tagRomanceViolent World of Vicky Brown

Violent World of Vicky Brown

bySoftly©

Shane Kiefer is a smart, shrewd, tough, old son-of-a-bitch. He did not rise to become the Eastern European Director of covert operations for the CIA without all of the above, plus he was a stone cold killer when the need arouse. When he retired from the CIA, he set himself up in the business of advising companies of the ways to protect their personnel and trade secrets from the rogue countries and companies that populate our world. In addition, he provided the personnel to protect the company employees, either in the United States, or overseas.

Odessa Security Consultants was born in August of 1986. Carefully, step by step, Shane built the reputation of his company. Many of his client companies thought that he had the ability to read the minds of kidnappers, or other thugs. Of course, it was nothing like that. If National Security intercepted a phone message about an attempt to kidnap an executive, Shane would receive a message describing the threat in detail. Or, his knowledge of the current events in an area would warn him that certain security adjustment were in order to protect his clients.

Shane was getting old. For a lot of reasons, he was determined to make sure that Odessa would be in good hands when he stepped down. When still in the CIA he had trained an agent. At the time, he had been awed by the combination of talents this person could bring to bear to be the right person, in the right place to secure hard information, or to stop an enemy covert mission from succeeding. Most of all, she was a most deceiving person. What you saw was most decidedly not what you got. She was average height, with brown hair, and a pretty face which she could hide, or highlight as the need arouse. She had a photographic mind, that was lightning quick. In an instant she could change from being the sweet girl next door to being brutal, a stone cold killer, like himself. Shane laughed to himself, "Takes one to know one."

A week later, a woman wearing a black pin stripped suit, carrying an attaché briefcase stopped briefly in front of Odessa's National headquarters. Stubbing out a cigarette, she looked the building over with the experienced eye of a person that could break into any building, anywhere. "Shane has done well for himself," she mused.

"Vicky Brown, long time no see. What have you been up to?'

"Cut the shit Shane. Before you would have sent me that letter offering employment, you would have gone over everything that I have done in the last ten years. Right?"

"Got me there. I see that you still can come on softly and with tact when the occasion presents itself."

They both laughed. "Martini?"

"Yes, you still remember what I drink?"

"Vicky, I know the brand of your bra and panties, as well as you are a tampon girl, not a Kotex girl.

"Sexual harassment, and I have not even been hired yet."

"It's part of the job description. See section 122, subsection 7B. The President will present her naked body for the Chairman of the Board to use as he sees fit at least once a month."

"I thought that there would be better perks then that. Only once a month?"

"Vicky. Down to business. What I want to do is bring you on board as another consultant. I will assign you for three months to each of the six offices. It will give you time to determine what you think of the existing personnel, and to study our present clients. As you go along, if you find any areas where we are not providing the absolutely best protection to them, let me know.

When that process is completed, I will promote you to be the next president of Odessa. When that time comes, you will be completely in control, with the authority to reorganize the organization, personnel and procedures in any way you see fit. I know that the world of security has progressed by leaps and bounds since I was in the saddle at CIA. Odessa needs an infusion of new ideas and intelligence. Here is an employment contract spelling out everything that I have proposed. Your starting salary will be $225,000.00. When you become the President, your salary will be raised to $350,000.00, plus the perks of full use of a Mercedes of your choice, and the company plane."

"I can't find section 122, subsection 7 B? But, the rest is just fine. CIA knows that I am here and I have the go ahead to start as soon as you want me to."

"You first office will be in White Plains, New York. Let's go get something to eat and adjourn to my in-town condo. I will fill you in the specifics about that office."

During the meal, Vicky mused to herself, "Which of my role woman will I be in bed with Shane tonight. Shall I be the tender friend? Should I be the sex starved woman, or should I be the hard fucking slut/whore? How will Shane react to me as my play unfolds?"

Shane, for his part, was reciting to her the background of the personnel at the White Plains office. Who had been with National Security, CIA, or Navel Intelligence. Also, who had covert experience, either with CIA, or as a SEAL. Both knew that Vicky would remember every detail.

A few minutes after ten, they arrived at Shane's condo. Without fanfare they undressed. Seeing Shane's trim, well muscled body Vicky intoned, "You must work out a lot, Shane?"

