Deep Undercover Ch 02 1

This view is stunning. The trees are incredibly tall and wide, coniferous, and there is a light mist filling the distance between them.

I'm in the Pacific Northewest, somewhere.

I climb out of the bed and wrap the silk sheet around me. Perhaps I will be able to see some other structures nearby from the glass. The wood floor is warm beneath my feet.

Radiant heating...nice.

Through the left glass wall one floor below is a cantilevered terrace and an infinite edge pool, and on the other side of the terrace is another wing to the house. It's single story. I turn my head to the left and can see Alex descending a floating stair in the two story glass foyer. His eyes lock on mine as he reaches the last step, pausing for a moment, then walks out the front door.

The house is U shaped surrounding the terrace. Through the right glass wall I can see another lower section of the house jutting into the trees. I need to go explore and get an accurate plan of the house, but I can't see any other structures nearby. He wasn't lying. This house is isolated. Any attempted escape is going to take time and planning, so for now I may as well roll with everything.

I really need a shower.

The wood floor continues into the bathroom. Opposite the door is a huge rain shower, taking up the entire corner of glass walls, easily big enough for four people to fit. It'll be like showering outside. Adjacent the shower is a huge egg-shaped tub, and then a small wing wall giving the toilet a bit of privacy. Immediately to my right is the large double vanity, all very contemporary. I hate that this is exactly the type of house I'd like to have for myself.

I can't pass up the opportunity for a bath in that tub. I start filling the water and search the cabinet under the sink for soaps and find vanilla bath oil. I can take a bath, enveloped by his scent. Well, part of his scent. The leather and spices are missing, unfortunately. I'm ashamed that I'm longing for his scent so. I pour an ample amount into the running water and make sure the temperature is holding as steam begins to build.

While that's filling, I must check out the closet.

I really can't help it. The walk-in closet is huge, about half the size of the bedroom itself. There is a narrow full height glass window in the corner with a view of the terrrace and a huge skylight above. Half of the closet appears to be women's clothes and shoes. It dawns on me that if half the closet is men's clothing.

I'm sharing his bed!?

I lift the arm of one of his blazers to my nose and inhale his scent. The whole closet smells of him. I make my way to the other side of the closet.

Wow! So many amazing pieces of clothing!

It's packed with dresses, shirts, skirts, etc. all my size and all my style.

So much for covert!

He knows all about me, down to the colors I would select.

I open some of the built-in drawers to find all colors and styles of bras, panties, hose, socks, etc. One of the drawers is filled with very expensive matching lingerie, teddies, rompers, etc.

Are these for me?

If I'm stuck in this house, I may as well be comfortable. I

select a simple but sexy light pink matching silk bra and panties set, a pair of dark skinny jeans and a magenta three quarter sweater one quarter sheer top. I lay it all out on the large cushioned bench in the middle of the closet and head back into the bathroom to relax a bit. My ass is sore from the spanking and my arms are sore from nearly falling off a roof.

As I disappear into a fog of vanilla and steam, I can't help but think of last night. Images flash through my head of his gaze, his lips parting mine, the painful pleasure of his hand falling hard on my bare skin while I'm helpless to stop him. I run my hands over my wet body, over my hard nipples, trailing my silky flesh down to the pit of my stomach. I trace a circle around my belly button, smiling at the thought of Alex pulling me back onto the roof and lifting me into his arms. I continue this trail further down into the hot water, finding myself at the source of my pleasure. Then I remember Alex's stern words:

You're not to touch yourself while I'm gone.

Who the fuck does he think he is!?

But still, I obey. I'm not sure why. I sit up and stare out of the window and get to work washing my hair with the luxurious shampoo and conditioner I found.

I stayed in the heavenly bath until the water was cold. After finishing my minimalist beauty routine with products I found in the bathroom vanity, I dressed in the closet, threw on a pair of simple flats and crept out of the bedroom. It's quiet in the house. I can take some time to look around and map my surroundings. Maybe I can even find a phone, though part of me doesn't want to.

The corridor outside of the bedroom is half glass with a view out to more trees on the left side. At the halfway point the glass wall becomes open to the interior, with a glass railing looking down to a formal but minimal dining room. The wall to the right is solid white with art. Interesting pieces, all portraits of various kinds, women in motion with looks of ecstacy on their faces.

Of course this is what he would decorate his walls with.

