The CIA Doublecross Pt. 01

The voice was low and soft. "Scott, I need to talk to you."

Without moving my head, which was staring at my screen, I said, "The Wicked Witch is here. What does she want?"

"Scott, please, this is important. I promise to be good."

"You have to do better than that. I need a date tonight or tomorrow night."

"Scott! Quit fooling around. There is a VP from headquarters here and he needs a very private conversation with you immediately."

I turned around. My beautiful Marsha was right there, a deep frown on her face, a beige suit on her body.

"You sound like I have to do this, whatever it is, right now?"

"Yes. I don't think you will be back today, so shut things down and come to my office as soon as you can."

"This better be good. If you are doing one of your numbers on me, your backside is going to be very red."

"For once in your life, be serious. This guy is all business."

She looked as tense and nervous as I'd seen her. And every inch the professional HR exec as I watched her tight behind sheathed in expensive wool disappear down the corridor.

I walked into her office a few minutes later to find a beefy looking guy sitting in one of her desk chairs, giving me an unfriendly look.

Marsha introduced him as Mark Cooper, and he gave me a company business card that said "Corporate Compliance" on it.

"Scott, we have reason to believe there is a major data leak going on out here. We need your assistance to analyze the problem and identify who is doing it."

"If this is security related, that's not my area. You should talk to Roy Callaway."

"I was told that you are the data guy. I think we need you."

Marsha was looking at me unhappily. I wondered how HR was tangled in this, whatever it was.

"My job is to be a data analytics consultant to line managers and developers across the company. I don't have operational responsibilities except at times of system deployment and testing. By the way, if you don't have a copy of the corporate data access policy, you should get one from Marsha. The audit committee of the Board is tough as nails about observing it. Roy can fill you in."

Cooper was beginning to look pissed. I said to myself, this guy is an ex-cop of some kind and he wants me to drop everything and join his hunt. Trying to be more agreeable, I said, "Who did you talk to back east that gave you my name?"

"Actually, one of my friends in the FBI told me. He said Scott Thurston was the smartest data person on the west coast."

"Damn. I told Karl he did not have permission to spread my name around. But he is a good guy. I was able to save him some grief on a big drugs case."

"So you'll help me."

"If it's within my capability, and not fenced out of bounds, I'll be happy to try."

"What do you mean "out of bounds?"

"If you want broad data access, there is a form letter that requires a detailed statement of scope and need to know. And at least one, and sometimes more than one EVP signature on it."

Marsha was looking even more unhappy. It dawned on me that she had gone off the reservation and was now eating crow. Cooper did not look like the type of guy who enjoyed asking permission.

I said, "I've got an important project coordination meeting the rest of the afternoon. Why doesn't Marsha help you with the necessary paperwork?"

Trying to figure out what was going on, I grabbed some Thai takeout on my way home. I changed and was just sitting down to eat when my cell went off with a call from Marsha.

"Scott, I'm sorry for this afternoon. That didn't go off well at all, did it?"

"I was sitting there trying to figure out how a data investigation got this far without any of the clearances and permissions. Did you get blindsided or what?"

"Can I come over and cry on your shoulder?"

"Are you serious? After the way I treated you last fall?"

"I'd like to think I am a reformed woman. Can I come over and cry some on you?"

"A reformed Marsha Wilson? That I've got to see. If you haven't eaten, there is enough Thai takeout for both of us. But the beer supply is thin."

"I can be there quicker if you let me use your shower and borrow some sweats."

"Get your gorgeous body over here and I'll see if there is anything clean enough to lend you."

That was an inside joke. I'm a bit of a neat freak, and Marsha does a great job of dropping clothes anywhere and everywhere. We were an item for a while last year, and then career frictions got in the way, we had a big fight, and agreed to be friends. Which turned out to be very distant friends as various stories about why we weren't together anymore circulated through the building.

Twenty minutes later, I was letting her in and she thrust a sixpack of beer in my hands as she headed for the bathroom. By the time I put the beer in the fridge and followed her to find something to wear, there was an untidy trail of upscale feminine clothing on my bedroom floor, a location she knew well from past acquaintance. I took a fresh sweatshirt and a pair of my sister's capris and put them down in the bathroom. The shower was nicely steamed up, but I figured I would get show and tell later anyhow.

