Models and Super Spies Ch. 01

The Russian's cock stood full and proud now, the swollen head glistening with anticipation. He nodded at her. The blonde pulled away the last bit of modesty she had.

"Yess..." he hissed. Liz caught the way Vincent shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to subtlety adjust his own erection. The naked model cocked her hip to one side, resting one hand on it as she struck a vixen-like pose.

Clearly both men liked what they saw. While she was thin, she wasn't an anorexic twig like so many models before her. She had curves where it counted: in her slender hips, in her tapering buttocks, in her excited tits. Her little brown nipples sat hard and high on their peaks, and her pussy, oily smooth from her arousal, was wickedly devoid of a single curl.

Liz felt herself grow warm, although she quickly dismissed it as nothing. While she wasn't into girls, she could acknowledge when one was attractive, and Alicia Kennedy was one of the most attractive she'd ever seen.

Which was why she hated what she was watching on film.

"Now, Alicia, show me how loyal you can be." He set his hands on his hips, relaxed into a half-seated position on the desk, and let his thick cock flap lewdly before him.

She crossed the rest of the room in long strides, quickly dropping to her knees in front of the cocky mogul. Alicia had long fingers, long enough that she was able to wrap them fully around Mishin's girth as her wet mouth descended on him.

The blonde bobbed her head with sultry efficiency, swallowing more and more of his veiny flesh between her lips with each dip. Saliva drooled down along his length and she worked it in with both hands.

"I'd say Trey is a lucky man, although I think he's in danger of losing his wife," Vincent Silva remarked with a bit of a smirk. Liz looked over at him and saw the fire of delight in the man's dark eyes.

Trey must be the analyst's name. Trey Kennedy. "You put her in this position, Vincent, didn't you? She's just trying to make an honest living."

"You see honesty. I see our 'in.'" Vincent snapped. "This is as much a result of your failure as it is my manipulation."

Liz grinded her teeth but ignored the comment. Vincent had to know she'd never go through with it, right? Still, she couldn't help feeling guilty. On the monitor, Alicia had slurped off Mishin's shaft and was busy sucking his balls, one by one. Had she put the woman in that situation?

Alicia went back to work on Mishin's stiff member, taking him deep enough into her mouth that Liz had no doubt she must be deep-throating him. Vincent's eyes danced.

"That's a good girl; just like that," Mishin encouraged. He ran his fingers through her blonde hair, holding her head like a man would a bowling ball. He took control, pulling her harder and harder against his crotch.

She choked a little as he shoved himself deeper into her throat, but he wouldn't let her escape. "Oh fuck, yeah!" He grunted, clenching his teeth and pulling her in until her lips touched his trimmed pubic hair. Her hands went to his hips to steady herself as the man erupted inside her, blasting cum down her throat.

He let her take the first two before pushing her head away. He seized his throbbing meat and jerked it, propelling one, two, three jets of pearly man-juice across her face.

She sank back on her haunches when it was over, Alexander Mishin's cum dribbling down her cheeks, down her neck. She'd caught one rope of jism in the valley of her cleavage where it made its slow, sticky way down her washboard stomach.

"My girl," he grinned down at her, "with loyalty like that, you're going to be bigger than Gabrielle. Now," he stuffed himself back into his pants and tossed her a box of tissues, "let's get that contract signed."

***

Alexander Mishin sat alone in his sumptuous office, catching his breath. His cock was still buzzing from intensity of the blowjob his new girl had just given him.

He leaned back in his plush leather chair and closed his eyes. Alicia Mishin had one of the most perfect bodies he'd ever seen. Skinny, athletic, yet without compromising the curves that made her a woman.

And she was 25 on top of all that! Most models her age were past their prime, sadly. But not Alicia. She was only going to get more beautiful and, more importantly for Alex, beauty was money in this industry.

He picked up his phone and hit speed dial. "I want to thank you again for sending that model over. She's incredible."

"So she passed all your... tests?" the voice on the other end of the line asked.

"Yes she did. I can barely feel my toes!" They shared a laugh. "The ink has hardly dried on her contract and I can already think of a few places I can use her. Thanks again."

"Any time, Alexander. Any time."

