The Bomb

"Bronson, last night agents from Immigrations had some puke that they spotted at the Blaine boarder crossing in Washington under surveillance. They were hoping that he would hang his fellow gang members. What they found out was not what they expected. The puke made a phone call. He called a man named Alexander, who said and I quote, “I want the woman, Jewels, dead on December 31 by midnight, before she compromises the mission.” The puke under surveillance agreed to do it.

"Why murder this woman? Who is this Alexander and what mission would that be?" I asked. "I’m getting to it. Alexander nee Asin Bara Khel is head of the western region of the terrorist group Laddin for Freedom. The woman in question is his American girlfriend, apparently he bragged to her in the throws of passion about the targets for his newest plans of American death and now he wants her dead."

"What do you want me to do about it?" I asked.

"She is known to be loyal to her lover. You are to seduce her, become her new lover and find out what the targets are."

"I can't do that! I just got married last year, it would mean the end of my relationship."

"Yes, we know you just got married but we need you for this. You’re the only agent that our profilers say she will go for. As an officer of the US government, we are ordering you to do it. You have to stop him. You wouldn’t be the first husband to have an affair on the job, just don't tell her and don't forget September 11."

"I Can’t! I can’t lie to my wife. I can’t betray her. I love her. ", I said.

"Your choice, what you tell your wife but you have to go. The other choice is desertion and imprisonment,” he said without a look of sympathy. “What will it be?”

“I’ll do it of course,” I said wishing I could shoot him; his brains would look good on the floor.

He reached for his briefcase. Out of the case, he pulled a very slim laptop and opened it up inserting a DVD stamped secret. The computer brought up a slide show program. This is your mission.

The first slide was the bio and picture of a woman, Jewels Saucony. She was 5’10 with brown eyes and almost black hair, about 28 years old. She was dressed in typical Seattle wear with Birkenstocks clogs, blue jeans and a waist length REI Gortex rain coat, the swell of her chest just visible under the clothes. Judging by the looks of her thighs, she was in good shape too, although it was hard to tell from the rainwear and typical surveillance distance photo. She worked as an assistant manager at the restaurant the top of the Space Needle. Overall, she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, next to my wife.

The second slide was of the terrorist going by the alias Alexander Smith. He was 6’2 with dark green eyes and black hair. Not the type of face you’d think of when picturing someone from the Middle East, more of an Italian look. Taken at a local fitness center picture showed him as he worked out with the staff Taekwondo instructor, his well-toned muscles rippling in the light. He had one of those faces that could look loving one second and then mean as hell the next. He worked at the airport as a baggage handler. Not a great job but it sure put him in the right place.

The rest of the slides showed pictures of her and him together doing various activities like skiing, rock climbing and learning to fly a little airplane as well as many pictures of Jewels out dancing. She did have very nice legs and a great pair of tight, pointy breasts too. For some reason she always went dancing by herself, mostly to a place called the Black Cat; perfect for my mission.

I left the meeting in a bad mood. I didn’t want to be unfaithful to my wife but I had a job to do and I knew that before I ever met Alicia, my wife. I was on my way home, looking forward to seen her. She often had a surprise for me when I got home. To surprise her I purchased a red rose from the chick at the light on the highway exit. It paid her and took the rose, inhaling the fragrance. It smelled fantastic and I felt better as I drove into my garage. I had 24 hours to forget about the pukes.

Walking into my living room, I saw Alicia nude on the flowery couch softly rubbing her glistening breasts with oil. When I first started dating her, she had been shy. With me, she wasn’t shy anymore, she was fun.

I knew that she must have been sitting around waiting to hear the door before she got into this. Her other hand raised itself off the couch and touched the outside of her leg, lightly brushing its way up her shapely leg, through her blonde pubic hair and over her flat stomach to join her other hand toying with her breasts.

“Oh, hi,” she said, as I walked into the room. “I didn’t relies you’d be home so soon. I’m glad you’re here. I need some help.”

“What’s wrong? What do you need? You know I’d do anything for you!”

“I was thinking of buying a nude reclining statue for the middle of the living room. Would you mind posing, so I can see how it would feel?” Her hand was now stroking between her legs, her legs drawn up and spread.

