Amanda, CIA Agent Ch. 07

"One sharbat-e zaferoun, please," she said in Persian, ordering a popular Iranian drink made from basil seeds, sugar, saffron, and rose water.

"Make it two."

The voice came from behind her, and it coincided with the touch of a hand to her waist. She turned and came face to face with a striking young man. With his square jaw, green eyes, and bronze complexion, he was classically handsome. His wavy, jet-black hair was complemented by a luxuriant mustache and a small goatee. She knew him instantly.

Among her designated targets, Reza Ghaderi was one of the strongest prospects. As an engineer, he oversaw the conversion of uranium hexafluoride gas back to solid uranium metal, a critical step in the enrichment process. He was the only conference attendee whose office was on the same sub-network as the centrifuges. And as a single man, he was deemed more susceptible to seduction.

This was her opportunity.

"I'm Gabrielle." Boldly, she made full eye contact with him for a long moment, knowing that she was being extremely flirtatious. She felt her cheeks redden.

He held her gaze. "I'm Reza." When his eyes shifted, it was to sweep them over her body.

From her neck to her wrists and ankles, every inch of her was covered, and her loose-fitting garments revealed only a hint of the shape of her body. Yet she felt his scrutiny as though she were naked.

I'll find out soon enough whether he finds me attractive, she thought to herself.

"I've never seen you before. I'm sure I would remember." With his hand beneath her arm, he pulled her aside, then let his hand linger at the small of her back, shielding his inappropriate touching from view with his own body.

He handed her the drink she'd requested. "What university are you with?"

She looked left and right, and saw the other men nearby were absorbed in conversation. Across the room, Farwan was engaged in a spirited debate.

"I'm not a scientist. I'm married to Farwan Isfahani."

He smiled. "I attended Farwan's lecture last year. It was tedious. I'd have paid more attention if I'd known he had such a beautiful wife. How long are you married?"

She looked away. "Six days." Around her, the crowd stood elbow to elbow, waiting for drinks.

He smirked. "And already you flirt with strangers." He put his hand on her butt, rucking up the back of her manteau, splaying his fingers, gauging her firm roundness.

She resisted the impulse to squirm out of his grasp. This is what you wanted, she reminded herself.

But they were in public. People would see. She wanted to slap him and play the virtuous woman, but the fate of the entire mission hung in the balance.

Furthermore, she was no longer virtuous. Not by a long shot. She clamped her jaw shut.

He'd disposed of his drink, and now he relieved her of her own. They'd abandoned any pretense of conversation, and now they attracted glances from bystanders. Hopefully none of them had seen Reza's hand.

She leaned in and whispered in his ear. "We can stay here and tease each other, or we can go back to your room and you can fuck me until I can't walk."

He removed his hand from her bottom, and she quickly pulled down her manteau. He took her arm and began to pull her toward the exit, but she stopped him. "Tell me your room number. I'll meet you there."

He turned his head, saw two men watching him, and saw the wisdom in her suggestion. "Room 721."

When he'd gone, she recomposed herself, then scanned the room for Farwan. He hadn't strayed from his original location. Another scientist had joined him, and he continued to gesticulate, chopping the air as he made his point. He's oblivious, she thought, but still she detoured around him on her way to the exit.

When she reached Reza's room, he opened the door before she could knock, pulling her inside. As the door swung shut behind her, he was already pulling her manteau over her head, and she couldn't help grinning at his enthusiasm as she dropped her handbag and raised her arms. He yanked her cotton pants to her ankles, and she held his arm to pull them past her feet.

"Leave the shoes on," he said as he regarded her in her matching fuchsia bra and panties, and she smiled again, enjoying his attention. When she'd spotted them while shopping the day before, she had to have them. They were a European brand, one she hadn't worn before, but she was pleased with the fit and comfort. As to their sex appeal, Reza's reaction spoke for itself.

As he wrapped his arms around her from behind, she reminded herself of her objective. She spotted his laptop, open on the small desk, its power cord attached, a screen saver flickering over the display.

Sooner or later, he would have to go to the bathroom. It would take less than a minute to retrieve the flash drive, insert it, transfer the file, and return the drive to her handbag. Until then, she could enjoy herself.