***

"Silva wants to see you." It was Emily Lester, C.L.O.A.K.'s "office manager," if that's what you called the administrative head of a black ops group. Even spies had paper work that needed seeing to.

"You're looking good, too, Emily," he replied with a wink. Trey liked Emily. She was a breath of fresh air here. Everyone else was either too over-the-top macho (the agents) or lacked any kind of social skills (the support). Emily felt real.

The sassy blonde smiled and tipped her head to one side. "Why thank you, sweetheart. But let's not keep the boss waiting."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her patent leather pumps and started off to Silva's office. Trey let his eyes linger on her for a moment before standing. The other thing he liked about Emily – after her personality, of course – was her habit of wearing short business suits. Today's was no exception: the little pinstriped skirt stopping high on her shapely thighs. She really was looking good.

Vincent Silva had never once met one-on-one with Trey. He was more of a worker-bee than a front-liner; he didn't have a reason to meet with him.

So what was this all about? That uncomfortable lick of heat just beneath his loosened collar reminded Trey that he'd seen pictures he shouldn't have seen, that he'd been made privy to a mission he shouldn't know about. Had Silva found out about that? Was his job – or maybe something worse – at risk?

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Silva?"

"Ah, Trey, come in, please." The man sat back in his chair, scratching his salt-and-pepper beard. He seemed welcoming enough. He held out his hand for a shake.

Silva's background was a bit odd for the director of a black ops division of the CIA. More high profile than most. He'd carved out a name for himself in the LA scene as a successful investor and businessman. His name was attached to more than a few Hollywood projects, and while he was wealthy, his most powerful currency was information.

Trey stepped forward and shook his hand. He was half expecting something slimy in the handshake, something akin to that unwashed feeling of a car salesman. Vincent's grasp was nothing like that, a bit overly firm, but nothing that made Trey wish he was wearing latex gloves.

His immediate impression of the early 40-something-year-old man was as similar as his handshake. He was looking for someone to distrust, but found a pretty ordinary guy. His hair was short and his clipped goatee touched with gray.

Vincent Silva had a dark complexion, that of a South American, perhaps, although there wasn't the trace of an accent in his voice. "Please, have a seat," he said with a simple nod toward one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"You look nervous," he continued with a distant smile. One that didn't quite touch his eyes. "Please, be at ease. This is actually a good meeting. For your career, I mean." He looked down at what looked to be Trey's file. "Says here that you wish to be a field agent, just didn't test high enough..."

"That's right." He joined the CIA to be a spy, not to be a paper-pusher. He only stayed because paper-pushing around spies was better than paper-pushing without them. And, of course, he secretly harbored a desire to get promoted.

"Mm hm." He flipped through a few more pages. "Lovely wife," he said, stopping on whatever profile the CIA kept on Alicia. "What if I told you that we have an opportunity to put you in the field."

Trey's mouth nearly fell open. "I... um... wow... I... how? I'm not really trained for that."

"You've had some basic training." Yeah, like five years ago, Trey thought. "And we'd set you up with one of our best trainers for some basic field craft. We couldn't put you out there right away, of course, but if you proved yourself down the road..."

"I can do that! Thank you for giving me this opportunity!" It was like waking up one morning and realizing Christmas had snuck up on him.

Silva's returned smile was chilling. One that said, Here's the catch... "The thing is, we need something from you." Trey felt his mouth go dry. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good. "Actually, from your wife."

Silva picked up a picture of Alicia – one of her headshots. "I've just learned that she's been offered a position at Mishin Modeling Agency. We've recently been trying to get an agent in, to no avail."

Mishin Modeling Agency? The one those IT guys were talking about earlier that day? The one Liz the redhead had posed nearly nude in? The one that could be a fucking prostitution ring!? What was his wife doing mixed up in that?!

"Is something wrong, Trey? You look pale," Vincent asked, scratching his scruff once again.

"No, no... go on. Sorry, just... she's never mentioned Mishin Modeling. Is it... dangerous?"

Silva laughed disarmingly. Now that felt false. "That depends on what you consider 'dangerous.' Tell me, Trey, how much are you willing to sacrifice for the sake of national security?"

He saw the trap in the rhetorical question, but could do nothing but step into it. They were black ops; they'd chosen to live a lie for national security... "It's why I'm here, sir."