“Sure.”

“Take off all your clothes and lie down on your back.”

I did just as she asked. As I lay back, I could hear the wet slapping sounds she was making. I rested my head with my arms folded behind me. She let out a guttural moan. It was all I could take, my erection rouse up stiffly. She stood up and walked over to me, one foot on either side of my hips.

“I like it,” she said, but I need a closer look.

She squatted over me, heals still on the ground, elbows on knees, her eyes roaming over my nude body.

“Needs some work”, she said grabbing my cock and aiming it straight up, rubbing her wet slippery hands over it. Then she dropped her hips, impaling herself on me, her heals still at my sides.

It was the most erotic thing that had ever happened to me. I loved her and she made it fun to live each day with her. My cock pulsed with the shock of the quick hot wet penetration. I reached up and gave her the rose. She took it and placed it between her teeth. Next, She placed her hands on my stomach and began to bounce her ass up and down, her breasts swayed with the motion. I had to keep my abs tight for her hands but it was worth it. The pleasure was fantastic, I didn’t know if it was the physical part or just the sight and shock of seeing her do this to me that was getting me off.

After about five minutes, she crawled forward with her hands, pinching my nipples on the way, stretched her legs out on either side of mine, and lay there panting, her hot body pressed against mine.

I rolled us over, kissing her hard on the mouth; I loved the way she tasted. I started to fuck her for all I was worth, my hips making wet smacking sounds as we pressed together. She was great but I had other things on my mind.

I soon orgasmed and she did just after me. My orgasm often triggered hers. She said it was the thought and feel of my coming in her that did it. We rested for a few minute and then I got up and pulled her into the shower with me. I tried to wash the day’s events away. It didn’t work.

After the shower, I told her that I had to leave for a few weeks on another trip.

She frowned and said, “We knew it would be like this when we started.” She was very practical but I was still glad that she did not know what the mission was. Like all wives of agents, she did not really know what I did. It keeps them safe; everyone knows that they are out of the loop. The next morning, I got up, ate her wonderful waffles, kissed her goodbye, fucked her hard and fast in the kitchen, and left for Seattle. I knew that I would miss her terribly.

I was to start my new job at the Black Cat on Friday the 10th of December 2004. In three weeks, it would be New Years. I had never been a bartender before and I had to look like they had given me the job because I sounded like I could do it, not because my boss had called and told them to give it to me.

I read all the bar manuals and mixing books, then practiced mixing for another bar for a few days first. I felt very nervous about this part of the job. My impersonation instructor had said, “Don’t try to act like a bartender (or whatever); instead act like a person who just happens to have to spend all night in a bar, smelling used smoke and putting stupid umbrellas on glasses; wishing the whole time to be back home in bed fucking the bar maid.”

I still always felt like someone would see through me, didn’t matter what I thought. I would find out soon enough, if I had what it took to be a bartender. I tensed at the thought. Next came the image.

This was the fun part of the job. I bought all new black clothing; mostly leather and cotton with a kind of GQ look crossed with Seattle Goth. After that, I rented a very expensive downtown condo with a view of the bay and its island: seen in the distance the large white snowcaps of the Olympics pointed skyward. I could never find a view like that back home in DC, it just didn’t exist in the arm pit of the US.

To decorate the condo I put in all chrome and black leather furniture. The chrome bed was king sized with black velvet blankets and red silk sheets, perfect of suduction. Hung on the walls were copies of pictures by Monet and Gygger. The entertainment center had six surround sound stereo speakers and large digital TV with a computer to run it all. In the refrigerator, I put a few bottles of wine, beer, and some leftovers. I also purchased all the detail stuff for the house, like a stocked bar, toiletries for the bathroom and candles to place around the house. Next, I burned about six different packs of incense and some pot to get rid of that new smell. The smell of the condo now reminded me of a new age bookstores. Trap set, now all I needed was the target.

