J the Sleuth Ch. 01: The Genesis

"Actually, I do," she replied. "It could be important. Everyone has a 'style,' so it's possible that I'll recognize her from her interactions with you. I'm also interested in any particular kinks you might have, that she fulfilled for you -- I want to know if she was watching you for a long time, and how well she got to know you before making her move. For example, are you into public sex? Is that something she might have gotten from your Facebook posts, or your porn habits, or something else online?"

"Not really," he answered. "I think she just wanted to get her hooks into me as fast as she could, and swallowing a guy's load is always a good place to start."

"Got it. Okay, go on."

---

It was late in the afternoon when we'd arrived at Starbucks, and as we'd talked, afternoon had turned into evening. We decided to go and grab something to eat. On the way out, we both visited the bathroom.

I was washing my hands when there was a knock at the door. I was finishing up, so I opened up to let the next person in, but it was her. She came in, and closed and locked the door behind her.

"Before we go, I just need one quick thing," she said, and before I knew it she was on her knees in front of me, had my pants down to my knees, and was getting me hard with her mouth. Then, as soon as she could, she was blowing me for real: deep-throating me, and working the head with her tongue. If she'd been a pornstar she probably would have been making more eye contact with me, but somehow, the fact that she wasn't was almost more hot; it was like she was so focused on my cock that nothing else mattered, not even me.

It didn't take long for me to cum, and she sucked down every drop. Without thinking, I stroked her hair and called her a "good girl," which caused her to blush, but she got a funny look on her face, too. She mostly hid it, but she found that phrase more annoying than pleasurable. I'll come back to that later.

She stood back, up, and leaned in close. "About dinner," she said, "why don't we eat in, instead of going to a restaurant? It'll be much more... private." I was definitely into that idea, and she said her place was nearby, so we hopped in an Uber and went over.

We were barely in the door before I had her up against it. Before leaving the gym she'd changed into a skirt, so we didn't have to mess around with getting her pants off: I simply hiked it up, pulled her panties off, and was inside her in a quick moment.

But I warned her when I was going to cum; I didn't want to get a stranger pregnant on our first date!

"On my face!" she whispered, so I pulled out, she got down in front of me, and I unloaded on her face. It was more cum than I was expecting, having just cum in her mouth a short while ago, but this was much more exciting than I was used to, too! So she ended up with cum on her face, in her hair, on her top... it was a lot.

"Well," she said with a smile, when I'd finally finished, "I guess I need to go get cleaned up, don't I?"

I laughed. "It might be a good idea," I responded sheepishly.

"There's a wine fridge in the kitchen," she said over her shoulder, as she started to head for the bathroom. "And a decanter in the cupboard. Why don't you decant a bottle of red, and we can order in?"

"Works for me," I said, and went in search of the wine and the decanter. I found a nice bottle that would be good for sipping, while we waited for the food, and poured it into the decanter to breathe for a bit.

There's a lot about the situation that I'm revisiting in my mind, with the benefit of hindsight, but even at the time I remember being surprised at how sterile the kitchen was. The cupboards were mostly empty, as were the drawers; it didn't feel lived in, if you know what I mean. Actually... it felt a lot like this safe house does, now that I think about it. There was enough stuff in there to make it livable, but there wasn't as much stuff as there would be if someone lived there.

The fridge was pretty well stocked, though. Lots of bottled water, some milk and butter and eggs, bacon, even one of those pre-packaged meat and cheese trays. And near the back, behind a bunch of other stuff, was a little vial of some clear liquid. I was curious so I picked it up, and was surprised to find out that it was sodium thiopental -- they call it Sodium Pentothal in the movies -- and wondered why there would be a bottle of that in the fridge. A lot of medicines have multiple purposes, but I didn't know of any uses that would cause someone to have thiopental in their apartment!

The plan had been to order in, but that was before I realized there was a meat and cheese plate in the fridge, ready to go. When she joined me, dressed in a light summer dress, we ate off the island in the kitchen.

Why don't we go sit in the living room," she eventually suggested. "I'll bring the wine." So I brought in the food, and she joined me a few moments later with a couple of glasses of wine in her hand.

