Agent Carter: Peggy's Girl Pt. 02

Peggy had broken into high-security HYDRA compounds. A closed-door audition was no major problem.

From the shadows, she watched as Angie ran her dialogue, preened and postured to display her effervescent look, all but showed her teeth like a horse at auction. They ran her through her paces, the Broadway men—expecting her to perform a three-hour show, matinee and evening, however many days of a week they needed. But Peggy recognized stern stuff in others as much as herself. In another world, Angie could crawl under barbed wire and sling a rifle with the best of them. Here, she could manage showtunes.

There were three directors. Two of them had enthusiastic reactions, but the last counseled his fellows to be calm. They told Angie they would get back to her. The first two were hearty about her chances; the third was hung-up on another audition who the other two were not nearly as sold on. He insisted, though, and whatever the pecking order, he seemed to have final say. He mollified them with a promise to sleep on it, but from the set of his spine as they left, Peggy knew he had no intention of changing his mind.

She thought it called for investigation.

***

Peggy twisted his arm nearly to the breaking point. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? Two hours of work, while I was bored with nothing better to do, that's all it took! The talent agency sends aspiring young actresses to whore for you, so you'll take their more established clients, no matter their suitability for the role!"

He tried to protest. Peggy twisted his arm to the breaking point. "I'll be having a conversation with them as well. You will cease this arrangement immediately. If you want sex, you can either prevail upon your wife for it or find someone who hasn't been manipulated into offering it! Otherwise, you'll bloody well settle for your right hand, assuming I don't break it off!"

He whimpered in abject surrender. Peggy eased the pressure, just a little. "Now. In a world where you didn't enter into this despicable arrangement, who would you have cast in the part?"

He said a name. Peggy smiled.

"Call her."

***

"I got the part!" Angie screamed. Peggy expected Angie to run to her for a hug, but Angie didn't run anywhere in particular. Just scrambled about the apartment like a headless chicken, waving the blouse she'd been ironing around like it was a winning lottery ticket. "I got it! I got it!"

Finally, from nearly bowling Peggy over, she realized there was someone around to hear her cries. She threw herself in an embrace with Peggy, though the blouse she was holding slapped Peggy in the face. "Thank you, thank you!"

"Me? I didn't have anything to do with it. What an odd suggestion!"

"For helping me, dunce-hat! I never would've gotten it if you hadn't taught me to be all cool and collected—" Angie swaggered around in imitation of Peggy, bending her elbows out from her waist in a way that had Peggy immediately thinking I do not do that! "You are the best friend a gal could ask for! The best Lesbian a gal could ask for! Jiminy Christmas, I'm so glad I've got you all to myself!"

She hugged Peggy again, this time from the rear, and Peggy barely minded how hard Angie was manhandling her about with her embrace. Angie rained kisses on her cheek, tickled her, practically ravished her with affection. Until somehow they found their way to the bed, Peggy thrown down on it, Angie crashing down on her with a real kiss, and Peggy thought she might quite like being ravished.

"But, don't get me wrong," Angie said, rearing up with a queer expression on her face. "My big break is nice and all, but what's really important is that now I get your reward."

"My reward?"

"Uh-huh." Angie's tongue poked at the inside of her cheek. "I mean, I got so jammed up when you were punishing me, I can't imagine what you'll do for the velvet glove treatment!"

"I do believe I 'reward' you on a near-nightly basis. Although I am glad to hear it compares so favorably to you having a gainful employment."

Angie smiled ruefully. "C'mon, Peg. You're telling me you don't have nothing planned?"

"I... have some small ideas... for a special occasion."

"What could be more special than this? You gonna go back to Germany and make the Krauts say uncle all over again?"

Peggy blinked. She realized, yet again, that Angie would do anything for her. Absolutely anything for her. It was something of an awesome fact. As well as quite stimulating.

"Go to the icebox," Peggy said. "Fetch a cucumber."

Angie bit her lip. "You mean...?"

"If the woman of the hour is open to it—so to speak."

"It's been a long while since I had a guy, English. But I imagine anything he does with a prong, you'd do much better!"

