Guardian Program Ch. 03

Note: tags are for the book and not individual chapters.

Warning: For those of you that started with chapter 01, you should go back and read the prologue. It won't affect the read of most of the book but it is the only way you will understand the ending. I highly recommend you take the time.

Guardian Program : Chapter 03

A novel by R.C.PeterGabriel : All rights reserved.

'Julie Thornton' awaited me just inside the airplane with a slight glint in her eye and a smile that was full-on TV hostess. I smiled in return and was forced to brush past her as she motioned me onward, but didn't get quite out of the way. Again, the hatch was sealed as we sat and in only a few moments the engines started to spool up and we began to taxi out of the hangar.

Julie/Sam sat across from me in the same pose as before and commented, "I'll see to your needs as soon as we reach altitude, Mr. Smith."

"You look as if you have a secret, Miss Thornton."

Her left eyebrow lifted only slightly, "Why Mr. Smith, I have no secrets at all, I'm here simply to see to your comforts on this flight, but Sam has several," she responded with a light chuckle.

Her good humor was infectious. "Ah, in that case, Julie, may I speak with Sam? I'd like to inquire as to the nature of her secrets."

"I'm not quite sure if you have the necessary clearance to know my secrets," Sam replied. "However, I'll make you a wager. Are you a betting man Mr. Smith?"

"I don't gamble for money if that answers your question, but I've been known to wager on other things, from time to time that is."

"Excellent, I'll challenge you. When Julie returns," we both grinned at the situation, "if you order breakfast, she will make it to order in less than four minutes.

When she does, I Sam, get to ask you any question I like that does not violate what you would consider a security risk. You must answer truthfully until the end of the flight. Deal?" she asked while holding out her hand for me to shake.

"Well Sam, that's not much of a bet, I gain nothing in return. I'll agree only on the condition that the questions Sam asks me are not answered in front of Julie, and I get to ask either of you a question for each of yours. Assuming you win that is. If Julie is not successful ..." I paused to think of something outrageous. "Mmmmm, I get to spank Julie, for as long as I wish or until we land."

Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. "Do you still wish to make a wager?"

I had to start laughing, as Sam continued to gape at me for almost a minute. When her mouth closed, she started staring at the galley. I could almost hear the gears turning as she contemplated the possibility of a loss. Finally, she took a deep breath and turned back to me. "I agree to the terms as long as a partial win, allows for the questions as if it were a full win."

My turn came to negotiate. "All right, but a partial win, is also a partial loss so while Sam asks her questions, she has to give me a foot massage, and I still get to spank Julie, but at a later date and with a safeword."

"A 'safe word'?" she asked while looking slightly concerned, and her voice began to rise in pitch. "Do you mean a safeword like those used for BDSM?"

"That is exactly what I mean."

"So, I could potentially 'safeword' after the first swat?"

"That's true, theoretically, but I doubt you would. Something tells me, both of you would enjoy it." It was my turn to extend my hand.

Sam paused for several moments then slowly took my hand and shook it.

Then I realized I had lost some time. We had been staring into each other's eyes and I had been rubbing my thumb across her knuckles, never having let go after the shake. Sam and I pulled our hands back at the same time, and 'Julie' stood up.

"Mr. Smith, I believe we're at altitude. Would you like some breakfast now?"

I accessed my briefcase and plugged it in, then turned back to Julie. "Yes, that would be great." Knowing that I am very predictable about food, I considered my options for the best outcome, "I'd like two eggs, scrambled with diced ham mixed in, two bacon strips, one piece of wheat toast cut diagonally, with margarine instead of real butter, a small side of fruit, bananas, and strawberries, a glass of both orange juice and milk." Julie had been grinning like a Cheshire cat the entire order until I continued with, "Oh yes, and could you slice up a star fruit also please?" Looking at my watch I added, "Go!"

