Brittany's Travels Ch. 07

Brittany saw no other option, and did sit down. She thought about inviting Sarine to pull her panties off again, but decided against it. "Annie, look, I'm sorry the job didn't work out for you, but there's nothing I can do..."

"Oh yes there is." Annie cocked the pistol and went on. "I thought I could trust you to do it the first time, in Denver. You know, you wouldn't have had to go back to jail for very long, just a few months probably."

"Then you did botch up the job on purpose," Brittany seethed under her breath.

"Oh, yeah," Annie said. "Look, I'm sorry you'd have been caught up in it, but you wouldn't have been hit too hard, like I said. It was Angie who'd have really taken the fall. With any luck we'd have brought down the whole agency."

"So I was supposed to get caught with the money."

"Precisely," Annie went on. "Of course we knew Erika the dancer who used to be Brittany the soccer star could probably outrun anyone."

"What we didn't count on was you being such an effective slut," said Sarine, whatever her real name might be.

"I blame you for that, Sarine," Annie needled her. "You saw yourself how willing she was to use her body to complete a mission."

"But I never could have guessed our men would have fallen for it," Sarine said.

"Oh, give me a break!" Now Annie waved the gun at Sarine. "A young woman answers the door stark naked and you think they'll remain all business, Sarine?"

"With that much money at stake and the chance to destroy the agency?" Sarine said. "Come on, Annie!" Brittany almost felt forgotten as they argued, but she remained rooted to the couch. "And you might as well stop calling me Sarine now that you've let her know it's not my real name. She would probably find out anyway if she agreed to help us."

"And what if I didn't agree?" Brittany demanded.

"Then you're never leaving this room alive," Annie said. "In which case we might as well tell you her real name is Martine Zhuckette."

"You're Madame Zhuckette?" Brittany turned back to the older woman. "I even asked if you were her and you said I wouldn't be meeting her until much later."

"Well, here we are," Madame Zhuckette said. "Besides, you told me you were a rare book dealer."

"Knowing you knew damn well I wasn't," Brittany grumbled.

"Enough!" Annie said. "Brittany, I trust you see how high you've reached now that you've smoked out Madame Zhuckette, am I right?"

"Smoked out?!" Brittany couldn't help laughing, even after Annie pointed the gun at her again. "My only mission was to learn if Mansfield had any people on the ground here! You might as well tell me now, do you?"

"Might as well?" Annie laughed. "Nice try."

"You always were just a bit too brazen for your job, Brittany," Madame Zhuckette added.

"And that's why I brought down your entire branch?" Brittany couldn't resist.

"Enough!" Annie snapped. "Again! Brittany, you don't need to know who or what we've got here. What you do need to do is get your father out of the doghouse."

"Go ahead and shoot me, then!" Brittany smiled through her fear.

"She doesn't mean that," Madame Zhuckette said.

"I don't think she does either," Annie agreed. "You know, Brittany, with everything you know, you and your father would make a hell of a team."

"Definitely not interested," Brittany said, though she was curious about the father she hadn't seen since she was eight years old, having been just one step ahead of him back in Switzerland.

"Well, you're going to need a job if you live through the next couple of days," Annie said. "Because there's no way the agency will want you after what you're going to do if you don't want to die."

"You might as well tell me what that is," Brittany said. "I'm not saying I'll do it, but..."

"And I'm not saying I won't shoot you," Annie said. "But here's the deal. What you pulled in Switzerland cost your father a lot of credibility. His reputation's in tatters, even within the company!"

"You're lucky he was impressed with your escape," Madame Zhuckette added. "'That's my girl!', that's what he had to say about you slipping through our fingers. It's the only thing that kept us from firing the entire Galarde Farm team. He couldn't have fired me, of course, but that fool Claude and all the others..."

"It was you," Brittany said. "The night I spent at Galarde Farm, I heard someone come in and look at me..."

"I suspected you were not really sleeping," Madame Zhuckette said. "I was with your father outside the hotel as well, you know, on the border. He was frustrated, but impressed. And terribly sorry he didn't even get a look at you, you know. He admires you, Brittany."

"That's why he wants to give you a chance to help him back into the company's good graces," Annie said.

"I told you, if that's what I've got to do, just shoot me!" Brittany said.

"Enough of that macho nonsense," Annie said.

