Spy Games Ch. 05

"If you really want to pleasure a woman, give her what she wants."

That was Mrs. B's golden rule. She quoted some version of "... give her what she wants..." almost every day.

What does Jasmine want? Obviously not me. If she did, she would have told me by now. She's certainly not shy about expressing her opinion. If Jasmine wanted me to fuck her, she would have already done so... many times... in many positions.

But that doesn't mean I can't have her. All I've got to do is figure out what I've got that she wants and make a trade. And, thanks to Mrs. B's training, all the girls I've bedded so far have wanted a repeat performance.

So, all I've got to do is find her Achilles heel. What does she want so badly that she'll condescend to sleeping with her semi-trained wine lackey to get it?

"Does what you're doing bother you?" I asked Jasmine the next evening. She had just talked two complete strangers into sharing a bottle of wine. They were sitting three bar stools apart when she started and, after she performed her magic, they were on a second bottle discussing who's bed they would be sharing that night.

"What? Remorse for making people fall in love. Even if it's only for a night."

"No. That part is great. You're like cupid with a corkscrew. You hook up more people than most dating services."

"Don't overlook a healthy profit for the restaurant in the process."

"Yeah, that too. But you go home alone every night. Don't you secretly want to switch positions at least once. Be the person that gets shot in the ass with the love arrow instead of the miniature bowman with wings?"

"Are you worried about my love life?" she asked. "Because I could ask the same question of you. I don't know what you do when not learning from the font of sommelier knowledge, but I've yet to hear your bed squeaking when I come home at night and..."

She stopped talking in mid-sentence, wrinkled her brow and momentarily closed her eyes before she continued.

"I'm sorry. For a so-called people expert how can I be so dense. You were talking about yourself."

"Well, not exact..."

"Don't be embarrassed. I've seen the way you look at the waitresses and female customers. You're so desperate for love, you even give me a glance now and then. Don't worry, it's nothing to be ashamed about. Perfectly normal for a boy your age."

"I wouldn't call looking at you an act of desperation..."

"You're so kind. But let's get back to the problem at hand. You obviously don't know this, but a boy with your looks can have his pick of the harem. With my help, you can go home with just about any waitress in the restaurant. I know that for a fact because several have asked about you. And if it is a particular customer who's captured your eye, we can probably arrange that as well."

"You're saying you can hook me up with any lady in the building?"

"Of course, I can. You've seen me in action. But there is a catch. You may not have meant it, but you were right. I do get lonely at night, and you can help rectify that."

"Anything," I said. "Tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen."

"I want to fuck your boss."

Shit. Not quite where I thought this was going.

"You want to sleep with Mrs. Bancroft?"

"Do you have another boss I don't know about?"

"No. Just Mrs. B."

"Good. Then it's settled. Once you get me into Mrs. B's nighty, I'll get you the girl of your dreams."

"Any woman in the building?"

"That's what I said."

***

Because of Jasmine's odd schedule, she and Mrs. B rarely saw each other. Jasmine usually didn't get home from work until well after midnight -- when Mrs. B was sound asleep -- and woke well after Mrs. B left for her office. I was the common denominator, the only one who routinely conversed with both women. It appeared my goal for the month was to get these two strong willed women in the same bed at least once before Jasmine was replaced with the next girl.

But how do you convince your seemingly straight boss to lick the clit of a woman she barely knew?

"Absolutely not," Mrs. B said when she heard my plan.

"Is that a 'no way in hell' absolutely not, or a 'starting point for negotiations' absolutely not?" I asked.

"Consider it a 'I'll kick you out of the house and let you starve if you ask again' absolutely not".

***

"I've got Monday off," Jasmine told me the next morning. "How are the negotiations with your boss going?"

"I'm still ironing out a few details," I said, "but Monday should be good."

***

Honoring her agreement to eat there twice a week, Mrs. B took me to Jasmine's restaurant for dinner that night.

"You do find her attractive, don't you?" I asked Mrs. B when Jasmine passed our table.

"I told you not to bring it up," she said.

"Oh, no ma'am. I'm not suggesting you sleep with her. I just want to know what other boundaries I shouldn't cross. Suppose an absolutely gorgeous woman asks me about you? Should I tell her you're not into women? Or would you be open to the idea if the right opportunity presents?"