She had enough good sportsmanship to realize she'd been duped, but not complain about it, and reached beside her and pressed the 'start' button on the microwave, then pushed the toast down and reached into the fridge for the fruit and margarine. Sam poked her head out a few times glared at me, then shook her head and retreated back into Julie. My toast popped up about twenty seconds after the microwave dinged, Julie smeared margarine on my toast, cut it diagonally, retrieved the bacon and eggs from the microwave, and arranged it all on a gold-gilded china plate. She then retrieved two, already filled, crystal glasses from the fridge, one orange juice, and one milk, and brought it all to the cabin's table saying, "Your breakfast is served, Sir." Complete with a flourishing hand gesture. "Unfortunately, the kitchen has informed me that we're out of fresh star fruit."

I knew she was within the allotted time, but checked my watch and stated the time as three minutes and ten seconds. It being my turn to grin like the Cheshire cat, I stood and walked the few feet to the table but didn't sit. Instead, I picked up a strawberry and the glass of milk, then held the strawberry before her mouth and just stood there until she took a bite.

I ate the remaining portion then moved to the couch, and sat down while kicking off my shoes. I sipped my milk while Sam slowly approached the couch. She glared with her eyes but wore a sardonic smile on her surprisingly kissable lips. Strange I hadn't noticed her lips before.

"Mr. Smith, I do believe you've played me," Sam stated as she sat on the opposite end of the couch, picked up both my feet and laid them across her lap, then proceeded to remove my socks while she continued glaring at me.

"No, I played the odds. I order the same food almost every time I eat breakfast out, so I assumed you knew what to fix. I could have ordered sweet and sour cheesecake, but I didn't want to win outright. I don't think you're quite ready for a one-hour spanking. Besides, I enjoy pleasing women, not demeaning them. I could have refrained from ordering the star fruit, but I'm really looking forward to both the foot massage and especially spanking you. Even if you do 'safe word' after one swat. This way, we both win."

She started to massage my feet, and I almost spilled my milk. She was good at it. I mean really good at it. I had to call a timeout, then quickly ran to the galley, chugged half the glass and set it down, then ran back to the couch and put my feet back in her lap.

"I take it that you're pleased, Mr. Smith."

"Sam, if Julie's personnel file had included her ability to give massages, I would most definitely have worded our wager differently. A full body massage would've been in my happy future."

"Well Mr. Smith, Julie tells me she enjoys being appreciated, and that perhaps under the right circumstances, she could be persuaded to provide those services."

"Where did she learn to massage like that?"

"One of my college boyfriends. He was a professional massage therapist and reflexologist. He decided to go back to school and become a physical therapist as well. Anyway, since Julie and I shared a room, he taught us both the arts of reflexology and massage. He claimed we were both naturals at it. I wasn't so sure, but I've never had a complaint."

"Your record is still untarnished, I have no complaints." I think I said that while wearing a sleepy smile, but I am quite sure my eyes had rolled back into my head.

Julie continued to massage my feet as Sam started her questioning. "Why did you leave your breakfast uneaten?"

"Because I don't care for microwaved food, and I wanted to get to the fun part of your investigation. Speaking of which, what are your mission's parameters?"

Her eyes raised from my feet to my face then made eye contact a moment later. When she finally answered she had her head cocked slightly to the side. "Okay, Mr. Smith I am going to tell you because, for some weird reason, I trust you. But by doing so, I could lose my job or at least my post and I must confess, I like my post." The last being said with her smile a tad crooked.

"I am to discreetly gather all available information on you, from all sources possible. Agency files of course, but former teachers, relatives, friends, business associates, basically your entire life. Locating your physical holdings was also prioritized. In short, I'm to research and profile you on an ongoing basis, you're my entire job. My turn, tell me something personal about yourself that Toni doesn't know."

She gave me a challenging look, but something else as well, I think it was hope. She was testing to see if I'd help her find any more pieces of the enigma puzzle she had.

"My first thought is to tell you the name of one of my businesses, but that would be a response for Julie and not Sam. I'm guessing you're looking for personal insight?"

"Yes," she replied simply.

I paused only briefly. "Before I met Toni, I used to participate in a lot of extreme sports."

Sam narrowed her eyes and interrupted me. "That's cheating, I already knew that, and I highly doubt that Toni doesn't."

I looked her in the eye and continued. "Yes, she does know, but not the reason... I was trying to kill myself in a way that wouldn't be suicide."

Her expression instantly changed to compassion, and then she reached over and gave my thigh a conciliatory squeeze. I'm sure if my feet hadn't been in her lap, she'd have hugged me. Then her expression changed again, as her psychology degree started to kick in.

