Sexpionage Read online

  I cringed at that name. “Could we not call him that, please? It’s bad enough that I’m giving you information that’s probably going to get him locked up for the rest of his life.”

  “I’ll try to remember that,” he responded halfheartedly while wearing a smug smile on his beefy flushed face.

  I continued on with my story wondering if I was doing the right thing.

  Chapter 6

  “Bae, how does it feel having the world at your fingertips?” Jordan asked as he drove his latest high-end luxury car, a red Bugatti Super Sport, along the George Bush Turnpike.

  Looking straight ahead, I answered, “Kind of scary, to be honest.”

  “Is it because of the way we’re obtaining the money?” he asked as he zipped along passing cars.

  I took a moment to answer as I ran my fingers across the cool onyx, Louis Vuitton Calypso GM messenger bag that I was holding. “Yes, and I’m afraid that we’re going to get caught.”

  “Never that. Besides, they have nothing on you.”

  I looked out the window. The images become a blur just as fast as they materialized. “What about the accounts in my name?”

  Jordan caressed the side of my face. “What accounts?”

  “You know the ones with—”

  Jordan briefly placed his finger up to my lips. “Shh . . . those, my dear, have been purged.”

  My mood suddenly took an upswing. “As if they never existed?”

  “Exactly. Like I told you, once they have served their purpose, good as gone, thanks to my connects.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “So, when do you think it’ll be safe to move my money back to the States?”

  “The thing is, we have Uncle Sam to contend with here. You have to be able to account for everything that’s over ten grand in your account. You can do with it as you like; just be mindful of how you move with it.”

  I turned, so that I was looking at his handsome profile. “Trust me, I know all about Uncle Sam, but I have my own business. That should account for something.”

  He took his eyes off the road for a brief second when he looked over at me. “Can your business justify the amount you have sitting over in the Caymans? Let’s not even start with the others you’ve acquired.”

  Sighing deeply, I wondered if I would ever get my money all in one place. Having to do wire transactions all the time made me nervous. Even though, Jim had assured me that as long as I used his bank, I would be fine. “I can’t say that it does.”

  “Maybe you should consider relocating with me. I’m retiring after this. I hadn’t decided on where yet, but when I do, it’ll be in a place where I don’t have to worry about being extradited back to the States.”

  We exited the toll and came to a stop at a red light. A woman with a stroller was crossing the street in front of us. Looking at her got me to thinking about what was important. “Sounds tempting, but I have a business, and people depending on me.”

  “Who says you can’t run your business from wherever you are? Or, better yet, give it to your friends as a token of your appreciation,” Jordan explained as the light turned green and we took off at lightning speed.

  My life consisted on me making everyone else happy. Maybe it was time that I looked out for me, for a change. “Okay, I’ll give it some thought.” But then my conscience kicked in. Here I was, really considering his proposal to fulfill his dream, while giving up on mine.

  Jordan pulled into a bank parking lot. “Good, wouldn’t want to start my new life without you by my side.”

  I looked around puzzled. “Why are we here?”

  “Oh, I have a brief meeting. It’ll only take a few minutes if you don’t mind waiting in the car.” Jordan grabbed the onyx messenger bag from my lap, put his shades on, slid out of the car and headed inside of a Texans Mutual bank.

  Before I could even sort through my thoughts good, Jordan was headed back out with a different messenger bag.

  He leaned over and gave me a kiss as he got back inside of the car. “I told you that I would only be a few minutes.”

  I only smiled in response. I knew something was up; he was too chipper. Jordan rarely displayed that side of him, unless he wanted something.

  He traced his fingers along my lips until a smile emerged upon them. “I have a proposition for you.”

  Even though I knew something was coming down the pike, I still had a queasy feeling that it had a lot to do with whatever it was that he was about to proposition. “What is it, Jordan?” I answered with an unsure tone to my voice.

  “I have a business dinner tonight with some major players from Spain, and I need for you to run a little interference for me.”

