Caribbean Tales: Spy on Me

"We will. You won't have your phone, so it will be very important to stay in visual contact. We'll need to check out the place ahead of time to know where to position ourselves."

"I'll send you a map when we hang up."

"Copy that," said Bruno, and hung up. Shanice took out the map, photographed it with her phone, and sent the photo to Bruno. Then she walked down the street, looking for jerk chicken.

Negril was a small town, and although the local vendors charged much more than Shanice thought they ought to, they sold the same traditional foods and local products that she remembered from her childhood. She finally spotted a snackette where she knew jerk chicken would be found. She went inside and soon she was sitting under an awning, eating and watching a light afternoon rain come in from the sea to sweep the town.

Her childhood memories blossomed anew. She recalled visiting Kingston during carnival as a teenager, and being shocked and intrigued by the open displays of eroticism. Perhaps that was what inspired her, later that summer, to surrender her virginity to a Jamaican boy in the dark corridor of a dance hall. They did it standing up, which had always remained a favorite position for Shanice. She remembered the loud, muffled sound of the band, vibrating the wall from the other side, and the couples passing by in the dim light. There had been a Jamaican girl who walked by with her boyfriend, and then turned to grin at Shanice. Shanice had grinned back, and then closed her eyes and cried out as her climax erupted. Now, back in the present, it came to her like a revelation that she had actually been celibate for two years since starting work at the Agency.

Her cell phone vibrated. It was Bruno. "We checked out the site," he said. "There's a sort of a knoll there. Make sure you stay between the knoll and the highway, so that we can keep our eye on you."

"Roger that. Don't forget, keep it professional."

Bruno chuckled. "Don't worry. We keep everything professional." The call came to an end.

Shanice wandered down the street, past some little shops. She heard reggae music coming from many of these establishments, but from one she heard a calypso tune that she recognized. Shanice's mother, who was born in India but raised in Trinidad, used to speak the Trinidadian dialect around the house when Shanice was growing up in Brooklyn. Shanice picked it up enough to decipher the naughty lyrics on the Mighty Sparrow records her mother collected. She knew what was meant by the "big bamboo":

I gave my woman a sugarcane, a sugarcane Very very sweet, I must explain, And she gave it back much to my surprise, I really, really love this flavour but not the size

Well she's ready for, bamboo, grows out from the ground, bamboo It's so big and strong, bamboo, stand up straight and tall, bamboo Please it's what I want, bamboo.

She looked at her watch. It was time to take care of a few necessities. She began to walk back toward the hotel, until she reached the car rental establishment where she rented a Toyota. She drove for a few minutes around the back streets, practicing her driving on the left side of the road. Then she parked the car and headed back to the hotel. She went upstairs and opened her laptop so she could review her briefings for the meeting the next day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tropical sun had retired early, as usual. Shanice went downstairs to grab a meal in the restaurant, then returned to her room and showered. She donned her flimsy nightgown, sat down in front of the TV, and commenced channel-surfing. She stopped at a program which puzzled her; there was a room full of upscale, white, liberal-looking women, who seemed to be an audience in what appeared to be an art museum. In the middle of the room was a slightly raised platform with a number of nude or semi-clad women. Some of the ladies from the audience would venture toward the platform to kiss or fondle the naked women, who encouraged this behavior and beckoned to the others. Shanice stared at the screen, trying to figure out what was going on. It appeared to be an opportunity for bi-curious women to experiment with exhibitionism, under the rubric of performance art. One of the society ladies from the audience had actually taken off her top and knelt on the platform, while one of the naked girls, with an impudent smile on her face, reclined on the floor, reached up her foot, and sensually squeezed the audience lady's nipple between her toes. These people need to get a life, thought Shanice, and turned off the TV.

She felt strangely unsettled by the program, and restless. She felt like going out on the balcony. She peered out of her window to see whether it was safe to go out while wearing only her nightgown. Satisfied that it was too dark for anyone to see her, she opened the door and went out to sit in the armchair, overlooking the ocean. It was a lovely night. The moon and stars were muted by clouds that scooted across the sky at a leisurely pace, shepherded by a gentle, amiable breeze. It occurred to Shanice that tomorrow she would see Roland naked, an idea that she found strangely stirring. She tried to banish the thought from her mind; she didn't need that sort of distraction. She needed to be on her game, her reflexes sharp, her mind focused. But to be fair, out on the balcony, in the dark, she wasn't on the clock, and maybe it were better just to get it out of her system. The image of naked Roland wasn't responding to her attempts to banish it.