Warm plates and warmed up Thai were on the living room table when she came out. I handed her a beer and said, "I expect you need more than one of these?"

"Damn right." She leaned over and gave me a sloppy wet kiss.

We ate in silence for a few minutes, until she said, "That guy is a creep. He sweet talked me into arranging a visit here by dropping east coast office names, and I took him for genuine. I told him after you left that we needed to do a complete reset. I discovered that the Board resolution authorizing his office is only a week old, and there is nothing in any executive file detailing duties or responsibilities. I spent a half hour on the phone to my HR counterpart on the east coast and found out that one of the Board members, a former White House national security type, got this all started a few weeks ago when the Chairman got a call from the head of the FBI about a suspected leak of sensitive information from someone inside the company to the Chinese. Cooper is the result and nobody knows him from Adam."

She finished her plate, crawled into my arms and said, "Give me a kiss and tell me I'm not a silly bimbo who just screwed up her job."

I got us two fresh beers, settled her back in my lap, and pulled up the sofa blanket.

"So, if he is a good guy, he is pissed because of internal roadblocks, and if he is a bad guy, he is also pissed because the control structure is making life tougher for him."

"I guess. You have to tell me how to rescue this mess. You've always been smarter than I am, I just didn't want to admit it."

I gave her the kiss she asked for, and lay back thinking. She helped me think by taking my hand under the sweat shirt and applying it to a very firm, very curvy boob.

"While I am thinking, tell me about this reformed woman business."

She wiggled around and moved my hand inside the waist of the capris to a warm wet place.

"I went through five boyfriends last year. You were the best, but the rest weren't bad. I was home for Christmas and my mom was after me about settling down with a guy. I fenced around with her and didn't let the conversation go anywhere. When I got back here after New Year's, I was depressed. Finally said to myself, "Any of these guys would have made a good husband, what do you think you are accomplishing by getting something going, and then killing it?"

We sipped our beer and she wiggled around some more, pressing her hand on top of mine.

Finally, I asked, "If you are reformed, you must have decided something?"

Suddenly, she was turned over and crying hard into my chest. I rubbed her shoulders gently and asked if I could do anything, wondering how I got a beauty in my lap with so many problems at once.

She kept her head down and moaned, "Shit, Scott, what are you going to do with a dumb broad like me?"

It was only nine o'clock, but I decided sleep would help. After I skinned off clothes and rolled her into my bed, she looked as irresistible as she did eight months ago. I turned out the light and went to brush my teeth. I slipped into the bed in the dark and tried to go to sleep. Pretty soon her hip was nestled against mine. We both continued the fiction that we were going to sleep. After a little while, her tongue began working on the back of my neck. After that, it was her sharp little teeth. The next thing, her whole body was stretched out on top of me. A little voice in my ear said, "You promised to help my problems. I have a new problem that is all your fault."

"All my fault."

"Yes. I am tingling all over. I haven't had sex in months, and your incredible body is setting off all my alarms."

I let that hang there in the dark for a few minutes, and then I turned over and got her positioned right above my very hard cock. My fingers worked up and down her back, with attention to an athletic ass that could use a few more regular workouts.

"You haven't told me what is reformed yet."

"Can I ride you while I talk?"

She didn't wait for a response, but sat up in the dark and eased herself down on me. She pulled my hands up to her breasts and made approving noises. I was busy enjoying the hell out of this when it occurred to me that she was pulling a fast one. Get her out of a jam, and I will be just another ex-boyfriend. I sat up and whispered in her ear, "There is something I should tell you before this gets any hotter."

She stopped bouncing on me and said, "What's that."

"If you don't have a completely plausible story about how you really are a reformed woman, I am going to string you up and use the flogger until you bleed."

She jerked and wailed, "You wouldn't! No, you can't do that!"

She was now off me and across my knees. I thought the darkness would be fine for the first beating. My hands massaged the soft globes. My fingers went down the crack of her ass to find lots of moisture between her legs.

"Scott! No! This is serious."

