Her Word is Her Bond

In a penthouse suite in the heart of London, a French woman stroked an Englishman's back with utter fascination. 72 hours ago, both had been considered wanted by most of the world's intelligence community, though he much longer since his life was wrapped up in that community. And despite being a step above workaholic, he took vacation time whenever he could, indulging his other vices - alcohol and women. It was a collective, spiraling addiction that he had no plans to denounce or avoid in his lifetime.

Celine, the Parisian prize of a particularly despicable, deceased man, happily traced her finger along her savior's back. So different from her former beau's. Scarred, yet having a magnificent physique to him, she traced a fresh knife wound trailing on his back that'd just recently begun to heal. From a distance, it wasn't very noticeable, but up-close, there was evidence of a man who knew trouble and dealt with it on a daily basis, no matter what charming fabrication he told. The few lines and scars across his skin made the blonde wonder if his latest would heal completely, or become another mark to signify another successful mission, and another bedded conquest. With all their activity in the last day, she was surprised her own nails didn't end up scratching it, making it bleed again. He endured that wound to save her at one point, but she loved how he almost didn't mind the pain, especially in bed.

"Are you sure your government won't mind us being here," she asked in a coy, sultry French accent.

"One would think they would owe use for what we saved," her companion said, looking out to the city, a breath-taking view an elite few had access to, and one of his pay grade would have to break into to afford.

"No Prime Minister or mogul will come in and bother us about the room being reserved?"

"Not unless they're looking for trouble, or they bought a ticket for the show."

Celine chuckled as she lightly slapped a firm ass cheek, eliciting a chuckle from him.

"My mother warned me about consorting with naughty girls." The smugness in his voice got a rise out of Celine, enough to raise an eyebrow at him after grabbing a shoulder and forcefully rolling him onto his back so she could straddle him again.

"You're mistaken, lovely. I'm a good girl. I just happen to be good at naughty things."

"Happy to hear it," he smirked as their lips met for another kiss. She was pleased to feel he was ready yet again for another round of lovemaking. She never met an Englishman with his kind of endurance. Even with the multi-national lovers she'd come across, he seemed to be an exception across the board. His hands chastely came to her breasts, lightly touching everywhere except her nipples which were rolled between his fingers. She didn't know how he knew which buttons would drive her so wild with anticipation, but he just knew. She didn't complain as he kept up the motions, trying to center herself to respond in kind.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her cellphone loudly sounding against the nightstand. It was set to vibrate as he'd gotten her out of a sticky situation; the second one, she recalled. In her nervousness, it seemed like the best idea, just in case she did get a call in the wrong place at the wrong time. With the annoying sound it made against the polished surface, she wondered if anyone wouldn't hear that sound. It didn't seem to bother him as he continued, undeterred. She reached over to get it, but felt his hot breath between her cleavage.

"I wouldn't," he told her. Celine didn't need to look down to know he was smiling.

"It might be important," she tried reasoning.

"Sorry, but ladies come first." A hand she couldn't see made a gesture below her hips, and the shock of his knowing touch somehow propelled her hand forward. She gripped it as pleasure assaulted her with gusto. Celine tried her damnedest to keep her tone consistent as she spoke to someone in her native tongue.

"Your officials are on the line; they have some questions for me. Something concerning debriefing."

Grabbing the phone gently out of her hand with his face at her breasts, he spoke to the other end, "it can wait."

She would've protested, but the hidden hand was becoming more and more consistent as his mouth moved to a soft spot on her throat. Celine didn't know when her breathing started racing against his motions, but it didn't take long for a small yelp to leap from her lips, as her orgasm quickly shot through her, followed by a deep sigh.

"Oh, James."

Like the 4 or 5 martini's he had before, a slight buzz came with hearing those words. But better than the buzz liquor gave him, which never seemed to outwardly affect him, the sound of praise from a woman, moaning his name, was better than any recognition from a superior. He melted into her embrace, hearing that, wanting more of what he'd given her just so he could hear it again. A common emptiness inside of him had materialized again, a hollow space reserved for his time spent with a beautiful woman. His only way to fill it was to appeal to whomever it was. Even in the face of danger, braving bullets or set traps was worth the risk. Cries or moans of joy, was all he needed then, especially when phrased as

"Oh, James!"

