Models and Super Spies Ch. 10

"What are you doing?" Michelle whined like a spoiled little girl.

Gabrielle smiled over her shoulder. "We haven't used this in a while." She turned, the black strap-on dildo flopping in her hand. Michelle was rubbing her clit as she waited impatiently. When she saw the dildo, she immediately broke into a smile.

"Who's the dirty girl now?"

"Girl?" Gabrielle asked, raising a plucked brow. She stepped into the strap-on, and lathered her fake cock with KY jelly. "I'll show you 'girl.'"

A smile split Michelle's pretty face. She squirmed back to the pillows as Gabrielle crossed the room, her plastic dick bouncing before her. She loved this thing. Eight and a half inches of supple blackness, complete with veins and balls. Only thing it didn't do was cum.

"On your knees, my pet. I feel like fucking you like a dog."

"God, I love your accent," Michelle laughed, enthusiastically flipping over.

"Mmm, such a nice ass," the brunette commented as she sidled up behind her. "I've never tried anal," she mused, setting the dildo head against Michelle's puckered opening.

"Bullshit," Michelle simpered as she felt the pressure build against her anus.

"Well, never been on the giving end, that is." She swept her eyes cross her lover's olive skin and long, black hair. Her almond-shaped eyes were still fierce, but Gabrielle didn't miss the hint of worry. That was what she was looking for.

She bounced the thick dildo across Michelle's perineum and pushed it into the girl's soft pussy. "Yes…" the Asian hissed, no doubt in relief as well as pleasure. Gabrielle felt adrenaline surge through her veins as she eased in. She gave the girl only a couple strokes to adjust to the thickness of the dildo before picking up the momentum.

"Ah, fuck!" Michelle snarled beneath her. Their wet skin began to slap with each thrust. Gabrielle breathed the heady scent of lust through her nostrils. God, she loved fucking like a man. So much power.

"Take it, my slut!" she grunted in French, grasping Michelle's slim hips as a man would. With each heave forward, she yanked the girl hard against her. The strap-on dug into her clit with exquisite pressure. The girls gasped together. Again and again.

"More! More!" Michelle cried.

With her lubed fingers, Gabrielle teased the rim of her model-friend's asshole. Michelle groaned, burying her face in the pillows and thrusting her ass higher. Gabrielle pushed her index finger into the girl's nether hole, burying it knuckle deep. Her female lover screamed.

"You like that, mon chien? How about a little more?"

Before the Asian girl could react, Gabrielle pulled the plastic cock from her pussy and set it against her anus. This time, she wasn't just teasing. This time, she leveraged her slender, naked body over the prone girl and plowed the strap-on into her ass.

"AH FUCK!" Michelle wailed, her voice cracking.

The sight of Michelle's ass swallowing the black plastic cock (her fucking cock!) was too much for the French model. As she violated the girl, she crested. Half up on one leg in a partial squat, partial stand, her body began to quake. Her knees buckled, driving the cock down to the hilt into Michelle's backdoor.

Michelle was screaming. It took Gabrielle a moment to realize they were cries of ecstasy. It took her another moment to realize the girl was ravishing herself, both hands working her pussy as her mentor reamed her ass.

The host of Supermodel rolled onto her back in a twitching, sweaty mess. "Qui a été incroyable!"

Before she could fully recover, she felt Michelle's soft hands unstrapping the dildo. She smiled, holding her eyes shut and snuggling into the plush bedding. She knew what was coming next. The silky hair between her thighs was hint enough.

"Mmm, you really are insatiable when you get upset," she cooed as she felt the first the warm tongue against her pussy. Reaching down, she ran her fingers through Michelle's hair. The girl's brown eyes were smiling up at her.

"I'll show you insatiable," she winked.

"Oh mon dieu!" she cried as Michelle focused her very talented mouth. Today, Gabrielle had the feeling that being cooped up on this ship wasn't going to be so bad.

***

Vincent Silva fidgeted in his chair at C.L.O.A.K.. He glanced down at the stack of papers he had to go through – fake intel he'd been generating to feed the CIA when the Mishin operation went sour. He had trouble focusing on it. He had trouble focusing on anything but the promise of tonight.