"That's right, this is serious. Did you think you could fuck your way out of trouble? Giving me that dumb broad line to generate sympathy? Do you know how long it took me to get over you last year? Two months! I should beat your ass for that even if you do have a story about being reformed."

She didn't say anything but continued to wiggle around. This just drove my hand further into her pussy, which was juicing on me liberally. An idea crossed my mind. Marsha thought she was a dominant, but she really was a submissive. Seduced by feminist crap, she had her subconscious roles reversed. What does a mad and irritated male do in this situation, I asked myself. Tomorrow was Saturday, so she doesn't have to go to the office and won't be missed. She doesn't have a roommate. I had at least one and possibly two full days to turn her life around. Her sex life, that is.

I stood us up, with her over my shoulder and went to find some rope. Fifteen minutes later, she was back on the bed, on top of a large beach towel, arms and legs tied, and a scarf gagging her mouth.

Through the whole process, she said nothing. Didn't even resist. Maybe she was thinking I wouldn't beat her if she behaved. I went to the kitchen and prepared two glasses of soda. Hers had some valium in it.

I sat her up against the headboard and secured her arms. I had a dim nightlight on and she looked worried. When the gag came out, she said, "Scott, can we talk?"

"Drink this." I held the glass to her lips and she took a good slug. Eagerly drank it down, asking for more until the glass was empty.

"Marsha, is there any story? Don't lie to me, it will be obvious."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough. You have a serious down deep problem and together we are going to explore it. I wish it didn't have to hurt, but it does."

She got fifty blows to her ass and thighs from a combination of my hands, a paddle and a flogger. She was howling by the tenth, screaming by the twentieth, convulsing by the fortieth, and out cold on the fiftieth.

I rubbed ointment into her, tied arms and legs in place, and did not remove the gag. The door closed behind me with a satisfying click.

I didn't feel very good. You just beat hell out of a former girl friend, I said to myself. She could easily have you arrested for assault. A little voice said, don't quit the program yet. She doesn't know it, but you are trying to help.

I set the alarm for 5 am. When the door opened, her eyes were looking at me. Unhappy, unfriendly eyes. I carried her to the bathroom and let her down carefully on the toilet seat. Noisy pee flowed out of her. "Do number two while you are at it." She shook her head vigorously. "You don't get any say in this. Either do it, or I'll flog it out of you."

Her hands and legs were tied, and I had an impromptu leash connected so she didn't get any ideas. The eyes were angry, but she had her dump. While she was doing that, I filled an enema bag from the vanity drawer and filled her with the proper mixture. There were a lot of noises as I filled and emptied her twice. She didn't know it, but I wasn't going to have backdoor sex with her today. Maybe tomorrow her new approach to life would have her asking me to take her anal virginity.

I spread her out on my big beach towel and worked body oil into the gorgeous skin. The backside was very red, but not puffed up or blistered. I needed to think and I needed to shop, so I tied her to the bed under a blanket and went out to the car.

On the way back, with my arms full of packages, her cell was ringing. I looked at it and there were three missed calls from a number not in her directory. Had to be Cooper. Should have realized he would want assistance on Saturday, being out here on his own.

I raised the shades in my bedroom, flooding the blanket covered body with morning sunlight. Her eyes were closed, but I couldn't tell whether she was sleeping. I untied arms and legs and said, "Stay there, I'll bring coffee."

She was sitting on the edge of the bed when I returned, head in hands.

"I'm not talking to you."

"You have a problem named Cooper, who has three unanswered calls on your cell. We are postponing our talk for a day or so while the problem is dealt with. I'm sticking around, against my better judgment, because I can't seem to avoid beautiful women in trouble."

"Bastard." She reached for her coffee.

"Do you want a shower before I put more stuff on your backside?"

"I am just going to take orders, or get beaten again?"

"I have ideas about changes in your lifestyle, but we'll get to those after we get rid of Cooper."

"You are being shitty."

"You deserve it. Come over here and lay that delicious ass across my knees so I can treat you."

Her behind was looking pretty good this morning, considering how hard I went after it last night. She moaned quietly as I carefully applied the ointment, rubbing it in so she could put on underwear.