"Lou did tell us she was always a tomboy," Madame Zhuckette said.

"Whether I've got to kill you or not, I might as well tell you," Annie soldiered on, now waving the pistol carelessly about. "There's a shipment of 'rare books', if you will, that's come in with a shipment recently, disguised in boxes from a moving company. We're going to arrange to have them delivered tomorrow to some rich bastard just off Orchard Road, and you're going to pose as his mistress and sign for them."

"What's that got to do with my father?"

"Glad you asked, Brittany. If -- and I might as well tell you it's a pretty big if -- the cops haven't figured out what's really in those boxes, once you've signed for them and we're in the clear, your father will come to collect them. He's got plenty of buyers at the ready, but he needs to lie low."

"And I don't?" Brittany demanded.

"And we don't care if you get arrested," Madame Zhuckette interjected.

"Don't believe what you've heard about women not getting the cane here, either," Annie said with a smug grin. "But it beats having me shoot you right here, doesn't it?"

"Are you at least going to tell me about this gentleman whose mistress I'm supposed to be?"

Annie shook her head. Brittany recalled from her briefing that the Singaporean government was notorious for eavesdropping. "You're going to meet him tonight," she said, "At that same bar you enjoyed yourself at so much the other night." With that she turned and opened the closet door, and pulled out a hanger adorned with a leather skirt and a skimpy, frilly top. "Why don't you go ahead and slip into something more comfortable now?"

At least, Brittany reminded herself as she undressed at gunpoint, Madame Zhuckette had seen her naked already. Nevertheless, she didn't make eye contact with either of her captors as she set her dress on the couch. She reached for the hanger, but Annie shook her head. "Take it all off," she ordered.

"But you don't have any replacement underwear there," Brittany said.

"Exactly," Annie said.

The first telltale wisps of her bush were reappearing, but that didn't stop Madame Zhuckette from pointing and smirking once Brittany had her panties off. "I knew it, in that tiny bikini of yours," she said. "You must feel doubly naked."

Brittany didn't dignify her comment with an answer. No use in letting the old hag know she was absolutely right.

"Winnie's a genius with that sort of thing, isn't he?" Annie asked. "You should see what he did with mine."

Brittany set her jaw and looked past Annie as she put on the ridiculous outfit.

Nine hours of waiting in the dark bedroom, broken up only by a lunch of dumplings that Colin brought in from a nearby hawker center, at least had Brittany somewhat used to going commando by the time they ushered her outside. Nevertheless, she crossed her legs as tightly as she could as soon as she was settled in the back of the taxi that would take her back to Orchard Towers (the limousine having been ruled much too ostentatious for the occasion).

The driver kept quiet, having no doubt guessed why his scantily clad passenger was going to Orchard Towers, so Brittany was free to concentrate on keeping the photograph of Mr. Abbott fresh in her mind. Here as everywhere, Annie was aware of Brittany's reputation, and had explained to Madame Zhuckette that if she had enough time to look at the picture of the man she was to make contact with, they wouldn't have to risk sending her out with it. Brittany almost wished Annie had been wrong about that, but it was true: she could envision the man in the tux with a cleft in his chin and greying hair as clearly as if she still had the photo in her hand. His address was clear as day beneath his image, too.

All she did have in her hand was a clutch bag with $200 in cash. They hadn't even bothered with a fake ID, though Brittany had to admit she couldn't think of any reason why she would need one.

It would be ever so easy to run back to the Tanglin Club and talk her way in; she had long since learned to always make friends with hotel staff in case of a situation like this. Even if they wouldn't let her in, she could always track down the cops and tell them everything. Half a dozen times in the taxi ride she resolved to do one or the other, confident that Annie would never kill her because her father surely wouldn't approve. But that would mean running away from her mission, and who was to say Annie or Colin or Madame Zhuckette wouldn't track her down before she could get out of town? They literally knew where she lived, after all. And Brittany didn't trust the cops a bit.

Besides, she had an idea.

The country music was blaring as obnoxiously loud as ever when Brittany strolled into the bar. She made no effort to hide that she was looking for someone -- wasn't that what all the women in the bar were there for?

There was one thing she hadn't counted on, and that was being approached by another man before she'd made contact with Mr. Abbott. She spotted him sipping a beer at a table by the window and trying to brush off the overtures of another woman who was dressed a lot like Brittany, but she felt a tap on her shoulder before she could get his attention.

