Edited by angel love
Born Lindelle Gerhart, the agent was raised in a modest home in German Town Pennsylvania. Though her father and mother were bakers by trade, they worked hard to provide the means by which their children might live useful and peaceful lives. But as Lindell grew older and sought for a lifetime career, she found that her desires lie elsewhere, more in a life of suspense and intrigue.
After college at NYU, she landed her first job in a law enforcement agency. She recorded and filed documents, all of which were of the highest protocol of confidentiality. But after two years of somewhat boring, repetitive tasks, she soon learned that her true skills lie more in the pursuit of that for which the Central Intelligence Agency was created. She trained and became an agent, her code name Auburn Angel.
"And my contact? Who is he?" Angel asked the supervisor over the secure communications pipeline provided by the department.
The deep, drolling voice of the supervisor muttered only the code name, "Aspen."
"No description, no voice print, no dossier?" she inquired.
"No!" he said with an air of finality. "You will board the train in Center City, Philadelphia, then travel the short fifty seven minute ride to Lansden. He will be waiting."
"But how will I know him?" she asked, seeking for any clues he might provide.
"You won't!" he said in reply. "He will pursue you, see you, and know you but his identity will remain shrouded in the utmost of secrecy.
"And the transfer?" she said.
"A small, single document, a musical tone row," the supervisor said in monotone.
"What is a tone row?" the agent queried.
"A grid of musical notes by letter names. The grid is a code." he said condescendingly. "Board the 354 to Lansden tonight at nine o'clock sharp. By midnight, deliver the document to the German Town sector, the alternate drop box. Take the Jaguar. Report by using the secure line."
"Anything else?" Auburn Angel asked.
"It is of the utmost importance that Aspen's identity not be compromised," he said emphatically. "Should it be, he will be vulnerable, probably killed."
That night, Angel drove the Jag to the secluded parking space in the railway parking garage. She carried with her only a 38 special and a well hidden knife packed neatly in her purse. In the bottom of the purse was a powerful surveillance camera, used by the department to gather data on highly classified missions. It would be recording the entire mission.
Angel wore a simple, dark blue dress, nothing elaborate, nothing stylish, and nothing that might make her stand out midst the average commuter. Over the apparel, she wore a well worn, black trench coat. Underneath the garment, a shoulder harness unobtrusively fit to hold her favorite weapon of choice. Otherwise, the agent traveled lightly for she needed to appear like a typical woman returning home from a day's work in the city.
In the terminal, she purchased a one way ticket to Lansden station. At 8:57 PM, she boarded the converted passenger cab with three others and chose a seat near the back to distance herself. One man seated himself and promptly opened that day's evening edition of the Inquirer. An older lady, probably in her mid fifties, chose a seat three rows from the front directly across the aisle from a younger man who looked like he was a college student at best.
When the sound of air brakes released, the train eased forward. Almost immediately, a straight faced porter opened the connecting door to check the passenger's tickets. As he punched each ticket, his face looked stern with authority. Then walking down the aisle he stared forward until he reached Angel's row. She handed him her ticket, he took it, punched it, but suddenly paused as if something was wrong. At first, his eyes darted between the ticket to her face, then back again. In a matter of seconds, however, his countenance changed and he smiled broadly at her.
"Good evening, Ma'am!" the porter said in friendly tone.
She nodded slightly but then lifted her hand to receive the validated ticket. For an awkward moment, she sensed that he wanted to say something else, maybe ask her name, or ask her what her destination was. She caught his eye as he stared intently at her hand. Then he laid the ticket in her palm lingering for a moment to feel the softness of her milky white skin.
"And your destination?" he inquired, in his authoritative tone.
Softly but confidently, she answered, "Lansden."
Nodding in recognition, he left that car to pursue the inhabitants of the others. His demeanor troubled her but since her auburn hair and hazel eyes had always caught the eye of most men, she soon allowed her gut instinct to fade into the supposition that the porter was merely acting accordingly. For a moment, it brought a smile to her face but she soon turned her thoughts back to the reason that brought her there.
