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Spy Swap, Part 5 (Special Agent to Hot Spy Girl TG)
🕑 Added 2024-06-28 10:09:29 +0000 UTCA Commission for Al
Finn Langston is the best of the best, a dashingly handsome secret agent who always saves the world and always gets the girl. But when he is called upon by The Agency to infiltrate the private island of Sebastian Whitlock, a devious playboy industrialist who may be angling for world domination, Finn meets his greatest challenge yet: being turned into a raven-haired spy beauty to seduce Whitlock, and find out what he is planning. But the new and beautiful Fiona may find her cover going far, far deeper than she could have imagined . . .
Part 5: You’re Only a Lady Twice
He was being pursued through the tight alleys of inner Athens. Fiona ran with darting speed, having ripped off the hem of her ball gown so as to free up her movement. Her thighs, at least, were up to the challenge, and the Lord knew they were on display; the slit up her leg gave her the flexibility required to vault up over fences, something she achieved with a near dancer-like grace. Unfortunately, she was running barefoot. Her heels had to be discarded due to their sheer impracticality, but because the machine the Agency had used had given her quite dainty feet, they were getting scratched up something fierce as she took the fastest possible route her phone could track to Adrian’s location.
Damn fool. Failed field agent. How close were you tailing them? A single metre!?
Still, an agent didn’t leave a partner behind, no matter how incompetent. She raced across the cobblestones and through alleyways, gaining the attention of several pedestrians and loiterers, each of whom were shocked to see such a beautiful raven-haired woman darting through the shadows, her breasts bouncing as eager to escape the confines of her showy dress. She herself was getting concerned about that; they actually hurt a little as they jiggled quite heavily, and she had to adjust the bodice of her dress several times to prevent any embarrassing wardrobe malfunctions.
Damn this body! Bloody tits! Far too big!
But they had worked on Sebastian, enough to get him to hint at all manner of things. Whatever he was planning was likely to go ahead within a week, or at least a stage of it.
But for now, Adrian Spiros.
She was closing in, and soon she was near enough that she could hear the sound of gunfire. She quickly retrieved her Beretta from her thigh, halting for just a moment before rounding the corner into a dark section between two apartment buildings. It was thin, but she could easily see Adrian running straight towards her, worry in his eyes.
“Duck!” she cried, and he did so just in time. She fired a shot that landed a slug right in the brick wall by his assailant. She briefly cursed her lesser aim in these smaller hands, but with a small correction to her stance, she fired again. The man was just raising his own weapon to her, but the slug landed right between his eyes and he fell.
“Got him,” she said. “Are you okay?”
Adrian got to his feet, looking at her with amazement. “I am, thank you. That was incredible. You’re incredible.”
Strangely, she could feel herself blushing at his compliment. Something to do with his slightly nerdy personality making it so sincere perhaps. She looked down, and realised that not only was her gown showing more cleavage than it was meant to, but her corrected firing stance had one bare leg stepping right out to the side, like the cover of a pulpy novel featuring a gorgeous woman. She rolled her eyes.
“Ridiculous,” she said, fixing her stance. “Now come and let’s find out who-”
“Agent, watch out!”
She raised her hands just in time; an assailant from behind slid a sharp wire over her head, intent on wringing her neck. Instead, it caught on her bracers, which had the effect of firing one of their bolts off into the wall. At the same time another man ran past her to swing a knife at Adrian. He backed up, adopting a fighting style she recognised as Krav Maga.
So he has had some training. Well, let’s see how I go in this new body.
“Shame to ruin such a pretty body,” her assailant said in a thick Greek accent, grasping her around the waist and raising his hand up to reach her breasts.
She struggled against him momentarily, but her lack of strength now was clear.
Finesse, Hardeen has said. So use some damn finesse, Fiona.
