Models and Super Spies Ch. 06

This is the sixth chapter of a 13-chapter novella. Read the previous chapters for a greater appreciation of the story. Many thanks to HallidayTee. Please make sure to vote!

Models and Super Spies

Chapter 6: Partying Like a Rock Star

"I want you to imagine that you have just been reunited with your lover. You have been apart for too long. You've dreamt of his touch, his smell, his body. He takes you into his strong arms. He leans in to kiss you, and… perfect. Now hold that pose."

Isobel's sing-song Spanish accent brought Alicia into the mood. The blonde model felt her nipples tighten visibly through the thin silk of her black, flowing gown.

She'd done as the photographer had instructed, imaging her lover in the moment before his kiss. Her heart had seized up as she did so, her skin flaring hotly at the vision. It wasn't Trey she imagined, despite the fact that it had been more than a week since her husband had left for business. And Isobel probably knew it wouldn't be.

"You're a natural, Alicia!" Isobel encouraged as her camera clicked rapidly. "Surprised and sexy. Naughty… It's the perfect look for Les Petite Mort…"

This was her fourth photo shoot since she'd signed on with Mishin Inc., and this time, she knew exactly what it was: the new ad campaign for Gabrielle's flagship perfume. The supermodel herself had requested Alicia. So Alexander Mishin had claimed.

Thankfully for her sanity, she hadn't run into either of them since that fateful night at the Green Fairy Lounge. She knew she'd been high on drugs and drunk on powerful liquor -- even that Alexander Mishin had taken full advantage of her impressionable state. She should have hated him for it -- and the rational part of her did -- but she wasn't denying that part of her liked it. Part of her wanted to feel his cock inside her again.

"No blushing. I need sexy, not cute," Isobel interrupted, breaking her from her thoughts. The woman winked, seeming to read her thoughts.

"Sorry, Izzy," Alicia apologized.

They'd had a few more lunches and the Spanish beauty hadn't let up when it came to talk of sex. She regaled the blonde of her free lifestyle, every time speaking of marriage as though it were a bad word.

And then there were her lunches with Vincent. Her heart twittered as she thought of yet another man in her life that shouldn't have been. Their lunches had remained innocent. They'd stuck to the sidewalk cafes and always arrived separately. But when she was alone at night…

"There it is. Hold that!"

Trey had called a few times since he'd left. A year ago, she would have been distraught at how little she'd heard his voice. Now, while she certainly missed him, she was OK with the lack of communication.

When he returned, they'd talk. She just didn't really want to think about that particular conversation. She still wasn't quite sure where it would go.

"I think we're done for today," the Spanish photographer said, putting a cap on her lens. "You seem more distracted than usual today. Still struggling with your silly guilt?" She winked.

Alicia closed her eyes and shook her head. "He's coming home tomorrow. I… I don't know what to do. What to say to him."

Isobel made a tsking sound. "Don't say anything. You could always leave a note. Stay with me if you want."

The woman spoke of leaving her husband so matter-of-factly, it was hard to believe she was talking about anything more serious than the weather forecast. "I can't do that…"

Isobel rolled her eyes. She had such large, pretty dark eyes. "Why not? Life's short, Alicia. Sometimes, you need to do what feels right."

Unsure of what else to say, Alicia slipped behind the changing screen and changed the subject. "Want to grab some lunch?"

"Actually, I've got plans today, but want to go to a party tonight?"

Alicia pulled on her loose fitting sundress. "I don't know, I think I'm too old for parties…"

"You're only 25! If you're too old, what does that make me?" It had become a recurring joke between them. Isobel was only a month older than her, but she'd become the "old woman." "Come on, it'll take your mind off all that other stuff."

"Well, OK. I guess so…"

"Excellent. I'll pick you up around 10? I know a pre-party we can hit up before!"

"A pre-party at 10? That seals it, I'm old."

"Nah, you're just married." Isobel's head popped around the screen. The pretty woman bounced her eyebrows suggestively. "But not for long!"

Alicia actually laughed at the woman's persistence. "You're too much!"

***

Trey turned his head slowly, amazed by the reflection in the mirror. He hardly recognized himself. He brought his hand to his face, feeling the unfamiliar scratch of week-old beard along his normally clean-shaven jaw. His pale skin was now sunburn red, lending to the surfer-guy look Liz had fashioned for him.