She turned to see a youngish Chinese-looking man in an Iron Maiden t-shirt, hands on his hips. "You one of Ganesh's ladies?" he demanded.

"What's it to you if I am?" Brittany had no idea who Ganesh was, but it wouldn't do to tip her hand on that point.

"We have an agreement, that's what. Every night my girls get the bars, his get the street. Tonight's my night in here."

Maybe it was time to spill after all. "I don't even know Ganesh, all right? Just trying to make a living here."

"You do that on my turf, I get my cut, understood?"

"Can I help it if your girls don't measure up?"

"I get my cut or you get cut, got it?"

Brittany unzipped her clutch and handed him half of the $200. "Will this get you off my back?"

"It will for now. But you get any customers, I want a word with you when you get back. Got that?"

Brittany nodded and turned back to approach Mr. Abbott, who still hadn't gotten rid of the other woman. But before she could reach him, another middle-aged man spun around on his bar stool and waved at her. "Hi there!" he said in an American accent.

Brittany smiled at him. His hair was a bit too dark and he was a bit heavier than Mr. Abbott, but he'd do the trick. "On vacation, are we?" she asked him.

"My god, you're American too?" he said. "How'd you end up in this place?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Brittany said, and she reasoned it was quite probably true. "I'm Erika. From...Boston." Close enough to the truth, she decided.

"Ken," the man said. "From Phoenix. So..." He helped himself to a lingering look up and down her body, undoubtedly taking note that she wasn't wearing a bra, just the sort of thing that would normally make her want to break his nose. But for the moment, it was perfect. "How much for the night?"

"Care to come outside with me and we'll discuss a price?" She rubbed his knee playfully.

Ken drank down the last of his beer faster than Brittany would have guessed was possible.

On the walk out to the escalator, Brittany chanced a quick look over her shoulder. The man who had accosted her before was busy lecturing a couple of his charges and she wasn't sure if he'd even seen them. Definitely he hadn't had a good look. Perfect.

The sidewalk outside was crowded, and Brittany got more than her share of looks -- she guessed there weren't too many white prostitutes in the neighborhood. Ken turned left and named the hotel where he was staying. Brittany thought she remembered seeing it from the taxi. They were halfway up the block before the crowd had thinned out enough for Ken to feel comfortable asking about the price again. "And I really would like to hear how you ended up here!" he added.

Brittany stopped and took his hand in both of hers. "Ken, listen," she said. "Can we make a deal? No more questions about my background or anything else, you don't tell anybody about this, and tonight's on me, okay?"

"Is this a trick?" Ken looked almost frightened, and Brittany couldn't really blame him.

"No," Brittany said. "It's...I just need someplace to hide for the night to get out of trouble."

He looked her up and down again.

"Want to frisk me, is that it?" Brittany asked, forcing a smile. "Look at me, where am I gonna hide a knife or a gun?"

"I certainly do want to frisk you," Ken said. "But not in public."

"Well, then..."

He took her hand and led her up the block and across the street to his hotel, which sported two Lamborghinis parked outside. "My taxi driver said people here buy those just to park along this street to show off," he said. "Can you imagine?"

"Not at all," lied Brittany, who had once hoped to buy a Ferrari once she became a soccer star.

As he guided her to the elevator and then upstairs, Brittany did her best to prepare for something ugly or bizarre. But once they were in his room, he proved to be more vanilla than she'd dared hope. "Now then, young lady," he said, "I believe you invited me to frisk you?"

"I'm yours!" She stood at the foot of the queen size bed, and let him pull her top off.

"Tsk tsk, no bra!" He helped himself to a feel of both of her breasts. His hands were a bit rough, but he was gentle as could be with them. "What have you got to say about that?"

"I'm not a horse, I don't need a harness?" She giggled, and he joined in.

"Never thought of that," Ken said. "They do look a little like harnesses, don't they?" He slid his hands down and around her back, and unzipped her skirt. As it slipped to the floor, she looked up to see him gaping at her in amazement.

"What's wrong, Ken? Never seen a bare pussy before?"

"Not on an adult woman," he said, reaching one hand out but stopping short of touching her. "I mean, I've heard a lot of women shave it nowadays..."

"It's waxed, not shaved," she said. "And it doesn't bite!" she added as his fingers were still lingering just short of her vulva.