She did so, and in a big way too. In the tight space of the alley she managed to get her feet up against the wall, pushing him against the other. Then she quickly vaulted herself up, running up the wall using him as leverage before vaulting backwards, literally flipping over his head. The man tried to keep hold of her but she was quicker, wrenching him forwards with the momentum as he was slammed against the wall she’d just run up. He spun on the spot, face bleeding, trying to withdraw a gun. Once again, she was quicker, firing a quick shot to put him down. She turned to the man Adrian was fighting, but needn’t have bothered. The man was holding his own and then some, and with three quick strikes, the last to the jugular, the man went down. He grasped one final time with the knife, but it was already sunk into his own heart.
“Nicely done,” she said.
“Right back at you, that was amazing. Hard to believe you were are-”
“Shh! More coming! Run!”
They did so, her pulling him along and trying to get clear of the men. Police sirens were wailing, so their pursuers had stopped using guns, but as they tracked them through the alleys they nevertheless had to be dispatched. Adrian managed to take out one with a well-placed dagger throw, and she took out two more who ambushed from the side, both times with her bracer.
“How did you do that?” Adrian asked, astonished, who hadn’t even seen how they’d died. From his perspective, they’d just . . . flopped.
She smirked, shifting her long hair to one side in a way that was accidentally quite attractive. “It’s all in the wrist,” she mused, before pulling his head down, sliding over the surprised man’s back, and lashing out with a bare-legged side kick that clocked their last would-be surprise attack right across the jaw. The man folded like a sack of potatoes.
“Thanks again,” he said. “Damn. Who were these people?”
“Let’s find out,” she said, hearing the sirens out on the main streets. “Come, there’s a building we can break into over there. We’ll see what we can learn from this man.”
***
Adrian figured out quickly who he was based on his identification.
“National Intelligence Service,” he said, checking his wallet and weapon, as well as his other material.
“How can you tell?” she asked, gesturing to the man strapped to the chair in the second-hand bookshop they were using as an interrogation chamber. He hadn’t woken up yet, but would stir soon. “It’s not on his ID. He could be a mercenary thug, or private military type.”
“If he is, he’s either ex-NIS, or still has strong contacts there. Trust me, I may not be great at tailing, but I am great when it comes to mission-critical intelligence and deduction. And everything about his kit, his approach, even the way they avoid local police, it screams of intelligence training local to here. The garotte is standard-issue for assassinations, though this is not publicly known. We don’t share it with your Agency, either.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Good work then. Shall we wake him up?”
“Do we have an idea of what we want from him, or how to approach this?”
She chuckled under her breath. “I’ve done a few of these, don’t worry. Improvisation is its own skillset. Just play good cop to my bad.”
“Um . . .”
“What?”
He gestured to her body, and the slow realisation came.
Damn.
“Ugh, I see your point. Fine, I’ll play . . . seductress.”
“When in Athens, play Athena?”
“More like bloody Aphrodite.”
Still, they placed the smelling salts beneath the man’s nose and he woke, startled.
“Who are you? You have no right to detain me!”
Fiona sighed internally, then used the training Amanda had drilled into her in a most humiliating way; she lowered herself so that her chest was quite close to the man, her gorgeous face right before him. She was a show, she knew, and she wished she could have been the Greek assassin right now, instead of the woman pressing her breasts right up against him. Even Adrian looked quite fascinated by the sight.
Lap it up. I’ll be getting rid of this body soon.
“Oh, but honey,” she said to the man, whose ID stated he was George, but that was unlikely. “You’re the one who tried to hurt us.”
“Not you, him. He was trying to hurt a very important man.”
“Is that so?” she asked him
Adrian cocked a smile, shook his head as if it were obvious.
“Well, seems it’s sorted. But since we got the upper hand, now you have to answer our questions.”
The man’s face went stoic. “I’ll say nothing. I’ll die before I do. You should flee, because we will find you.”