"Three hours, three times a week."

With a laugh to go along with her teasing him Vicky said, "Really different seeing you as something other then a rotund, serious faced, spook."

Both knew that Shane Kiefer had never been rotund. Shane put his hands on his hips. He openly stared at Vicky. Many times he had wondered what she would look like naked. He was not disappointed. Though only 5'4", she was perfectly formed, was trim, with neatly trimmed cunt hair, which he would soon get a mouth full of, and then sink his cock into her. It was slightly unnerving to him that she was staring at his body as openly as he was hers. "I can't wait to fuck you."

"Well, come on, I need it. All you got."

Vicky was surprised at how tender and considerate a lover Shane was. By the time he entered her, she was not playing a roll. She was a sex starved woman. Like a violin, Shane played her to perfection. Her voice in orgasm had a beauty, a raw sexual beauty of a woman being taken to the heights of orgasm and held there for minutes on end. It was not often that Vicky let her guard down, and let all her emotions be savored by another human being, but tonight was such a night.

The slut/whore in her emerged when Shane entered her the second time. Putting her knees next to her head, she said, loud and clear, "Fuck me Shane. Fuck me hard."

He rode her hard and fast, until they both cum. At seven AM, Vicky woke up. "I'm still horny," she thought to herself. She ran her finger in and out of her pussy a few times. Another thought, "Hell, might as well get Shane back in the saddle."

She played with Shane's limp cock. As he woke up and ye old cock got hard, playfully she said, "Fuck Mister?"

"Oh, Yes!"

Vicky keep him riding until he had and she had each cum twice.

In moch surrender, Shane put his hands up.

Vicky's time in the various offices ended in a year and a half. In each office, there had been a lot of whispers about the demure female that had joined the staff. Shane had not provided her background to the local managers. Some treated her as a secretarial staff person, while others thought that they would try to get into her pants. No one, not one, treated her as the seasoned, undercover, Spook professional that she was. Over the years, a lot of professional spies had made that same mistake. Several were now six feet under ground because of it.

May 14, 2001 at 0900 hours, exactly, the phone rang in every office. When all the managers were on line for a conference call, Shane Kiefer informed them that one Ms. Vicky Brown was the President and Chief Executive Officer of Odessa with total control over the company. Ms. Brown will have a meeting in each of your offices during the next two weeks. She will present to you changes in positions and procedures. A detailed fax of meeting dates and other information will arrive in your offices shortly.

Sitting listening to some of the comments made to Shane by the managers, Vicky smiled as she thought, "Cynical hard ass bastards all think that I have fucked my way through the glass ceiling."

May 22, 2001 at 0600 hours, Vicky walked up the stairs of the company Raytheon Beechjet 400A. Flying it single pilot was Bob Lemke. Vicky had gone over his qualifications. He was her age at forty-one. He was a retired Naval aviator who had flown "Tomcats." And he had been a "Top Gun" and "Top Gun" instructor. Shane had commented that there was not a better fighter pilot in the world. Odessa was paying him $130,000.00 a year with a guaranteed retirement of $100,000.00 per year for life. He was worth it. Odessa used their own aircraft with Bob flying it for clients that wanted the very best. The Odessa Beechjet was outfitted with the very latest anti-missile and radar avoidance systems.

With the press of a button, a "Sidewinder" missile could be deployed to take out hostile aircraft. Shane had pulled some strings to get his hands on that.

Vicky, who had a Lear Jet 24 type rating, ask Bob if she could sit right seat.

Bob's eyes met hers. He knew that she was the new Boss. For a couple seconds he measured her. "How did she get to where she is? She must be qualified, because Shane does not suffer fools for a second. Wonder if she fucks? Nice looking."

"Ya, sure. You have any flying experience?"

"My father was a United captain. He wanted me to fly for United, so he bought an Aztec when I was in high school. By the time I was in college, he owned a time share in a Lear 24. I have six thousand hours, of which twenty two hundred are in Lears. I am type rated in a Lear 24."

"This is a lot easier to fly then a Lear. You want to do the take off?"

"Sure. Teterboro tower, Beech seven thousand Oscar Sugar ready for clearance."

