Company Car

When we were happy that the bad guys were down, Pamela and I walked over to inspect our handiwork. I quickly produced a syrette, turned the fallen girl (who, thank God, had stayed out of the crossfire) over, and after finding a good vein in her left arm, jabbed her quickly. "What the hell is that?" Pamela demanded.

"Keep your knickers on," I whispered, although she hadn't had any on last time I checked, "it's just Versed. Keep her out of it for a few minutes, long enough for us to get her out of here." I didn't add that Versed is also a neurolept, one of those drugs which erases the patient's short term memory just after it's administered. That's why it's so popular just before surgery. It's even more popular among some of us field operatives because people lose all inhibitions about talking while on Versed, which is why I happened to have some on me.

Pamela and I had given the targets a death much quicker and more merciful than the ones those poor Army Rangers died in the streets of Mogadishu. The girl we walked over to the car between us, and then dropped her off at the casualty ward of the local hospital. The rest of the gory details are in my after-action report, which CIA may even declassify one day - probably when warp drive is invented.

Afterward, Pamela had dinner with me at the pub where I was staying. Over dinner, I learned that the day's events weren't all in the line of duty - Pamela wasn't supposed to have fired a shot today, but the pistol-whipping pushed her over the edge from professional covert operative to human being, and she went with her heart. We were more alike under the skin than either of us knew before the shootout, I realized.

I heard a lady at a table down the dining hall cooing to her husband about us, and realized that Pamela and I were clasping hands, the perfect transatlantic lovers. I squeezed her hand, and Pamela blushed. My heart thudded in my ears, and I could feel the blood rushing down between my legs as I touched her and again smelled the sweetness of her body - her pupils opened wide as we regarded each other. I couldn't remember wanting someone so badly, ever.

After dinner, we stepped into the pub's courtyard for a nice moonlit walk in the brisk night air. Pamela leaned against me, and I clasped her to my side, savoring her warmth and her natural sweetness. We stayed out there for what seemed an hour, watching clouds scud across the moon and cuddling each other.

"You're going back soon, aren't you?" Pamela breathed in my ear.

"Not for a couple of weeks... I have to close out my cover here." I replied.

"Good," she whispered, sliding her hand between my legs and squeezing steadily as she pressed against me for a passionate kiss. I took her into my arms and caressed her, slipping a free hand up under her jacket and blouse to touch her soft, bare skin, then down under her skirt and panties to cup her ass, hefting it along the cleft it made with the back of her thigh.

We broke the kiss off in time, and Pamela discreetly followed me to my room, where we finished the matters we had taken up in my company car. After all, Anglo-American relations were at stake.