"I imagine your idea of the perfect woman and mine are completely different."

"Does that mean you don't think she's attractive?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

Mrs. B looked around the room to ensure nobody was within earshot and then lowered her voice.

"Yes. I think Jasmine is attractive. There's a good chance that every man and several of the women in the room would love to share their bed with her tonight. But that is something I have never done and don't plan to any time in the near future. End of discussion."

I put Mrs. B into a cab after dinner and then returned to the restaurant for my two-hour shift with Jasmine.

"Your boss seemed kind of tense tonight," Jasmine said during a break.

"Yeah. She gets that way when she's had a bad day at the office."

"So, we're still on for Monday?"

"Absolutely. She's looking forward to it. Nothing like a romp between the sheets with a beautiful woman to bring the stress level down a few notches."

***

Mrs. B and I had dinner at home the next night. I cooked a fish dish that she particularly liked.

"You can thank yourself for tonight's dinner," I said.

"Why's that? I didn't step foot in the kitchen."

"No, but you hired Gertrude."

"What does me hiring Gertrude have to do with tonight's dinner?"

"You made me seduce a fat girl, something I'd never done before and probably never would if you hadn't insisted. And look at the result. Not only did I enjoy the experience, I also got a killer baked cod recipe."

"Are you suggesting that me sleeping with Jasmine would have a similar result?"

"Oh, no ma'am. That topic is taboo. I'm just making conversation."

***

That Friday evening, Jasmine and I served a table of three women who were celebrating a recent divorce. As usual, my job was to hold a tray and be silent while Jasmine did her thing. By the end of the meal, all three women had sworn off men for life.

"... although I'd do that young stud holding the tray..." one of them said.

Jasmine's wine sampling tricks worked equally well with the trio of tipsy divorces as they did with couples. After the second bottle, all three ladies were swapping spit and letting the entire restaurant know what they planned to do to each other "once I get her cute little bum in my bed."

"Those gals made me so horny I could screw a rusty doorknob," Jasmine said once we poured the ladies into a cab. "You'd better have your boss warmed up and ready to go Monday night. Because if you don't, I'll bite your dick off and use it on her myself."

***

Not wanting to deal with "the Jasmine issue", Mrs. B took me to a quiet little French restaurant for dinner Sunday night. We each chose our meals and then I ordered a Malbec from the Garonne Valley in South-West France.

"Impressive," Mrs. B said after tasting her wine. "At least you've learned something from our temporary housemate."

"Thanks. I'm far from an expert, but I know enough to no longer embarrass myself."

We continued to sip our wine and talk about what we had planned for the following week when I finally found a way to steer the conversation towards the subject I was supposed to avoid.

"Do you remember the event that led to you hiring Jasmine?" I asked.

"Vaguely. Something about a girl asking you to pick out a wine for her."

"Yeah. Her name was Lucille. She was the first girl I picked up in a bar."

"Didn't you end up spending the night with her?"

"I did. With her and her roommate."

"Ah yes. Your first ménage � trois. If I remember right, it didn't turn out quite like you expected."

"Are you talking about the part where I broke their furniture or when I almost killed one of them?"

"I'd forgotten about that part."

"Did you also forget your promise to help me with my next adventure into a threesome?"

The waitress interrupted our conversation when she brought our meals. I knew better than asking the question again. We finished our dinners without any further discussion of Jasmine's desire to bed Mrs. B and took the tube home.

I spent the rest of the evening studying the specifications of a new video surveillance system, trying to find the quickest way to defeat it. I went to bed just after 10:00 but lay awake, contemplating the best way to tell Jasmine that I'd failed her.

Mrs. B came in my bedroom a few minutes before 11:00, sat on the side of my bed and kissed my forehead... like Mom used to do.

"I'll do it. Just once. And you have to be present the entire time."

***

I left for the rifle range before Jasmine got out of bed that Monday morning... the Monday that Jasmine had been talking about all week and I was half dreading. Despite the possibility of fucking both Jasmine and Mrs. B at the same time, plus the chance to see them fuck each other, there was also Jasmine's threat to do me bodily harm if things didn't go as she wished. No telling what Mrs. B would do to me if the evening turned into the disaster it most likely would.

I had three hours off between the firearms training and my unarmed combat session. Those were the two internships that never ended.