Twenty-two minutes later, the train slowed and eventually stopped at Ambler station. The man who had been reading the newspaper stood, tossed the paper back to the seat, and then walked forward to leave. Five minutes later, the train pulled away. Still left with the other two, Angel turned her head to the right and stared intently into the window's night portrait. So many of her assignments were wrought with darkness and secrecy and in that arena, she felt most comfortable.
In another fifteen minutes, the train would stop at Lemer station near Gottshal, and then the next stop would be her intended destination. Picking up speed, the commuter railway lumbered along the tracks falling into a repetitive rhythm of sorts, the kind that lulled many a passenger to slumberous sleep. Angel had no intention of letting her guard down, much less leaving herself open to a startled attack. This, she knew, was the life of an agent, the preparedness, the adrenalin pulsing through her veins making her ready, lest misfortune befall her.
About midway to Lemer station, she suddenly heard the door behind her slide open yet nobody entered as expected. Her head cocked to the left, her eyes roamed the car, but the only thing she saw was the lady and the young man some fifteen rows ahead. Then without warning, she heard footsteps like the tromping of a soldier's boots. About five steps sounded till the porter revealed his presence staring straight forward as he pursued his goal at the front.
Passing the two, he reached to open a metal frame compartment that housed a small telephone. Holding it to his ear, he muttered words but none that Angel could comprehend. Then he turned quickly and stared directly at the agent in the back. Fully aware of his movements, Auburn Angel felt her pulse surge as instinct took over. She tucked her right hand into the open coat, letting her fingers wrap around the stalk of her gun. Because two passengers were aboard the car, however, she only watched cautiously, not pulling it from its holster.
The porter watched her carefully, without a smile while he replaced the phone on its rest. He then left the car from the front leaving the three to their own. Some ten seconds later, another man entered, stared at Angel, then left, saying nothing.
"Stay calm," she coached herself silently. "He probably just forgot something and returned to his seat."
But not letting her guard down, she suddenly caught the suspicious movement of the front cab door as it opened slightly. Instinctively, she dropped in the seat to protect herself only to hear three shots fired, each embedding its round into the wall just over her head. In sheer terror, the lady and the young man screamed. Angel pulled her gun from its holster but waited not wanting to return fire lest she hit one of the two.
Still hunkered down in the seat, she suddenly heard the back door slide open followed by the porter's voice announcing the Lemer station stop. He passed by her so quickly that he didn't even notice her position then walked toward the front as the train pulled to a stop. Thinking his presence brought some air of safety, the agent slowly returned to her sitting position. What she saw next was the two standing and trying to tell the porter of the frightening experience they just had.
In response, he led them quickly off the train, reported the incident, and soon returned to stare once again at Angel, the mysterious woman he'd formerly admired but now eyed cautiously. She chose a frightened pose and stared at him agape to alleviate any suspicions.
Five minutes later, the train pulled away from Lemer; headed for Lansden. The porter watched Angel carefully but soon realized that she too was as frightened as the man and woman he'd previously led off the train. Since the unknown gunman had obviously fled the scene, the porter decided to go and offer his help to Angel even his gut instinct told him to be cautious.
"Are you alright?" he inquired, with a concerned tone.
In an exhale of breath, she replied, "I, guess, so. What's going on?"
Suspecting she knew more than she let on, he didn't answer her. He did, however, take her hand and pat it as if to comfort her. Then he told her everything was under control and not to worry. The agent nodded in response but kept her gaze on the porter in an attempt to alleviate any further suspicion he might have that she was the intended target of the gunman's bullets.
For a second more, he patted her hand but then let go to leave the car already in route to its final destination. Angel relaxed slightly but kept her guard up in case the gunman had an accomplice to follow his lead. Several moments passed by but nobody else entered her car. The lights on the train dimmed to allow remaining passengers to slumber in the final moments of the trip.
When the train finally pulled into Lansden station, an air of normality had returned, except for the agent who couldn't help but wonder who had wanted to kill her. She assumed that the only ones who knew of her passage were her contact, the department, and herself. The operation was top secret and the transfer of information was highly classified.