"Who said anything about me?" Peggy smiled in that way she knew was just somewhat intimidating. "We're going to be doing this together."

***

"Geez, Peggy, geez—you sure don't mess around!"

Angie tried to play it off with a laugh, but Peggy silenced her with a kiss. She wouldn't let Angie be anywhere but here, with her, experiencing the pleasure Peggy wanted her to feel. "I certainly don't."

Angie felt even more naked with Peggy dressed, still in her sleek professional suit, still wearing her red fedora even. And her without a stitch on. With the feel of her stockings still on her skin as had she peeled them off, Peggy watching every inch they traveled to make sure not a trace was left behind. Dear God. Dear Lord, she had nothing left to take off. Not a single thing she hadn't shown Peggy, wouldn't show her.

She sat on the bed and looked down at the cucumber and laughed again. She couldn't help it. Just when she felt all vulnerable and goosy, she saw that cucumber and wondered if it would miss being a goulash. She was glad Peggy didn't have a real dildo, like the one an old girlfriend of Angie's had used. It might've been too intimidating. The cucumber was just ridiculous enough to Angie to be comfortable with. She smiled even as Peggy fixed her with a nasty look.

"So glad you're amused, Ms. Martinelli. Reach down. Open yourself up to me."

Angie wasn't sure what she meant until Peggy's eyes dropped leadingly to her sex. Then, lip bitten, Angie brought her hands into her lap. Reached down, felt her labia—it seemed to sizzle at the touch—and spread the lips of her pussy. Peggy watched the pinkness glisten inside her.

"Good girl," Peggy said in a high, imperial voice that made Angie glisten just a little brighter. "Keep that open for me. I'll be using it momentarily."

"Why not use it right now?" Angie asked. She meant it teasingly, but there was a note of desperation in her voice. The outlandish suggestion of a cucumber put her at ease, but she was still knotted up with herself, eager for Peggy's reward. The longer she waited, the more she wanted.

"Because I haven't yet had my fill of those eminently kissable lips," Peggy teased right back, taking Angie's chin in her strong fingers, red nails angling Angie's mouth up to meet hers. "And later, you'll need them to scream how much you love me."

"I could scream right now," Angie breathed just as Peggy kissed her.

It seemed impossible to kiss Peggy when she was so domineering, like holding red-hot magma in her mouth, Peggy's tongue scorching and sizzling, turning Angie's teeth and gums and tongue into moans she had to let out. Only for Peggy to bottle them up with her fierce possession of Angie's mouth, make them grow louder and thicker and hotter until they burned, growling, deep in Angie's chest. In her stomach. Lower...

"Oh!" Angie said shrilly, feeling herself clench like her body was expecting, demanding Peggy's fingers. Usually when Peggy kissed her like that, it was when they were right in the middle of it—not just starting. "I'm ready, English. I think I'm really ready..."

Peggy bit Angie's lip as she pulled away, tugging on it like she wanted to keep Angie in her mouth forever. But she forced herself back, shaking her head with all her discipline, and offered Angie a smile that started shaky but soon turned steely as ever.

"Well then. I will defer to the lady's opinion. Hold yourself open, Angie. It won't fit, otherwise."

Peggy didn't just put it in. Oh no. She started by rubbing its cold tip on Angie's knee. Slowly, so slowly, she started it up Angie's leg. Angie could feel just how big it was by how much of it was touching her flesh. She'd do anything for Peggy, but it was so much to take, even for her mistress.

"Look at it, Angie." Peggy's voice was like ice in winter, the kind that was so cold it burnt you. She was all calm and collected, but her words set Angie on fire. "Look at what we're going to do. It's not me doing this to you. It's you letting me. Because whatever I do, I will never do anything that you don't want me to do. And you want this. Don't you?"

"I want you," Angie said. Voice thin and reedy. "I want you to do it to me."

"You want to help me do it to you."

Angie squeezed her eyes shut in need. "Oh yes, oh please, oh yes..."