Working the bar, feeling totally out of my element, I watch as the men and woman danced, almost all of them dressed in black. Some of the woman had nothing more than little silver or gold stars glued to their breasts with glitter sprinkled over the rest. They swayed to the deep pounding beat, hips grinding, hands running to places that you never saw on the streets. Through the haze of the smoke machine exhaust and cigarettes, I watched Jewels dancing by herself, her body moving with the subtle beats of the music, swaying hair sticking to her sweaty body. She never stopped moving or even slowed down, her brown eyes unfocused and staring as if in a trance.

As the last few songs played, she walked over to the bar. “Rum and cranberry” she yelled.

The show was on. Trying to look nonchalant, I started pouring her drink. As I poured it, I slipped in the drug cocktail that ops had given me, palming it so that no one would see. They said it would make her very drunk, passive and highly suggestible. She paid me with change, typical of a waitress. Sitting at the bar sipping her drink, she looked me over without any real interest, I smiled back, it was too loud to talk.

After she finished her drink, she waved to me and got back on the dance floor. I watched her, her movement becoming more and more loose and limp as the drug flowed in her veins. I went back to work, serving the customers and waiting. I was getting into the rhythm of the job and it was sort of fun. I served a lot of weird people. The night was very busy as I was told it usually was at the cave like Black Cat on Fridays.

As I worked, I looked up and saw a small tight crowd forming. That was my cue; I rushed from behind the big bar and into the center of the group. I looked at her, her legs splayed out at odd angles, crumpled in a heap on the sticky floor. I yelled and motioned to the crowed to get back, I was taking control of the crowd. I lifted her up and dragged her into the back, setting her down on the old thrashed break couch. After a bit, she started to come back, still acting very drunk.

“How you doing? Looks like you had to much to drink”, I said handing her a glass of water.

She gave me an odd look and then grabbed my shoulders to keep from falling over, spilling the water all over my shirt. “I think it best if I take you to my place” I said. It felt odd to say that, no woman in her right mind would agree. That’s what the drug was for. She looked passively into my eyes. “Lets go to my house”, I restated and stood up taking her with me. She just hung on and started walking were I lead.

Back at my place, I put her on the leather couch and placed a warm blanket over her. Jewels looked soft and innocent as she curled up for the night. She would be out till at least noon tomorrow and I knew that she had no place she needed to be tomorrow. I crawled into my bed and went to sleep setting the alarm for ten in the morning.

The next day I woke up and ordered breakfast from the restaurant on the first floor. I ordered eggs and toast with some organic marmalade and two cups of coffee. As the smells of breakfast wafted over her, she stirred on the couch. Slowly she sat up holding her head. I poured her a glass of filtered water and walked over to her, sitting on the couch next to her.

“Who are you?” She asked.

“My name is Bronson Gould. I work the bar at the Black Cat”, I said as I looked with concern into her eyes.

“Where am I?” she asked as she looked around.

“You’re at my house, I rescued you last night. You didn’t have any ID on you, so I took you to my place. I think that fat guy next to you at the bar must have slipped something in your drink.” She just looked at me blankly.

“I don’t remember any of it.”

“Maybe that’s from the drug”, I suggested.

“Drink this water and have some breakfast with me. I think it might help your head.”

“You’re very kind, what’s your name?”

“Bronson Gould”, I repeated. “What’s yours?”

“Jewels.”

Looking slowly up and down her body I said, “Wow, beautiful name. It matches you well.”

“This is a very nice place. How can you afford it on bar tending?”

“I’m a Microsoft millionaire, I just do the bar thing for fun and to meet people.”

“So you’re into computers?” she asked with a bored look.

“No, I was in middle management, had lots of stocks early and got out. I was lucky with the September 11 crash too. Been playing ever since.”

“Wish I was that lucky, I have to work at the Space Needle as an assistant manager to make ends meet. Pays not bad but not this great”, she said spreading her arms to the room.

“You could do it. You just need to learn how to invest. I could help you.”

“No thanks, my boyfriend would kill me.”

“You shouldn’t let him stop you. He has no right to control you like that.”

“You don’t know him, I do what he wants and he’s good to me.”

“Your life. If you were mine, I wouldn’t treat you like that. I would buy you anything you wanted and I think I would have to take you overseas at least once a year.”

“I should be going home, but my coats at the bar,” she replied, nervously.

