Models and Super Spies Ch. 11

"GAH!!" a man cried, somewhere in the distance. Somewhere above her, beyond her shut eyelids. Her pussy filled with liquid fire. The cum of another man erupted again and again into her. Her vision pulsed red with each deposit. A red strobe. A red ring. Ring. Ring.

"What the fuck is it?" she heard Vince's harsh voice ask.

Alicia opened her eyes, confused. Blinking back the sweat and tears. The overflow of emotion. He was still inside her, his cock still hard as steel. Naked, he held the phone to his ear. God, he was sexy.

"You're kidding me!" Alicia could see him grind his teeth. The old Vince was definitely back. He yanked his cock out of her like he was suddenly disgusted. "Fuck. OK, I'm coming down there. Don't touch a goddamn thing."

"What?" she asked meekly as he flipped his phone shut.

"A hiccup, that's all. But I need to go." His voice was once again soft, but she wasn't buying it. Not with those hard eyes. "Stay here for the night. I'll try to make it back by morning but…" He shook his head. He wasn't coming back by the morning. Something had gone horribly wrong.

"OK, I'll… I'll be here."

He bent down to kiss her. She wanted to pull away for a moment, but knew not to. Suddenly, it was only fear she felt. Not passion. He frightened her, just as he'd always frightened her at the end. "Thanks for tonight. It was more than I could have imagined."

He was gone not five minutes before she went for her purse and downed two blue painkillers. She cried herself to sleep.

***

Erin Small locked the heavy oak doors that led into her two-floor private suite, aboard the Solstice. The smell of fresh paint and new construction greeted her. The attractive 37-year-old paused just inside the doors, admiring her latest and greatest achievement.

The first floor of the suite – or luxury "cabin," she guessed was the correct, nautical term – would have felt right at home in the most affluent sections of the Titanic. Brass fixtures and polished mahogany dominated the 1500 square-foot space. The entire back wall curved along the contours of the ship's hull, formed out of floor-to-ceiling glass. It would afford a majestic view of the ocean, high up on the bow.

The center of the room was dominated by a ring of plush, white sofas and a large, crystal chandelier that would provide most of the lighting in the evenings and late nights. A bar lined the left wall, and floating staircase walked up the left.

Erin's vivid imagination filled the room with the laughter of her most exclusive guests. She imagined her suite to be the most private of private parties. Beautiful men and women lounging on the sofas or chatting near the panoramic windows. In her ears, the casual chit-chat turned to the satisfied sighs and moans of those same beautiful people doing what they do best.

The grand opening, the summer's solstice, would be so much fun. She hadn't had a good orgy in a while.

But right now, she had other matters to attend to. She shook her head and moved gracefully across the room to the stairs. Her heels click-clacked on the rich wooden risers as she ascended into her bedroom, which by design had no doors.

This was the highest point of the entire ship. The floor-to-ceiling windows extended 360 degrees around the room. Docked and dark, Erin could see the lights of LA in the distance, and it was just as beautiful as she'd imagined. During the opening, the lights of the ship would only add to the magic.

Unlike the suite below, the center of the space was roomed off, although at Erin's insistence, she'd used horizontal, wooden blinds for the partitions, so she could lie in bed and still be able to see out the windows. Right now, the blinds were closed, which served her current purposes well.

Using an encrypted keycard, Erin Small entered the inner most sanctuary of the vessel: her bedroom. Most of the room was just that, a king-sized bed made-up in rich, black sheets – the highest thread-count money could buy. Moving quickly now, as though time suddenly was of the essence, she moved to the nightstand to the left of the bed.

She used the keycard again, the lock disengaged with a high-pitched beep and click. Within wasn't her light reading material, or her collection of toys, or her cache of illegal drugs. All of that was on the other side. No, within this drawer was something so much more important. The fail safe server, which she'd hoped not to have to use.

Gabrielle Dubois had come to her earlier that evening. "Vincent is acting strange. I think that he's up to something tonight." It was all she'd said, but it was enough. Erin had suspected Vincent Silva of something for the past few weeks, but couldn't quite put her finger on what.

Two hours later, the news of the raid on the Green Fairy Lounge had come in. It was the FBI doing the raiding, which Vincent had been warning her about for months, but something didn't quite add up. She checked the tapes prior to the raids, recognizing two of Vincent's agents on the premises.

And that's what had brought her here. The agents who she knew by the names of Trenton and Elizabeth Dean (although the woman now had red hair, she'd never forget such a stunning body) had fled, along with Alexander Mishin, of all people, but she knew that the integrity of that portion of her database was in jeopardy.

Inside the nightstand, left of the king size bed, was a very basic computer console. The screen was small, about as large as the recessed keyboard below it.

As the nightstand slid open, the computer whirred to life. Red light illuminated each of the keys, bathing the dark bed-chamber in soft scarlet. A blinking cursor on the monitor flicked on, flashing quickly, in time with her racing heart.

She hesitated. Entering the password would bring all three databases together, for the first time in its four years of existence. Some of the most damning evidence the world has ever seen would be collected in one place, and the servers they'd previously resided on would be wiped clean. It was going to be a pain in the ass to get it all back into a secure state, but she knew as it stood at that moment, it was far from secure.

She was the only one who knew the password, and no one would be accessing it without that password. And to even attempt to do that, they'd have to gain access to this room. So it was pretty safe, she told herself.

Her fingers shook a little as she reached out for the keyboard. "Do it," she hissed, calling to mind the image of Vincent Silva on the scene at the Green Fairy, lifting the server out of its hidden spot in the antique decanter. That was all the motivation she needed.

F-A-N-T-A, she punched in before pausing. Someone was trying to betray her. The FBI's raid was proof enough of that. If not Vincent, then who? Surely not Gabrielle Dubois, the supermodel whom she'd given everything for. Vincent would have her believe it was Alexander Mishin, although even now she was having trouble believing it was the hapless playboy.

One thing she was sure of, though. Whoever it was would be making their move in two nights. At her party to end all parties. The longest day of the year. The Solstice's grand opening. She'd be prepared, but first, she needed to be secure.

5-I-A, she completed – fanta5ia. She'd created a world to her liking, and no one was going to take that away from her.

The computer beeped twice, rapidly, then went blank. Erin's heart froze for a moment, worried that something had gone wrong. Then the progress bar appeared across the monitor, swiftly moving from left to right. The parts were being gathered, her data was being secured.

She breathed easier, flopping back onto the bed as the drawer of the console closed automatically. "And I thought all the excitement in here would be in two days!" she laughed to herself.

On the ceiling was a mirror, reflecting her dazzling self. It reminded her what this bed was intended for, and that it wasn't yet christened. Time to do something about that, she laughed, rolling over to the phone. Good thing Gabrielle was only a few hundred yards away…