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Spy Identity.

"A simple story of a spy meeting his old friend who can no longer be trusted."

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Author's Notes

"My first story that I decided to publish on the wide Internet. At the same time, I plan to write another one."

I sat leaning forward, with my elbows resting on the rough top of the light wood table. For obvious reasons, as always, I decided to sit close to the huge window, on which there was a bold sign announcing the name of the place.

The white stem was bent into a characteristic arc, which was certainly intended to refer in its style to the declaration of the windows of premises I had previously known from classic cinema productions.

Time was getting longer, so I kept looking nervously at the clumsy watch hanging on my wrist. It was largely a bracelet made of aluminum, the metallic texture of which gleamed in the dim light of the openwork lamps. Two pieces were hung at equal intervals above the central part of the ceiling.

The all-digital dial of the device was already pointing to midnight, and the following seconds seemed to pass with the labor of hopelessness growing in my soul.

I had been sitting in my seat for ten minutes, so as was my custom throughout that difficult time for me, I was staring blankly at the rain-drenched street.

I tried with all my strength not to think about anything, but my thoughts swirled around the event that was about to take place, and surprisingly it still could not take place.

Impatiently, I finally looked at the pointed claws that boldly protruded from my fingers. I recently painted them with red varnish, but its quality left much to be desired.

The next day I had an appointment with a girl I knew who did such things for me. At the same time, I was completely sure that this time I would follow her good advice in the field of cosmetology.

The night that evening was cold and dark. Only the glow of a nearby street lamp illuminated the darkness on all sides. The yellow glow of light coming from the external lantern and the wide window of the storefront combined with the one on the sidewalk in front of the premises, thus creating a majestic semicircle.

I remember that it was already well after midnight, so I couldn't expect any particular traffic, and the severe lack of activity quickly meant that I leaned my back against the high back of a plastic chair and crossed my arms over my stomach in silent protest.

The cone-shaped glass I placed in front of me was already half empty. The red liquid with the flavor of forest fruits and vodka didn't make the slightest impression on me, but it didn't really surprise me.

This type of establishment deserves a stunning selection of drinks. Very quickly, I would say, they would turn into discos for the poor, and the owner certainly didn't want that.

Despite all this, it was also the cheapest of the drinks on the menu. So it simply couldn't be tasty. However, it was not its taste that was most important to me at that moment, but the current view outside the window.

As you probably already guessed, I was waiting for someone. I was tense, even though the matter didn't seem particularly serious to me. It was an ordinary spy's report, combined with the transfer of top secret materials.

We had made similar contacts hundreds of times before and nothing special ever happened. So why should something terrible happen on that dark night?

However, I had to admit that with each passing minute, my thoughts swirled more and more around various worst-case scenarios of our meeting together. They behaved like a rushing typhoon that was becoming increasingly stronger.

I remember that I was looking out for a familiar Chevrolet all the time. The red color of its body has always been conspicuous to outside observers, but my contact simply never minded it.

Whenever necessary, he drove majestically onto the high curb in front of the window where I was sitting. Only he himself, with his innate nonchalance, stopped the car in place.

This time, however, it was different. Five minutes before our meeting, I still hadn't seen his majestic convertible in front of my eyes, and the resulting situation aroused my extreme anxiety.

I was perfectly aware of the seriousness of the situation. After all, something must have changed if nothing has happened yet.

Of course, as an experienced agent, I had no problem accepting the fact that no one from the so-called company saw fit to inform me about the change in the tactical situation, but my breathing soon became shallow.

The ever-increasing questions kept bothering me:

Has my contact been kidnapped?

Did he talk about me during torture?

Have I also been exposed and bad people are just waiting for the moment when I decide to leave the premises?

I instinctively tightened my fingers around the stiff material of the red bag. I remembered well about the small gun that I hid before leaving my apartment.

The only element of my wardrobe, which had made me feel at least a little safer, now rested safely in a rectangle covered with plastic sequins that every lady usually called a handbag. The gun was waiting for its debut, but I once decided that I would never use it.

I already knew how to shoot, so I had no doubts about my skills. However, I preferred to avoid this. Only a complete madman and idiot would dare to resist arrest.

I placed my purse next to my elbow as soon as I took my seat at the table. I had this habit. I don't remember where it came from, but this time I had to congratulate myself on my prudence. I must admit that my habits sometimes came in handy, although previously it always ended in fear.

This time, however, my breathing was much shallower, and a strange anxiety was already taking my breath away. To this day, however, I remember that strange feeling of relief when I saw the characteristic refractor lights of the car that trudged onto the road in front of my eyes.