Her fingers had found her nipples through the diaphanous fabric, and the nipples responded vigorously. Shanice sighed. The breeze riffled the hem of her nightgown, and she reached down and hiked it to her waist, giving the breeze full access to her long-neglected womanhood. Before long, her fingers visited that place as well. Shanice had not masturbated since college, and it never had seemed nearly as exciting as it did tonight. She made it last and last, and when the orgasms started, they just didn't stop. After an hour or more had passed, Shanice returned to her bed and fell into a deep, untroubled slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was July 14. Shanice didn't spend much time selecting her wardrobe, since it would all be coming off anyway. She settled on khaki shorts, a plum-colored blouse, and sandals. No makeup. Makeup on a nude beach seemed perhaps a little slutty. Besides, Shanice was a young woman with smooth, smooth, cocoa-colored skin. Makeup was superfluous.

She had a light lunch downstairs, and a cup of espresso. She was preparing to do what she had been trained to do -- to extract the maximum amount of information from the contact, while revealing the minimum herself. And at the same time, she was running a sting. If she won his confidence, and if he actually had Titan Rain, she would try to set up a buy. He would be wary. And naked.

She got in her rental car and drove carefully on the left side of the road down to the beach, where she found a parking spot with some difficulty. Then she dialed her cell phone. Kenny answered. She reported that she was on site and proceeding to the meeting. Kenny, in his typically annoying way, reminded her to stay within eye-shot. Then he wished her good luck.

Shanice put the cell phone in her purse, and the purse under the seat. Then, with her heart beating just a little too fast, she removed her garments and sandals and placed them on the seat. She locked the car and hid the key under the frame. With high resolve she made her way toward the beach. She was headed into combat with only her wits to arm her. The Shakespeare quote came to her mind: "...naked to mine enemies."

As she emerged from the parking lot onto Seven Mile Beach, she was dazzled by the pristine white of the sand and the brilliant azure of the Caribbean, as well as hordes of naked bodies as far as the eye could see. They came in all shapes, sizes and colors, although because this beach was a Mecca for a certain kind of tourist, they were mainly young and attractive. She noticed that there were no children. And then she noticed something else -- her notion that there was to be no sexual activity on Seven Mile Beach was definitely mistaken.

To her left, a thirty-something black woman with a dancer's body was passionately blowing a younger Hispanic man. Two other men stood nearby, watching and stroking their cocks. Farther down the beach, a buxom young white woman was being kissed and fondled by two Jamaican men, as she moaned her encouragement. Shanice felt her nipples stiffen. Not good, she thought. She wanted to control the information that Roland could glean from her, and visible arousal was not what she intended. She needed to cool herself down, or find a way to conceal it. Hundreds of men were checking her out with frank admiration, and that was making things worse. She discovered that it was making her feel deliciously lewd. She was aware of her juices spilling onto her thighs, which would be visible also. This was not going to work to her advantage.

In the distance she saw the bent-over palm tree that corresponded to the rendezvous spot on her map. She needed to get her act together. As she struggled to focus her thoughts, a solution came to her mind. She took a detour into the surf. The cool water could account for the taut nipples, and the moisture from the sea would camouflage her own juices. She swam a few yards down the beach, and then emerged from the waves, looking like a brown Venus, near the spot of the rendezvous. She checked to make sure that she would be visible to her surveillance team. She wondered how her colleagues were reacting to the public displays of sexuality. Then she spotted Roland.

He was standing near the appointed spot, but not exactly upon it, because a large crowd of what looked like college kids had taken possession of the intended rendezvous area. Shanice glanced quickly back toward the road. In her estimation, it was unlikely that the surveillance team would be able to get a clear line of sight to her meeting with Roland. There were too many naked bodies in the way. She would have to find a way to maneuver him toward the road.

