Sapphire Washington: Femme Fatale

The Adventures of Sapphire Washington, secret agent, femme fatale, martini-drinker and wearer of red, snakeskin stilettos.

He's been instructed to meet her in the basement of a fashionably tasteful Soho bar by Commanding Officer 101156 at MI6 Headquarters, whose operatives have reserved a discreet booth for two in the name of Abel Gomez. This is not his realy name, but merely the latest identity he has taken on, after a recently deceased Columbian miner who perished in a mine-shaft accident 40 miles outside Bogota. Nobody knows what his real name is. He burnt his birth certificate when graduating from the secretly-located School of Espionage at which he undertook his initial training. He sits at the booth, caressing the stem of his cocktail glass and savouring his Between the Sheets, both a drink and a place that made him feel perfectly at home.

He's never met Sapphire Washington, although any agent worth his salt knows that she is quite the formidable opponent. He's quite agitated, because she's already a half hour late; the bar is getting crowded and he thinks he may have gone to the wrong place. Being an agent does not guarantee good urban navigational skills. Those were the introductory words he remembered his tutor, Professor 186552 uttering on his first day as a freshman. He panicked for a moment as he realised that he could not contact HQ; they had chosen the venue partly because of the fact that no signal could penetrate its blast-proof walls. He was just about to give up and call it day, when he spied a pair of long, fish-net stockinged legs sashaying their way down the overhead staircase, the sound of her arrival heralded by the unmistakable clatter of red, snakeskin heels against steel.

He looked into the mirror facing him, directly opposite the staircase and had a moment to size her up before she got to him. She had jet black, bobbed hair, not a strand out of place (could it be a wig?), razor-sharp cheekbones and a matte red lipstick that could stop traffic from a mile away. He nodded to himself approvingly. It always made these dangerous missions that much more bearable when the enemy personnel were easy on the eye. She swung around into full view now and he could see that she was dressed as if on her way to a 1920's themed evening. Her black flapper dress dropped to just above her knees, the thin silk clinging for dear life to every mound and crevice of her perfectly formed body. Artfully draped around her smooth, porcelain shoulders was an ostrich feather wrap. She carried a lit cigarette in her right hand, encased in an antique ebony holder; no trifling legal restriction was going to get in the way of her daily pleasures.

She slid onto the leather banquette opposite him without a moment's hesitation, whilst at the same time catching the waiter's eye.

"A bone dry martini, Sipsmith, three olives".

The moustachioed waiter nodded and disappeared behind the bar to carry out his instructions.

She extinguished her Sobranie cigarette in the bowl of nuts which Gomez had absent-mindedly emptied and looked him directly in the eye.

"Do you have the target package?"

Gomez nodded, feeling the underside of the table to make sure that the package was still attached, as per HQ's instructions.

Sapphire leaned back and took a moment to appraise her adversary. He seemed to comply with all the requirements she had of her fellow agents: broad shoulders, a firm chest, coarse dark hair slicked back from his face, piercing blue eyes. He was definitely a cut above the usual specimens sent to test her skills. She slid her right foot out of its snakeskin shoe and rested it on Gomez's crotch. He froze momentarily, before realising what was going on.

"I like to check out the target package myself before picking it up. To make sure it's fit for purpose." She smiled as she felt some movement beneath her toes.

Gomez swallowed audibly just as the waiter arrived with the martini. He deposited the frosted glass on a white napkin in front of her. She picked up the olive-encrusted toothpick and proceeded to slide it suggestively between her full, crimson lips, whilst gently sliding her stockinged foot up and down Gomez's now burgeoning package.

Sapphire looked at him mischievously. "I think it's extremely fit for purpose. But in order to fully test its functionality, I need unimpeded access. Follow me Gomez."

She took a large sip of her martini, stood up and began to make her way towards a staircase in the corner of the candle-lit room. Gomez stood up to follow, holding his hands out in front of him to conceal his embarrassment. He stood hesitatingly by the table for a moment, unsure of what to do, until she swung around and said, "It'll be fine. The package is safe." The waiter nodded at her as she started to make her way down the staircase, Gomez following closely behind. On reaching the bottom, she turned sharply to the right and then disappeared through an unmarked door. He looked around to make sure he had not been followed and then pushed against the weighted door.

Inside it was pitch black, except for the illuminated end of a cigarette. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out that they were in a storage room of some kind, with rows of freshly laundered towels lining the shelves. The door slammed shut and the last of the light was extinguished with it.

"Now then, let me inspect the goods", she said, exhaling a large ring of smoke in his direction. Gomez raced through all the health and safety implications of someone smoking in a basement linen store in his head, but before he had a chance to object, he felt a hand expertly undo the button on his suit pants, pull down the fly and reach inside in what was barely more than one deft movement.

"She's good", thought Gomez to himself, hoping that mind-reading wasn't another one of Sapphire's unique skills.

Her hand began to move slowly up and down Gomez's newly unleashed erection, sending bolts of pleasure down his every nerve-ending. He gasped as she squeezed gently on the upward motion, causing a drop of semen to ooze out onto her finger. Now that he had adjusted to the lack of light, he could just about make out her face, as she lifted the finger towards her mouth and sucked it clean.

She continued stroking him, gently but firmly, pausing occasionally to caress the underside of his scrotum. He moaned with pleasure, now oblivious to his surroundings, knowing only that he was about to reach the point of no return. Recognising this, her movements began to increase in speed and intensity, until she could feel the familiar welling up between her fingers and seconds later, letting out an unrestrained groan of pleasure, he came with a fury he had never before experienced. His semen shot into the air as if it had been fired from a cannon and landed on her freshly manicured hands. She reached out for one of the fluffy, white towels, wiped her hands on it and dropped it to the floor.

"I think it's safe to say that the target package delivers what it promises."

And with those words, she turned around, cigarette still in hand, opened the door and left Gomez leaning against a shelf, lost for words and not entirely sure what had just happened to him.