But it was the hair that really transformed him. He'd trimmed back the orange-red curls he'd sported since he'd left the military, covering his buzz-cut with a high quality wig of tangled, sun-bleached hair.

"Hey there, rock star!" Liz greeted as she walked into the room. "Here, try these on." She handed him a pair of large, gradated shades that were more for fashion than sun blockage. "Like a young Brad Pitt… or Kurt Cobain, back from the dead." He slipped them on and checked himself out.

"You're some kind of miracle worker," he said, catching her eyes in the mirror. "Even Alicia won't recognize me!"

Liz had transformed herself as well. Unlike Trey, she actually tanned pretty well, although with a mess of freckles. Her high quality wig of long, straight brown hair had surprised him at first. For a moment, he thought she was her sister, Kathy.

"You packed, Trenton Dean?" She giggled at the fake name C.L.O.A.K. had devised for him. "Absolutely, Elizabeth Dean. You have the tickets?"

She held out her left hand, glancing at the enormous diamond ring she now wore. "God, I'm not going to want to give this back!" She slipped her designer sunglasses down over her eyes, grabbed her wheely bag, and rolled it out to the dock.

They were flying back to LA. It had been almost a week since he'd been home. In fact, tomorrow night, Friday night, would be a week. He was amazed at how much progress Liz had been able to make with him. They spent the morning hours working on physical training, and the latter hours going over the technical details. Having Caroline there to lend her expertise helped, although the woman was a constant flirt.

Liz seemed a little wary of the mission that was to come, but she did her best to conceal it. Tonight should be easy enough. Erin Small was hosting a party at her most exclusive clubs -- an underground soiree at Condo. They were to make an appearance, introduce themselves as a rich couple from Hawaii -- the Deans. Then Trey was supposed to get her alone and ask about Kelly, maybe setting something up while he was in town.

Easy. Only now that the day was finally here, Trey was terrified. If he made it through tonight and tomorrow, then he'd finally get to go home. He could sleep in his own bed, kiss his own wife, and pretend things were back to normal.

Just two more nights…

***

As soon as Alicia walked into the spacious apartment, she knew this was a mistake. Isobel had spent the whole ride over assuring her that the girls were cool, that this was a great idea.

The blonde had used the money from her last job to buy her outfit: Juicy Couture jeans that were way too low for panties, a backless top that covered less than the hundred dollar bills she'd spent on it would have covered, even more expensive spiked sandals, and an entirely new assortment of jewelry to match.

A month ago, she would have been shocked at the price tag on her outfit. Now, wasn't it just part of the lifestyle? Isn't this how the girls did it these days?

As she was led into a strange apartment -- hip-hop blaring from a state-of-the-art stereo system -- by a self-proclaimed slut, she was suddenly overwhelmed by how out of place she felt. And the models taking turns doing lines of cocaine off the coffee table didn't help, either.

"Um… I don't think this is a good idea," she whispered to the Latin photographer, stalling in the archway of the living room. A gorgeous Asian had just taken her turn with the coke. She tossed her long black hair back and pinched her nose as the powerful narcotic washed through her.

"Relax, you don't have to do it. No one's pressuring you," Isobel tried calming her friend. It wasn't working. Alicia's stomach was clawing its way up her throat.

"You've done it?" she asked, feeling naïve.

"When I go out, sometimes," Isobel shrugged. "But I won't tonight if you won't."

"I'm not going to!" Alicia practically shouted. The last time she'd done drugs -- the only time -- she'd completely lost control.

"Something wrong?" a husky voice asked. The Asian girl had joined them, a haughty smirk twisted on her stunning face. Alicia instantly recognized her: Michelle Park, the winner of season two of Supermodel.

"Michelle, it's so good to see you," Isobel said, her voice guarded. Michelle's almond-shaped eyes quickly sized Alicia up, and not in the most friendly of ways, either.

When she spoke, though, she sounded cheery. "You were never good at lying, but thanks for the effort." Written off, just like that. "And now I get to finally meet Gabbie's flavor of the month. Alicia, right?"

Alicia hated this woman instantly. She exemplified all that she despised in the world of modeling -- and LA in general. She was shallow, fake, and catty. She didn't need to put up with this shit. "Alicia, yes. I just signed with Mishin Inc."

"What a trip that must be for you," Michelle commented, her face lighting up in faux excitement. "Come on, let's go celebrate!" She grabbed the blonde's hand and pulled her into the room before Alicia knew what was happening.