Roland had spotted Shanice coming toward him, and waved to her. His chest was hairless except for a fringe around the nipples. His arms and shoulders were well-developed. And his cock was tumescent. Well, thought Shanice. That's a slight advantage for me.

Shanice made eye contact. She was close enough now for Roland to speak. "Hello," he said. "It's noisy here." The college students were carrying on with a boom box, dancing and flirting. "Let's move over there," he said, indicating the knoll that Bruno had asked her to avoid.

Shanice had no pretext ready with which to refuse his request, so she walked with him toward the knoll. His cock was now fully erect, and gorgeous. She forced herself to tear her eyes away. "I'm sorry about that," said Roland, grinning sheepishly. "I didn't expect you to look so hot without your clothes."

"Yeah, right," replied Shanice. She lowered her voice. "So, you are selling Titan Rain?"

"Let's just say that I know the people who are selling it. And it is not cheap. Probably a half million U.S."

"If it's the genuine article, it's worth every penny."

"So for your clients, the money is not a problem?"

"No, it's not." The group of students was moving their way. One of the girls was doing an erotic dance, cupping her breasts in her hands and pulling her nipples. The others were hooting and cheering her on. Shanice and Roland backed away from the hubbub, moving up onto the knoll. Shanice tried to calculate the probable line of sight to her team. She needed to put Roland under stress, and probe to find out what motivated him. If it was simple greed, he posed no problem and could easily be converted into an asset. If he was running on loyalty to someone, or to an ideology, he was a potential threat. Which would be a shame, thought Shanice, because he looked so scrumptious.

"Your clients," said Roland, "must be in the sort of business that would be a target for TR. Defense contractors, maybe?"

Shanice looked him steadily in the eyes. "I don't want to comment on what sort of business my clients are in." The crowd was still moving in their direction. Three of the girls were now dancing in a sort of conga line, grinding up against each other. Shanice and Roland retreated further, so that they were now on the far side of the knoll. So much for staying in eye-shot, thought Shanice.

"Look," said Roland, "this is risky business. I need to know something about the people I'm dealing with. Are your friends perhaps with Lockheed Martin?"

He was negotiating aggressively. Shanice needed to regain the initiative. "Listen," she said, "You don't need to ask that. Do you hear me asking you if you work for the Mossad?"

Roland's lovely green eyes widened just slightly. "The Mossad? That is ridiculous." His elbows moved perceptibly closer to his body and he reached up to scratch behind his right earlobe. He was lying. But in the same instant, Shanice realized she had made a tactical mistake. She was revealing more about herself, about the capabilities for intelligence-gathering that she represented, than she had gained by probing on this topic.

"I'm just speaking hypothetically," she said, adopting a reassuring tone of voice. She stepped closer to be heard over the partying students. "I don't need to know who you work for." She glanced down again. Even under stress, he was still fully erect. And so appealing.

Roland chose to play the injured party. "You shouldn't accuse me of being a spy. I am trying to do business. We can both make some good money on this. I mean..."

Thank you, thought Shanice. She was running on instinct now, mixed with lust. She had silenced Roland by reaching out and caressing his cock. It felt big and warm and hard in her hand. His green eyes closed, and his mouth fell open with a look of shocked bliss. After a moment, with his eyes still shut, he said, "Oh my god, what are you doing?"

"Hey, it was your idea to get naked."

"But 'getting naked' is not the same as 'getting busy.'"

"Maybe not. Now, listen -- my clients will need a demonstration that you have the real Titan Rain." Shanice was stroking him slowly.

Roland swallowed. His eyes were still shut. "All you have to do is create a dummy facility with full security and give me an IP address. The demonstration will take place." He smiled with pleasure despite himself.

"We have already set up such a facility. I'll give you the IP number when we part company today. How's your memory?" She stroked just a little faster.

"My memory.. is good..."

The trio of college girls who had been rubbing up against each other now approached them. One of them called out to Shanice, "Go on, girl, suck his cock! He's got a nice one."

Shanice smiled to the girl and called back, "Do you think I should?" But the question was for Roland's benefit. He nodded weakly, as the three girls hooted enthusiastically.

