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A Body to Die For Pt.01
Zara took a moment to appreciate the perfectly smooth caramel skin against the crisp white sheets. She traced her finger through pitch-black hair and down the length of the girl’s back getting a sleepy mumble in response. Even the dawn call to prayer echoing out from the minaret of Istanbul’s Blue Mosque didn’t get any more than a slight murmur as the girl fidgeted slightly. Zara’s hand reached the curve of the girl’s hip and then up and around to the ass. She cupped it and gave it the gentlest of squeezes. She had been a fun fuck, a perk of the job.
With a sigh, Zara slipped quietly from the bed, her feet silent on the terracotta tiles. She caught a glance of her naked body in a long mirror as she gathered her clothes. In her mid-thirties, she was toned and athletic with subtle muscles catching in the soft light. For a moment she was lost in thought and absentmindedly ran a finger over a scar that ran down from her left shoulder. When it had first happened, when she had pulled the knife from her own flesh, it had concerned her that she would be left with some terrible disfiguring mark, but now she looked at it with pride, a medal of honor. It had become her first scar of many, but it was still her favorite. She stretched out a few aches and pains in her back and then her left leg. Every morning there seemed like there was another niggle.
Quickly she tied her blond hair back in a short ponytail and then dressed, fastening her leather jacket tight around the front. She looked through the wooden shutters and over the maze of flat roofs that lay scattered around the city like patchwork. The sun was just peeking above the blue domes of the Mosque making its grandeur even more magical.
The girl mumbled in her sleep, rolled over but did not wake. The bedsheets slipped from her shoulders revealing a dark nipple crowning a small breast. Zara wished she had time to take it back into her mouth, to suck and taste it, but there was no more time for that. Zara took the key-card from the girl’s jacket and, without a sound, crept out of the apartment.
*****
Zara swerved her motorbike around another car and received a torrent of blasts from the car’s horn. Even at this early hour, on a Saturday, Istanbul’s traffic was building fast. In another hour and the city would become a chaotic maze of cars following no rule other than survival of the fittest. She crossed the bridge over the Bosporus, the throttle of her engine making the fishermen turn and scowl. And then she had left Europe behind and was in Asia. But the only thing that had changed was the continent. The same chorus of cars and energy filled the streets and she barrelled headlong down the road until she saw a side alley up ahead. Barely breaking her speed she leaned down hard tilting the bike perilously close to the tarmac, but she kept control and steered it down the alley. Here there were no more cars to contend with, just trash cans that she weaved between before slowing and stopping. She cut the bike’s engine and looked up and down the street. It was empty and even the sound of the traffic was muffled here. She pulled her helmet off and checked her watch: 7.13 am. She had made good time.
A small, nondescript door stood almost hidden amongst the detritus that littered the street. She waited exactly two minutes and then knelt by the door, her pick-locking tools already in hand. The lock was basic and within thirty seconds she heard the door click and she eased it open. With one last glance to make sure no one was watching she stepped inside. The corridor was cramped and by the layers of dust covering the files that were on the abandoned trolleys, it was clear that this place hadn’t seen use in quite some time. She patted the side of her jacket and was reassured by the shape of her gun.
She made her way through the deserted factory, she didn’t make a single wrong turn, every detail of the building’s blueprints had been ingrained in her memory. She passed rows and rows of idle sewing machines, passed drinks carts with cups stained with coffee that had evaporated years ago until she reached a metal grate against one of the brick walls. It took a bit of effort, but with a hard tug she eased it free. She glanced at her watch: 7.17 am. She had three minutes.
The air duct was cramped and Zara had to crawl on her belly. Every inch forward required her abs to tense her body and then relax to edge along the tunnel. She did it methodically without pause, squeezing around a tight corner without slowing. She fought back the urge to sneeze as dust swirled around her face. Then around one last corner. Another grate led out, but not into a dark stuffy factory, but into a sleek modern office building. She pressed her face against the grating and peered out. She could just see a desk where a security guard sat. She was behind him and could see an array of computer monitors displaying various parts of the building, all except one which was a istanbul travesti video of a large naked man taking a slim busty girl from behind, which hole his cock was in she couldn’t quite be sure. There was the sound of a door opening and closing and the security guard quickly changed the porn back to the intended security footage. Zara listened as he greeted another man in Turkish, then packed up his stuff and left. The new security guard checked over the video screens, then took a mug from a drawer in the desk and vanished from sight. She listened to his footsteps tapping over the stone-tiled floor. There was the whirl and hiss of a coffee machine. Zara pushed the grate and it popped out. With a few more wiggles she nimbly climbed free and into the office’s large reception atrium.