"Your dick might get you in the door, but you may have to fight your way out," Mrs. B always said when I complained about the exhausting sessions with the SAS.

Instead of eating lunch with the British special ops guys and marveling at their stories like I usually did, I took a trip downtown to pick up some props for the evening.

A quick stop at the local grocery got me back home a few minutes after 5:00. Just enough time to cook dinner before the boss got home. Jasmine helped herself to a bottle of Chablis from Mrs. B's cellar and shared it with me as I prepared the meal.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Jasmine asked. "Is Mrs. B going to crawl under the table and lick my clit while you serve me dinner, or am I supposed to seduce her? Sit next to her while she's watching the telly and slowly remove her blouse? Or maybe I just lay a big wet kiss on her lips and command her to follow me upstairs."

"If there is a plan, I don't know it," I lied. "My advice is to not say anything and let her make the first move."

"When, in the two weeks we have known each other, have you seen me keep my mouth shut? I am not the type of woman who waits for things to happen. I make things happen. You might be afraid of your boss but, to me, Mrs. Bancroft will soon be nothing more than another notch on my garter belt."

Great. I'm about to witness the bedroom version of Godzilla versus Mothra.

Mrs. B was a half hour late getting home. She blamed her tardiness on an emergency at the office, but I knew better. Making Jasmine wait was the first step in determining who would be the Alpha female.

After apologizing for being late, she insisted on showering before we ate...

"I need to wash off the stink of the office before I can even consider eating."

... which made Jasmine wait even longer.

Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. B descended the stairs wearing a loose-fitting robe with apparently nothing underneath.

"Please excuse my casual attire. I usually dress for dinner, but I've already kept you waiting entirely too long."

Dinner reminded me of the first time I shared a meal with Mrs. B... back in Moscow at my parents' house. The conversation remained light, both ladies complimenting the other on how well they had handled my training. But as they talked, Jasmine was unable to keep her eyes off Mrs. B's unrestrained breasts which bounced seductively under her silk robe and, at times, tried their best to expose themselves.

Not that she wasn't in the game. Jasmine used her gift of the double entendre to direct the conversation back to the subject at hand... Mrs. B's tongue in Jasmine's pussy.

When dinner was over, Mrs. B rose from her chair to fetch dessert, uncovering most of a well-shaped thigh in the process. I'm not sure if the hardened nipples poking through the thin fabric of her robe were a result of her mood or if she purposely held a piece of ice against them before returning from the kitchen. Regardless, they had their desired effect. Jasmine licked her lips as Mrs. B served the crème brulée and I had to adjust my boxers to make sure nothing embarrassing poked out the top.

Jasmine wasn't dressed nearly as seductively as Mrs. B but her skintight pants did an excellent job of displaying her most valuable asset. She had a bum that men would pay money to watch walk across a room and, from the way Mrs. B stared as Jasmine cleared the table, its affect wasn't limited to Earth's male population.

With the pregame show complete, it was nearly 8:00 pm before the main event started. We were sipping brandy in the living room -- Mrs. B was pontificating on the current political situation -- when Jasmine finally broke.

"Are we going to do this or just sit on our arses all night?"

"What did you have in mind my dear?"

"Sex. Pussy licking, belly bumping, nipple biting sex. Like your boy toy promised. Or did he forget to mention it?"

"Oh that. Yes, he did bring up the subject. Was that to be tonight?"

"You know damn well it is. It is time to quit teasing each other. Send the boy to the pub and let's get it on."

"That wasn't part of the agreement. He stays, or it doesn't happen."

"Fine," Jasmine said. "If you're that afraid of me, he can stay in his room."

"Absolutely not. The young prince will be an active participant... or you will have to find someplace else to live."

"You're going to kick me out if I don't do a threesome?"

Mrs. B rose out of chair, stood directly in front of Jasmine and dropped her robe to the floor. She wasn't completely naked, but the sliver of material that covered her muff left nothing to the imagination.

"My house, my pussy, my rules. You used the innocence of this young man for your selfish desires. You promised to fuck him in exchange for access to my body. Now make your choice. Follow through or get out."