His existence felt affirmed, the enthusiasm in her voice matching his efforts to keep her enthused. They moved quickly against each other. She moved his hands to the places she wanted to be touched, and brought his head unresistingly into her cleavage as she whispered in his ear.

"Oh, James!"

Her voice was hot, insistent, gaining confidence, her smile audible through her chanting as he began to piston into her over and over again. They rocked roughly against each other, uncaring if anyone could hear their passion.

"Oh, James. Slower now, right there. Yes."

Celine asked between labored breaths, and he did, allowing her to control the pace of intercourse. She shifted so she could get the most out of the operative, and soon felt him hitting all her vital spots that made speaking incomprehensible. She would've preferred to be able to, but he was more than driven to a point of considerable vulnerability. After one, Celine whispered into his ear a string of words that led to a string of satisfying orgasms, until she couldn't tell whether one may have started and another may have ended.

It got to the point where she'd nearly passed out and fallen onto the bed with her lover still pumping away. It never occurred to him to stop, or to the fact that the only source of slickness amongst the friction was coming from her alone. She grinned helplessly at his completing his current mission, and not even being aware of it. Whispering deeply into his ear, the agent gradually slowed his pace, throbbing hard yet ordered to stand down. She pulled his face up from her cleavage to see someone semi-aware looking, happy to see her, but not quite there. The wicked expression written all over her face seemed a positive one, which was all the reason he needed to smile back. Laying his head back against her, she whispered in his ear his next mission.

"Oh, James, listen carefully..."

"Mmmhmm."

Celine heard the affirmation, but for some reason it didn't sound like a response to her.

As awareness of her surroundings became clearer, she noticed a woman standing in the bedroom's doorway, leaning against the frame, looking down at them. Celine sighed as she wondered how the woman who called found them so quickly, or so predictably.

"So this is where you two snuck off to. A nice place; I'll give you that. But the person who made reservations might not appreciate the used sheets, or the smell of sex they're not having."

"Not to worry, I have an understanding with the maid, or I will once I talk to her."

"I'm sure that'll be a lovely chat," the Englishwoman replied.

"I have no doubt," Celine sold her, still holding her unaware agent still wrapped up in his French companion. "If you give me a few minutes, I'm sure we can have a nice chat as well."

"Really?"

"Quite so. It won't be as brief as our phone conversation earlier, and should be all the better for it."

Celine regarded the taller woman dressed in a business-casual grey pantsuit with a charming smile, edging closer toward the woman with naked, tantalizing body still on display. Pulling the subdued male along with her was no object, as it only highlighted Celine's prowess. His peaceful, happy face laid near her bright, seductive smile.

"This is what you could be," her expression said. "This is what you want to be, this close to me," her body suggested.

The Englishwoman remained still until she spoke after a few long minutes.

"James," making the agent look up briefly. "A penny for your thoughts."

Celine always liked the slow-burn approach of leading someone into submission, loved seeing their faces gradually become something more innocent looking, like they'd reverted in age until they'd become lost, impressionable youths again, looking for an authority figure to rely on. But watching the peace in his face instantly morph into a blank expression, and feeling his doting form become still as if waiting for a new command, was amazing to her eyes. She thought his assigned trigger would work wonders, but she underestimated how pliable he truly was.

Celine did a double take as she looked at the man she released from her hold, realizing how weak that hold actually was, and looking at the woman bearing a combination smirk and Mona Lisa smile.

"Wait," Celine said almost in a panic. "So...you're..."

"And you're...surprised?"

Celine had to think about it. She knew there was a head of the Consortium, but she never expected..."and that was probably the point," her thoughts concluded.

"So, who are you? Really."

"Moneypenny. Eve Moneypenny."

Celine remembered that name, someone he'd been in contact with while getting her away from their pursuers, someone he easily talked and casually flirted with, something ongoing it felt to her.