Calmly she assessed the room and situation, the fifteen yards that led outside to the street, the cameras pointing at the entrance, the row of elevators, all on the ground floor. In a small alcove, set against the wall on the other side of the room, the new security guard was humming as his coffee percolated. Zara didn’t rush, she moved to behind the desk, knelt, and inserted a USB drive into the computer. The monitors flickered and then froze. She looked up as she heard the guard start to stir sugar into his coffee. She moved quickly to the elevator, swiped the key-card, and stepped inside. By the time the guard had returned to his desk, Zara was already halfway up the building.
The elevator gave a ping as it stopped on the fifth floor and the door opened up to a laboratory. Everything was white, the floor, the walls, the desk even the trash cans. A thick glass wall separated Zara from a myriad of scientific apparatus, most of which she had absolutely no idea of what they were. Workbenches stretched out all the way to the far end of the building, she imagined during the working day at least a hundred scientists would be toiling away, test tubes in hand playing around with their toys. She saw a door in the glass wall and made to swipe the key-card again when she noticed the green LED, the door was already unlocked. Her hand instinctively moved under her jacket and drew her gun. She looked back through the glass wall searching for any movement. ‘There should be no one here,’ she thought, ‘all the scientists should still be tucked up in bed enjoying their weekend lie in. Maybe one decided to catch up on some work?’
Zara opened the door and slipped through, gun now pointing ahead, scanning left and right. The amount of equipment on the workbenches, along with the racking of glassware above each workstation, made it hard to get a clear view of the huge expanse. Her gun twitched to the right when she saw a figure standing in a cubicle, and even her steady heart skipped. She then relaxed as she made out the shape of a white lab coat just hanging on a hat stand. She released her breath, ‘Maybe some boffin just forgot to close the door properly on the way out,’ she mused. She pressed on making a beeline for the far corner.
It was exactly as had been described to her, an opaque glass-walled room with a reinforced metal door. Zara couldn’t help but glance up at the security camera that glowered down at her, she had to trust that the monitors behind the front desk were still frozen otherwise when she went back down to the atrium she would be receiving a very unfriendly reception. With the gun in one hand and the key-card in the other, she tiptoed to the door. Again the lock had a green LED light. With her foot, she pushed the door open ajar. Banks of computer servers lined the walls and in the center was a large, padded, metal chair, but there was no one inside. Zara’s hairs on the back of her neck were tingling, something was wrong, had she been set up, betrayed?
Zara’s gun covered every corner, but there was nowhere for anyone to hide, she was alone. ‘Well I’m here, the question is what exactly does this mysterious weapon look like?’ she asked herself. She flicked through various files on a desk stopping on a schematic annotated in Turkish. While her Turkish was passable her scientific jargon was negligible and she wasn’t able to understand any of it. She opened a drawer and her eyes widened in shock, there was a selection of sex toys in there. Dildos, vibrators, clit stimulators, even ribbed sleeves for men.
“What the fuck are they doing in here?” she gasped.
She turned to the chair in the middle of the room, there were all kinds of medical monitoring equipment next to it but her eyes were drawn to a rubber strip strategically placed in the middle of the seat. On the arm of the chair there was a dial which she turned. The rubber stripper instantly gave off a hum as it started to buzz, she turned the dial further and the buzzing noise became sharper as the vibrations increased. Any woman, or even man, sat there would have been subjected to some very intense, very pleasurable sensations. But none of this indicated towards any alleged weapons – just to some istanbul travestileri kinky scientists. She dialed the machine back down.