"Had there already been a leak?" she pondered. "Were the passengers in her car mere players in some scheme to foil the operation? Was the porter aware of her agent status?"
Her body tensed slightly as the train pulled to a stop, right on time at Lansden station. Once more, Auburn Angel's eyes took stock of her surroundings. Discerning all was safe, she slowly stood, stepped into the aisle, and turned left to step into the doorway where five steps led down to the terminal platform. Descending, she soon saw the porter waiting with his hand extended in her direction.
As she stepped onto the platform, he gestured toward her right, where the station rest area stood. The parking lot where he supposed she would go lie just beyond the building. Then he quickly climbed the steps to disappear in the belly of the railway car. She watched him till he was out of sight then turned back to face the building.
"Now what!" Angel wondered.
Suddenly, a powerful hand cuffed her face, pulling her back into his broad chest, and holding her there till she succumbed to the overwhelming scent of a chloroformed handkerchief. In a millisecond, her instincts faded as she fell helplessly into the abyss of darkness.
Some time later, Auburn Angel awoke to face the faint lingering smell of chloraphorm and a dull headache. For a moment, she panicked but then soon felt the realization that she was alive. Helpless but alive, she opened her eyes to complete darkness, a world she had grown accustomed to. She knew her name but didn't know why someone had chemically taken advantage of her, put her on the table where she was, and more importantly, why.
Auburn Angel slowly lifted herself to a sitting position. At first, her head spun like her mind was dizzy. The headache had faded by then for the most part, leaving her alone with her questions. Except for a small crack of light, she was engulfed in darkness. Then she realized that her trench coat, purse, and shoulder holster were gone. Touching her body, she discerned that no physical abnormalities had been suffered.
A few minutes later, a door opened to reveal only a dark spirit, an apparition of night. Seeing no one, the sounds of the door creaking open and shut mingled with the otherwise silence in the room, filled her ears.
Fear struck her immediately and her heart began to pound. Soft footsteps followed until the mysterious form moved behind her. Then she jumped as the powerful hand wrapped tightly around her mouth.
"Do not, make a sound," the man said in a whisper. "Do not speak."
Somehow, she managed to nod in agreement while her heart pounded. In seconds, however, the hand slid from her face to her shoulder, not a powerful grasp but a meek, reassuring hold. And there it rested till she calmed. For about a minute he held onto her shoulder but eventually pulled his hand away only to lean into her back and tell her to stand and turn around. @@@ Obediently, the woman did as ordered. When she did, he again stepped behind her and warned her not to say a word or make a sound. Following him explicitly, she began to feel the stimulating sensations she always felt when a man took control over her. His was not violent but a mixture of powerful gentleness, the way she'd always fantasized her man to be.
His strong arms wrapped passionately around her body making her whimper softly at his touch.
"Do not make a sound," he once again whispered. "Now remove your clothes."
At his words, she began to breathe more deeply, all the while building in her lust filled passions. Though normally quite the lady, she knew well her slutty, unbridled side when such an opportunity presented itself. She suddenly found herself caught in the web of intrigue, suspense, and her strong desires to be ravished by a stranger, even if her mission was compromised.
Midst the tingling, warmth now spreading down from her C-cup breasts to her moist cuntal mound, she stripped for her black knight. Removing her dress, bra, and thong panties left her naked in his dark presence. Just the thought of such a dilemma made her lust all the more.
"Do not make a sound," he warned as he pulled her back to his hairy chest.
Her ass engaged the bulge behind her then wiggled in involuntary, playful response. Fondling her large breasts, the man cupped them to lightly pinch her protruding nipple buds and as he did, she took in a deep breath. Staying silent in obedience, she reveled in the pleasure of his strong hands maneuvering their way over her responsive body.
Each time he pinched or pulled her buds, she responded in a shuttering delight of silent pleasure. Over and over he took advantage of her more than willing form until she pressed her ass cheeks back hard, grinding them passionately into his hard rod.
"Bend over," he commanded and she did.