Reza caressed her breasts through her bra, then sprung the catch and cupped her pliant mounds, capturing her hard nipples between his fingers. She moaned and turned her head, seeking his lips with her own, and he responded, pushing his tongue into her mouth.

He squeezed her breasts harder and pulled on her nipples, and she grasped his thumbs. "Don't leave marks." She didn't want to explain them to Farwan. No man wanted such an obvious reminder of his wife's infidelity, not even when she was a stand-in for the woman he loved.

Reza bent his neck to bring his mouth to her breast, and she sighed. It had been months since she'd felt such desire for a man, and longer since she'd enjoyed the ministrations of a generous lover. He nipped lightly at her nipple, and she thought, he may be young, but this man is no stranger to a woman's body. She felt a familiar stirring deep inside her belly.

He bit harder into the side of her breast, and she cried out. "No marks," she repeated, sure the impressions of his teeth in her flesh would be unmistakable, as she ran her fingers through his hair.

He threw her down on the bed and pounced on her, leaving a trail of bites down her body. "Farwan is old and feeble. He's a failed scientist and a poor teacher. He doesn't deserve such a woman."

As he peeled down her panties, she rolled her eyes. Reza was more skilled in bed than Farwan -- though that was a low bar -- and undoubtedly, he had a brighter future. But she suspected he considered her a trophy to lord over his peers.

He kissed her labia, then began to explore her with his tongue. She exhaled, letting him push her thighs further apart, and she whimpered as his finger slid inside her. He began a steady rhythm with the tip of his tongue, circling ever closer until he homed in on her clitoris. Using two fingers, he slid in and out of her.

Her climax came abruptly, and it was shattering. She wondered if it was his technique or her desire for him. The tension from her dangerous mission probably contributed.

Earlier, Reza had been very physical, easily lifting her to move her to the position he wanted, and when he climbed atop her, she expected his forcefulness to resume. As she spread her knees wide and lifted her thighs, she anticipated a battering, so she shifted herself away from the heavy wooden headboard and gripped a wad of the bedclothes in each hand.

However, she saw little of the desperation he'd shown earlier. Instead, he used care in penetrating her, and he moved his hips artfully, achieving a steady rhythm that spoke of restrained power. Sliding his hand between their bodies, he used his thumb to massage her clitoris. At intervals, he kissed her mouth, while still maintaining the cadence of his thrusts. Again, her tension began to build.

His own excitement also climbed, and his movements quickened. He struck the backs of her thighs with greater force, and the bedframe began to creak in time with their coupling. He bent his mouth to her breast, and when he raised up, he bit her lip. She raised her chin, and he bit the side of her neck.

She thrashed, and he grasped her throat. She put her palms to his chest, and he leaned forward, putting his full weight on her. Then his thrusts came rapidly, with force, and the headboard swayed until it struck the wall. As her climax approached, she contracted around him, and he slammed into her with all his strength. He brought a second hand to her throat, and as he tightened his grip, she found she couldn't breathe.

She reared up, and his arms bulged as he held her in place. He pummeled her relentlessly, and her mouth worked as she reached her peak, but the only sounds were the thumping of the headboard and Reza's loud groans as he spurted his seed into her belly.

Finally, he released her and sighed as he flopped onto the bed. She touched her throat, exploring the sore spots beneath her jaw, and imagined the incipient bruises. Lower down, she felt the indentations left by his incisors.

She touched his shoulder. "You can't choke me like that. I couldn't breathe."

With affection, he brushed her hair back from her forehead. "You can breathe now." He leaned over and kissed her.

She got up and visited the bathroom. When she returned, she expected him to get up, and she eyed her handbag, but instead he flipped on the TV. He changed the channel, and a recording of a World Cup match appeared. Italy was playing France in the championship game.

She'd enjoyed the sex with Reza. It was easily the best of her life. But despite the feelings that clouded her thinking as her eyes wandered over his naked, perfectly muscled body, she hadn't forgotten her objective.

Was he ever going to get up? Even if he didn't shower, it would take him at least a minute to pee, and that was all the time she needed.

Disappointingly, he seemed to be in no hurry. He watched the game closely, grumbling when the officials failed to call a penalty against Italy.