At the end of the solid wall, the space opens up to the double height foyer with a glass wall looking onto the terrace. I round the walkway and make my way down the floating wood staircase, which leads into the double height foyer. I can see the open kitchen directly ahead.

Standing next to the solid natural oak front door is a stiff man in a suit who looks nervous, "Miss Whitting, I'm Ted." I recognize his voice immediately as the man who burst into the room while we were, erhm, embracing.

"Ted, please call me Madison. I've a feeling we'll be seeing each other often, so there's no need for such formality," I decide being direct and indifferent is the best approach.

"Madison then. Pleasure. Alexander had to leave for a few hours and wanted me to make sure that you have whatever you need."

"I'm fine, thank you." I study him. Black suite with a crisp white shirt and black tie. His radio goes off, a mumbled voice on the other end. As he reaches for it, nverously, I make out a Sig Sauer P226 beneath his jacket.

Damn...armed. No matter. I need more intel. Leaving now would be fruitless.

"Excuse me, ma'am. I'll get back to my post, but if you need anything, people will be in and out to check on the house periodically," he mumbles something in code as he leaves through the front door. I'll have to study and learn their 'language.'

I'm starving!

I make my way toward the kitchen, noting a corridor to one side that leads to the formal dining room that I could see from the hall upstairs. I'm starting to form a mental map of the house. To the left directly under the upstairs corridor is the large open kitchen, all white. Beyond that, under the master bedroom, is the huge open living room, which you step down into. The entire room is surrounded by glass on all sides, save a massive fireplace on the terrace side of the room.

The TV! I can find out where I am!

I flip on the TV and cycle through to the weather channel.

Port Moody....I'm in Canada.

I practically rip the refrigerator door off the hinges as I scavene for food. I find ingredients to make a salad and go to work finding the utensils, plates, etc. to put it together. With my salad and a glass of water, I sit on a stool at the huge island and devour it. I feel like I've not eaten in days! I put my plate and fork in the empty dishwasher and continue about the house. The living room is filled with contemporary, clean pieces of furniture. The only way to the outside from this room is to the terrace. No other doors.

I go back to the foyer and make my way across to the other half of the U-shaped house. I make my way down a long corridor, following the double height glass terrace wall. To the left is a doorway leading to a small library. Beyond that on the right is a door that leads into a guest suite. This was the one story part of the house that I could see from upstairs, opposite the terrace. The hall terminates at a solid door that I can't get open.

I'll have to pick that later. Perhaps on the other side of that is the basement he mentioned.

I remember his comment about locking me in a cell, spending only a second to ponder its meaning. I've no time for that now. He could return any moment and my exploration will be over.

This seems to be the entire house. It's not a mansion by any means, but it's incredibly spatious, clean and beautiful. Clearly not a wasteful man. From all glass walls I can't see any nearby structures. I pop into the library to pick up a phone as a test. As I suspected, a man asks if he can help me on the other end. I hang up. He has the phone system going through a guard post somewhere.

I need fresh air.

I head back to the foyer where I saw a door to the terrace. The air is crisp and damp outside. I walk to the end of the terrace and look over the edge. There is no railing, and the view down takes me a bit by surprise, as I flash back to the ledge giving way.

The house is built on a cliffside, and it's a long drop down. I can see a set of stone steps on the opposite side leading down, but I'm going to obey the rules for now before I make any rash moves. Rather than sit at the ipe table and chairs that I passed, I sit Indian-style on the edge of the terrace, lean back on my hands behind me, close my eyes and breathe in the fresh air. Despite the crisp oxygen, my breath is heavy as my mind once again finds itself slipping into a euphoria of memory from the prior evening.

It feels like only minutes before I'm surprised by a pair of strong hands on my shoulders, "Glad to see you're enjoying the view, Madison. Although it looks a lot better with your eyes open." He smiles coyly, as if he knew what visions were playing in my mind.

How does he keep sneaking up on me like that!? Oh right...spy.

"You can call me Mad if you'd like, Alex," I'm not sure where this came from. I

hate

that nickname.

He sits on the slightly damp concrete next to me, despite his obviously nice pantsuit that most men wouldn't want to dirty. His eyes are even more blue in this light, "Is that what you prefer?"

"Not necessarily, but it always seems to catch on no matter what. Must be my suicidal tendencies," I give him a face that says I'm mocking him.

"I prefer Madison. It's much more beautiful and sophisticated, speaks more about who you really are than 'Mad'. Although that's up for some debate."