Mrs. B stood not three feet from Jasmine. Legs spread, hands on hips, breasts pointing proud. What Jasmine had dreamed about for the last week was directly in front of her, covered only by a thin layer of cotton. She was a strong-willed woman, but everybody has a breaking point. She didn't say the words. Instead, a single nod of her head indicated consent.

Mrs. B looked at me and said, "Take her to my bed and get her ready. I'll be up shortly."

I took Jasmine's hand like a gentleman, helped her out of her chair and knelt before her. But that's where the gentlemanly behavior ended. I kept hold of her hand and used it to stretch her body over my shoulder... like a fireman carrying a damsel in distress out of a burning building... or possibly a Neanderthal dragging his recently conquered mate to his cave.

There was some serious kicking, screaming and cussing involved as I carried her up the stairs. Even more when I threw her on the bed and removed her blouse and bra. My ancestry and moral character were severely questioned when I used my recently purchased handcuffs to secure her wrists to the bedposts. And the way she threatened my private parts as I removed her pants and panties would have made a Spanish Inquisitor proud.

I had just finished tying Jasmine's ankles to the footboard, leaving her legs spread invitingly open, when Mrs. B walked in. The constant tirade of threats and insults continued as Mrs. B inspected my work. Jasmine was in the middle of describing the burning hot metal rod she was going to shove up Mrs. B's cunt when I slipped the ball gag into her mouth.

"Not a bad job of restraining the wench," Mrs. B said. "I would have pulled the leg restraints a bit tighter, but you've always had a soft spot for beautiful women."

"So, where should we start?" I asked.

"I'll take her lower half and you work on the upper? No touching her nipples or pussy until we find her less obvious magic buttons."

Mrs. B grasped Jasmine's left foot with both hands and started with a slow and deliberate foot massage. Following her lead, I took hold of Jasmine's right hand and used one of my hands to keep her from jerking away while the thumb of the other gently stroked the back of her captured fingers. It took several minutes of this soothing treatment before Jasmine quit thrashing against her restraints and grunting curse words through her gag. I switched hands when Mrs. B switched feet.

The warm washcloth Mrs. B used to clean Jasmine's feet had a further soothing effect and after Mrs. B sucked each one of Jasmine's toes -- while I did the same with her fingers -- she was ready for the next step.

At that time in my sexual training, I had only been intimate with a dozen women... not unlike a rookie quarterback in his first year as a pro. But I had a great coach.

"Fingertips first my young prince," Mrs. B said. "Start at the wrist, run down the entire length of her arm. That's it. The inner elbow is not an uncommon erogenous zone. And yes, the armpit as well. Now continue down her side... slowly, you don't want to miss a spot. Good. All the way to where her sexy hips begin to flare. Excellent. Now start back up again, this time using your fingernail."

Jasmine squirmed when I drug my nail against her ribs.

"Oh my. It seems we're a little ticklish," Mrs. B said. "Remember that spot. As I've said before, an area which is sensitive in one way prior to sex, may change roles later in the session."

I followed the path from wrist to waist several times and on both sides. Each time exerting a slightly increased pressure. Since Mrs. B was doing the same thing along Jasmine's legs, it was difficult to tell which of us tamed the raging beast. But by the time Mrs. B transitioned to Jasmine's inner thighs and I shifted my attention to her neck, shoulders and belly, the sexy sommelier was relaxed and on the cusp of arousal.

"Do you think she is ready my young prince?"

"Yes ma'am. I think she is."

"Tell me why. Why do believe this wonderous creature on my bed is ready to experience the best sex of her life?"

"Her breathing. It was rapid and deep when we first secured her because of anger and possibly fear. Then it slowed as she relaxed."

"But now?" she asked.

"It's starting to accelerate again."

"Is she afraid?"

"No. Not afraid. Maybe still angry. But she's breathing harder in anticipation of what she hopes will come next."

"What else? We can't base our assessment on breathing alone. Tell me about the other signs of arousal."

"Her heartbeat. It's also getting faster. Her pupils are dilated. And the hairs on both her arms and tummy are sticking straight up."

"But look at her nipples," Mrs. B said. "They're laying flat on her breasts. And her vagina looks to be dry as a desert. Are you sure she's ready?"

"Yes ma'am, I do. Her pussy may look dry on the surface, but I smell the distinct aroma of a woman in heat. And it will take just the slightest touch to turn those flattened nips into hardened pebbles of wantonness."