"You know that's a recording, right? Haven't you seen it before?"

He nodded without looking at her. "Three times." But he cheered for France as though the game was live.

She glanced at the clock and saw she'd been gone two hours. Farwan would be looking for her. She had to get back. With regret, she glanced at the depression she'd left in the pillow beside Reza, then began to dress.

When she went back to kiss him goodbye, she was sure he'd ask her to return tomorrow. He kissed her warmly but turned back to his game without a word.

She descended to the lobby, then walked out to the street. Using a nub of chalk from her handbag, she wrote a series of codes on the hidden side of a nearby post. Zero-five, to designate contact with Reza. One-three, to show that Mahmoud Azizi was also at the conference. Two-one, to signify a successful seduction. Three-one, to show she made it inside his room. Four-two, stating she made no attempt to place the worm on his laptop. Finally, five-nine, conveying her intention to make a second attempt with Reza.

Minutes later, she found Farwan at a banquet table, finishing his dessert. Beside him, her own food sat untouched. He scowled at her. "Where have you been?"

She didn't respond. She realized she was very hungry. She bit into her chicken kebab, then drank a few swallows of tea, which had grown as cold as her entrée. Minutes later, a waiter brought each of them a dish of faloodeh, a dessert consisting of vermicelli in a frozen syrup of sugar and rose water, but she didn't allow herself any.

On the far side of Farwan, the colleague with whom he'd been conversing excused himself and left. Amanda listened as Farwan attempted to resume an earlier discussion, but that man brushed him off. Apparently, her new husband was not as popular or well-connected as he claimed.

A short time later, they went back to their room. Amanda was keen to have a shower, and she hoped to slide into bed before Farwan spotted the bites and bruises marking her body. But before the door had swung closed, he had already grabbed her arm and begun haranguing her.

"I asked you where you were." He squeezed her arm until she grimaced.

"You don't get to ask me that."

He pushed her against the wall. "You're my wife. You'll do what I say. Now take that off." He slapped at her manteau with the back of his hand.

Her face darkened, and she leaned forward, thinking to challenge him, but she faltered when she saw the rage in his face. A moment later, her sense of reason returned, and she saw there was no profit in further antagonizing him. Open discord would only attract attention. Even if he was being childish, she needed to pacify him.

She pulled her manteau over her head.

"And the pants."

She slipped them past her hips and let them fall.

He pulled her away from the dim foyer and into the bright light of the bedroom. When he saw the trail of bites beginning at her hip, spiraling around her torso, disappearing beneath her bra before reemerging, leading up her neck to a matching pair of oblong bruises beneath her jaw, he squeezed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists.

Her training kicked in and she sank into a defensive stance, but immediately she realized kicks and punches were not her best response. Better to face him directly, standing upright, appearing vulnerable in her flirty bra and panties, and let him imagine he had the dominant role. Any blows this scrawny, nearsighted academic managed to land were likely to be ineffectual.

The bureau lay close at hand, and he surprised her by flinging a solid plastic air freshener at her, which deflected off her shoulder. Alerted, she ducked the TV remote he aimed at her head, then turned to take his pocket calculator between her shoulder blades. Screaming, he overturned her carryon, which disgorged her travel hair dryer. Bending down, he hefted it, measuring its weight, then took a step toward her.

The appliance was compact but powerful and heavy, and its polycarbonate housing was hard, with sharp edges. It could cause her serious injury. From such close range, he could hardly miss. Still animated by cold rage, he drew back his arm, and she flinched.

He aimed for her center mass, and he threw well, with surprising force, but she managed to bob to the side and pivot slightly. The dryer struck her a glancing blow, just below her collarbone, then hit the far wall, where the corner carved an inch-long diamond-shaped hole in the sheetrock.

She put her hand to her chest, just above her left breast, and her fingers came back bloody. The wound hurt, but she knew already it was not long or deep. She pressed the heel of her hand against it.

The sight of her blood extinguished his anger, but when he approached, she stepped back warily. He held up his palms, then encircled her hips, pulling her in. Still skittish, she brought her elbows together, ready to protect her face with her hands, but he squeezed her shoulders, then stroked her hair.