“You’re the only one left, honey,” she said, her voice dripping like honey. She ran a soft finger down his cheek, and it was clear the man was incredibly aroused at the sight of her. He was straining not to check out her tits, so she did something daring. Completely daring, and embarrassing; she actually got up on his lap and spread her legs over him, placing her forearms over his shoulders and giving him the greatest view any man had ever had. She gave him a brief tap on the nose before placing her hand back on his shoulder.
“That’s right, you’re the sole survivor. But as you can see, I can be real good for you, honey. Really, really good. If you treat us right, I can maybe treat you right. I can get you off, honey. Right off. You won’t be in trouble at all, at least not . . . the kind of trouble you don’t want.”
She grinned, fiddled with her necklace to tease her cleavage a little more. The assassin swallowed. Adrian swallowed, gulping beside her, clearly taken by the sight.
“If you let me live . . . if I could go over to your side. The people I work for are dangerous. Mad, even. The things I have seen. But . . .”
Nearly got you.
She moaned sensually, running a hand up his chest. “Don’t worry honey, we work for powerful people too. We can help you get free. I could help you get free. Wouldn’t you prefer that?”
The man cracked like an egg, enough so that Fiona couldn’t believe the sheer power her new femininity had. No intense one-liners, no need to fight or intimidate or put on a fancy show - other than using her well-endowed chest for the mission.
“I - I think I would,” the man said. “If I get asylum. If you take me to asylum. Then I could give some information.”
“About Petyr Offrick? The arms dealer?”
“About all the arms dealers,” he replied. “And the politicians. And the scientists. The ones I have seen.”
She threw a smile to Adrian. The cute man grinned back.
Victory.
***
It was two days later, and she was awaiting the call to get to Sebastian’s boat. The pair were currently holed up at an indistinct hotel room at a seaside resort, and both were going over the information presented by the would-be assassin. It was very useful stuff; Sebastian Whitlock had been wheeling and dealing with numerous politicians, ex-politicians, statesmen, media group leaders, heads of think-tanks and the like, and through them procuring access to scientists and rocket programs that would previously have been off-limits. Others seemed to be powerful men like him, many of whom had storied pasts of sex scandals and the like, which Fiona couldn’t yet figure out the significance of in the grand scheme of things. It all gave evidence that he was trying to construct a true Sword of Damocles weapon, perhaps not just to ransom the world, but to literally place his allies and friends in power and control it. Or at least to get a piece of the pie.
“I still can’t believe you managed to get that man into custody,” Adrian said. He was on the couch opposite her in a casual white-button shirt and slacks. It was a good look. She on the other hand was wearing a green summer skirt and fashionable cream blouse. It was also a damn good look, and she found herself liking the skirt more than she expected to.
“I just used some mission critical ‘assets’,” she quipped, rolling back her shoulders to emphasise her large E-cup breasts.
Adrian’s eyes widened a moment, and she nearly giggled. Actually giggled! She enjoyed teasing him, especially since her new body found him very cute to tease.
“Well, it’s a good thing you put them to such use. That was a performance, all right. Same as when you managed to get us free of those other pursuers. Think they spotted you?”
She shook her head. “I made sure of it. Trust me, they weren’t looking at my face. Just like you’re not doing right now.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Well, I can’t blame you. If I don’t get that call from Sebastian soon, it won’t be from a lack of effort or presentation on my part. I can be Fiona and I can be Alexandra, but I doubt I’ll manage to have any covers than that.”
“You’re only a lady twice, then?”
“Hopefully,” she replied. “If all goes well. If not, I’ll just have to live with the humiliation of being turned into a bloody big-titted woman all for n-”
Her phone rung. Adrian paused, so did she. She picked it up, got into character, took a breath, and then waited a few more seconds before answering it.
“Alexandra Goodchest speaking,” she said in purring tone.
‘Miss Alexandra, it is me again. I wonder if you would like to visit my island today?’
She nodded to Adrian, who gave a private fist pump worthy of even the most dramatic Greeks. It was, like with much of him, very cute.