"I asked him about you, and the impression I got was you were 'safe' to him. Someone to fall back on."

"When he falls, I'm usually the one to catch him. But then again, it's because of me that he usually falls."

It was almost dry humor coming from Moneypenny, but Celine already began to appreciate this woman's style, watching her pat his head as if he was an obedient pet. "Way past 'as if,'" she reminded herself.

"And he was right. There's no place he feels safer than in my power, even if he thinks his comfort zone is his next mission, or next 'conquest.'"

It almost stung Celine to be referred to like that by her superior, even if she was a conqueror herself of sorts.

"That last mission was a close one by the way. It would've been nice if we had more warning about how many men were after us."

"I apologize for that. Better intel was needed; we won't make that mistake again. But things went as planned, as usual, fortunately. And we have a link to investigate the attack on MI6 and the Consortium."

"Weren't they after the crown? Something about the queen?"

"Yes, but a different queen and crown than the public is aware of."

Celine smiled at the clear implication of the queen, and her crown being exercising power.

"And how's Claire? Is he even aware the 'loves' he loses are never really lost?"

"Never. Part of him is used to loss like that. He feels even for a woman who tried to 'kill' him. But we live in a different reality than the one he knows. It's so hard to tell the difference between and optical illusion and someone really falling to their death in an elevator shaft. Her scream was authentic, but there was a nice cushion waiting to catch her fall at the bottom. She'll be off to her next assignment in no time."

"I suppose you have his next mission and companion ready for him."

"Arrangements are being taken care of; why the interest?"

Celine turned her head to see the strangest sight, drool freely falling from the mouth of the hardest, most determined man she ever met. The quintessential man other men wanted to be, and women wanted to be with. The files she read and the footage she watched didn't do the man justice up-close. She had to wonder how he had any vulnerabilities, even with the looks he constantly gave her when they first met. And though he was more bishop than pawn on the chessboard, he was still a piece where nearly all the grandmasters happened to be women, or soon would be. Celine had her eye on becoming a grandmaster herself, and she honestly wasn't done with her favorite piece.

"What if I said I'd like to stay on this assignment?"

"That's not the first time I've heard that request, and unfortunately this won't be the last time I'll have to decline."

Celine tried to list the advantages to staying on, but she was cut short by Moneypenny.

"I understand and appreciate the initiative, but I would save that for your next mission. And speaking of missions, you still need help with following through on your current one. He was already supposed to be fully programmed by now; it shouldn't have gotten to the point where I had to come and get you."

"I'm sorry, was there a critical mission I was interrupting?"

"The smartest of the Consortium always assume they're being tested, and correctly so."

"And what about you, my 'queen?'"

Celine rose from the bed and reached over to the bedside to retrieve and light a cigarette. She took a long drag, and released it directly above her into the air. It was a move not known in her repertoire or vital statistics, but something some of her most resistant subjects had witnessed, not knowing it was the beginning of their downfall. She posed as she smoked in a way that involuntarily highlighted her sexiest bits. An arm idly cradling her breasts underneath, making slow steps on her tiptoes toward her new target, walking in a straight line as if balancing a tightrope. Most men and some women found it quite appealing. Standing on the balls of her delicate feet brought both women to eye-level.

The linchpin to her seduction though, was her mouth. Once she brought up a topic, it was expected that she would discuss it and maybe make a point. Talk of "how the queen was being tested, how Moneypenny showed a bit of possessiveness toward the submissive agent without ever saying it, how if no one knew Moneypenny was the one in charge, a change in leadership might go unnoticed," hung in the air. Celine could've said all of those things in the time it took to close the distance, but her mouth subtly moved to begin so say something, but she never followed through, filling the air with silence she used to her advantage. Moneypenny's visage showed surprised that this was actually happening, how she let Celine place a hand on her shoulder, how that hand could move wherever it wanted, how that cigarette smoke in mild doses could make someone more agreeable than expected. But Celine surprised herself when her own voice sealed the conquest.