Emily hadn't checked in last night, and she hadn't shown up for work yet. He'd received a quick text on his way in that simply read, "Dropping off the drycleaning." It was her code for "all's well, don't worry about me," but it still puzzled Vincent a little. Her assassination mission was a simple one, and there was no way a soft businessman like Alexander Mishin would have seen it coming.

The nagging feeling flicked away like a leaf caught in the breeze, and he was once again thinking about tonight. About Alicia. About her soft thighs parting around his body.

He glanced out at the empty desk where Emily usually sat, cursing her absence again, but for a very different reason. He was horny and needed someone to take care of it for him. Briefly, he wondered if Liz was in today.

Vincent's phone rang before he could follow that lead. "Hello?"

"It's set up. She'll do it," Erin said, checking in. Vincent breathed a sigh of relief. There was a small chance that Alicia would back out of her mission.

"Excellent." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His balls felt like lead weights, even sitting.

"Oh, and Vincent, I think you should know… Trey's on the scene. He was watching us in a car, not so discretely, across the street."

The black ops director shifted again, this time due to nerves. Good thing he'd prepped her last night for this. Now he had to make sure his warnings held up. The question was, how best to play it? He'd convinced Erin that the CIA was after her and her list, when really it was Vincent who wanted it. He'd convinced Trey that his wife was involved in an operation to get that list away from Erin and (the late) Alexander Mishin, when really all he wanted was the man's wife.

"I suspect that Trey's the traitor, but I can't be for sure," he said carefully. "Watch them. Make sure they don't get in a car or something. I don't want her out of your sight."

She laughed snidely. "You're ordering me around, now? I'm not one of your agents, Mr. Silva."

"Of course not. But this is in both of our best interests. And I fear they're getting close." Soon, he would be the one giving the orders. Just a few more days now and the list would be his.

"I'll keep an eye on them and phone you if he sweeps her off her feet," she laughed again. "Must go now. Tah."

Vincent set the phone down, his skin crawling with agitation. He needed to burn off some of this aggression. A nice long run would do the trick, although a good, hard fuck would be better. He looked longingly to Emily's empty desk.

"Hey!" he said in surprise, seeing Liz leaning in the doorframe. She looked very much the spy in her tight black outfit and open trench coat with the collar flipped up. Based on the smug smile on her face and the way her arms were crossed beneath her hefty breasts, she knew exactly what was on his mind. Sex.

"Hey yourself," she replied, sauntering into the room and taking a seat across from him. Beneath the trench she wore a pair of tight, black jeans and a black corset top. Her freckled cleavage spilled over the criss-crossing laces.

Vincent licked his lips. He'd watched highlights of her performance last night. He'd never thought he'd see his former partner do the things she'd done. Even with her dark brown hair, it was thrillingly satisfying to watch her frantically bobbing head between another woman's legs as she was drilled from behind.

That dark hair was in a ponytail now. And those lips were painted glossy maroon. He didn't even need to close his eyes to see them wrapped around his length. Jesus Christ, he needed to fuck.

"So what brings you in?" he asked, forcing his eyes back to her greys.

She crossed her legs. "Information. I have some more now."

"Oh yeah? Caroline track the money?"

Liz nodded. "Our suspicions were right, Mishin's behind it."

There was an "and" there. Liz didn't need to say it. He waited for her to continue.

"When were you going to tell me?" When he didn't respond immediately, she tilted her head slightly to the side, causing one dark bang to fall across her face. She knew… something. She'd figured it out. But what?

"Tell you what?" he asked, returning the inquisitive grin.

She rolled her eyes. "You're really going to make me spell it out? Alicia…"

Fuck, she knows about Alicia and him? But how? "I didn't think my past relationship with Alicia was relevant to the mission. Just a coincidence." Liz nodded, but didn't speak. "We actually ended things before Trey was even approached for C.L.O.A.K.. Trust me, I was as surprised as anyone when I learned who he was dating…"

It wasn't exactly true. Alicia had broken things off with him when she learned he was married, calling him a dishonest scumbag, or something like that. His child had just been born and he wasn't ready to break things off with Karen. If he could have predicted his divorce, things would have been different, but that's not what fate had intended.