"That was quite understandable. You were bullied or used most of your life, then you lose your wife at seventeen, only to find yourself a single parent, without any relatives to fall back on. I can't imagine how painful it must have been."

"It wasn't pain at first, I'd been grieving Shannon's loss for years before her death. It was anger. Anger at all of it. Eskrima was an outlet. I'd started fighting before her death, and she even saw a few bouts, but always stick fights, never blades. After she died, I felt compelled to seek out competitions where I could die. I even flew to the Philippines for most of them, leaving Jessie at a hotel. It was truly insane, but once I was about to fight, I always realized that Jessie would be left alone. I fought like the crazy man I was. It gave me an edge. I was only cut once in fifteen-blade fights. Although I knew the promoters probably killed my competitors when I refused, I didn't care. Most of them even kept half of my winnings when I wouldn't do it for them, and I still didn't care. It was never about the money."

I paused while meeting Sam's shocked eyes. "Is that personal enough for you?"

She picked up my feet and stood, then lowered them back where she had been sitting. Next, she did what I thought she was about to do earlier, she sat next to my hip and wrapped me in a hug.

I was somewhat surprised by her reaction and automatically wrapped my arms around her to hug her back. Then it struck me that no one but Jessie had ever tried to comfort me in this way, not even my mother. It made me hold her even tighter. I must have been crushing her but she didn't complain. I have no idea how long we held each other, but I finally realized I was going to have to let go first, so I loosened my grip in stages.

Sam did the same, only moments behind me until I had let my arms slide down her back. I ended up with one hand in my lap and one in hers. She ended up with one hand on my shoulder and the other dropped to her lap, and when our hands touched, it just seemed right to interlace our fingers. Her expression was reassuring and comfortable.

"Yes, Mr. Smith, I think that was personal enough," she said, while her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"Well then," I began, trying to shift the focus off me. "Tell me something you've neglected to tell the NSA."

"Hmmm, I could tell you something, like the fact that I've been holding back some of my discoveries about you until I was desperate to impress my boss but I think that would be something Julie would tell you," she teased. I had to smile at her obvious attempt to lighten the mood.

"Am I to assume that you were looking for something personal?"

"Yes," I replied simply.

"How about the fact that they think I have brown hair and green eyes?"

I squinted and interrupted her in mock irritation. "You're cheating Miss Thornton, I've read your personnel file and have seen your NSA ID photo, as well as your DMV photo, and they both state, hair-brown, eyes-green. I'm also looking at you and you seem to have brown hair and green eyes from here."

"As you might know, I was a thespian. The day I was recruited I'd been in a play and had been wearing a brown wig. I thought it ironic, how the governmental agency dedicated to getting past people's facades to find out their secrets didn't realize something so basic. So, I decided to keep up the charade.

"Almost the entire agency is made up of mathematicians, for signal monitoring, code-breaking, and hacking computers. They're way out of their league when it comes to the actual people they spy on. But, that's okay, because I know nothing about how computers actually work," she stated with a shrug.

"I have four different wigs of slightly different lengths and I trade them out about every two weeks. No one has ever noticed that my hair is actually blond."

She carefully pulled up the edge of her wig to show me a tuft of blond hair underneath. I was laughing by the time she finished.

"And the eyes?" I prompted.

"Contacts. They're tinted. I've always worn them because people tend to stare when I don't."

"I can see you're wearing contacts but they don't look tinted," I observed.

"That's because my eyes are halfway to being green to start with." She released my hand to remove a contact. When she had pulled the contact out of the way, I started gaping. I didn't even know eyes came in that color. They were obviously a mutation of some kind. The contacted eye was bright green, the naked one was a brilliant turquoise. She then pulled out the second contact and held them gingerly on the tips of two fingers.

"Why would you cover up those eyes?" I asked. "They're beautiful!"

"They'd be great as a screen actress. You know, make me unique like Elizabeth Taylor. But for someone trying to blend into a crowd, not so great." She let me continue to stare for a minute or so. "Do you really like them?"

"Yes, without a doubt," I replied honestly and started chuckling. "Are there any more physical traits you have managed to hide from your employers?"