Alicia found herself sandwiched between Michelle and a young hunk whose toned body was warm against her own. He was just sitting up from the drug-covered table, holding the rolled hundred in front of him like an unlit cigarette.

"Shit, that's good stuff," he commented to Alicia, giving her a white-toothed smile. He smelled good, she thought as he offered her the paper tube.

"No, I don't think so," she declined. Her face burned as she felt the attractive young man's dark eyes judge her, but last weekend's blunder was still fresh in her mind. "Thanks though."

"What the matter, sugar pie?" Michelle asked, her sweetness now blatantly put on. "A coke virgin?" The Asian model rubbed Alicia's shoulders in encouragement as she cocked her head to the proffered bill.

"Michelle, lay off." It was Isobel that butted in. "What are we, in high school?"

Michelle gave the photographer -- who was standing across from them with both hands on her hips -- a scathing glance. "If we were in high school, what would that make you? The wannabe cheerleader who never gets picked?"

Isobel just rolled her eyes. "You don't even know how ridiculous you sound. Did you ever watch yourself on Supermodel? Come on, Alicia, let's get out of here."

"Bitch," Michelle said to those around her.

Isobel didn't look back. She took Alicia's hand and the two of them quickly left. The blonde's face burned even more.

***

Caroline, who'd gone ahead to set up their base camp, was waiting for them at LaGuardia. It was getting on 10. Things weren't supposed to start until closer to midnight, but Liz wanted to get there a little early so they'd have their best shot at being noticed by the club owner.

The flirtatious southern belle drove them to the Four Seasons Beverly Hills, telling them all about the luxurious spread. Not too shabby for a headquarters hotel, Trey thought, although it had to be upscale to go with their cover. The rooms were already wired up, the smaller of the two being filled with a mini-surveillance center.

Despite Liz's rush, she did take time to shower and do her make up while Caroline and Trey sat around, waiting. "You nervous?" she asked in her thick drawl. "You seem it."

"First mission jitters, I suppose."

The brunette was playing with some radio equipment, leaning over enough to give Trey a long, hard look down her black tank top. "Not that I know much about these kinds of things, but I've heard one piece of advice. In order for others to believe your cover, you've gotta believe it. Make sense? So, do you feel like a rich, young dilettante?"

"Not right now," Trey admitted, honestly.

"Well, sugar, you should. Here's what we're gonna do. When your 'wife' comes out of the bedroom, I want you to sweep her into your arms and plant a big, wet smooch on her lips." Trey thought of Alicia emerging after spending a half hour on her make up, and how mad that would make her. But then, a guy like Trenton Dean would do that, wouldn't he?

"Liz's not my wife."

Caroline chuckled. "Tonight she is. Your wife'll forgive you. But if you're found out and end up in some bad guy's back room, smacked around, she might not have a chance to forgive…"

Liz chose that ominous moment to make her entrance. Both spectators sat dumbly on the couch, watching her beauty radiate. The cute little redhead was gone. Not even a trace of her remained. "Elizabeth Dean" was hot in a very untouchable way. She was a starlet, complete with bright red lipstick, long, unfettered hair, and short baby-doll party dress that practically added a foot to her short frame. The four-inch spikes helped with that, too, Trey noticed as his eyes scanned her long, shapely legs.

"Wow," Caroline whistled, nudging him a little.

Trey stood, channeled the rockstar Trenton into him, and pulled "his wife" into his arms. She smelled good; looked even better. Her grey eyes danced as he leaned her back dramatically. "You're breathtaking, wife," he said, and kissed her.

It started as a bit of a play kiss. In the end, it transformed him into Trenton. He reveled in the soft, unfamiliar feel of her tongue against his. Her scent was new. Her taste was different. Even the way her hands curled up around his shoulder blades was fresh.

He'd stood as Trey; he pulled away from Elizabeth as Trenton.

"Now I'm going to have to redo my lips," she whined, although her grey eyes continued to smile. She felt as exhilarated as he -- as she should, he thought. I'm a rock star!

***

"I'm sorry for that. I didn't realize it would be that kind of pre-party," Isobel said over Cosmos. They'd retreated to a small cocktail lounge that the attractive photographer frequented.

"Oh, no problem. I'm used to catty models. Wouldn't be the first time I'd been in that situation." Drugs and modeling went hand-in-hand, but she'd always been able to resist temptation in the past. And without any of the embarrassing peer-pressure. What she didn't tell Isobel was that this was the first time she'd actually stopped and wondered what it would be like.