Her big breast melons mashed into the table as she parted her legs and feet to steady herself. As she did, the spirit touched her shoulders, allowing his finger tips to gently and lustfully strafe her back. When he reached the top of her anal crevasse, she inhaled deeply but did not make a sound. Then he walked his fingers downward following the crack of her round, sexy butt till they found their way into the wetness of the opening lips of her cunt.
"Do not make a sound," he ordered as he pushed one finger in her pussy. In response, her body convulsed till he pulled his finger free and licked it clean of the agent's delicious flow. When satisfied, he then posed his rod to her well stimulated mound and pushed hard to fill her to the full.
Immediately, her body writhed in passions so strong that she almost cried out her pleasure. With the sexy, soft ass cheeks now kissing his belly, he lingered there for only a few moments then pulled his shaft almost out to ram it in again. In and out, in and out, in and out, he plunged till he knew she was near the orgasmic cliff. To send her over it meant he'd have to stimulate her in such a way that she wasn't expecting.
Reaching down to oil his fingers with her womanly juices, he quickly coated them and let them crawl up her labial patch well into the crack of her hot, round ass. She knew something was about to push her over the edge and she figured it would be her powerful mans' finger pushed deep inside her butt.
Instead, however, he merely played with her pucker until he reached to grab and pull her back by her hair. With that move, she went into orgasmic convulsions that caused her pussy to clamp down hard on his cock. His pumping ceased as she spasmed over and over on his length and when he sensed that her climactic thrills had ended, he let go of her hair, allowing her head to fall back in a more comfortable pose.
Then he pulled his rod completely out and had her lick it clean of her sweet cream. When she reached the top and started to devour the head, he told her to stand and bend over again. She did but that time knew exactly what her mystery man wanted. Reaching back to spread her cheeks she felt his thick rod once again fill her pussy for the lube needed to oil her most intimate of holes. Then in absolute passion, he pulled it free and posed his length to Angel's anal flower.
Feeling her getting ready and relaxed, he slowly inched his dick all the way inside her gripping butt till she could take no more. As slowly as it went in, he pulled it out till the head caught at her tight ring. Then he pushed it in again, each stroke making her convulse in silence at her back door thrills. Repeatedly, he pumped his shaft till he built himself to the breaking point.
"I'm your butt fucker baby," he grunted in a deep whisper as his rod throbbed and spunk shot deep in her canal.
Between her spasming butt and his throbbing rod, the two fully reveled in their mutual orgasmic enjoyment. When he'd had enough, he stayed inside her most intimate of holes. When he finally pulled his spent rod from her darkness, she collapsed on the table, her big soft breasts mashed helplessly against it. Angel felt so fulfilled but completely worn out by the intense sex he gave her. In response, she fell fast asleep on the table.
Auburn Angel had no idea how long she'd slept when she awoke in her seat on the train. Fully dressed with trench coat wrapped around her and her purse and shoulder holster in tact, she found herself looking toward the front of the Pullman car, alone and somewhat confused. The movement of the train slowed as she heard the porter announce the stop for Center City station.
At this, her head snapped to attention. Her eyes darted about to gain perspective. She reached for her gun and found it, her purse as well. Then the train stopped as the air brakes hissed and exhaled their angry pressure. The front door opened only to reveal the porter whom she originally met.
Walking down the aisle toward her, he smiled and said, "It's 11:45, Ma'am. I hope you enjoyed your round trip ride to Lansden and back."
Then he led the speechless Angel off the train and bid her goodbye. She walked briskly to the parking garage where her Jag awaited its beautiful prey. There, she knew all things were well. There, she could fully relax and ponder. There, her feelings and recollections of the past two hours would somehow make sense.
Opening the door and climbing in, she closed it, locked it, and started the engine of her powerful sports car. Amidst its safety, she drove from the garage onto the nearby street and headed for the German Town sector. A few miles into the ride, however, stark reality hit her like a ton of bricks.
"Oh damn it, Angel!" she snapped out loud. "You've compromised the operation. You have no documents, whatsoever! You almost got killed, got chloriphormed, fucked and reamed senseless with the most excruciating pleasure you've ever experienced, and now your back in the city of brotherly love with no damn document! What the hell were you thinking?"