"How can you be so nasty to me one minute and so nice the next?"

"I don't like being lied to, and I don't like pushy broads trying to do a number on me. Let's decide what you are going to say to Cooper."

"I am going to crawl under your blanket and cry all morning."

I stood and pressed her to me. "It's time for your executive personality to come out."

"How can I be an executive and rub on your bare chest at the same time?"

"Snap out of it. If I have to deal with Cooper myself, you are going to be left hanging from the ceiling with impressive welts across your tits and pussy."

She cursed and went in the bathroom. Ten minutes later, I had toast and juice for us in the kitchen.

I said, "We still don't know how he figures in this. Might just be ex-CIA type with no manners, or might be a serious threat guy. Before we blow any alarms, let's go one more round with him. Why don't you return the call and set up a meeting at a Starbucks. Tell him you are bringing me along and you have talked to me about not being such an asshole."

Have you ever seen a woman who is beaten, scared, angry and astonishingly beautiful all at the same time? The eyes were red and determined. "You are an asshole, but I guess we have to wait on that. Give me your phone."

Cooper answered on the second ring and I could hear his loud voice from where I sat. "Where you been hiding, Marsha? You think I'm taking the weekend off? I need access and information, and I need it now."

Marsha's voice was in HR mode. "Mr. Cooper, the east coast people have not sent me your authorization, and I understand they have some questions about you. As a favor, Scott and I are willing to meet this morning and see what we can do to help. There is a Starbucks at 12th and Fremont that should be convenient. We can be there at ten. Otherwise, I'm afraid this is all going to have to wait until Monday when we can get people back east on the teleconference system."

"You drive a hard bargain, lady. See you there."

I stared at her. "Where did that come from? Last night, you were in confused bimbo mode."

She put her head down on the counter and started crying. I picked her up and walked us to the sofa.

"Oww." She turned over, head down. A low voice said, "I know, you are sitting there thinking you beat the nonsense out of me. Arrogant bastard. Pull my pants down and tell me how red it is."

I eased the yoga pants down. She was gloriously bare and deliciously red. But no bruises.

"You probably don't want to hear this, but there are no bruises, no black and blue. It is a magnificent shade of pink. Am I allowed to kiss it?"

"Oh damn." She pounded my leg. Even softer, "Yes."

I trailed the gentle kisses all over her rump. She twitched and tried to open her legs. I pulled the pants all the way off. Her thighs were open and a pussy covered with thin blond hair was staring at me. I kept on kissing and she moaned. My hand went up between her muscled legs and stroked upward from the front of her sex. More moans. My tongue carefully licked the part of her bottom it could reach. There was sudden nectar for me. The tongue went back for more.

"Oh shit."

"We can't do this. We have to get to Starbucks. You are the sexiest woman I have ever known, but there has to be timeout."

She stood and smiled at me. "You goofball. You don't get it, do you? Oh, do we ever have issues to work on, you and me... Later, that is."

We went by her apartment and she came out in something close to cowgirl. Tight shirt with tits showing underneath in black bra. Tight jeans. Trail shoes.

She climbed in and looked at me for approval. "You did say we were going for a hike?"

"I can't decide whether you are building up brownie points or beating points."

She pulled my hair and said, "Tell me the game plan for the meeting."

"If he is genuine, he has pieces of intercepts from his FBI buddy. His job is to try to converge that to a specific individual. We don't know how big the net is right now, or what the nature of the information involved is. So, first thing is to see if we can get a handle on where he is with narrowing the net and what is supposedly being compromised."

"What if he is a bad guy?"

"That's where things get tricky. We're amateurs. If this blows up, the bosses are going to be all over us for not asking for help right away."

"What about pushing on the 'we need more credentials' angle?"

I glanced over at her. Pursed lips, determined look. "Give him the full on HR line. Then back off and let me talk to him. Bad cop, good cop. Like on TV."

We looked at each other. She mouthed "Asshole." and laughed.

I said, "I'm getting to like this. As long as nobody gets killed."

"Yeah. As long as nobody gets killed."

He was in a back corner and had maneuvered some space around a table. His laptop was open. We nodded at him and ordered lattes.