"Celine, a penny for your thoughts."

She realized too late that it was her own voice that said it, and that she just sabotaged herself somehow. Moneypenny smiled as she echoed the sentiment.

"Yes dear Celine, a penny for your thoughts."

Her own voice was merely a primer to prepare her for Moneypenny laying the final blow to her psyche and dwindling pride.

The fully dressed woman shook her short, curly head as she cupped the blonde's face in one hand.

"You truly are one of our most highly trained operatives, down to knowing exactly what to say at the appropriate time."

It was probably one of the smartest initiatives Moneypenny came up with when she started the Consortium - all agents being pre-programmed, regardless of gender or status. The ambitious types like Celine were always prone to overstepping their bounds, and it was good to help them remind them of their limits.

"I don't make threats, Celine, but I do make promises, and I promise you the following. One, that I will root out any threat to the Consortium with the help of talented women like yourself. Two, your contact with him begins and expires when I will it. And finally, you're going to see things my way, sooner rather than later."

Moneypenny presented Celine with an idle finger that caught the Parisians attention and kept it as it flew in her field of vision like a butterfly. She only stopped when the fingertip lightly grazed the bridge of her nose, causing Celine's head to drop, chin resting on her chest.

"As compelling as your argument was, I'm afraid your request is still denied. Not to worry though; you'll have your chance at him again someday, maybe. If you stay on-course and follow programming, you'll have a bright future ahead of you. I do look forward to you sharing some of your hidden talents with the organization, at your upcoming debriefing. Why don't you get ready for that by showering now? If you hurry, you'll feel a certain someone in their accompanying you."

Celine blankly blinked a few times, her mind absorbing the commands, and turning slowly to follow. She entered the shower, began to relax in the hot water and feel her body tense as familiar hands began touching her from behind. His hand stroking her wetness was really her own, but her mind couldn't tell or be bothered to question exactly where the sexual stimulation was coming from.

His real form remained on the bed, still kneeling atop it, staring into space, but filled with the voice of his owner. She always liked her given name, but it gained a special significance as the original seductress in her Consortium, and in her agent's mind. However, unlike the biblical sequence of events, Eve and her tempted man's acts remained unknown to the powers that be, and her skills eventually cast them into a clandestine paradise, where female operatives and submissive male tendencies thrived. The well-dressed English woman sweetly whispered into his ear, watching him nod in acceptance of everything she said. Taking a few steps back after she was finished, she reached into her jacket pocket for her mobile phone and pulled up his contact number. She pressed Send and snapped her fingers in his direction.

The rapt sound made him blink a few times, and start to move his muscles. Regaining his bearings, he looked around, noticing he was alone except for the showering Parisian. The impulse to join her was cut off as he realized his phone was ringing. Looking over at it, he noticed who was calling, grinning almost smugly at seeing Moneypenny's ID show up. He noticed she always seemed to call when he was entertaining someone, whether she knew it or not. Though he could've easily pretended like he never noticed her calling, he rarely missed the chance to gloat.

"Hello, Mum."

"Ah James, nice of you to take me off hold, finally."

"Apologies for the delay; state business and all."

"Being a...'good host' is state business now?"

"Ambassadors take their hosting responsibilities quite seriously you know."

He loved when he could get a snicker out of her, letting her imagination run wild with the sordid possibilities of her ambassador duties.

"State business also dictates she's needed at MI6. It's not all fun-and-games. And remind me why I'm saying this to a workaholic of all people."

"Because I think you sometimes confuse fun with work. But I'd like to think of us as two people who enjoy what they do."

He imagined her grin, never realizing how wide it would be in reality.

"That depends on your job description," Moneypenny replied sardonically. "But we wanted to confer with her based on some intel you brought back."

"Her measurements are accurate, if that's what you mean."

He even surprised himself with how shameless that sounded.

"Oh, James," she sighed the way a school teacher would at her pupil's poor attempt at humor, belying the wicked smirk on her face from seeing that school-boy charm gently shift in the direction of eager teacher's pet.