“I would love to, Mr Whitlock.”
‘Please, call me Sebastian.’
***
“Well, I very much hate this, Agent Spiros.”
Adrian gave a sympathetic expression as he adjusted the hidden recording device on Fiona. It was in a rather . . . delicate location, and he was clearly making an earnest attempt to place it along the edging of her bra without actually making contact with the prodigious amount of flesh there.
“I sympathise, Agent One, but if this really is the only way and our newest source is right, then perhaps Whitlock really is planning to unleash some kind of destabilising weapon upon the world. If that is indeed the case, isn’t some discomfort worth it?”
She sighed, which only made the placement more difficult for Adrian; her bust rose and fell prominently with the breath. “Fine, fine, you’re not wrong. Still, I’d really like to get my manhood back and say ‘so long’ to these . . . mission critical ‘assets.’”
Adrian snorted. “Well, if I may say so, they are very impressive assets.”
“Oh, give that here.”
She snatched the miniature recording device and attached it to the interior of her bra, then rubbed it over with the colour-matching gel to disguise it as best as possible. Then she slipped her green crop top on, the one that revealed much of her tantalising midriff. She already had an airy skirt made of expensive material, and her heels (the ones with the EMP in them) were on her feet also. She donned her sunglasses for the warm light outside.
“How do I look?”
“Honestly? I’d fall for you myself.”
She rolled her eyes. “I suppose that’s one kind of form of encouragement. I’ve been on more than a few post-mission escapades with women that look like me, you know?”
“Really? Quite the lucky man!”
“You have no idea. Just remember that part the next time I catch you ogling my damn rear, got it?
Adrian blushed. “Sorry. It’s just . . . well, I am part-Greek. We invented arousal.”
“Let’s hope Sebastian Whitlock remembers that while he’s here,” she quipped, placing her hands on her hips. “Stay in contact while I’m on Arcadia. Anything I find, you need to report forward. And we know Whitlock has enemies everywhere, so be careful.”
“I will,” he said, standing up to face her. He was annoyingly taller than her, due to her height loss. “And you be careful as well. There’s likely to be danger there.”
“I’m no stranger to danger, Adrian.”
“As Finn Langston, yes, but while you did far better than I the other night, I’d still hate to see you fall into trouble.”
She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms beneath her impressive breasts. “Is that a protective instinct for a lady I’m detecting?”
Why did I just say that? I refuse to end up flirting with a male field agent just because I’m in the body of a female one.
“Call it an attachment,” Adrian said quickly. “You did save my life after all. Twice. Trust me when I say I’ll do everything I can to help you while you’re on the island. I’m good with technology. Very good.”
He extended a hand. Cautiously, she took it. Once again, she was surprised by the strength of him. Despite him not being the most capable field agent when it came to self-defence, he had still been good. And his forearm was quite . . . impressive.
Since when have I had a thing for forearms? I’m going to kiil you, R.
“Best of luck, Agent One,” he said.
“And you too, Agent Spiros.”
She grabbed her things and headed out, casting him one last smile as she did so. The true mission was about to begin, the dangerous part. The infiltration. This was what she thrived upon, and the part that always excited her.
Just have to cling onto that thought while I’m wearing a bloody skirt and crop top.
***
The island was impressive, looming on the horizon as they approached via one of Sebastian Whitlock’s private catamarans. The warm wind whipped at Agent One’s hair, causing it to unfurl behind her. She wished she’d brought a headband or something, but it was too late now. She was about to enter the lion’s den, and her mind was trained on the nature of the island itself, with its vaulting cliffs and borderline-tropical forest covering, as well as the expansive beaches off to one side. The enormous white complex with its large domes was in the centre of the island, and off to one side was something like a private resort or paradise estate. Already she could see some figures moving about.
They’ll be pretty much all women, she mused, before looking down at her petite and busty form. Just like me, now. And Agents Thirty-Nine and Seven might be there too, somewhere in the facility. Captive.