He stopped at a place I knew well, which finally reassured me of my concerns about the accuracy of my suspicions.

In truth, I didn't immediately recognize the figure of the man who opened the wide door, but I knew that gesture perfectly and I couldn't be wrong.

However, my suspicions came back to me very quickly. His behavior aroused them. I saw something completely alien in him. Something that was hard for me to name and define at that moment.

However, I quickly decided to reject those dark thoughts. After all, he finally arrived at the designated meeting place, and this fact was the most important for me at that moment.

However, I watched closely as the dark silhouette of a man in an old-fashioned trench coat and hat closed the door with a brutal swing in a slightly grotesque gesture of irritation. Even in the middle of the pub I could clearly hear that characteristic crack.

At that moment, the relief on my face visibly hardened as I watched him pass all the meters that separated him from the front door. I already knew that. Things were clearly different that evening.

I instinctively looked at the girl standing at the bar who had been constantly playing with a huge cell phone in a white casing since she started preparing my order.

I remember that she was wearing a carelessly hung apron and a neckline that was definitely too wide even for the level of that place. She also decorated her eyes with some cheap glitter and chewed gum obscenely, which reminded me only of a bored butcher shop clerk.

Yes, the girl definitely didn't pose much of a threat to me. At least that's how I assessed the current situation. It was better for our common interests this way. A girl interested only in her own nose could only be good for me. However, I must admit that I didn't look much better than her. It was an element of a kind of camouflage that I had to get used to over time.

A mini skirt made of red material that resembled thick rubber and a short top that barely covered both of my femininity attributes seemed to clearly indicate my profession, and my petite figure seemed to be perfect for a tight jumpsuit.

But it was all just a masquerade. I've never worked on the street. My workplace was in a corporate environment where I did many things. My competencies included collecting secret information. Of course, without the employer's knowledge, and with the approval of the mysterious client.

Yes. I knew perfectly well what I was risking. However, I have never had major concerns about my safety. All this, thanks to extensive security procedures that have given me great peace of mind so far. A peace that lasted until that damned night. Only at first, I felt completely safe.

At the same time, I must admit that the transmission of secret information was not the reason why I was looking forward to our joint transmissions so eagerly.

What gave me real pleasure was his, by no means insignificant, physicality. What I mean here is the most classic and brutal understanding of this word. My contact had a penis so thick and long that many ladies must have found incredible comfort from him.

Of course, I have been able to assign myself to that group for a long time, and for a long time. But we never talked about his other women.

I definitely preferred not to be interested in such things and, to be honest, I wasn't interested at all. Maybe I just didn't want to know?

I had long ago realized that my contact loved it when I dressed like a lady of ease, which, combined with the typical character of the area,which we both saw regularly couldn't have been a bigger challenge for me.

High heels, extremely bright make-up and an attractive figure definitely complemented the work. My current image perfectly confirmed the presence of a single woman in that place and time.

I had previously decorated my eyes traditionally with black eyeliner, thus giving them a predatory expression. I also highlighted my eyebrows and eyelashes with black. I only used bright colors on my cheekbones and lips, which, combined with my dark complexion, created quite an original styling.

My luscious light pink curls fell over my slender shoulders and my small breasts, which stuck out a little too provocatively. I had already crossed my legs. I crossed high-heeled stilettos in this way, the upper edge of which reached almost to my incredibly shapely knees.

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This time, a blond man I knew well, with long hair and a broad chin, just opened the door to the premises.

He immediately took off his wide-brimmed hat and looked carefully in both directions. He noticed me quickly. Only then did a cheeky smile light up his face and, without the slightest hesitation, he directed his steps towards me.

Another disturbing gesture. The man I knew until then had never smiled before. He was always deadly serious. Whenever I tried my best to relax the stiff atmosphere, he automatically dismissed it with embarrassing silence.

I have no idea why, but my intuition told me to continue our strange game. Today I know perfectly well that the beginning of our fun together began when I noticed the unusual curvature of his mouth.

He made his peculiar gesture just before he wordlessly pushed his chair back and took the seat in front of me. He then rested his head on his open hands and we looked at each other like old friends. This was another violation of the rule typical of our meetings. Then there was a moment of casual silence.

I myself performed my duties with some hesitation, but he pretended not to notice it at all. Mainly, that's why our meeting together quickly became a kind of pretend game, and any bond that had previously connected us disappeared forever.