"Excellent," Silva replied. "I need you on board with us one hundred percent, Trey. I need your loyalty. This won't work without that."

He nodded, still confused. What was this man asking?

"Alexander Mishin is up to something. You'll get a real debriefing after this, but all of our preliminary intel suggests that his modeling business is a front for something more sinister. We wanted to get an agent inside, but your wife's the next best thing."

"You're going to recruit Alicia?"

Silva shook his head. "Alicia can never know about C.L.O.A.K., nor can she know of your involvement. That doesn't change. But as a confidential informant... now that's something that can be arranged."

"But if she can't know about my involvement..."

Silva nodded, seeing that Trey was finally catching on. "We'll need to use someone else as her handler," he finished.

"I don't know about this... I mean, doesn't it make the most sense for me to talk to her? Don't you think she'd trust me over anyone else?"

Silva shrugged, but shook his head. "Trust is a strange thing, Trey. Our psyche-analysis indicates that telling Alicia of your double life will have irreparable damage on the trust between the two of you. What you have is comfortable, familiar. Stable."

"And you think she'd trust some stranger over me?"

"I think she'd trust the right stranger, yes." This man had this way of talking to you that made you feel like a child.

"Who?"

"It's not important that you know for now. But Trey, I can't have you interfering. You are to go about as you always have; maintain your cover. I cannot stress how important it is that your wife never know about us."

Trey ground his teeth in protest. Why was it not important!? Before he could voice his frustration, Silva continued, "So, what do you say? Do we have a deal? Training and field work for your compliance to work with Alicia?"

"What do you want me to say? You're not giving me much of a choice."

"Choice, my boy, is all in your head," Silva said, steepling his fingers. "There's always a choice. This one happens to be an easy one."

"Fine, sure. When do we start?"

"We'll start you reviewing some basics today. We'll see where to work from."

"No, I mean... with Alicia."

"It's best we keep that mission on a need-to-know basis. For now, anyway." Trey nodded. So he wouldn't screw this one up. Vincent stood. This meeting was over. "Good luck out there. And I hope it's everything you've been dreaming about."

Trey gave him one last weary look. Had he just made a deal with the devil? Only time would tell.

***

Alexander Mishin pulled his Benz up to the curb of Rodeo Drive and tossed his keys to the valet. How he loved America, he thought. Only here were there people to park his car when he went out for coffee.

He was a little early, and he wasn't a man who normally liked getting places early, but today felt different. Special. He'd recovered enough from Alicia's blowjob earlier that he was ready for something more. His coffee date with Erin Small would fit the bill just perfectly.

He scaled the ornate steps to the high-end coffee barista, already thinking of his long time friend's naked body wrapped around him. She'd taken a seat outside on the patio, although Alex was surprised she wasn't alone. Even more surprising was her company: one of his models.

"Erin!" he said, putting on a wide smile as he made his grand entrance.

Erin was about his age – mid-30s – but still devastatingly beautiful in a mature way that set her apart from the models he normally fucked.

She rose from her seat, pulling her designer sunglasses away from those bright blue eyes of hers. "Alex, darling. So good to see you." They hugged, exchanging cheek-kisses like they were meeting on a sidewalk in Paris.

Alex glanced over her shoulder, where Sarah Ellis stood meekly. For a moment, the blonde reminded him of Alicia, although the younger girl – just a few months beyond her nineteenth birthday, if he remembered correctly – had shorter, curlier hair that didn't quite reach her bare shoulders.

"I didn't realize you two knew one another," he said as Erin pulled away. His smile passed between the two females.

Erin had short, glossy hair the color of sunshine in the morning. It slipped like water through her fingers as she tossed her head back – something she did when she was a little nervous. "We actually met a couple nights ago at the Green Fairy. We were just talking about promotions for that place..."

Alex glanced at Sarah. The pale skin of her sculptured cheeks went red. "Really?" he asked, taking a seat at their table.

"I was just about to leave," the blonde said quietly, making a move for her tiny purse. She was temptingly dressed in a low-rise pair of skinny jeans and an overly tight, sleeveless blouse. One thing that Sarah had that Alicia did not was a pair of tits. She had an hourglass body fit for Maxim – which she'd just been featured in – or Playboy – which she'd soon be featured in if all went according to plan, but she'd need a little help to get there. Alex was always happy to pamper his models.