He rubbed her back for a moment, but just as she expected, his affectionate impulse was short-lived, and a moment later he popped the catch on the backstrap of her bra and slipped his hands beneath the cups to greedily fondle her breasts, driven by his own urges with no regard for her comfort or pleasure. He showed no remorse for his aggression and took no further notice of her injury.

Reza had not spared her breasts, and soon Farwan's careless handling had them throbbing. Gently but insistently, she brushed his hands away until he sighed and dropped them to his sides. She inched back, corralled by the nightstand and the long edge of the bed.

He swept his gaze up and down, letting his eyes settle at the junction of her thighs. "Pull down your panties." He licked his lips.

She slipped her thumbs inside the elastic, drawing the waistband over her hips, pushing it lower until she dragged the center gusset down, then released the waistband just above mid-thigh, knowing from his expression she was showing him what he wanted to see.

His eyes lingered a long moment, and he sucked his teeth. "All the way down."

She pushed them past her knees, letting them fall to the carpet.

He pointed at the bed, then unhitched his belt and dropped his pants and boxers.

She climbed onto the bed and rolled onto her back, her legs crossed demurely, one arm across her breasts.

She watched as he moved to the foot of the bed. It had been nearly a week since she first laid naked in his bed, and she'd lost count of the number of times he'd made her remove her clothes, but he still looked at her body as if it were the first time.

So much for the real Gabrielle, she thought. The poor woman's body would never hold a candle to her own, even after her diet had trimmed five pounds from her own already svelte frame. However, she reminded herself of the difference between love and desire. She knew Farwan would never care for her as a person, no matter how badly he wanted to fuck her.

Dropping his shirt, he held his erection. "Show me."

She rolled her eyes, then drew up her knees and moved her feet apart, lifting her arm from her breasts.

He worked his hard cock with his hand. "Open wider."

She sighed, but slid her feet further apart, opening her thighs as far as possible. Before he could command her, she wet her fingers, ran her hand down her belly, and slipped her middle finger into her pussy. She adjusted the pillow behind her head, then began to rub her clit with her other hand. Opening her eyes wide and fluttering her eyelashes, she pouted at him through her open knees.

His body trembled as he stared intently at her pussy, and she thought he would cum right there, but a moment later he surprised her, moving around to the side of the bed and hopping up. She saw his face was flushed and his upper lip was damp. He reached out to seize her breasts, and she stifled a groan as he roughly twisted her sore nipples, oblivious to her discomfort.

A moment later, he released her, then swung his knee over her chest and leaned forward to put the head of his cock to her lips. With her head on her pillow and her arms pinned to her sides, she felt vulnerable, but when she clamped her jaw shut, he slapped her cheek. She looked up at his face and saw not fury, but the impatience of a man denied the submissive compliance to which he felt entitled as a husband. It reminded her of her training on showing proper deference to patriarchal Mideast cultures.

Reluctantly, she opened her mouth. He thrust his hips forward, distending her cheek, then laced his fingers through her hair and adjusted the angle of her head. His next thrust brought his tip to the back of her mouth, and as she coughed around the sides of his dick, she thought, good thing he's not any bigger.

He began the frenetic thrusting with which she was by now familiar, bumping the base of his cock against her lips each time, and she felt her saliva accumulating. But she knew he had a short fuse, and she fought against the urge to cough, not wanting to prolong the experience or further tax his patience by trying to make him pull out. She also knew that, from his position astride her shoulders, gripping her hair, he had the upper hand.

Thankfully, after another minute, she heard him inhale sharply as globs of his semen spattered her throat, and after that she only had to stifle her coughing for a short time before he withdrew from her mouth. She rose and went into the bathroom.

When she returned, he was asleep. Relieved, she found her panties and curled up at the opposite edge of the bed.

The next morning, Farwan left early to attend a lecture. Amanda felt well-rested, as she was finally becoming accustomed to local time. She enjoyed a room service breakfast of sheermal, a sweet pastry bread, of which she ate only a few bites, and a pot of tea. Then she had a leisurely shower, reveling in a rare taste of complete privacy.

At late morning, she went out, and as she passed the post outside her hotel, she saw an answering message. Zero-four, ordering her to seduce Mahmoud Azizi.