros," I ran the math in my head. "I can tell you precisely over dinner."

Harrow laughed.

"Dominic can advance us the money," Harrow pledged to the others.

"I could but I'm not," I immediately replied. "You people have a suspicious tendency of permanently misplacing less lethal business associates."

"I'm going to have my cryogenically frozen body interned in my mausoleum of solid gold," I smiled at the assembly. "I'm not giving you guys a dime."

They laughed once more. They weren't agreeing; they simply assumed that they would own me before this was over no matter how smart I was.

Five minutes later they hadn't decided anything except that I had a brilliant idea, or so they hoped. They started tasking minions to take up the details that would get the ball rolling and I was dismissed as others joined the circle. Twenty meters from the meeting, Winnie took my hand and leaned close to me.

"If I ever doubt you again, you have my permission to spank me," Winifred whispered conspiratorially. "You had no clue what they were going to ask you?"

"I had a clue -- I had several clues in fact but I did not know the precise question to be asked," I answered.

I withheld further questions until we gathered with the rest of the team. We all began sunbathing on the beach and waited until the background noise level made Jen happy then Winnie reviewed the meeting for them. Almost everyone seemed depressed.

"Okay Dominic, what's the weakness?" Echo prodded me hopefully.

"Oh please," I grinned, "there is a built in flaw in any operation involving artists."

"There is a secret flaw in the cartoon?" Winnie looked at me hard.

"No," I met her gaze happily, "It is in the actors and the fans at the conventions. Psychologically speaking, a strong minority of the Con-going population will know something is wrong the first time they meet the troupe and those people will blog; conspiracy theory will do the rest."

"That seems weak," Lydia badgered me.

"Not if you are the NSA," Winnie rescued me. "They are all about looking for key words and it will quickly come to their attention if this becomes a global phenomenon," Winnie hugged me, "It's brilliant. Harrow will figure out what gave him away and he won't even know you did it."

"On the off-chance I've been too brilliant and Harrow decides in the next few hours that I'm expendable, can I sneak off with Echo and attempt to convince her to engage me with her carnal favors?" I pleaded to the group. Lydia snickered at me while the other women's looks were unfamiliar to me -- part pity and part hunger.

"Dominic," Echo crawled over to me and whispered in my ear, "it is that time of the month -- started this morning." That took me a second to grasp.

"Well fuck," I groaned but I did hug Echo because she was far more than sex to me.

"Don't be despondent," Echo assured me, "I've agreed to share you with the others for the next few days."

My first thoughts on hearing that were: 'I've got to keep this one' meaning Echo and then 'Am I the James Bond of the 21st century?' Now I had to figure out to handle this. Lydia was in the middle of a messy marital collapse so that left Winnie and Jen and if one was not interested and I picked her, how remote were my chances of sexual relief?

"Let's grab some breakfast first," Echo said. Our wonderful Moluccan server was clearly on the job because our juices were chilled and pulpy. There were no pork products but the variety of fish and shellfish made up for it. Best of all, he hovered close enough to attend our needs but not enough to make us feel watched. Before my second cup of chipped ice, I developed a plan.

"Jen and Winnie, would you like to come up to the room with me for a while?" I offered.

"I can't figure," Lydia giggled, "if Dom did this so I could have girl time with my best friend, or because he wants to be humiliated by trying to take on two physically fit women."

"Consider this cardio-vascular training," I offered.

I stood and Jen and Winnie came up to me on opposite sides and hung their arms around my waist.

"I can't believe I'm about to have sex with a man who was in daycare when I graduated high school," Jensen whispered.

"You are in great shape Jen," Winnie responded, "so you should be able to break the Kid, no sweat."

"True," Jen mused, "but I've never handled that much dick before."

"I'll be gentle," I promised.

"Thanks," Jen kissed my ear. "Sorry for being such a hard-ass that first Saturday."

"That's okay," I turned and kissed her lips, "I was being pretty freaky." That was a lot of weight for Jen to give up. She had been 'institutionalized' by the FBI and that wouldn't work in what I had planned to do -- essentially to create our cell to be a vigilante force, living outside the law.

Jen was happier so I turned back to Winifred who was studying me, still working on her profile of the man I was. I kissed her lips and she smiled.

"When I have Jen occupied," I delicately whispered into Winnie's ear, "sneak up on her okay?" Winnie gave me a quick wink.

"I'm starting to like you despite myself Dominic Umstead," Winnie sighed.

"I'm with you on that sentiment," Jen looked around my chest and smiled at Winnie," He's really easy to hate because he's so convinced he's right."

"But?" I hoped a 'but'; otherwise I was going to feel like a real heel.