It was a greedy thought, but she immediately began to think of ways of rescuing them without them ever knowing who she actually was. Even the great Agent One had her own pride.
“Wonderful, isn’t it?” shouted a voice over the wind of the racing catamaran. “Arcadia is a true paradise on Earth!”
Fiona looked to the current captain of the ship and gave a smile. The woman’s name was Carla Volpe, and true to her last name she had a rather canine appearance about her. She was tan, with her brunette hair in a ponytail and her bare arms clearly displaying a lot of muscle. Well, one arm at least. The other on her left ended in a stump, from which a crude mechanical substitute with a sharp grasping hook extended, one that was clearly capable of simple operation and looked to have a strong grip. She wore red shades, but Fiona could just manage to see the amusement in her eyes.
This is a woman to be wary of. She’ll be one of Whitlock’s female bodyguard. Perhaps the head.
“It looks magnificent!” Fiona managed, gasping at the island as if she were a much more naive individual, and playing up her apparent femininity all the while. “I can’t believe the size of it! I thought it was so much smaller.”
“It is fully self-sustaining,” Carla boasted. “The island supports itself entirely, though regular shipments are made to keep up with the exotic culinary desires of its populace. Mr Whitlock is a true visionary; it is here that his greatest ideas and innovations are made for all his businesses and enterprises, and part of that brilliance comes from his muses.”
“Yes, the island has a mostly female population, doesn’t it?”
“Indeed,” she said, smirking. “Most are vetted more thoroughly before arriving, however. The brilliant and beautiful who can serve to inspire him. You must have left quite the impression. Perhaps two impressions.”
Both women looked briefly to Fiona’s bust.
For God’s sake, is it too late to get a reduction? These things are ridiculous!
They were also being shown off; the crop top had quite the v-neck as part of it, and revealed part of her shoulders too. The end result was that her dynamite figure was on display, and the few men on the island would likely be staring at her often, especially their leader.
“We mainly talked,” Fiona said icily.
“Yes, Sebastian likes women that talk,” Carla said. “Just make sure you do not talk too much over the coming days, Miss Goodchest.” At that, her eyes went to Fiona’s chest, flaunting their own amusement. “There is much happening, many cogs turning. He is about to unleash a new . . . product. One that will change everything. So please, do not distract him too much. He has a weakness for the bimbo type.”
Agent One had been called many things by friend and foe alike - cad, jock, dinosaur, a womaniser, a walking libidinous liability - but he, or rather she, had never expected to be called a ‘bimbo.’ It actually brought an embarrassed blush to her cheeks, courtesy of her new feminine emotions.
Well, fuck you too I suppose.
“It’s a good thing I don’t match the description then,” she said, walking down into the catamaran. “Tell me when we arrive. I look forward to seeing Sebastian again.”
Carla just gave her a chilly gaze. Her clawed hand bent one of the metal railings.
Better steer clear of her. Real henchman type, that one.
***
“Alexandra! You are indeed a sight beneath the Greek sun! Whatever beauty I witnessed the other night pales in comparison to the vision you bring now!”
Sebastian was nothing if not enthusiastic to see her. He was in a casual white button shirt - top button undone to reveal his hairy chest - and swim shorts as he descended the white steps towards the dock they had just arrived at. With him was a small entourage of four women, each of them quite beautiful and athletic, each quite clearly trained in security judging from how their eyes swept all about them and their own rigid postures. No guns were visible beneath their stylish two-piece outfits, but she had little doubt there were at least knives and likely a small weapon like her own Beretta Bobcat 22. He didn’t seem concerned about them though, just her; he approached, made a small bow, and took her hand and kissed it. It felt oddly quite nice.
Okay, keep it in your pants, Sebastian.
“It is so deeply enchanting to see you again,” he whispered to her, rugged handsomeness showing on his face.