  I turned completely around so that I was facing Jordan. “What kind of interference, Jordan?” I responded dryly.

  He took hold of my hands. “I want you to work your magic on them. If it leads to more, then I want you to oblige.”

  I snatched my hands away quickly, and the queasy feeling only intensified. “I am not a prostitute, Jordan!”

  His demeanor, and the look on his face, was as if he’d just asked me to contribute a cake to the local bake sale that the church was having. “I never said you were, but you are the best, and I know we can come out on top, no pun intended, if you went along.” He chuckled.

  “Hire some strippers.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and attempted to get out the car, but he caught my arm. “You had better let me go before I act a fucking fool,” I demanded in an authoritative tone.

  He leaned over me and opened the door. “Gon’ then. Get the fuck out!”

  Then I thought about my car not being there, and not wanting to call Cody, or Reggie, to drive way out to Plano. They despised that high-ass George Bush tollway. I closed the car door, and buckled myself back in. “Just take me home . . . now!”

  Jordan sped out of the bank’s parking lot. We rode the forty-minute drive in silence until he got to my cul-de-sac. “All right, you’re home; now get the fuck out of my car and forget you ever met me.”

  I sat looking at him in disbelief. “After all that I’ve done for you, really?”

  He drew in some air and then exhaled it slowly as if he were trying to calm himself down. “You said you were down for me, but every time I ask anything of you, there’s a problem, Bianca. What the fuck, huh?”

  The insolence of his suggestion, the arrogance dripping from each of his insulting words, and the overall tactlessness had me wanting to rip his head clean off of his thick-ass neck. “But you want me to act as a whore, Jordan. A whore!” I emphasized in case he wasn’t getting my gist. “Who would ask their woman to do such a thing?”

  Jordan’s eyes squinted as more inconsiderate words left his contemptuous lips. “Every man would if they knew what was at stake. Trust me, I know exactly who, and what you are. In fact, I have it on pretty good authority—no need in being ashamed of it, bae. Hell, I love a freak in the sheets.” Then he scrutinized me for a moment longer as tears began to form. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Bianca,” he said as he dabbed at my eyes, “emotions have no place in my line of business.”

  I wasn’t about to let him belittle me any longer. “Business? Is that all I am to you is business?”

  “Damn it, Bianca, I don’t have time for this bullshit!” he screamed, causing the car to shake.

  “How many of your other associates put their women on the line for business?”

  Jordan exhaled again, then looked me square in the eyes. “I’m not going to answer a fucked-up question like that just to make you feel better. Mistresses—”

  I flew off the handle at the mention of being referred to as that low-on-the-totem-pole title. “So, now I’m your mistress, Jordan?” I had to laugh to keep from shedding another tear over this incredulous, egotistical jackass. “Apparently, you only view me as another unenlightened notch on your bedpost, and nothing more. Now that I’ve seen the light, I want nothing more to do with you, you opportunistic, pompous-ass jerk!” I got out of his
overpriced car, which was nothing more than an extension of his already humongous dick, used to screw women around even more. I didn’t even give him another glance as I ran to my house.

  When I opened the door, I was pushed inside, and slammed up against the wall nearly having the wind knocked out of me. Before I could register what was happening, Jordan made his position clear.

  “If you thought you were getting rid of me that easily, you got another thing coming, bitch.”

  Struggling with him was as pointless as a dull knife. “Let go of me!” I yelled, and tried to kick my way free.

  Jordan rough-handled me, as he held my arms above my head with one hand, and tore off my skirt with the other. His kisses were hard, but passionate. Once he had me free of my skirt, and panties, he unbuckled his pants, and pushed himself inside of me with urgent strokes.

  “You like that?” he panted in my ear.

  “Jor . . . ooh . . . yes!” was my stupid-ass response. His take-charge action had me screaming for him to fuck the shit out of me.

  Jordan pulled out, and yanked me around. My face was now kissing the wall. He picked up where he left off, ran his finger up and down my butt crack before inserting one, then two into my asshole.