Anyway, even after their break-up, he was still obsessed with the young model. She was just 19-years-old at the time. So innocent. He knew she was destined for success and it killed him to see her dating again. When she seemed to settle on one man, Trey Kennedy, he knew that if he couldn't control the girl, he could control her spouse. He wasn't director of C.L.O.A.K. at the time, but he knew all the right strings to pull to get young Trey a job with them.

And for the past five years, he'd been plotting the perfect way to sweep back into Alicia's life. Destroying her trust in Trey and making her dependent on him was a pretty good one, he thought. Getting his hands on Erin's list and a foothold in Mishin's world class modeling agency was icing on the cake.

"You had nothing to do with getting him the job?" Liz asked skeptically.

"She really was just another girl I was sleeping around with. You knew me from back then, partner," he grinned. "I think you knew me pretty well." He winked, thinking about all the fun times they'd had on assignment.

"You were never one to shy away from really getting… personal with your work."

Vincent laughed. "I've been wanting to get personal since Alicia interrupted us a few nights ago." When the blonde had shocked the two of them that morning, Liz had been on her knees, servicing him on the kitchen counter. "Shall we pick up where we left off?"

Vincent needed to change the subject before Liz started to figure things out. She was too smart for her own good, sometimes. And the best way to distract her…

"How easy do you think I am?" she asked, rolling her eyes as he began to unzip his trousers. "Do you have any idea what I did last night? And how tired I am!?"

He had some idea, based on the video footage. That only made it harder to fish his lengthening cock from his pants. Her grey eyes darted to his robust manhood greedily. Knowing Liz as well as he did, he guessed that last night's activities made her hornier, not more tired.

He thought of the freshly waxed pussy that both Trey and Sarah had experienced – again and again. They'd been lovers for close to ten years and she'd always maintained her auburn pubes with pride. Then again, she'd also sworn that she wasn't into women, and that was obviously not true. "Come on, baby, I'd like to give your new, bare look a ride." He began tugging at his cock.

Liz swallowed, flicking her ponytail as she glanced at the open door. She stood and crossed the room. For a split second, Vincent thought she was leaving. Then she slammed the door shut and hit the auto-blinds closed.

"Sometimes you can be such an ass." She threw off her trench coat. The tight corset top was sleeveless, baring her toned shoulders and freckled arms in the subdued light of the underground office.

"You like it."

She sighed. "I do."

***

"Alicia. It's me. Your husband."

The words hung in the air like a bomb falling silently toward its target. Nothing left to do but wait and hold your breath. The numbness was back. He couldn't feel his heart spasm and convulse. He didn't register the legion of butterflies swirling in the pit of his stomach. In that frozen moment, he was as anesthetized as a resident in a mental hospital.

Then the bomb went off.

His wife's warm brown eyes grew wide. She took a step backwards, like she was afraid he was about to attack her. The color drained from her face as she tried to speak but couldn't find the words.

"Can we talk? Alone?" He glanced around at the sunny sidewalk in Santa Monica. He'd located her by her GPS signal (with a little help from Caroline). She was finishing up a lunch with Erin Small, of all people, and he'd waited patiently in the shade so he could grab her alone.

"What about?" she asked, looking away from him. To scan her surroundings? Because she didn't want to look at him? Why?

"I need to tell you something."

"You can tell me here." Her voice quivered. She was deathly afraid of something.

"How about we sit over there," he said, pointing to a bench tucked off the main street. His finger shook and he quickly retracted it.

Alicia nodded, still not meeting his eyes, and waited for him to lead the way. Like she was afraid of turning her back on him. Or maybe she was going to run? What the hell was going on here? This woman was his wife. She was no stranger. They'd been together for over five years and here she was, acting a scene right out of Tale of the Bodysnatchers.

He gave up, walking around the corner with the hope that she would follow. He only felt a mild sense of relief when he turned and she was still there, although she still looked like he was a ticking bomb with a shorted out fuse.

He'd tried to come up with the best way to breach the subject. Start with the story of his recruitment? Start with the details of the current operation? Tell her he knows about her own involvement? In the end, he decided that blunt was best.

"I'm with the CIA," he said, low yet firm. He may as well have admitted he was Osama bin Laden. Her face drained of the rest its color. She suddenly looked over her shoulder. Trey could practically see her flight instincts kicking in. "I'm telling you this because I know about your involvement with the Agency."