Okay, keep it in your pants, Fiona, she thought as she fought a smile. She decided to let it happen anyway.
“The same to you, Mr Whitlock. Sebastian. Thank you for inviting me to this island. It is spectacular. I wish . . . I wish to see everything!”
He held up a finger. “All in good time, though you cannot see everything. Trade secrets for my companies are on this island, after all. But come, come! My lovely bodyguards will take your bags to your room - one of the best rooms on the island, with the greatest of views! - and I will personally show you around Arcadia. It truly is paradise, believe me.”
“So I have heard,” she replied meaningfully, side-eyeing Carla Volpe, who began whispering to the bodyguard as Fiona’s luggage was handled.
What followed was a grand tour, and one that was very different from other such tours Fiona had experienced, namely because she had a man’s eyes ogling her form with every step, and she herself had a mission to emphasise that very fact. It took great effort at times not to act like a man, particularly when Sebastian sat her down in the little two-person monorail pod that shepherded them across the island. It was instinct for her to have her legs spread like a man, but she managed to catch herself in time and place one leg over the other. Sebastian smiled at this, enjoying the way her skirt pulled back to reveal more of her delicious thighs. At points, she had to remember to keep the sway in her legs. She had walked like a man all her life, and while her lower centre of gravity and wider pelvis made some sashay inevitable, she got into a good pattern of playing it up despite hating having to do it. It left her perfect derriere swaying from side to side, outlining against the fabric of the skirt. Adding a slight bounce to her step gave a much more major bounce to her breasts also.
They’re so damn active. I always loved a good pair of breasts as a man, who doesn’t? But I had no idea how ‘active’ they feel once you’ve actually got them. I swear they never stop.
Indeed, just the night before she’d rolled onto her stomach again and gasped awake at the soreness of lying upon them. A big chest came with its own difficulties, not that Sebastian currently cared; he was magnetised by her beauty, even staring at her hair from time to time, which made Fiona feel oddly flattered.
“You truly belong here,” he said rather forcefully, sweeping his hand daringly through her hair. “You will see what I mean soon. Come, I will show you the facilities.”
“I would love to see them,” she said. “And hope they are up to my high standards.”
He guffawed at this, and the manliness of his low voice sent a chill down her core, a kind of flavourful shiver that her female body was evidently receptive to. She cursed R internally again, but continued her female charade.
Arcadia was indeed a splendid island, and no expense had been spared in making it Whitlock’s private retreat, laboratory, secret headquarters, and place of utter pleasure. While the first three were of her foremost concern, it was the last factor that was most immediately obvious as the powerful magnate gave the tour. There were dozens of other women on the island, likely numbering a couple of hundred, in fact. All of them were beautiful, though with no small amount of smug pride she did not that she was likely the most attractive among them. Still, women of all races and cultural backgrounds lounged on beaches, swam in the ocean, played tennis and golf and other games across the island. Many bathed in the sun, others lounged naked near the baths, others were in the artificial hot springs. It was like a modern day harem, though there was no element of oppression to it: the women grinned and waved to Sebastian, calling out his name and wishing him well as he passed, and he in turn occasionally stopped and shared a joke or anecdote, introducing Fiona to them.
“Ah, Alexandra, meet Dr Denise Christmas. She is an expert physicist whose work captured my attention four years ago. She’s been living here ever since, helping my business grow and making the world a more innovative place. Isn’t that right, Denise?”
Wait, that’s a physicist? As if! Someone’s pulling Santa’s sleigh on that one.
The woman in question looked to be in her mid-twenties at best, with brunette hair and slight latina heritage. Her lips were full and pouty, her breasts impressive double-D’s, her figure a gorgeous and slim hourglass. She was wearing a blue bikini that left little to the imagination, and she giggled at Sebatian’s words.
“I just can’t bring myself to leave!” she said, clearly delighted. She leaned forward and kissed Sebastian briefly on the lips. “Our dear patron is just too attractive, don’t you think?”