"Michelle and I never got along. I don't know if you ever watched the show, but we had a pretty heated televised fight on one of the episodes."

"No, I never caught much of it, but I can imagine."

"She came off as an outrageous bitch on that show, and only a little bit of it was editing." The black haired woman sipped her drink thoughtfully. "Tony looked good though." There was that mischievous glint in her eyes again; the one that meant trouble.

"Tony?"

"Tall, dark, and handsome sitting next to you."

Alicia blushed as she thought of the hunk. "Yeah, he smelled nice."

Isobel laughed hard enough that she had to cover her mouth. "Girl, you need it bad!"

The blonde's face turned bright red. "Is it that obvious?"

"Maybe we can arrange something between the two of you. Tony's one of Erin's friends, and he's always up for a little no-strings-attached fun."

"Izzy, you know I can't…"

"It has nothing to do with 'can' or 'can't'. At least be honest with yourself… Now come on, finish up. We've got a party to go to!"

***

Trey knew exactly why Condo was so exclusive. It was basically a condo building that had been converted into a club -- although "converted" is a bit loose of a term. Most of the rooms remained intact: the bedrooms were still bedrooms, for the most part; the kitchens were kitchens (although bartenders manned them now, mixing drinks and pouring beers); and the living rooms became the congregation points for conversation and dance.

The club was more a warren of rooms than what Trey typically thought of as a club -- big open spaces like warehouses filled with flailing, sweaty dancers. The unusual venue turned out to be a blessing, as the smaller spaces provided the ideal environment to people watch and remain pretty inconspicuous.

They arrived just a little after 10:30, which in club-time was early. "Elizabeth" and "Trenton" made their rounds, socializing with LA's rich and famous. They got a feel for who was who, and kept their sights set on Erin Small.

The attractive club promoter and alleged madam moved through the crowd like a fish in water. This was her element; this was her world. She made it a point to socialize, to be one with the guests. Liz and Trey quickly figured out that they wouldn't have to approach her; if they waited long enough, she'd come to them.

Trey tried not to gawk at the celebrities and personalities they were brushing up against. He channeled some Trenton -- some rockstar -- and started to believe that he fit this crowd.

"Look who it is," Liz whispered. Trey followed her eyes into the next room, where a DJ was spinning dance tunes for a small crowd. At first, he didn't recognize the young blonde. She had tight ringlets that just barely brushed her shoulders, and was wearing a silver cami and what was a poor excuse for a skirt.

"Who?" he started to ask, and then she turned. Sarah Ellis. Of course. The only confirmed Mishin model in Erin's little ring. And their eventual target. My God, she's got a body, Trey couldn't help thinking.

"Her boy-toy's going to have fun tonight," Liz whispered as they watched the blonde grind on a tall, handsome man whose hands were all over the taut expanse of skin between her little top and her little skirt.

She pulled his head down to her and whispered something into his ear. The guy nodded enthusiastically and allowed himself to be pulled off the dance floor. Trey watched her discreetly as they passed through their room, toward the stairs that went up into a part of the club he hadn't yet explored.

"Think she's working tonight?" he asked as he sipped his Jack and coke.

"Maybe. Who knows?"

"If she is, she seems to enjoy her work…" he said.

"With clients like that, who wouldn't?" the disguised redhead joked.

Liz's eyes shifted beyond him, her expression changing into what Trey now recognized as her "game face."

"I don't think we've met," a woman's refined voice said behind him. "I'm Erin Small."

Trey turned. The madam had found them at last. He didn't even have to take his usual pause, his composing breath. He was Trenton Dean now, and he could do this.

"We know who you are, Erin Small. Your clubs are all the talk where we're from," he opened confidently.

"And that is…"

"Honolulu. Hawaii. My wife and I are here on business. Had to pull some strings to get in here, but so far, it's definitely been worth it."

Erin looked at Liz. "Hi, I'm Elizabeth Dean, and this is my husband, Trenton. I should apologize for him, he sometimes forgets that his ego isn't as big as he'd like." Erin laughed at her quip.

"I'm sorry that I don't recognize that name, but welcome to Condo."

"It's lovely," Elizabeth said demurely. After spending the last couple weeks with her, she really had transformed herself. Where Liz was tough and strong, Elizabeth was calm and feminine.