His pretty wife, scared shitless, mouthed the words "agency" but still couldn't find her voice.

"Shit, I should have told you before. A long time ago. When we met. But I had orders. But now you're in danger and—"

He stopped. Alicia was shaking her head. Shit, her whole body was shaking. She scooted away from him, half standing off the bench as she glared at him with abject horror. "You? It's you?!" Her voice cut shrilly through the air.

"Me? What do you mean?"

She wasn't blinking, her long lashes accentuating the most frightened expression he'd ever seen on her pretty face. She shook her head at his question, continuing to cringe away even as she ran out of bench room.

Trey ran his hand over his shortly cut red hair. He could feel his sweat gathered on his scalp. This wasn't going well at all. "Look, I'm still trying to get to the bottom of it myself, but I think I've somehow gotten you mixed up in something very dangerous. I think we're being used."

He'd had a shotgun mic trained on her lunch with Erin. He'd heard the proposal. He'd listened as Erin outlined her "date" that night. The man had requested dinner and a night at the ballet, followed by "companionship," as the older woman had put it. It sounded like a first, so there was still time to get her out.

"I can't believe this," Alicia grumbled, shaking her head ever so slightly. Her eyes remained fixed on her husband, as wide as saucers. "All this time…" It was more a statement to herself than to Trey.

"I should have told you. I'm sorry…"

What was it Vincent Silva had said so long ago? Something about psyche-analysis and irreparable damage to the trust between the two of them? It all seemed so foggy. And this whole conversation suddenly felt like a giant mistake.

Alicia turned her head away, staring out into the open street. Cars moved slowly along through the thick, LA traffic. Trey recognized that soft look in her eyes; she was deep in thought.

"So what are you suggesting, Trey?" Alicia asked at last, her voice tired.

"I…" And that was when he realized he had nothing to suggest. He'd been so focused on telling his wife about his double life – and warning her about her own – that he hadn't thought beyond that. The first thing that came to his head was to flee; to pack up all their things and slip away in the night. Not that they'd get far. Not with the full force of the CIA behind C.L.O.A.K..

"I don't know," he mumbled.

Alicia nodded, but it was one of dismissal, not agreement. "Look, the two of us…" She hesitated, and Trey was thankful. He didn't want to hear the end of that sentence.

"I'll figure something out. But right now, I need you to trust me, okay? Don't… I don't know… don't go and do anything crazy…"

"Without letting you know first?" she finished for him with a touch of sarcasm. "Trey, where have you been for the two weeks? Do you really expect things to just go back to the way they were? To play house again? The world is a hell of a lot different than whatever I thought it was even last week."

She stood to go. Trey panicked. If she left now – like this… he couldn't imagine life without her. "Wait, Alicia." She paused. "Please stay. I love you." His words felt desperate. He felt like a gambling man, making a deal with God just for this "one time."

He saw a tear slip out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't turn back to him. "Where were you when this shit went down, Trey? Where were you when I needed you most?"

Before he could say another word, she fled back out into the street. Trey wallowed in his self-loathing, too weak to follow.

***

Liz's mind was still reeling from the Alicia-Vincent revelation. She'd come by intending to feel out a connection between Vincent and Erin's lists. She wanted to know how much he knew. Was he aware of the multiple locations? Was he aware of what it really was? But as soon as she began to feel it out, her instincts kicked in. If she even mentioned the lists, he'd become suspicious.

Not to mention the shit on his desk. Damning evidence left in plain sight. Vincent kept his eyes on her, never once glancing down at what looked like a paper trail surrounding the Mishin investigation. In fact, he was so focused on not calling attention to them that Liz knew they were key. She had to see them, but before she could…

"Oh yes, like that," he groaned, burying his hand in her dark hair as she bobbed along his cock. She hated to admit it, but the thought of getting fucked instantly had her moist. Even after last night, and even with this traitor to the country. It was crazy. How could she be so horny?

"So you finally gave in to the fairer sex," Vincent said as she blew him. "Did you enjoy getting eaten by another girl?" Liz's deep moan slipped out uninhibited, vibrating around the man-flesh passing in and out of her throat. He gasped, holding her head still as he fought back from the edge of an imminent orgasm.