She left them on the table and turned away to go and put on some light music, but I was still stuck on the fact that there had been a vial of thiopental in the kitchen. On a sudden impulse, I switched our wine glasses when her back was turned, instead of taking the one she'd placed in front of me.

Before we could even sip from our glasses, though, she was back at the couch and straddling me -- she hadn't replaced her panties -- and started slowly riding me. She let the dress fall off her shoulders so that I could get my mouth on her breasts, and this time, when I told her I was ready to cum, she said, "Just give it to me!" So I unloaded inside her.

She half rolled, half fell off me. We sat back and lazily sipped our wine, and nibbled at the food.

After a while, though, I noticed her movements getting sluggish. I looked more closely, and noticed that her eyes were getting glassy, too.

"You okay?" I asked.

She struggled to think, for a moment, and then a sleepy form of realization dawned in her eyes. "Shit," she said, "the glasses got switched."

"What was in mine?" I asked.

"Sodium Pentothal," she responded. "I had to ask you some questions. But... dosage... too big... for smaller frame..."

She was right, she was smaller than me, so the dose was putting her to sleep faster than it should have. But I needed some answers before she went under.

"What about?" I asked, trying to hide my distress. "What were you supposed to question me about?"

"Work. Supposed to ask about work."

It was kind of creepy how dreamy her voice had become. Like in the movies, when someone gets dosed with truth serum. Which, I guess, is exactly what had happened.

"And what's with all the sex?" I asked. "Why keep doing me, if you just wanted to question me?" I don't know what kind of answer I was hoping for -- really, I was just buying time as I tried to think of my next question -- but I was disappointed nonetheless.

"I have... theory. ... Drug... works better... after sex. ... Endorphins... I think. Always... get guys off... many times as I can... before dosing."

"And... what were you going to do with me after?" I asked.

She reached behind the cushions of the couch, and pulled out a gun, with a silencer attached to it. "Kill you," she responded. "Leave corpse. ... Nobody find you... month or two."

I was chilled by this revelation. "And you'd be okay with that?" I asked.

"Don't like... being called... 'good girl'..." was her only reply.

"Can I have that please?" I asked, and, to my great relief, she handed the gun to me. She was pretty much unconscious by this point, so it was a good opportunity to leave.

---

"And so I did," he finished. "I left her there, naked, splayed out on the couch, with barbiturates coursing through her veins. That was yesterday, so she'll be awake by now, but she won't be enjoying the 'hangover.' She's probably pissed off, actually; I'm sure nobody likes waking up naked, cum dried between their thighs, having completely failed at their 'mission.'"

"No, you're right," J responded, though she looked like she was far away, deep in thought. "I'd sure as hell be pissed."

"So what do you think?" he finally asked, after letting her think for a while. "What do we do? What's next?"

"Well you're definitely in danger," she responded, coming back to the moment. "If all you've said is true, and I have no reason to doubt it, a woman like that isn't sent unless people are very serious. Luckily, you're in exactly the right place, right now, so you don't have to worry for the time being. So I'm going to make a quick call, then I'm going to leave you here for a bit." She turned toward the phone, and continued addressing him over her shoulder. "There's nothing for you to do, for a while. Go ahead and do your work, or watch TV or whatever, and just stay out of the way here. Hopefully, if I can figure out quickly who wants you dead, I can put a stop to it."

By this time she'd dialled her number, though the conversation was very short. "Me. ... Yes. ... Actually, it's true, I think. Someone's after him. ... Pros. High calibre. ... Got it. ... Yep." And then she hung up.

She turned back to Ben. "I'm gonna use the bathroom, and then I'm gone. There's plenty of food in the kitchen, the TV works, and I promise there aren't drugs in anything."

"Not funny," he replied, though, despite himself, there was the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Out of curiosity, he browsed through the kitchen, as she went to the bathroom. As promised, the fridge was well stocked.

"Okay," she said, joining him a moment later. "I'm leaving."

"No problem," he responded. "But geeze... do all spies shop at the same store? You've got the same stuff she had the other day!"

She smiled. "I guess we all have the same basic needs," she responded.