  “I want you to take all of me. This will be your . . . last . . . time,” he grunted.

  “No it’s . . . not. Fuck me, ARRGGH . . . harder! Take this pussy! It’s yours. All yours, baby.” By this time, my makeup had left an imprint of my face on the wall.

  Jordan pulled out of me again, wet his fingers with spit, and stuck them back in my ass before easing himself in. At first, he was slow until he felt me getting into it before upping the tempo. He held me in place, fucking the living daylights out of my ass. My fingers had found their way to my clit. I felt complete euphoria nearing, the breaking edge of a serious orgasm. I felt that familiar get-ready-for-it tingling sensation beginning to stir. I stood on my tippy toes to match his thrusts. I threw it back at his ass with just as much exuberance. The feeling traveled up my legs and lingered. It created a friction that sent me soaring straight to the moon. I trembled, and moaned louder as my juices began to flow. He inserted his fingers inside of my vagina, while I was still massaging my clit. The experience of being pleased in three places at once was mind-boggling.

  “OHH! I’m cumming! Mmmm . . . shit, I’m cumming!” I screamed.

  Then it was as if the world had stopped turning. He pulled out and laughed. “I’m glad you thought you were.” He continued to chuckle at my expense.

  I was at the point of no return and couldn’t be held responsible for my actions. “Jordan, now is not the time for you to be doing this shit to me!”

  Jordan was zipping his pants back up. “Now you see how I feel.” He was about to walk out the door when I became a madwoman, dived onto his back, and tried to claw his eyes out, but he grabbed ahold of my hands to prevent that from happening.

  Somehow, during the tussle, Jordan ended up on top of me. “You want it that bad, huh; you want this sweet dick?”

  “Yeah, I fucking want it, and I’m going to have it!” I was sure I looked like a crazed freak of nature with my hair all over the place. “Let me go!” I continued to struggle.

  Jordan held both my hands over my head again. After he got me where he wanted, he used one of his hands to rip my top off. In the process of freeing my delicious apples, he tore my bra. “Umm . . . forbidden fruit my ass,” Jordan moaned while sucking and devouring my breasts.

  “You can’t . . . keep doing this . . . to me. Please, don’t—” He released my hands and slid down between my legs. I was left breathless when his tongue glided across my pearl before suckling it. “Oh my! Oh my! Ooh, Joooor . . . daaaann!”

  He threw my trembling legs over his shoulders, put up a men-at-work sign, and wore me out. I got the orgasm I was fighting for and many more.

  We lay spent on the floor, but of course, he had to ruin that. “Bianca, I really do care about you but—”

  “But what, Jordan?” I was in full diva mode and still pissed about his proposition.

  “My companion has to be down for whatever, whenever. There is no room for emotions, questions or derailment, when it comes to a job needing to be done. You have to throw caution to the wind, bae, and just trust your man.”

  I sat up, so that he could see that I was serious. “I am down for almost anything, but I can tell you now, prostituting myself for you, is where I draw the line, Jordan.”

  Jordan got up completely, I guessed to call himself leaving again. “Okay, I see that your mind is made up.”

  “You know, this leaving act is really getting tired. So if you must leave, then leave, damn it. See if I care.” I began picking up my tattered clothing that had been scattered all over the foyer’s entrance.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want? Because once I walk out of that door, that’s it, Bianca, and I mean it.” Jordan went to my guest bathroom to get himself together.

  My pussy twitched as if to say, bitch, you bet not let that good dick walk out on us again! Then my breasts began to tingle, as if they were stating their case too. I have never been the one to beg for sex and wasn’t about to start now. I could find someone else to light my fire just as good as, Jordan, couldn’t I?

  Hell naw! was the reply I got from my conscience, or was it my lower region?