I had pushed too hard and she was getting scared but she still must have felt fairly safe. I’m sure she was wondering what it would be like to be with a nice guy like me instead of hers.

“I have the keys to the bar, I’ll get your stuff for you on the drive home.”

“Thanks,” she said, her shoulders dropping a little.

“No problem,” I replied, smiling warmly with her.

On the way to her house my cell phone rang, it was the surveillance team. Her boyfriend was home and hopping mad from waiting for her. Taking advantage of it, I pulled up into her driveway, in full view of the window, where he was watching. She turned to me to thank me and I pulled her in close and held her. I could feel her softly resisting, her animal halve wanting but not with him watching. I let go.

“Thanks for saving me”, she said as she quickly hopped out of the BMW.

“Loved it”, I said hoping that I was not overplaying my hand. “Hope to see you again soon. Call me!”

Watching her walk up the steps, I waved and gunned the car; wheels squealing down the block, smell of burnet rubber in the air. I was playing the asshole and hoped she liked it.

Later that day, I learned that her boyfriend had slapped her around, calling her a lying bitch for staying out all night with another man and claiming nothing happened. That’s how I had planed it but my heart was still racing, guilt flooding it. She deserved better than him but that didn’t make me feel any better about setting her up like that. What if someone did that to my wife? I would be pissed too, but I wouldn’t hit her for it.

A week later, I still could not come up with a way to spend time with her. Then I got a small break. She was going dancing again on Friday.

I went to work and started bartending. The bar was in view of the main dance floor and I could also watch the door. Jewels was in the first crowd through the door, kind of odd because her habit was to come in around eleven. As I watched her enter, I felt the buzz of my phone against my leg. Stepping around back, where I could hear, I answered the phone. It was the surveillance team. Jewels had just had a big blowout fight with Alexander. He had told her she couldn’t go dancing and punched her in the ribs. She had angrily left the house, taking a duffel bag with her and headed over to the Black Cat.

“I see,” I replied and hung up.

You might call it luck but people are creatures of habit. All I had to do was learn her habits and be in the right place at the right time. I watched her closely fearing that at anytime she might leave and I would miss my chance. I watched her all night. She spent the whole night dancing by herself.

At the end of the night as the last song stopped pounding she walked over to the bar.

“What you up to tonight?” She asked.

“I was just going to go home and watch a movie. Want to go?”

“I’d love to. What are you going to watch?”

“I rented an old English move called Bad Trout, it’s about Trout running the world. I don’t know if it’s any good.”

“Really? Guess there’s only one way to find out. Lets go”, she said with an infectious laugh.

Back at my condo, I made some strong drinks for us and started the movie. Half way through the movie she fell asleep curled up against my shoulder. She never said a word about her boyfriend, she just wanted to cuddle and be safe. The next day after breakfast she left, no sex or promises not even a kiss. Somehow, I had to get her.

Things were moving in the right direction but not fast enough. There would be a lot of dead people, not to mention my job, if I didn’t get to her soon. I needed to push her over the edge. We’d been watching her for only a few weeks but we had had Asin Bara Khel under surveillance for a few years. During that time, I knew we had taped him during a rather raunchy tryst.

I called up the surveillance team and ordered them to put out the tape when Alexander was not at home but Jewels was expected home by herself. A few days later Jewels showed up at my door. As I let her in, the first thing that I saw was her fresh black eye. Of course, I expected it, having been told before hand, but shit it looked bad.

“What happened?” I asked in shock, feeling sick to my stomach knowing that I was the cause of it.

“My ex-boyfriend did it”, she stated, tears starting to run down her cheeks.

“Why! Why would he do that?”

“I found a tape when I got home from the store. It was him fucking some Middle Eastern bitch. When he got home from work, he said he had never seen that tape before and that she was someone he had seen years ago. It made me sick.”

“Was it an ex?” I asked.

“No, it had a date, you know how cam corders put the date in the corner. It was from two weeks ago when I was out dancing.”

“What an asshole”, I replied trying to present the proper emotions. It was hard. I was not sure how to act. My stomach clenched, I feared that she would see right through me and destroy everything. I had to get it right.