Angie set her jaw, humming in need, in nervousness, in anticipation and eagerness and fright and trust. It was so big. But it was Peggy. Not only could she not imagine Peggy ever hurting her, but she couldn't imagine Peggy doing something to her that wouldn't make her feel... worshipped.

Whether Peggy did it with pain or with pleasure, Angie always ended up feeling transported beyond either, beyond all sensation, to a place that made her feel—she would never admit it out loud—like she'd been brought into contact with Peggy Carter's soul.

Angie beamed a little. Knowing it was coming. Her reward from the goddess that had chosen to worship her.

But instead, she felt Peggy's soft thumb caress her lips, ease over her cheek. Her eyes blinked open, wondering at the delay—just in time to close again as Peggy kissed her once more. Not the volcanic eruption of before, but slow and sweet, full of love but also need, like Peggy wanted to imbibe some of the affection and warmth that overflowed from Angie at all hours.

"When you're being brave," Peggy said, though she paused the sentence with a kiss rather than a comma, "but you're so nervous," another kiss that only made Angie more impatient, because it wasn't where she needed Peggy, "and so eager at the same time," Angie didn't know how the cucumber would feel better than this, but she knew it would, "it is just adorable."

"Peg, put it in!" Angie begged as Peggy kissed her cheek so hard, she left a lipstick imprint that would stay there the rest of the night—Peggy's name on her trophy. "I'm dying, English, c'mon!"

Peggy grabbed Angie firmly, kissed her once more, slowly, precisely, softly. "The urgency is adorable too. You may just be the cutest girl in Brooklyn."

"Yeah? Think I'm cute enough to find a girlfriend who won't torture me with waiting?" Angie pouted.

Peggy lost herself in a smile. "Definitely. But—I could take her in a fight."

Then Peggy locked eyes with Angie. She pressed the cucumber forward, guiding it unerringly against Angie, into her, inside her, never looking, her eyes never leaving Angie's as the girl's flustered expression turned to surprise, turned to concern, fulfillment, satisfaction—lips pinched together, nostrils flaring, eyes rolling back in her head as it went in and in and in—then, Peggy didn't think she could stop even if she wanted to.

She guided the cucumber in and out of Angie, always finding her spot but never pushing too far, too hard, too fast. And Angie moaned and arched her back and almost couldn't bear to look at Peggy when she was so pretty, such an angel doing so many things to her, she thought she'd die if she felt so beautiful and looked at something so beautiful in the same instant. But she kept her hands at her sex. She kept holding it open for Peggy.

"Good girl," Peggy purred, and her voice was definitely too much for Angie. She felt herself dying, deep in her guts. Deep down between her legs, she was going to heaven. "And that's why you deserve a reward."

"Love you, Peggy, need you, love you, love being your girlfriend—"

Peggy slapped her hand on Angie's thigh, held her in place as she went harder and faster, wishing she could touch herself, rut against Angie's perfect body like a dog in heat, but this was Angie's reward, not hers, and all she would let herself be concerned about was Angie's pleasure.

She deserved to be punished anyway, denied, after all the lies she'd told Angie, the danger she'd put her in, the times she'd been a bad friend and a bad lover and worried Angie to death because of a promise she'd made to Steve, swearing at his grave that he could rest in peace because she would pick up where he left off, do the work he would've done if he had stayed. But she knew too that he wouldn't want her to be alone, he'd want her with someone like Angie, and he must've called in a favor from God to let Peggy meet a lover who could take all of her, the sweetness and the kindness and the compassion, but also the violence, the hurt, the punishment.

As her lover quaked and moaned and needed and was satisfied, Peggy brought her lips to Angie's ear. Let her words flow inside Angie like a blood transfusion to a dying man. "I love you too, Angie. Feel how much I love you."

Angie bit her lip so hard, she barely let out a peep. Just a sigh, after, like steam from a broken valve, and Peggy was embracing her, stroking her, rubbing the warmth back into her body after it had all rushed to her cunt. Angie kept sighing, kept moaning, and Peggy slowly started to kiss her, to whisper to her. But it wasn't until Angie was strong enough to wrap her own arms around Peggy that her lover truly relaxed.