  I heard the shower come on and shortly after, the toilet flushed. I couldn’t just let Jordan walk out on me again. I remembered how I felt trying to fill the void that I felt the last time he’d left. I was faced with making one of two choices. One, I could do as Jordan asked. Two, I could always wait on my neighbor’s girl not to be around to get it on with him until I found someone of my own. I wasn’t feeling either of those choices, then I thought I could troll the Internet dating sites, bars, or join one of those exclusive member-only sex clubs. Nah, just thinking of those options bored me. Besides, I’d been there, and done them all. I wanted what I wanted, when I wanted it. No ifs, ands or buts about it. I guess it was clear as to what I had to do.

  When Jordan came out of the bathroom fully dressed, I swallowed my pride and said what was on my mind.

  “Jordan, I’m used to being the one calling the shots in a relationship, regardless of the kind it is. I’ve never been the submissive, but there’s something about you that—” I was having a hard time. It felt as if I were signing on the dotted line of a contract with the devil. “I can’t see myself without you, and if it’ll make you happy, I’ll meet with your associates.” I swiped at the lone tear that had escaped my eye.

  “Are you sure?” he stopped long enough to ask.

  “What time are we doing this?” was my answer.

  Jordan looked at me sideways, as if he didn’t know how to take me. “Eight o’clock at Del Frisco’s, located inside Le’ Ameritage Hotel. Oh, and tonight, you’re going by the name Priscilla, and you’ll refer to me as Marques.”

  I took in what he’d said and began making my way toward the stairs. “Okay, I’ll see you at eight.”

  Jordan caught up with me, grabbed my arm, and stopped me, before I could make it to the landing. “Are you dismissing me?”

  “I need some time alone to figure out how much exactly did you pay for my soul, and where the hell I was during the negotiations.” I left Jordan as I ascended the stairs to ponder on what he’d done to me, and the lengths that I was willing to go through just to show him that I was the one.

  Chapter 7

  Agent Garza stopped the recorder again. “You mean to tell me, that this man had you prostituting yourself?”

  “Don’t answer that, Bianca!” my attorney shouted before directing her next remark at Agent Garza. “She’s here to help you, and I ask that you remember that.”

  He stared at both of us as he pushed the “record” button.

  • • •

  At eight o’clock sharp, I was at the restaurant to meet with Jordan’s acquaintances. From what I’d recalled from listening to them on a ph
one call with Jordan earlier was that they had thick Spanish accents, but spoke perfect English.

  Upon entering, the maître d’ met me halfway. “Hello, I have an eight o’clock dinner reservation with a Mr. Vicente Valdez, and a Mr. Antonio Martinez,” I explained nervously, as I scoped out the restaurant.

  Without going back to his post to look at his list, he gestured for me to follow him. “Ah yes, Ms. Priscilla, they’re right this way.”

  The restaurant was filled to capacity with people laughing and talking as they dined on fine food and drinks. I looked around admiring the fifteen-foot ceilings, six-foot elk-horn chandeliers, classical art work, and hand-painted murals. A magnificent fireplace dramatized the ambiance of the dining room. The aromas filling the air from the steaks, and other delectable dishes, made me really want to enjoy my dining experience, and I would have, had it been under different circumstances.

  Getting into the flow of the restaurant was interrupted when the maître d’ announced my arrival while pulling out a chair for me to have a seat. “Gentlemen, I present to you, Ms. Priscilla. We hope to provide you all with an unforgettable dining experience with us this evening. If you need anything, your personal waiter will be more than happy to oblige your every request.”

  “Thank you,” we all said in unison.

  “Enjoy.” The maître d’ bowed gracefully, and left us.

  “Senorita Priscilla.” A strikingly handsome man kissed my hand. “I’m Vicente Valdez, and from what I see, Marques’ description of you doesn’t do you justice.”

  I almost didn’t respond to the name, but luckily, I caught on quickly, or the whole operation would’ve been over with before it began. “Thank you, Senor Valdez,” I said while adjusting myself in the seat he’d pulled out for me.

  The other man stood, took my hand, and brought it to his lips repeating the gentlemanly kissing tradition. “Senorita, I’m Antonio Martinez. It’s an honor to be in your lovely presence tonight.”