"Even the same wine," he said, but was surprised by her reaction. She'd been about to leave, but wheeled back on him.

"What? What did you say?" she asked.

"The... the same wine," he said, holding up a bottle of red from the fridge.

"Forget everything I said," she said. "Grab your stuff. We're leaving. Now. Leave your cell phone here."

If she was this serious, he figured he'd better follow suit, so he went and got his bags without a question, leaving his phone on the counter on his way by. When he rejoined her in the hall, he found that she'd taken apart the fancy alarm panel, and was cursing under her breath. He didn't understand electronics, but it was clear she didn't like something she saw in there.

"They might already be here," she muttered to herself, "and we wouldn't even know." She then turned back to him. "Ready?"

"I think so," he responded, "But ready for what?"

She took her gun out as she responded, and did the types of things people in the movies usually do with guns when they think they might imminently need to use them: sliding the top part of it back, and flipping some kind of switch. He assumed part she was taking the safety off. "Out the door," she said. "I go first. Down the hall, opposite end from which we came; you go first. Down the stairs; you go first. There's an exit; I go first. It brings us into an alley; we go together. After that comes... whatever comes next. Anything happens -- any loud bangs, anything at all -- you keep going, with or without me. Anything happens to me... you're on your own, I guess. Just try to keep your head down, and don't use your credit cards. Maybe they'll lose interest at some point. Got it?"

"There's a lot there to take in," he responded wryly. "Let's focus on the first half: out the door, down the hall, down the stairs, out the door, out the alley. I'm ready."

She opened the door and glanced both ways, before signalling him out. As before, he had his bag over his shoulder and the suitcase in his hand. He led the way down the hall, and down the stairs, where he waited for her at the exit. As before, she opened the door to the outside, and glanced out left and right, before going out and motioning him to follow.

They were halfway down the alley, and he was beginning to think they were free and clear, when she suddenly spun around, and he heard a loud bang. He looked back and saw a man falling to the ground behind them. She spun him around to keep him moving, but not before he noticed that the man had had a gun in his hand.

"This way," she said, when they'd arrived at the alley's exit. "We want crowds right now."

She was right, there was a lot of pedestrian traffic the way she was indicating; sidewalk cafés, and some stores with sidewalk displays. It wasn't hard to lose themselves in the throng of people, but he noticed her eyes never stopped roaming left to right, taking in everything, missing nothing.

"In here," she said, shoving him into a doorway barely large enough for the two of them. They stayed there for a moment, and tried not to look inconspicuous. She scanned the crowd for a while, and must have convinced herself that there wasn't any danger.

"Okay, let's snag that cab and get out of here," she said, indicating a taxi slowly making its way toward them. They dashed out and caught it.

"Square One," she said, and they were off.

"Which entrance?" the cabbie asked her, when they got close to the mall.

"Walmart," she answered.

When they got there she paid the cabbie and they went inside, but she immediately led him through the Walmart and out into the mall, and then to a different exit, where they went right back outside and caught another cab, which she instructed to take them to Playdium. After being dropped off, she waited a while, then they snagged a third taxi, which she had take them to Vaughan Mills, where they did the same routine as they'd done at Square One: they got out of the cab, went into the mall, and left out another exit. This time, however, she didn't bother with a cab, she went to a remote area of the parking lot and they got into a car for which she had the key.

It was obviously her car, so he finally felt free to talk without them being overheard. Which was about time, because he was bursting with curiosity; they'd spent almost an hour in various taxis, while he wondered what had prompted them to dash out of the safe house in the first place.

"So... what happened?" he finally asked. "What was that all about?"

"The wine," she responded. "That's not store bought; The Boss makes that wine. If she had the same stuff, it means she worked for us. I don't know who she was, but she's definitely Agency. And," she took a calming breath, "and if we sent her, then that means that when I called in, they knew exactly where we were."

"So... shit. So... what now?" he asked.

"I don't know, frankly. We'll go somewhere the Agency doesn't know about, and then... and then we'll think."

---

They finally ended up at a motel, and went in to get a room.

"Try to look nervous," she said, as they entered the office.

"Shouldn't be a problem," he muttered back.