Angie had bitten her lip so hard, she'd drawn blood. As they cradled each other, Peggy sucked it clean in a long kiss that never seemed to end.

***

"I wish I were a boy," Angie said, apropos of nothing.

Peggy left her eyes shut. She was used to Angie going off on tangents, especially late at night, when all the coffee Angie drank caught up with her and left her half-dreaming. Sometimes, Peggy expected, she talked in her sleep and Peggy never even noticed. "If you were a boy, that would've been much harder to manage."

"Oh, believe you me, I'm very grateful to have my lady parts when you're around. But if I were a boy, I could marry you."

"You can still marry me."

"Where? Back home in Britain? Cuz they still have kings and knights there, I don't think they're that advanced."

Peggy suppressed a smile. "A marriage is just two people's hearts, not a piece of paper. If you mean the words, then it's a real marriage. If you don't, then it's not."

She popped an eye open to see Angie staring at her with the most lovelorn expression since Peggy's childhood pug had set up station under the table, awaiting scraps like an orphan out of Dickens.

"Peggy Carter," Angie said. "Will you marry me?"

"I've been yours since the day we met. About time you realized it."

Angie sat up. "We should have wedding rings. Not wedding ring-wedding rings, but, I don't know..."

Peggy got up. As Angie came up, kneeling on the mattress to watch, she swept over to her jewelry box. The two silver rings inside were not likely to be mistaken for wedding bands, but if that's what they said they were, then it's what they were.

She returned to Angie, taking her hand, placing the first ring on her middle finger instead of the other one. The look they shared told her Angie understood. Only they would know what it meant, but there were the only ones who had to.

"I, Margaret Beatrix Carter, do avow before God and the only person in my life that I truly love, that I will always care for her, always protect her, and always love her. Not as much as I do this moment, but more and more every day. I promise to love you more, even when you drive me mad, even when we're sick, even when we're apart—even if, somehow, we find a worse rathole than this place to live in."

Angie squeezed her hand around her new ring finger and its neighbors, as if she were trying to grind the ring permanently into place. "English... write that down, please, I don't wanna forget it."

"In a moment. Isn't there something you'd like to say to me?"

"Oh!"

"I think a simple 'I do' would suffice. Or a kiss, you don't have to say anything—"

"Peggy Carter!" Angie virtually bellowed, shuffling on her knees closer to Peggy. "I, Angela Dorotea Martinelli, do solemnly swear to cook for you and clean for you and do anything you need, ever, because I love you and I want you to be happy, so much, oh, that's not good, can I start over?"

"It's fine—"

"I do solemnly swear to look after you just like you look out for me, and take care of you just like you take care of me, and be a good friend just like you're a good friend. I know you're perfect and everything, and maybe I ain't, but I'm going to be perfect for you. Oh, and you can have front-row tickets to all my shows, forever, I don't care if I have to buy them myself..."

"That's very thoughtful."

"Oh, shit, that wasn't good either. The first part was good, I think the ticket stuff brought it down. Can we strike that from the record?"

"Consider it stricken." Peggy dropped the other ring into her hand. "Care to do the honors?"

Smiling so wide it seemed she'd break something before she stopped, Angie slipped the ring onto Peggy's middle finger. Kissed her. Didn't stop. Except to say—

"Beatrix? Really?"

"Dorotea?"

"No wonder we don't like men. They gave us such crap names."

"Shush, darling. You'll spoil the honeymoon."

After that, all was silent, save for the occasional moan and a whispered "oh, Beatrix" that never failed to result in a hail of playful slaps and amused laughter.

***

Dottie loved being neighbors with Angie. Not only could she hear them easily with a glass pressed to the wall, but with a little periscope along the ledge outside the window, she could see them.

She had fervently enjoyed watching Angie being rewarded for her stellar audition, but it had been their wedding vows that actually made her come. Now Dottie simply rubbed at herself as they continued to consummate the union, knowing it would take more than just watching them for her to experience such pleasure again.

She would need Angie Martinelli.