Fighting Fit

The gasps suddenly turned to smothered laughs. Of course. Bec's only weakness, but one that nobody could get close enough to ever exploit. She dragged her fingertips across her abs, one finger momentarily settling into her navel. Bec's latest grunt was more of a suppressed giggle at the moment of contact. But Geena was done tickling. They were past the stage of teasing... but that didn't stop her from gently brushing Bec's little love button with the tip of her nose.

Geena raked her tongue against Bec's pussy in long, luxurious strokes. Bec grunted with every stroke, like she was a musical instrument being played by Geena. Bec folded her arms over her breasts and closed her thighs in on the sides of Geena's head.

The room got quiet as the damp, firm flesh of her legs closed over Geena's ears. All she could hear was the repetitive whoosh of blood running under the skin, like standing in a subway with trains rolling by on each side. It didn't really change anything Geena was doing, continuing to suck and lick at the little slit. Geena reached her arms around and held Bec's buttocks, which proved to be as firm and toned as they appeared in those workout shorts. Or any outfit into which she had ever poured that beautifully fit body.

A new layer of glistening sweat had formed on Bec. Clearly, Geena was doing something right. Bec sat up suddenly and put her hands on Geena's head, taking hold of her hair and rocking her head up and down, forcing Geena's tongue to do what she was already doing.

As Bec's grunts neared a crescendo, the words of Mrs. Pimpleworth appeared in her head.

"If she pulls your hair... it means that..."

That...

Bec howled, her legs shaking in the air on either side of Geena's head, in what was surely an advanced yoga pose. A few seconds later, Bec released her grip and went limp, taking deep breaths.

Geena climbed across Bec's body and brought her face back to hers, where they kissed a few more times, their wet, tangling tongues a smaller simulacrum of their bodies writhing against each other.

Not long after, they pair grew still, wrapped up in the other's limbs. The air conditioning evaporating the sweat off their flesh and cooling down their exhausted limbs. They were too tired to even shiver.

Bec managed to get one of her arms between them. She pushed Geena off her like a heavy blanket, Geena rolling off to her back next to her. Geena stared up at the ceiling and the inset lighting that kept the gym so bright.

A shadowy figure stood in the light, offering her a hand.

"C'mon." Bec said softly. "Let's hit the showers before someone catches us."

Geena accepted the hand and pulled herself up... but immediately fell back to her butt as her hand slipped out of Bec's. She let out some coughing laughs as Bec offered both hands this time and successfully brought Geena to her feet. They leaned on each other as they limped towards the showers.

--

The medical benefits of the post-workout ice bath were disputed. The soreness that accompanied strenuous exercise was evidently a necessary component of getting all the benefits thereof. It wasn't just the tired aphorism, 'no pain, no gain.'

Then again... after taking a bunch of lumps, in addition to working out harder than they ever had... this was probably the right time to employ it. Geena and Bec wore custom neoprene gloves and footwear to protect their extremities from the cold. Otherwise, there was nothing in the large stainless steel tub but ice, water and a bit of florid epsom salt.

One of the Institute's custodians entered the locker room, where the tub had been set up on the tile floor. He started a bit as he saw two women, clearly agents, tucked into the ice bath, one resting her head on the other's shoulders. They were nude, but nothing could be seen through the translucent layer of ice on top.

"Oops. Sorry." The custodian looked away, rolling his wheeled trash into the room to empty the under-sink trash. "I knocked and nobody said anything..."

He could hear both women breathing deeply as they stayed motionless in the cold water. They looked like they had a long workout. He was glad to see that they weren't asleep. He knew nothing about exercise, but sleeping in an ice bath probably wasn't a good idea.

"How come you're both in the same one?" He asked, perhaps impertinently. "Don't we have plenty of those things?"

Geena didn't open her eyes. She wondered how someone got a job as a custodian at a place like the Institute. Maybe he was REALLY good at it.

Bec lifted her head from Geena's shoulder, turning to face the custodian, doing her best to keep her bits under the water line.

"Ran out of ice." She said softly before resting her head back down like a sleepy seal.

The custodian emptied the trash cans and exited. The pair of exhausted agents were alone again.

Bec pushed up in the water, bringing her face up to Geena's level. Her eyes were still shut, but Bec pressed her lips into Geena's. Geena made a gentle whimper, taking in a breath of cold air before closing her lips against Bec's.

"Want to see if we can melt this ice?" Bec whispered.

Geena opened her eyes, and for the first time, saw something she didn't think ever happened.

Bec was smiling.

Not smirking. Smiling.

--

Geena didn't feel like she was flying.

Looking out the window, there was nothing but blackness but for the lights on the back of the wing. The times she had flown in the past, she was shocked at how perpetually loud the process was. Movies liked to lie and made the interior of a plane fuselage have the same ambient noise as a room with a window-mounted air conditioner.

In THIS plane, this luxurious and technologically advanced private jet, cutting through the night sky like a dart... it was even quieter. A low hum was all she could hear, soft enough that she could hear the ice tinkling softly in her glass.

Geena was leaning back in her lush leather chair, rolling her vodka sour in her hand, gently sipping it. This was the best vodka sour she'd ever had, and she was enjoying it miles in the air, as dispensed by a mysterious computer-controlled spigot in her table. She looked down to the closed mission file on the table in front of her. She had read it cover-to-cover. She knew everything she should expect in the field.

And yet, her mind was a churning storm of anxiety, roiling in her skull. The alcohol did nothing to calm herself, as her metabolism was too fast to actually allow her to be such a cheap date. Her stomach turned like the ocean miles beneath them, before the drink and after.