"Please. Stay, join us," he invited, his eyes dropping briefly into her deep line of cleavage. "You don't mind, do you, Erin?"

"Of course not, Alex," Erin smiled. The club promoter sat down next to him, crossing her legs out before her. She had great legs, Alex thought, and loved to show them off in her short little power suits. Sexy and successful, that was the persona she'd cultivated over the years.

Of course, there were other things he knew her for, all of which were perfect in his horny state-of-mind. As if fate had decided to scoot things along, the first drops of rain left fat spots across the café table. "You know what? I'm suddenly not in the mood for coffee."

He winked at Erin, who glanced quickly at Sarah. "We'll settle our bill and we can get out of here before the rain picks up," she said, smiling coyly.

"You live closest..." Alex said as he stood. "Why don't we stop on over there? Maybe we can have some cocktails?"

"My thoughts exactly. How's that sound, Sarah? You interested?"

The young girl hesitated. Her wide green eyes were so expressive, one of the things he looked for in his models. She chewed a little on her lower lip, finally giving the slightest of nods. "OK," she said meekly, glancing from Erin to Alex and back.

Alex still remembered her "audition," and the way she'd so tentatively sucked him off. It was like he was one of her first. He detected that same shyness here.

"I'll go get the car while you guys pay up."

Alex's cock stiffened up as he jogged back down the stairs to the valet booth. This afternoon was going to be fun.

***

"We don't know much about Alexander Mishin other than the basics. Mishin is his real name; he was born and raised in Moscow, Russia, during the Soviet era. He's 33 years old. It's rumored that his parents were former KGB, but that's pure speculation on the CIA's part. Around the fall of the USSR, they relocated to England, where he spent the rest of his youth growing up."

They were in the briefing room at C.L.O.A.K., Emily and Trey sitting around an otherwise empty conference table.

"Russian mob?" Trey volunteered. "One of the junior KGBs?" In the vacuum formed after the collapse of the communist government, there were plenty of off-shoots formed by ex-KGB.

"Nothing is certain right now. That's what we're trying to ascertain." Trey flinched, thinking about how his wife was getting mixed up in all of this. Emily saw it. "Don't worry, Vincent'll protect her. She'll be pulled at the first sign of danger."

"I appreciate it."

Emily Lester leaned forward and put her hand on his. He glanced up at her, but his eyes never made it to hers. The blouse of her little power suit was as low as her skirt was short. As she reached across the glass-topped conference table, her deeply tanned cleavage spilled out of it. He couldn't help noticing her sexy black bra that her blouse failed to conceal.

Trey cleared his throat, wanting to pull his hand away from Emily's touch but not daring to. "So, um, we don't know his background, we don't know what he's doing with his modeling agency, exactly. What do we know?"

The blonde scrunched her face up cutely and squeezed his hand. Her short, kinky blonde hair and black, plastic framed glasses fit her personality to a tee. "We know he's got a list of agents working in the country."

"What agents?"

"Ours. Or the CIA's, anyway."

"But... the CIA doesn't operate in the country." Even at C.L.O.A.K., the special agents were always flying off to exotic, foreign locations to recover this and that.

"Now you see why this list needs to be retrieved or destroyed. It's dangerous, and to more than just the agents on it."

"If the public learned that the CIA was operating inside the country—"

"Or the FBI. Or the NSA. Or anyone else, really..."

Trey nodded. "How did this happen?"

"That's something else we're trying to figure out," she responded. "Right now, we need to get that list before Mishin moves it."

Trey was used to learning things that most people went their entire lives without fathoming. He'd seen foreign governments topple because of decisions made in this office. But nothing had ever come so close to home. They needed Alicia's help; who was he to say no?

Emily again showed her empathy. "Don't worry, Trey," she said softly. "We'll keep her safe. The plan is to extract her at the first sign of danger."

"OK, so what do you want me to do?"

"Nothing different than what you've been doing. We'll put you in touch with our trainer. And you're going to have to come up with a good excuse to be working late. The next few weeks are going to be grueling."

"OK. And will you keep me updated on this other mission?"