He is, but damn it all if I’ll admit it. But no one is ‘stay on an island for four years as a personal bimbo’ level of attractive.
She hoped Adrian was getting this. She almost wished he was here, even if his own eyes would still wander her form.
“He is captivating indeed,” Alexandra said, “though I still reserve some judgement. I like my men to truly impress me with their brilliance.”
It was bait, but he seemed to take it. “Ah, then I shall simply have to do my utmost to surprise you, Alexandra. Come! There is more to see!”
Indeed, there was. Just about every pleasure, leisure, facility and invention was available on the island. There were even a couple of helicopter landing pads complete with his own personal choppers. The main facility on the island was barred by security, but he did gesture to it and explain it as the “one off-limits area of the island.”
“Hmm, a real shame,” she said. “I do like a good secret. Are you sure I can’t see inside, even for a moment?”
“I’m afraid not, my dear. Only a few can, and those are my most trusted friends.”
God, I have to do this, don’t I?
She pressed her body against him, placing her forearms around his neck - he was much taller than her, and stockier too, so there was a strange comfort in it.
“We could be friends,” she purred. “Very close friends.”
There was a stiffness in his pants that should have disgusted her, but didn’t. Instead, her nipples tingled. She was no prude - far from it - and had already experimented with her own body per Amanda’s instructions. It had been . . . illuminating. But experiencing arousal at another man was something she’d rather not delve into, so she pulled back a little.
“I should like that,” he said. “I am very busy tonight, but tomorrow we shall have dinner together, yes? I would discuss my visions, and I always appreciate new perspective.”
“I would like that very much,” she said. “For now, may I see my room? I wish to . . . slip into something more comfortable.”
Sebastian smiled deeply, his imagination likely running wild. He clicked a button on his left lapel and spoke into it.
“Carla? Yes, show Miss Goodchest to her room, please.”
***
Agent One may not be used to being a woman - even the sensation of absence between her legs was somehow becoming more noticeable, not less, in these surroundings - but her new sex was no barrier to one crucial part of her training; detecting all manner of bugs in a paid-for room. She found five listening devices and two cameras, all as part of a delicate sweep that she made look totally casual and unrelated to any spy activities. She draped one article of clothing on a chair to block one camera view, but left the two others to avoid suspicion. It left her with a few deadzones to avoid being seen, and that was enough, even if it meant that when she changed she’d occasionally have to let her handlers see her terrific body.
Yeah, drink it in. I’ll have a martini myself later and forget all of this once it’s over.
She retrieved her luggage, and checked that the x-ray proof sections had not been opened. Indeed, it was clear they had been thoroughly checked and then repackaged - she had used the old ‘sealed hair’ trick to see if they had been snapped open - but the crucial contents had not been spotted. A true relief. Which meant that she had her Beretta Bobcat 22, her laser lipstick, and a backup stylish wrist brace with extra ammunition and grappling hook. She also had her device for connecting to Adrian, if it were even possible with the stealthing field on the island that blocked standard satellite coverage. She tried a few times to connect and found no luck, but that was expected. She’d have to find a hack. Instead, she repackaged everything and then re-entered the camera zone, observing herself in the full-length mirror of the luxury suite. It overlooked the ocean and beach where numerous beautiful women were relaxing.
And I’m one of them. Alexandra Goodchest . . . and Fiona Langston. You’re only a lady twice, indeed.
She sighed, looking at her busty form, the perfect contours of her breasts in her top, the way her hips flared out in her skirt, her perfect midriff. And she was about to show off a lot more than that too, if she was going to do reconnaissance and find out about the missing agents and seduce Sebastian Whitlock. It was time for her ultimate test of women’s wear.
It was time to don the dreaded bikini.
To Be Continued . . .
Comments
Taki Kuroi
The claw hand is such a Bond thing. This is great. :D