‘I’m missing something,’ then she noticed a mannequin’s head mounted on a stand in the corner, wires lay strewn about it as if they had been hastily pulled out, ‘Or something is missing.’ Zara picked up one of the files from the desk and saw a diagram of a person’s head and a silver band around the forehead, ‘Looks like whatever this silver headband is, it has been taken. Well, I didn’t come all this way to leave with nothing.’
Zara pulled out her phone and started taking photos of all the files when she felt, as much as heard, movement from the door. She was already diving behind the chair as a sequence of bullets tore through the desk. Her phone tumbled from her hand as she slid across the floor and leveled her gun at the attacker. Another barrage of gunfire forced her to duck back down again and she looked in frustration at her phone that lay in the middle of the room. She made a reach for it but a bullet hit the phone square on reducing it to a sparkling pile of electronics. Zara recoiled her hand as another burst of shots bit into the floor right next to her. She fired back blindly, just pointing the gun over the chair and shooting towards the door. A moment later alarms started to blare out and the whole lab started to strobe with a red light.
“Fuck!” cursed Zara as she ducked back down again. She waited for more gunshots but there were none. She peeked over the chair and saw whoever had been at the door was gone. Grabbing the ruins of her phone she dashed out of the door and back into the main lab. Towards the far end she saw the shape of a figure dressed in black run through the door and vanish out of sight. She tried to ignore the blaring sirens and the constant flashing lights and focus, ‘The elevators will now be locked down and the guards will move up the stairs towards this floor. If I can’t go down…’
Zara sprinted through the lab, passed the elevators and into the stairwell. She looked down and heard half a dozen footsteps pounding their way upwards. She went up. She counted each flight of stairs, ‘floor six, seven…eight!’ she swiped the key-card to open the door onto that floor but a red LED light blinked defiantly back.
“Fuck you too!” she snarled and blasted the lock from the door with a hail of bullets. She immediately heard shouts from the security guards below as they re-doubled their efforts. Zara kicked the door open and burst onto an office floor. The same clinical white décor from the lab was also present here, but instead of a laboratory, this floor was given over to admin and rows of desks and computers filled the space. She looked at the far end and the windows that looked out over Istanbul. She knew what she needed to do and she did it. She sprinted full tilt at the window and just as she was about to crash into it she fired four shots in a perfect square through the thick pane of glass, her body then impacted against it. She felt pain shoot through her leading shoulder and heard a crack as the window gave way. Then she was in mid-air, the street far below. For that split-second, she hoped she had calculated right and then she rolled heavily onto the flat roof of the disused factory building.
Zara pulled herself to her feet and checked she was in one piece. A few shards of glass protruded from her leather jacket and she pulled the largest pieces out. She winced as she tugged one that had penetrated her jacket and had embedded itself in her flesh, blood staining a sharp point.
“Another day, another jacket ruined and another scar,” she sighed.
*****
Zara parked the bike by the side of the apartment building and crossed the street to a small café on the corner. She then returned to her flat, checking the time as she walked through the door: 8:27 am, another couple of hours until her flight.
The beautiful naked girl was still lying in the bed, the sun now shone through the shutters casting bars of light over her back catching her lovely contours.
The girl blinked and looked up, “Where have you been?” she asked in a thick Turkish accent.
“Just went to get some breakfast,” smiled Zara holding up coffee and pastries.
The girl looked Zara over, especially the leather jacket that now had dozens of lacerations, “I don’t remember your jacket being that messed up last night…”
Zara put the breakfast on the bedside table and knelt on the bed, “What do you remember about last night?” she asked with a smirk.
The girl blushed, “Look, last night was crazy…but I am a good girl…I don’t think I should have…”
“Should have what?” teased Zara, trying to hide the wince she gave as she pulled off her jacket. Her white t-shirt had a patch of blood near the shoulder.
“What happened to you?” gasped the girl, sitting up, but pulling the bedsheets up to cover her breasts.
“This? I must have slept funny,” travesti istanbul shrugged Zara, “Give me a second.”
Zara went to the bathroom and pulled off her t-shirt, the cut on her shoulder was clean, but it would need stitches, as well as that her whole side was starting to take on a curious shade of blue and purple. She deftly sewed up her wound with a needle and thread from her toilet bag, she had gotten very used to stitching herself up with one hand and she nodded in approval at her own handiwork.