"7 0 0 0 Oscar Sugar is cleared to Chicago DuPage as filed. After departure turn right, proceed to Patterson at two thousand, after crossing Patterson turn left to 330 degrees, and climb to 3000. Upon reaching 3000, proceed direct to Sparta VOR. After crossing Sparta VOR, climb to 14000 ft. Expect Flight Level 2 4 0 ten minutes after departure."

Vicky smoothly said the read back to Teterboro tower, as she taxied to the end of the runway. "What is V1, V2, for this bird?"

"126kts and 129kts."

"Oscar Sugar cleared for take off."

Bob laughed as Vicky sang out, "Oscar Sugar rolling… Up up and away in my beautiful balloon."

As she climbed away from Sparta VOR at full throttle, Bob was surprised and pleased when she did a slow roll so well that his coffee was not spilled.

Bob turned facing her. He studied her face. She had a big grin, a look of pure joy. He had seen that look on some of the "Tigers" he had taught at "Top Gun" school. "This gal is a mile wide, and a thousand feet deep. We have hooked up with a wildcat." crossed his mind.

By Vicky's standards the Chicago office was the worst office in the company. The manager,Anthony Martello, was once a top of the line operator, but he had got fat and lazy. Lazy will get you killed in this business.

Vicky entered the main office door with out being noticed, which was a no no and indicative of how poorly the office was run. She identified herself to the security police officer. Quietly, she gave him instructions. She then entered the main office. She had called for a meeting at 0800. It was 0757 and the office was not set up for a meeting.

Walking to the front of the office, she announced that the meeting would start right now, and be conducted with everyone standing in two rows, military style. When they were lined up, the guards walked in with two boxes. They went into Martello's office and gathered his personal belongings. Then they stood next to him.

"Mr. Martello, you are fired. Give your keys to the guards. They will escort you out of the building. Here is your severance papers."

Bob, standing at the back of the room thought, "Wow, it is not a matter of if she will take command, it is only a matter of when." He had seen many fine decisive commanders in his time, and he knew that he was looking at one now.

During her time working at the various offices, Vicky had made friends with key people, often of low rank, that she trusted to provide her with accurate information. Based on that, and her own observations, she demoted three other managers, and made several promotions during the next week.

May 31, 2001. When Vicky returned to the pilots lounge at Atlanta's Fulton County airport, Bob informed her that a severe weather system was just North of the airport. He recommended that they stay the night in Atlanta. Coming from anyone else, she might have questioned that decision, but not Bob Lemke.

They ate at the "Windjammer." Since it was the end of her work week, she indulged herself by having a thick steak, flushed down by four Martinis. Not knowing that the city was overflowing with conventioneers, they took a cab to the Radisson.

"Ms. Brown, we are sorry. We only have one room with a king size bed in it."

Vicky slowly turned her head to look at an innocent looking Bob Lemke, who had his eyes looking up at the ceiling. She stepped back to whisper in his ear, "God Damn Communist plot."

"Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, I'm sorry Chief, but it is funny."

Whispering in his ear again, "I should make your sorry ass sleep in the plane." To the clerk, "We will take the room."

After their bags were in the room, Vicky informed Bob, "Lets go for a walk. I need some air."

They were half way down a side street when all of a sudden a man leaped from an alley. Pointing a gun at them he growled, "Give me your fucking wallets, assholes."

Vicky tossed her purse towards him. It landed at his feet. As he bent over to pick it up, she pushed Bob to the side, as her right hand emerged from behind her back with a Glock 27 that she had pulled from a holster in the small of her back. Three shots rang out, each barely louder then a hand clap because her ammunition was "Eagle claw" hollow points, loaded to be fired sub-sonic. The thug put both hands to his chest as he staggered backward. His gun was still clasped in his hand as Vicky stepped forward and fired a fourth round that struck him between the eyes. As she retrieved her purse, her eyes met Bob's. With a nod, she directed Bob to walk up the street like nothing had happened.

Bob now knew exactly, without any doubt, why Shane Kiefer had chosen Vicky Brown to run Odessa Security. There had been no excitement, no emotion in Vicky's eyes when she had turned from giving the "coup-de-grace" to the thug. He now knew her as the cool professional that she was.