When I decided that the right moment had come, I smiled slightly at him and reached for the bag that had been lying there all along. However, I only looked away when I had to open the flap of my bag. I did it with some reluctance, but I tried to lighten the situation with a cheerful face.

I knew what would happen next. I will take out a mini disk from my bag with plans for a modern rocket, the design of which was developed by the company that employs me.

I'll put it in front of me and he will, not very discreetly, stick out his hand. He will tighten his grip on it and hide the agency's latest loot in a so-called safe place.

We will both be self-confident, and my stony face will only express the full professionalism he longs for.

At the very end, we will both surely end up in a tight toilet, where our lips will connect violently, symbolizing in an obvious way the wildness of our hearts and the desire that filled us to the brim from the first minute of the ongoing meeting.

This time, however, it was completely different. Our mutual caresses were completely unfamiliar, and our kisses were expressionless.

To this day, I have no doubt that at that moment we were two complete strangers who were only fulfilling our business obligations and did so without any feelings or obligations.

Mainly, that's why that evening I crouched down in front of his still erect figure faster than usual.

Mechanically and without an ounce of feeling, I reached for his zipper. I remember that he leaned his back against the toilet wall and then lifted his chin. I think he closed his eyes, but today I'm not so sure.

This time, my graceful fingers pulled out his fleshy penis. The lover's penis was, as always, thick and of larger than life-size. However, at this point I must admit that I did not handle the matter entrusted to me with due diligence.

My thoughts were completely elsewhere at that moment, and my mouth movements quickly became automatic and without much flair. I have been fulfilling my duties without the slightest sensitivity all this time, but this time I cannot blame myself in the slightest.

I had much more important things on my mind, and I was frantically wondering what to do next:

- How will I escape?

- What has he planned for me?

- How does he want to reveal his cards?

These and similar questions were swirling around in my head, but despite great intellectual effort, I could not find the answer.

So I stood up impatiently and turned to face the toilet bowl. It was traditionally made of white porcelain poured. Without a moment's hesitation, I lifted my foot up. I rested the sole of my high heel on the edge of the toilet bowl and stuck my ass out majestically towards him.

It must have seemed incredibly vulgar, but we both liked similar behavior. Similar gestures always had a positive effect on both me and him.

Only then did I give him a significant look, and in response he reached towards my still protruding buttock. Soon I felt his fingers on me, but my lover decided at that moment on a different scenario of our meeting.

I know this because I quickly felt his hand on my crotch. It was then that my breathing gradually became deeper and deeper.

Of course, I was faking my growing excitement, and the only thing that was growing in me was simple fear. I saw no sign of cunning thought on his face, or at least he didn't show it.

However, I watched him closely the whole time and I could easily tell that he was also faking it. At the same time, I must admit that he pretended even more openly than I did. He was obviously very confident in the scenario, which he probably created himself. However, I also began to create in my head my own alternatives for ending our last meeting.

I smiled to myself as he entered me for the first time. He pushed me hard, but not to the fullest extent of his abilities.

I must admit that he did it with perfect indifference, which also caught my attention. I shouted a bit too theatrically in my response; the man currently riding me didn't seem to pay any attention to this fact.

I know this because he continued his, or rather our, ritual. We did it like well-programmed robots.

Now I don't know if it was just for show or for us?

Was he fucking me to deceive himself?

The sea was just about getting used to it and being completely conscious for the last time. Perhaps the sea was a kind of farewell before the real hell begins?

Cholera. This last word especially stuck in my head. It clearly caused the current reality to hit me with double force. It dawned on me that within an hour my life had changed and it was happening right before my eyes.

After all, I had to finally realize that I would probably not return to my everyday life in the morning. I won't see the apartment or even my pseudo-friends from work.

Moreover, I will never again visit that one Dagmara in a fashionable club for lunatics. I also won't do a whole lot of other, quite ordinary things that simply made me feel better. It has always made me feel like a better person

Unfortunately, my partner suddenly interrupted my dark thoughts. He pushed me away from him violently, but I knew perfectly well what I had to do in such a situation - it was my duty. Mainly because I quickly turned to face him and fell to my knees again.

Without a moment's hesitation, I closed my eyes and parted my lips. I felt the taste of his cock again. Here again, I don't have much to be proud of. All the things I did with my mouth had nothing to do with my previous shape.

However, I had my reasons. After all, for the first time in my life I couldn't feel the ground under my feet.

I didn't have any pre-prepared plan. In a word: I had to go with the flow, which I didn't like at all.

Strangely enough, when my personal world finally exploded, there was no big bang as I had previously...

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Written by Natasha_citizen
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