The girl was sipping her coffee when Zara came back in, she gawped at the growing bruise, “That definitely wasn’t there last night!”
“Fine you got me, I fell off my bike on the way to get breakfast.”
“You rode your bike…to get breakfast…across the street?”
“What can I say? You Istanbul drivers are crazy. Now, what were we talking about?” Zara unbuckled her belt, took off her boots and kicked off her jeans so she stood by the bed in her bra and panties.
The girl’s eyes darted around Zara’s body nervously, “I told you…I think last night…I just got carried away…”
“Well I am about to get carried away with you again this morning,” grinned Zara and tugged the bedsheets from the girl’s grasp. The girl covered her breasts up and crossed her legs, “You weren’t so shy last night.”
“I…I don’t even know your name… this…this isn’t like me..” replied the girl as Zara climbed onto the bed and ran her hand up the girl’s bare leg.
“That’s ok, I don’t know your name either,” Zara eased her hand between the girl’s thighs and started to move it upwards. She noticed the girl’s breathing become heavier, her eyes locked on the hand.
“I…I think we should stop… Oh…oh…” gasped the girl as Zara’s hand reached its destination and started to stroke the rapidly swelling labia lips. The girl’s legs relaxed and fell open allowing Zara’s fingers access to her dark flower.
With every stroke, Zara could feel the girl’s arousal build and her fingers moved with increasing ease over the slippery pussy.
“Mmm…oh…” the girl’s hands fell away from covering her breasts and gripped the pillow under her head. Her nipples were hardening by the second and now the girl looked up at Zara, all doubt in her eyes replaced by lust.
“I’m going to lick that tight little pussy until you come,” whispered Zara as she lay down between the girl’s legs, which spread wide in invitation.
“Yes…please…do it…”
SEX, LIES & VIDEOTAPE
The rain lashed down seemingly from all directions giving the umbrella no chance. Jamie accepted that she was going to look like a drowned rat on her first day and just kept walking, then to add insult to injury a red, double-decker bus splashed her shoes as it rumbled past. She walked along the banks of the Thames and saw the river’s usual calm surface was now a roiling mass as the raindrops pelted it relentlessly. Despite the weather and the noise she liked London, it was home.
The monstrous glass and stone edifice rose up above her as she reached MI6 Headquarters. While in name it was supposedly Britain’s secret service the organization had no qualms about displaying their power by mounting their operational building right in the center of the Capital. She wasn’t sure if it was designed to be a watchful guardian over the city to ease the people’s fears or as an Orwellian Big Brother peering down and trying to discover their secrets.
Jamie pushed the heavy glass door open and was surprised at how ordinary the atrium looked, it could have been any other office reception in London, except for the X-ray machine and a troop of armed guards whose eyes immediately focussed on anyone entering. She placed her umbrella, bag, naval uniform jacket and hat on the small convey belter and stepped through the scanner. The guards looked her up and down. If she was trying to make herself feel better she could have told herself they were drawn to her subtle curves, her long legs and the faint outline of her bra that could be seen through her wet, white blouse. She wasn’t busty but she had enough to get admiring glances. But these guards were professional through and through and she was sure they were more interested in any tell-tale body language that might hint towards any kind of deception. Eventually, one of them nodded in satisfaction and gestured for her to head toward the front desk.
“Hi, how can I help you?” asked the man through the bullet-proof glass. Despite his manner, Jamie could tell he was no ordinary receptionist. He wouldn’t have been out of place minding the doors of an Eastend pub. He was probably ex-military and the way one hand remained under the desk suggested he was more than capable of using the concealed weapon should the need arise.
“Hi. I am here to see…” Jamie stumbled as she realized she didn’t actually know the name of the person, “I am here to see the head of Department Seven. I’m Jamie Blaze, Lieutenant-Commander Jamie Blaze.”
“Just a moment,” replied the man who picked up the phone. Jamie couldn’t make out what he said through the thick glass and the general noise of the atrium, but he finished the call and gave a smile and said, “Just take a seat Lieutenant-Commander someone will be down shortly.”