Geena stood from her seat, leaving the glass on the desk and walking to the bathroom at the back of the plane. She brushed her teeth in the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. She was dressed in her perfectly tailored satin green dress with deep cleavage and a slit up one leg. Her hair was down, for now, and she wasn't wearing stockings, but she looked like every bit the femme fatale she had worked so hard to become.

Geena lifted her arm and flexed. Her bicep bulged, the limited lighting in the bathroom painting shadows on the shapely muscle. She released the flex and her arm looked no different than that of any other lovely young woman. She was the Trojan horse, a lovely package with something dangerous hidden within.

She knew everything about this mission. She could anticipate possible contingencies, improvise effortlessly as the situation changed... or if it all went pear-shaped, she could just kill everyone.

On the wall near the doorway into the bathroom, visible in the mirror, there was a perfectly clipped and arranged wig of beautiful shiny auburn hair, mounted on a round cranium-shaped protuberance that was clearly designed for this exact purpose. It was almost at the height where a less aware person in dim lighting could mistake it for a person.

Geena stared into the faceless face of this rack for a moment, taking in a deep sigh.

She left the lavatory and moved up to the front of the aircraft. Where the pilot deck was, if there was any, Geena didn't know. The room closest to the nose that she could access was the master bedroom. A room as beautifully designed as any other on this plane, with wood accents, bronze lamps, and the centerpiece: a king-sized bed in the back of the room. It was the biggest bed that Geena had seen in years of living at the Institute.

And they'd stuck it in a damn PLANE.

Sleeping on the far side of the bed... was Bec. Her partner on this mission. On the other side, on the nightstand, there was a martini glass with a little bit of the spirit and the olive left at the bottom. Even on the smoothest flight she'd ever been on, Geena would not have chanced drinking anything out of a martini glass.

As with so many things, Bec had the confidence. Geena picked up the glass and sniffed it. Behind the booze, there was the sharp smell of vinegar. The 'olive' at the bottom wasn't an olive at all; it was the sliced end of a cornichon skewered with a metal cocktail stick.

Geena sipped the dredges of this cocktail, her lipstick mark to the right of Bec's.

She could learn to like this, she thought.

Geena set the glass down as gently and quietly as she could. She unzipped her dress from the back, slipped out of it, and brought herself under the covers. She slid against the satin sheets until she was right up against Bec.

Bec stirred, taking in a deep breath and rolling her shoulders. "Is it morning?" She whispered.

"No. We're still somewhere over the Atlantic."

Bec's chest swelled with another deep breath, as if she'd fall right back asleep. Geena wasn't so relaxed.

"I'm... a little worried about the mission." Geena confessed. To even admit to the weakness flew in the face of years of training: to bury it deep, to sublimate it and use it as more strength somehow, to ignore it and push it out by kicking the training dummy even harder.

Bec responded predictably. "There's nothing to worry about. They sent the best two agents they've got on this mission. They might as well just hand the codes over to us once we get off the plane and get it over with."

Geena was too anxious to even process the compliment Bec had just given her. "I wouldn't be worried if I was going alone." She said. "Not that I think I could do this on my own better than we can together. But... if I went alone, I'd either complete the mission or I'd be killed, captured, tortured, brainwashed... none of those results scare me. Maybe they should, but they don't."

Geena's hand crept around Bec's body. There were many lovely parts, either soft or firm, that it could choose to land on. But her hand wrapped around Bec's own hand. Despite being strong enough to rip a man's head off his shoulders, her hand was as soft as a rose petal.

"There used to be nothing more important to me than the mission. But now there is. The notion of losing you... scares me to death."

Bec freed her hand, rolled around and faced Geena. She slipped her arms around Geena and pulled her in close.

"Then... we'll have to keep on training and get even stronger... and watch each other's back... won't we?"

Bec kissed Geena on the lips.

If this was meant to calm Geena down, it didn't work. Her breath quickened into a rapid pant.

"Sorry. I'm hyperventilating again."

"I love it." Bec grinned, kissing her again. "They're like puppy kisses."

Bec's fingers danced across Geena's abs. Geena let out a few gasping laughs.

"I won't tell anyone you're ticklish if you don't tell anyone that I am." Bec moved her kisses down Geena's neck until her head landed merrily between Geena's breasts.

"I love your tanlines..." Bec cooed. "Makes me feel like I'm the only one getting to see 'em." Her tongue circled Geena's areola a few times before her lips closed upon the nipple, kissing and sucking it softly.

Geena tensed, the room growing warmer as Bec teased her nipples in turn. Maybe Geena should ask why she was so dismissive of her for so long, and if one satisfying workout session was really enough to move past that.

But... God, she didn't want her to stop.

Bec reached under her pillow and retrieved something from under it.

"Since you woke me up... let's get you familiar with some of the equipment I brought with me for this mission."

Under the covers, there was a click.

Following that, a persistent hum.

Geena bucked at the sudden sensation. "Did you get this from Props?"

"Nope, this one is all mine."

Bec held her hips against Geena's and pinned the device between them, holding it in place.

Geena's voice warbled a bit. "What... makes you think I'm not familiar with this?"

The buzzing sound amplified.

Geena gasped.

"You think you can go longer than me?" Bec smiled wickedly, that competitive edge not blunted any by their partnership.

Before long, the two agents felt the temperature in the room rising. Sweat beaded and trickled across their curves, as this air-conditioned bedroom felt as hot as a sauna.