After rounding the corner and becoming part of the pedestrian traffic, she returned to their previous subject. An onlooker would have said that she was a demure housewife walking down the street with her husband. Bob shook his head when she took his arm in hers and snuggled close to him.

Back in the room, she showered first. As he got up to go shower, she kissed him, rubbed his cock, and said, "Anytime Baby," which was a play on an Air Force fighter squadron motto.

"Coming from you, I have to take that seriously. I'm glad that you are on our side."

"Oh, don't get too serious. I have read your flight record from "Desert Storm." You flew sixty-seven missions. The only difference between you and I is that I get up tight and personnel. The result is the same, It is not a matter of if, it is a matter of when."

Memories of his night flights into Baghdad, with AA fire lighting up the sky, as his Tomcat RO directed him down the path to X, where the GPS guided bombs were to be released, flooded his mind. His face hardened. His teeth clenched. His eyes squinted. Vicky was seeing the best of the best, the elite, with his dander up. But only for a moment. Then it was over. His face softened. He kissed her on the lips. Their titles may have been Pilot and President, but they were equals, both birds of the same feather.


After his shower, Bob emerged from the bathroom naked with a hard on. That was not all that was hard. Vicky whistled, "Whee man, were you chiseled out of oak? Not a bit of fat on you."

"You should talk, Damn woman, you have a nice set of tits. I'm going to chew those puppys."

There is sex. There is love. And once in a while, there is loving sex. Bob Lemke and Vicky Brown, Tiger and Tigress, made love that night. It started slow and tender. Each had never know another like the person that was entwined in their arms. Vicky wanted all of him deep deep in her. As his cock drove home in her, Vicky opened herself as she whispered, "Anytime Baby, Anytime baby, Oh, Oh, Oooohhhoooooo. Oooohhhoooooo."

Vicky used the Odessa plane for all her travel. She overnighted an average of three nights a week. Bob became not only her lover, but her best friend and confidant. As time went on, they only had to look at the other to know what each was thinking at the moment. Bit by bit, she was able to let down her guard with Bob in a way she had never done before to any man, except her father. They were naked laying on her couch one night listening to a Frank Sinatra album, "Only the Lonely." Vicky blurted out to Bob, "I love you."

"Will you marry me?"

Vicky turned to face Bob. "Anytime Baby."

They kissed, a long, long kiss. That was followed by sex. Vicky played her Slut/whore role to the hilt by using her pussy to clamp onto Bob's cock as she sat on him and thrust her pussy forward and back with pleasure and passion, not once, but three times. As his third load erupted into her, he grabbed her. Holding her close, he whispered in her ear, "Mayday, Mayday, Navy 1016 is out of ammo, and has a flameout."

"God, I love you."

John Peters of ITT Roanoke delivered a new fighter plane weapons direction system to NATO in France for their evaluation. Odessa provided security. Vicky went along to watch how the Odessa personnel performed.

In a small town in France, Peters requested that they stop on the main street so he could shop. With one Odessa man on each side of him, as well as one to the rear, he moved from store to store. No one noticed the 5' 4" woman dressed in plain brown with a wide brimmed hat on, that was several steps ahead of the group.

Hussan Modamman got out of the Mercedes parked at the curb with an Uzi machine gun. As he raised it from his side, his eyes had tunnel vision looking only at Peters. From twenty feet, a female hand raised a Glock 27. Pow. A hole appeared in Hussan's head just forward of the top of his ear. Down he went. Peters was picked up and was in his car speeding out of town in nine seconds.

After Shane read the report, he turned to Vicky and Bob Lemke, who Vicky asked to attend the meeting. "I could not be more pleased with what you have done to fine tune the Odessa operation. We had no intel on this Modamman guy. CIA thinks that he must have been tipped off to who Peters is by an insider within the NATO staff. You still got him. Good job."

"Shane. Bob and I have something to tell you. We are getting married. So, I'm voiding section 122, subsection 7B." Shane got a big chagrinned grin on his face as he nodded his head up and down in resignation.

Bob inquired, "What is section 122, subsection 7B?"

Looking over her glasses at Shane, Vicky told Bob, "I'll tell you later, honey."

I'm Softly

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