She replaced the contacts, then reached down and pulled off one of her shoes, reached in, and pulled out an insole. I looked at it for a few seconds then realized she was showing me that she had been wearing lifts. I was full-on laughing now, and she was grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm only four feet eleven and a half inches tall," Sam admitted.

"The great finders of secrets," I said while spreading my arms in an all-encompassing gesture. "This is fantastic! Please tell me there's more."

She looked down at her chest before she could stop herself, then with shocked eyes and a little gasp, she looked back up to mine and realized I had seen her do it. She covered her face with both hands to try to hide the fact that she had turned ten shades of red in about two heartbeats.

"What?" I asked, "You have implants?"

"No," She mumbled "Imwearingawonderbra."

"Sorry, I couldn't quite make that out."

She let her hands drop back to her lap with a big sigh and repeated flatly. "I am wearing a Wonderbra."

"Can't be. I've seen a lot of cleavages, and ... I, um ..." I floundered.

Sam tried to cover her face again, but with only one hand, and looked at me from between her fingers. "You mean to tell me that none of the women in your life have worn a pushup?"

I raised both eyebrows and said, "What can I say? I like smaller breasts. None of my women have needed one." I followed up with a tiny shrug.

She sighed again, and while returning to a shade commonly known as 'beet red' she said, "I can't believe I'm doing this." As I watched, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, then tugged the tail out of her skirt and pulled it open revealing a very expensive-looking black lace bra.

"They look real to me," I stated and raised my hand, almost groping her before I stopped myself.

She pointed to the top of her right breast saying, "This is me ... and this is not," she continued while pointing to the lower lateral side of the same breast.

"Okay, but the question is, how much of each is there?" I gave her a challenging look and my best, crooked smirk.

"Oh, good God," she exclaimed while holding her arms out wide. "Go ahead."

Sam was looking everywhere but at me or her own chest as I reached for the front clasp on her bra. I pinched it loose with two fingers and let go. The bra popped open, flinging itself wide in a parody of her arms. I was rewarded with the sight of two very well-formed perfect B-cup breasts, with slightly raised areolae giving them a small illusion of pear shape. The nipples were distended and had been visibly poking at the fabric of the bra, but seemed to lengthen even more as I watched.

"I'd be lying if I said your breasts are anything but wonderful Sam. They're every bit as beautiful as your eyes, and I wouldn't change them, especially for me." I collected the two halves of her bra and re-clasped them, but Sam was forced to adjust herself.

"Well Mr. Smith, was that personal enough for you?" she asked with a somewhat embarrassed smile, and let her hands drop into her lap. When our hands met, she interlaced fingers with me again as if it were as natural as breathing.

"Sam, I think you can call me Robert from now on."

She gave a short gasp, and her expression changed from embarrassed to shocked. The next second she was wrapped around me again. This time she was the one squeezing, so I just held on and followed her lead. After two or three minutes, I realized she was quietly sobbing.

"Hay, Sam. It's okay," I started rubbing her back in little circles. "Why are you crying?" It took her a few moments to slowly ease back from me.

"Oh, Robert, I'm sorry. It's just that you never let anyone call you Robert, except for close friends anyway, and I've been wandering the globe searching for information on you for over four years. Since the day I left college, I've been mostly isolated socially. And having nothing on my mind but you in all this time, has probably given me a bit of an emotional bond with you, even if it's sort of a 'stalker, slash creeper' kind of thing. So, I guess the prospect of having a friend again, coupled with you being that friend, kind of ... well ... I overreacted, and I'm sorry."

She was searching my face for a reaction, while hope seemed obvious on hers. "Yes, Sam, I would enjoy being your friend, but only if I can be friends with Julie too."

She gave a kind of chuckle-sob, then sniffed and hugged me again, but it was brief and far less needy. When she broke the hug, we were both smiling, although her face was a little worse for wear.

"Well, I'll have to ask her first, but I think she kind of likes you. I mean the only things we've heard about you from the corporate world said you were a shrewd but honest businessman, who treats his employees with the respect they deserve. The people from your past all seem to fall into three categories, abusers, users, or admirers, although you did seem to have quite a few women whom I'd categorize as all three.