"Good lord, doesn't that hurt?"

"Yes." Brittany saw no reason to sugarcoat it. "But it does feel nice and smooth once you're done. Go ahead, touch it!" But she wouldn't force him.

At last, he did. He smiled but said nothing, and Brittany felt his shy approach oddly refreshing. She let out a loud sigh of pleasure that was only partially feigned. "You have a nice touch, Ken," she said. Then she reached for his shirt buttons. "Can I help you out of your clothes?"

He nodded, but Brittany noticed tears in his eyes. "Ken, what's wrong?" she asked. "I really did mean it about no charge, you know."

"Yes, I do," he said. "Thank you, Erika. It's just...my wife died last fall. Long illness. I took this trip around the world to reward myself for surviving the nightmare, but there hasn't been anyone but her in thirty years, you know?"

"Oh, Ken..." Brittany wasn't at all convinced he was telling the truth, but she treaded lightly just in case he really was. "I'm sorry to hear that. If you don't want to do it..."

"Well, I didn't say that," he chuckled through his tears. "I guess just seeing you like this reminds me of how long I was out of circulation! But she'd have wanted me to get on with my life."

By picking up a hooker in a bar? But Brittany reminded herself that she was no saint either. "Can I help ease you back in, then?" she asked, placing her hands on his belt buckle.

"Please do!"

Ken was the oldest man Brittany had been with, but he wasn't in bad shape and he did have a wonderfully light touch. His gentle kisses and pleasant caresses let Brittany overlook that his body wasn't toned and hard. He was hard where it mattered most, but he went on kissing her breasts and rubbing all over her body far longer than most of the men she'd found herself with in her new life.

Brittany finally had to do something she couldn't even remember having to do before: tell the man she was ready. "I want you inside me!" she whispered. "Now!"

"Sorry!" Ken said. "Just nervous, I guess."

"Don't be!" Brittany kissed him gently, then lay back on the bed and spread her legs. "Come here!"

She'd never been with a man as old as Ken before. Almost immediately she found herself thinking that had been a mistake, for Ken was about as vanilla and gentle as could be. He hovered above her with a serene look on his face as he glided slowly in and out, and Brittany followed his lead by simply enjoying the sensation.

Simply, but vocally. With each pleasant thrust, her moans became more intense and she let a few more dirty words slip in here and there. Ken looked as amazed as she imagined a virgin would, to the point where she wondered if she ought to tone down the language. But Ken seemed to enjoy that as much as he enjoyed her body, so she didn't.

"I'm close!" she said after several delightfully intense minutes. "Faster! Make me come!"

"And me with you!" He grunted it out as if it were all one word, and he did follow her instructions, flailing away faster.

In no time Brittany felt the first joyous tickle, and she wrapped her legs around his and pulled him down on top of her as she came. "Ohhhh, so good!" she whispered in his ear as his body went rigid and she knew he'd come as well. "Ken, you're something else!" she said as he kissed her neck and slid off beside her. "I haven't had it like that in way too long!"

"Thank you," he said. Then he burst into tears.

"Ken!" Brittany propped herself up on her elbow and rubbed his side with her free hand. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

"Opposite, opposite!" he said. "I just...there's never been anyone but my wife, and she was so...well, I just miss her so much!"

"I can imagine," Brittany said. "But I'm sure she wants you to enjoy the rest of your life."

"No." Ken shook his head. "She was...let's just say, very pious. I was her only one, and she wanted me to be the same after she was gone. But I couldn't, I just couldn't!"

"Well, no disrespect to your wife, but that just isn't realistic," Brittany said. "We lose things in this life, and we've got to cope with those losses. It's not up to people who aren't even in our lives anymore to say what we can and can't do."

"Have you lost someone?"

"You could say that," Brittany said, not caring to explain that she loss was of her own life before Mansfield had framed her. "I know it's tough. But you've done nothing wrong, all right?"

"Thank you," he said. "You were...beautiful."

"You were, too, Ken." She kissed his cheek. "Now, listen, would you like me to spend the night?"

"If you wouldn't mind, Erika."

Joseph stuck his head in Angie's office door at late morning. "Any word?"

"Still nothing," Angie said. "I'm guessing she had to go someplace it was too risky to take her phone and she's been sucked into staying the night there."