"But after I went over the stand-off on the runway in my mind, I put it all together and realized you trusted us to trust you and you don't do that easily," Jen told me. "Dom, you backed up everything your instincts dictated you to do with your life. Inside a minute you got inside the bad guy's mind and schooled him and that's a talent I can understand and appreciate."

"That's nice, but I was right next to Dom and it was a bit more terrifying for me. I still want you to work on a real apology for me," Winnie nudged me with her hip. I couldn't take that from the new girl to the team -- not and stay in charge. I put a hand on the small of her back then worked several fingers down inside the bikini and squeezed her right butt cheek.

"Jen, he's got his hand on my butt," Winnie announced.

"Why didn't we take him last night?" Jen playfully questioned Winnie.

"We wanted to be sensitive to Echo," Winnie answered. "Now it's Open Season and I plan to make good use of that photographic mind and his penchant for pornography."

"Now this is the point where we regret being in a country that has no sex industry and no sex toy establishments," I commented as we walked inside the hacienda. "Do I need to ask what Lydia and Echo took as extra gear?" I whispered at the threshold.

"2 extra clips for their sidearm and 4 flash-bangs," Jen whispered backed.

I chuckled at the image of them hiding that equipment on their bikinis. I shared my amusement with the ladies.

"Yeah, you guys have it so easy -- replace your banana wrapped in foil for a .38 Smith and Wesson and no one is the wiser," Jen zinged.

I opened my swim trunks and looked down.

"The first one of you to hand me a Derringer and says 'hide this' gets a sub-standard performance review," I smirked.

"Don't worry, Dom," Winnie smiled. "Every man claims to have a bazooka but few really know how to use it."

"Gosh Sarge," I looked back and forth between the two ladies, "are you going to hold my hand?"

"After the noises Echo made last night, I think for safety's sake I'll keep hold of something else," she said with dancing eyes. I imagined it was easy for most people to forget she was a Blue Blood -- Harvard, Vassar, Yale, Cape Cod and the Hamptons.

Jensen Furst was more like me; working class family -- dad was the son of a cop and was a Police Captain in Memphis. She'd lost the accent but not the sensibilities, I was willing to bet. We made our way to the room and I didn't even attempt to break protocol -- Jen entered and swept the room with her trained eyes while Winnie kept a hand on me outside.

Jen gave us the 'all clear' and we all made straight for the bedroom. Both women didn't miss a beat as they secured the submachine guns under the head pillows and slipped their handguns beneath the mattress. I didn't even bother -- I handed my holstered pistol to Winnie who tucked mine in next to hers.

Clothes came next, with Jen flashing me quick looks from time to time. It was pre-ordained that I got in the middle -- in other words, Jen was trying to put some distance between us and Winnie and I were having none of it. That meant I was correct in believing she wasn't an adrenaline junkie, which was good.

"Jensen," I rolled onto my side, facing her. I leaned in and kissed her. She took that well until she realized I was going back for seconds and thirds. Suddenly she didn't want to be doing this. It boiled down to love/affection and she didn't have that for me. She liked me well enough but a girl like Jensen wanted more before she laid down with a man.

Since trying to get her to do this at a later date would suck and with her currently mulling over how to put this in her status update to the FBI, I had to find a way to worm through her defenses.

"Once we work our way through this, we'll have fooled Harrow and we can move on to the next step," I whispered.

"So this is something we are working through," she responded professionally.

"I'm not going to lie to you and say I don't find you attractive. I have wanted to do this for some time, but I know we are also working an assignment and I'm not going to pressure you," I reasoned.

"What do find attractive about me?" she interrogated before kissing me back.

"I know you are going to think this is stupid but it was the way you programmed the navigation system and the auto-pilot parameters," I responded.

"You want to fuck me because I'm a good pilot?" she pulled back and blinked.

"It doesn't hurt you look smoking in a white bikini either but then my dating track record has been smart, professional, mature women," I pointed out.

"So if it wasn't for the job and Echo, we might date?" Jen had a faint smile.

"Are you kidding me," I snorted. "I'm only twenty-three; you would never normally date a kid like me; admit it."

And then Jensen Furst giggled.

"I'll give you that," she laughed then ran her hand through my hair right above my right ear. "I wouldn't let a wet-behind-the-ears FBI recruit like you buy me a drink, much less invite me up to your room." I returned the favor by brushing her hair behind her ear and sucking on the exposed lobe.

This time her reaction was very different, moaning and applying gentle pressure on the back of my head to hold me close. I had enough freedom of movement to kiss her jaw, cheek and temple but not much more. I freed up my right arm and began caressing her breasts which drew forth even more pleasurable noises.