The clerk could immediately tell what was going on: dude was probably married, and the girl looked a lot less nervous than he did, so she was probably a pro. Seen it a million times before. They even asked for an isolated room, which everyone did, but luckily for them he had a spot right down at the end, and they wouldn't have any neighbours. They paid in cash, he handed them a key card, and they went to try and catch a few hours of heaven together.

"Been here before?" Ben asked, as they entered the room.

"No, I chose it randomly," she responded. "Never been to this part of the city before. So there's no reason they should come looking for us; nothing tying me to this particular place. We've got some time."

She left him to go and use the bathroom. Closed the door behind her, leaned against it, and closed her eyes. Unzipped her pencil skirt and let it fall to the floor. Slid a hand inside her panties; god, she was wet. She started to rub her clit, slowly, gently, but building in intensity. This kind of adrenaline rush always got her so fucking hot. She reached under her shirt with her other hand, and gently tweaked a nipple.

She wanted to moan, but managed to control herself. The last thing she wanted was for the man on the other side of this door to realize she was in here jilling herself while she was supposed to be protecting him from the people who wanted him dead. But she hadn't been lying, they had time, and she just needed to cum so badly right now. Once she'd taken care of that need, she could clear her head and figure out what their next steps would be. If she didn't do it herself, she'd be about one step away from ripping his clothes off and fucking him; she needed release, one way or the other, or adrenaline would be shooting out of her eyes.

As she felt herself getting close, she locked her legs in place, so as not to collapse, and bit her lip. She wanted so badly to cry out, but managed to mostly keep control of herself instead. The only sound that escaped was almost like the sound of a very quiet tea kettle coming to a boil: a long whisper/scream that escaped her throat, as she furiously worked her clit and pinched her nipple.

She came down from her orgasm, rearranged herself, and went to the sink to wash up. She glanced at herself in the mirror before leaving. A bit flushed, but otherwise proper, as before. But her body was always sensitive after an orgasm, so she'd have to be careful for a few minutes; the wrong touch at the wrong moment, and she'd be all over him.

She left the bathroom and rejoined him in the main room. He was sitting in a ratty chair, and she was glad to see that he had pushed it to the side, trying not to sit in front of the window.

"I know you said they wouldn't know where we are," he said, "but I still didn't feel safe, so I dragged the chair over here."

"You did right," she responded. "Just because they don't know where we are, doesn't mean we shouldn't play it safe."

"Look," he said, getting up to join her. "I wanted to... I wanted to thank you. I think you saved my life back there. I'm... I'm not used to all of this!"

And then he did the last thing she wanted him to do, and hugged her. Despite herself, she hugged him back, and was immediately aware of how well their bodies fit together. Of how good it felt for her breasts -- still sensitive -- to be pressed against his chest.

"It's what I do," she responded quietly, into his ear. She started to pull away, but he was still holding on, so she just ended up face to face with him instead. So close; he really had nice eyes, actually. And then they simply couldn't help themselves: she leaned in, and they kissed.

He kissed her back, and reached up a hand to slide his fingers into her silky hair. Their kissing grew more passionate; almost in unison, they were unbuttoning each other's shirts, and sliding their hands inside to feel the warmth of each other's skin.

She stepped back from him, and got out of her clothes as quickly as she could, letting them fall to the ground around her. He was doing the same. She pushed him back onto the bed, straddled him, and impaled his cock with her pussy.

"God, I need this," she breathed, and then started riding him. She lay down on top of him, moulding her body to his, and kissed him, as she continued to gently fuck him. She started to talk her way through it. "Yes, like that," she said. "Right there... that spot... so good... you're big, I like it... Faster..." He wasn't even doing anything, she was doing all the work, but the words seemed to help her enjoy the moment.

She sensed him getting ready, and talked him into it. "Yes," she moaned. "Like that. I want your cum... give me your cum... cum in my pussy... give me your cum..." Until she felt his cock getting even bigger, and then felt his cum bathing her insides, causing her own orgasm. "Yes! YES!" she screamed -- yet, still, not overly loudly. She was obviously used to being discreet, even in the throes of an orgasm.