Candy Mann
Lusty Lady Lovers
Chapter 1
'… should be arriving anytime now, Don,' the graying man in the smart business suit was saying as he finished his roll, tomato juice and coffee in the dining room of Paris' Orly Airport. 'You'll like her, I'm sure. A real sexy thing… and young. You should get along famously, all right. Here are your two passports-the fictitious ones. You’ll be staying at the Continental. Hotel near Place Vendome… as man and wife, of course. Have you familiarized yourself with Dallas, Texas?'
'Look, sir,' Don spoke, gesturing with his hands, 'I can do this job myself! A… a damned female agent posing as my wife is no good. So Louisa Lanay, the Number One Communist spy in Paris is kinky about her sex. So what? Good gosh, 'Alfa,' I've seduced outright Lesbians by myself before I It's downgrading for me! It's… '
'I said, Mr. Cabot-Number One agent for Western Intelligence-have you familiarized yourself with Dallas, Texas?' 'Alfa,' one of the top directors of Western Intelligence asked his international agent, sounding a little angered.
'Yes, sir!' the handsome, twenty-eight-year-old super agent replied obediently. 'I went to Parker High School north of Highland Park, lived at 12101 Preston Lane, father was a director of Sunshine Oil Company, met my wife, Marie at the University of Texas in 1952. She's from Dallas too, but went to' high school over in Oak Cliff and I didn't know her before. I'm a successful securities salesman now as well as being a director of my father's oil company… '
'That's enough, Cabot,' “Alfa' cut him off, lighting up an expensive meerschaum pipe and puffing it lightly as he finished his coffee. “I should know by now that it's senseless for me to try to hip you up. And… so far, neither has the 'enemy. Ah! They're announcing her plane now. I'll be getting along, Cabot. Washington tomorrow, then Mexico City. You’ll keep in contact the usual ways. Good luck, boy… '
Don Cabot stood up to watch 'Alfa' leave the dining room and skillfully disappear into the early crowd of travelers who jammed Orly Terminal. The sage, suave, older man, almost third from the top in Western Intelligence. What a story he must have to tell, Don mused to himself. “Alfa' had been a top OSS agent in World War II, and before that was one of the last American agents in Berlin, posing as a chauffeur at the U.S. Embassy there.
It was doubtful, Don realized, that Marie Roland, the female Western agent arriving on the 8:30 AM plane from New York, had ever seen 'Alfa.' Don in fact, saw the man quite infrequently, although they kept in communication by scrambled short-wave all over the world. That was the way Western Intelligence operated… few familiarities or friendships were allowed to nourish between the directors and the agents. It was also frowned upon for agents to become friends, because then if one was caught, two would be caught.
Of course, when two agents had to work together, and particularly on as close a basis as 'man and wife,' intimacies were bound to occur. But whoever Marie Roland was, Don knew he would probably never see her again after this assignment. There was no place in an agent's work for lasting love or friendships.
Don Cabot left enough francs on the table to cover his and “Alfa's' breakfast twice over, then walked over toward the Customs Exit. He knew she would be wearing a green, Mandarin style dress of clinging Jersey, was twenty-two years old, had been an agent less than two years but had proven herself by the eliminating of two Communist agents in Belgrade less than a year ago. It was her life or theirs, and she had handled herself like a true espionage agent.
'Damn it,' Don thought to himself aloud. What difference did it make if she was the most beautiful blonde in the world and would satisfy his somewhat excessive sexual appetite every way he liked? Don Cabot never needed any help- in seducing a female. It was second nature to him. What had to be so different about Louisa Lanay, the former Czech Countess, now known as the «most beautiful Communist agent in France'? He could seduce her himself!
And then Don saw the girl in the molded green jersey coming out of the Customs Exit, and his thoughts became confused. Marie Roland (5' 4', 122 lbs., 36-24-36, 22 yrs. old, born to French immigrants in New York City and raised to speak French or English with equal naturalness and fluency), was more than just beautiful! She was more than just sexy! When she walked across the big floor, her body swayed in a way that combined elegance, charm, beauty, and rawly provocative sex!
Her eyes searched him out keenly, her facial expression almost giving away her intrigue with some at whom she looked, disgust for others. Marie's hair was blonde and piled on top of her head beautifully. Instead of looking as if she had been on a jet all night across the Atlantic, Marie appeared as if she had just stepped out of a few hours in a Parisian beauty salon. '
Don moved behind a family of three who were standing together, just so he could have a little more time to observe his new partner before they met and passed the 'code' amenities that would positively identify them to each other. The intrepid Western agent was something of a leg man when it came to preferred female partners, and the full shapeliness of Marie's thighs and buttocks were well revealed by the clinging jersey dress. It followed the curve of her thigh from just beneath the garter clasp (which was minutely outlined too), up to the under- crease of her ass, which was splendiferously erotic in size and shape. He was certain she wore no girdle.
It was quite easy for Don's mind to switch from business to pleasure in less than a second, either way. Perhaps, he thought, if he could just forget about his aggressive male prowess and his loss of pride in not being able to take on the challenge of Louisa Lanay's seduction alone there could be a great deal of pleasure to this assignment. Louisa, as had been discovered, had a real mania for American married couples in threesomes, as well as young teenage girls. Don could see himself utterly surrounded by such maturely built and experienced females as Marie and Louisa, with a bevy of passionate young French teenagers thrown in for a little extra spice!
“Marie! Marie! Here I am!' Don called out to the beautiful creature, then ran up to embrace her as their mouths met and tongues intertwined. The kiss was for real, too real. Don was supposed to be a securities salesman from Texas who had been in Paris for a week on business (as his fictionalized passport from Intelligence headquarters indicated), and his wife, Marie, was just arriving to spend their vacation with him.
The kiss and embrace lasted considerably longer than that of a man and wife separated for only a week. But it was part of the code. They were to French kiss, embrace warmly, and she was to grind her pelvis to his. Don felt the soft pubic mound of the girl as it pressed against his already excited cock, through their clothing. He wondered if the physical response was as real for her as it was for him.
Don knew that people were watching and that he couldn't take advantage of the situation and dry fuck the girl in the middle of Orly Terminal. But when the squash of her breasts came against his chest, he was extremely hard put to end it. Would she play the man-wife game after they closed the door to their hotel room, he wondered, or would she become suddenly all business, hard and cold?
“I… I guess we missed each other even more than we thought!' Marie exclaimed, with a bit of hidden irritation, Don thought, as they broke away. “Where are we staying, dear?'
'The Continental,' he told her, grabbing her overnight case and steering her toward the taxi ramp. He then lowered his voice after they were in the cab and on the way to downtown Paris. 'Here's your new passport, Mrs. Turner. Keep your own checked in the hotel safe inside another envelope. This one is stamped with the same arrival time as the real one. I've been staying at the Bedford Hotel, but I’ll call and have my bags brought over to the Continental.'
'What about my bags?' she asked suddenly. 'They're still at the airport!'
'Damn… how stupid!' Don mumbled, telling the driver to go back to Orly and wait for them to get her luggage.
Within forty-five minutes, 'Mr. amp; Mrs. Don Turner' were registered at the Continental and in the process of unpacking their bags in a two-room suite that overlooked the rue de Castiglione. But to the left, there was the Place Vendome, and to the right, a distant view of the Tuileries Gardens. Or was it the other way? Don didn't really