We spent several minutes with me treating her earlobe like a sensitive nipple while my fingers played over her real nipples. Winnie pressed up behind me so she could watch the fun but decided to slide down my body then climb over so that she could start kissing Jen on her thighs. Jen answered that by opening up her legs and pulling the left up and away.

I settled between her legs, trying to work out how, exactly, I was going to enter her when she rolled her hips up and I sunk right in, penetrating steadily. Jen's vagina was fluid warmth and I was buried to the hilt in one push.

"Oh fuck," she gasped as she wrapped her arms and legs around me to hold me tight.

It took thirty seconds for her vagina to get comfortable with my cock and her psyche to grapple with the fact she was getting fucked. When her eyes opened, I began kissing her lips, the tip of her nose and her eyelids. She took a few deep breathes before ramping up reactions to my touches with those of her own and then began bucking up against my thrusts.

This was my signal to give Jen a little control then take it all away. I rolled sluggishly toward the center of the bed, Jen ending up on top still grinding away. When Winifred mounted my knees behind Jen, Jen gave me this knowing look; a virtual 'bravo' to my tactical handling of events.

Winnie made a terrific display of affection, kissing and nibbling the back of Jen's neck and down each shoulder while massaging Jen's breasts and ribbing her tightened nipples against Jen's back. Even knowing she'd been trapped didn't save Jen from the cascading excitement. When she let out an explosive moan we knew we had her.

I didn't see what Winnie's fingers did but I could feel those fingers stroll down Jen's stomach until,

"Oh God!" she exclaimed and took off like a race horse turned bronco. Jen propped her hands on my shoulder joints, looking down at me and smiling as the prelude to an orgasm stretched her features until they could take no more.

It was like the sound a pissed off cougar combined with a low-sound rumbling that vibrates the flesh and rattles the bones. Jen went on like this for nearly a minute before lowering her sweat drenched body down on me. She looked down at me, our eyes only inches apart and she said,

"Let's do that again," and that's when I shot off -- the very idea of hearing that sound again and not participating had been the final frontier of my control. The promise of more had set me off.

"Fuck you," she panted to Winnie, "he's giving it to me -- nice and hot, just how I like it."

"Ah pooh," Winnie gave vent to her play-anger. "Dom, how long do you take to recharge?"

"How about we get some sugar by way of fruit bowls to recharge and let Jen and I grab a shower," I suggested, "because these ceiling fans can't compare to central air."

Jen rolled of the bed spryly, pulled out her pistol and began nakedly jaunting off to the bathroom.

"Coming?" she quizzed me playfully.

Jen had let her hair down in so many ways. I got out of bed to follow Jen. Winnie whistled and slid my firearm across the bed and I raced across the open area so I could catch Jen by the shower stall. Winnie was back by our bed ordering room service in a language I didn't understand.

Jensen hadn't much experience bathing another person, much less a man she'd just made love to but she was patient and she lent me that patience to not rush all over her body, exploring her again. As she stepped out of the shower I wrapped her up in my arms again.

"Calm down Tiger," she patted my hand clasp under her breasts, "We'll have months together, if not longer. I'm sticking around."

"Winnie," I called out, "Let's recharge, gather up the girls and see what we can do for some entertainment on this super-sized island."

"Absolutely," Winnie laughed. She threw our clothes at us then handed Jen her big gun like someone was going to jump us in the shower.

"We have a good surf coming off the Philippine Sea," Winnie suggested.

"How do we handle security?" Jen inquired, back on the job once more.

"We..." was all Winnie got off when her Spidey-senses went off. "Down!" Winnie went to her belly with practiced ease and Jen jumped on my back and bore me to the ground.

Two massive 'thumps' came from the door. Two things worked in our favor: unlike the rest of our apartment suite, the door was built super-solid and even it couldn't take two grenades, it didn't blow into the room though it definitely needed replacing. The second thing was the food cart catty-cornered near the entrance masked in the smoke.

My head was ringing as Jen hoisted me up and led me to the closest rattan sofa. We hit it, knocking it on its back. Jen pushed a second cushion between me and the front door before giving herself the same flimsy protection. I couldn't see Winnie. The bad guys made themselves noticeable by screaming 'Allah Akbar!' and shooting through the doorway.

Jen reached out to shove me to the floor and smirked when she found me already there. I learned really, really fast as she was finding out.

Jen calmly looked over to me as cushion stuffing rained down on us from the AK's 5.45x39mm rounds coming at hip level. She held up three fingers and I nodded that she heard three attackers. How anyone could tell the difference between assault rifles of the same make and model. There was another cry to God Almighty then a cry of surprise as the first guy charged through the smoky door and into the food cart, spilling them both.