Shanice planted her knees in the warm, soft sand and ran both hands up and down the length of Roland's cock. It was big and rosy-hued, in contrast to his pale thighs. Then she leaned forward and took him into her mouth. She heard him sigh, "Rochelle!" as she began to suck him. She lost herself in the act, gripping his ass with her hands, pulling him close. She felt his hands in her hair, and the urgent motions of his hips, and she heard his groans of pleasure, moving upwards in pitch until she knew his orgasm was imminent. She quivered in anticipation and silently begged for it it. Then it came, and she swallowed his seed with real hunger.

She became aware of lusty cheering from the student contingent. Shanice recovered her composure before Roland did. She rose to her feet and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. "I've got to go. Let's meet back here at 9:00 tonight." Roland nodded his consent. "Are you ready for that IP number?" He nodded again. She recited the number to him, he committed it to memory, and then she walked swiftly back toward the parking lot. She passed numerous couples and even trios that were having sex as she moved through the crowd. She was fascinated by them and had the impulse to stay and watch, but she knew that she was most likely once more under surveillance, so she kept walking.

When she arrived at the car, her pulse was still racing. She found the key, let herself in, and then retrieved the cell phone from her purse under the seat. She dialed the number, and to her relief, Bruno answered.

"Hey, you know, we lost you in the crowd."

"Sorry. There were too many people, I couldn't control the situation."

"That's OK. Do you have anything to report?"

"Yes. I think I can confirm the Mossad connection. And I set up a test for our dummy network."

"Good work. We're on it. What's next?"

"I'll see him tomorrow at the conference."

"Roger that. Talk to you tomorrow. By the way, the few photos we got of you heading into the crowd turned out really nice."

Shanice giggled despite herself and said, "Shut up." Then she rang off.

She took a deep breath, then sat quietly for a moment in her car. She looked around and saw no people in the parking lot. She leaned the seat back, placed her feet wide apart on the dashboard, and quickly brought herself to a shuddering orgasm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shanice left the hotel at 8:00. She left the light on in her room and her cell phone in the pocket of a jacket in the closet. Then she slipped out the back way, and walked quickly to a side street where she had parked the car. She drove along the dark streets back to the beach. This time she parked easily. Again she removed her clothes, left the car and walked down to the beach.

The sky was clear, a steady breeze ruffled the palm trees, and the moon illuminated the beach with a vague, magical glow. The crowd had diminished, but there were still plenty of people, and the ambiance was charged with eroticism. Shanice walked slowly through the crowd, feeling the climate of arousal as if it were a wet dream. She passed a tableaux where a white man was wantonly taking a white woman from behind, as the trembling woman in turn buried her face between the thighs of a black woman who lay sprawled in the sand. As she drew near, the black woman beckoned languidly to her. Shanice smiled but kept walking.

She found her way to the knoll, walked up it, and as she started down the other side she saw Roland, waiting for her. He was clad in bathing trunks. As she approached he smiled and said, "The test will be done tonight." She put her finger to her lips to indicate silence, and simply walked up to kiss him. As their tongues met, she abruptly pulled his trunks down and seized his cock, which sprang to life. He groaned and kissed her harder.

Perhaps it might be fair to say that she used him for her gratification. She made him lay in the sand as she knelt over his face, allowing his lips and tongue to bring her to a pinnacle of pleasure. Later he found himself standing in the gentle surf, holding her close as her legs and loins meshed with his. Roland moaned into the night breeze as she slowly and inexorably took her satisfaction, before finally granting him his own.

Later, when they parted company in the parking lot, Shanice spoke for the first time. "There's a little jerk chicken joint with a red awning, a quarter mile from the hotel. Meet me there at noon tomorrow and we'll discuss payment and delivery." Roland agreed, gave her a leisurely kiss, then walked to his car and drove away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning at 9:00 she received a call on the secure cell. It was Kenny. "Worked like a charm," he said. "They hit the dummy network at midnight and walked right into the trap. It looks like it was the real Titan Rain, too. We had teams at two homes in Delaware at 5:00 AM and we bagged about a dozen operatives. They're being interrogated as we speak."