I can't help but chuckle, "I agree entirely, Alex. Did you get your affairs in order, wherever you went?"

"For now. We shall see how things play out," he can tell I'm trying to get information and quickly changes the subject, "Did you have something to eat?"

"I did, thank you. And you? Are you hungry?"

"Always, but usually not for food," his response surprises me and makes me blush. "Even casual you manage to be stunning, Madison." His eyes follow the curves of my breast as the soft fabric of my top drapes over them. "Do you approve of the selection in the closet? If not, I can certainly arrange for some new selections to be made."

"That's not necessary, but thank you. You, well...whoever, has selected beautiful pieces. I appreciate it."

"I'm glad you approve. And it's really no problem. I will graciously accept all of the credit, as I selected each item, personally, even the intimates," he raises an eyebrow, as he is clearly trying to arouse a response.

"Speaking of intimate...we're sharing a bed?"

"You are my prisoner, after all. That being said, I'm not planning to rape you, and I certainly don't want to make you uncomfortable. I can arrange for the guest suite."

"I think that may be more appropriate, no?"

He looks a bit hurt, "Fine. It's settled. I'll arrange for your things to be moved."

An awkward silence settles, and we stare out into the trees. Finally he breaks the silence, "Defiance. I'm not used to a woman defying me or daring to argue with me."

"Oh? Everyone do what you tell them to when you tell them to do it?"

"I have my ways," he leans over and rubs my cheek with the same palm he used to spank me.

That hand, so smooth yet so rough.

I try to ignore the sexual tension between us, but it's thick and the fresh air is heavy and electric.

I have to diffuse it somehow and decide to address the other elephant in the room, "You realize they started looking for me many hours ago, Alex. I've no doubt they will find me."

"Oh, I'm well aware of standard protocol for an agent-gone-missing. However, I've every doubt about them finding you. I wouldn't get your hopes up. I'm not sure how many times I have to tell you -"

"I'm yours, so you say," I interrupt sarcastically.

"Say it again," his voice is suddenly heated and demanding, "And mean it."

I narrow my eyes defiantly, "I refuse to continue stroking your ego, Alex."

"Would you prefer to stroke something else?" Alex smiles.

How crude!

I look away, unsure if I'm offended by his aggressive, lewd advances or if I find them refereshing. Either way, I'm trying to hide the fact that my breathing just got so much heavier. I'm not used to men like him. Most men seem intimidated by me. I'm not sure if it's my confidence or they can just tell I could easily kick their asses. I'm not sure what frightens me more, that he's not afraid of me or that I'm so turned on that he's not.

I decide to go on the defensive to see how he reacts, "Do you enjoy making me feel uncomfortable?"

"On the contrary, Madison. I want you to be at ease with me, to trust me."

"Then why does it feel like you're always trying to make me feel small?"

His face fills with concern, "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

He looks almost apologetic as I nod.

"It's getting chilly out here," he glances at his watch, "It's nearly 5:30 already. I'd like to cook dinner for you tonight. Do you like lamb?"

He changed the subject very smoothly.

There's more to this, but he clearly doesn't want to discuss it right now. I decide to go along with his new topic, "I love lamb."

"Wonderful. Come. I'll get you a glass of wine, and perhaps you will you keep me company while I cook?" he stands, on a mission, and reaches his hand out to help me up. In a surprising move he doesn't let go of my hand as he leads me inside through the glass door. He pulls out a stool at the island and pats the seat, "Sit and relax. I've been saving a wonderful Loire Valley Sancerres for a special occasion."

"This is a special occasion?"

He stops and looks into my eyes, "

You

are the special occasion, Madison. Need I remind you that I've been searching for you for a long time?"

How does he keep managing to make me blush?

He pulls out two glasses and pours a little in each, handing one to me, "To the end of the search, to the start of whatever happens next." After we clink and sip, he's all business, rolling up his sleeves and pulling fresh ingredients from the refrigerator and cupboards.

"Can I help?" I actually feel guilty just sitting here. "Absolutely not. Just enjoy your wine and keep me company."

"Well, you know all about me. Tell me about your childhood," I have to take advantage of these carefree moments. Cooking is clearly an activity that relaxes him, as it does me.

"Sure," he seems somewhat surprised by my interest but obliges me, "Well you know how my parents met. Young and in love. I didn't make that up. They married very quickly and I was born about a year later. I didn't see them much growing up. My father worked all the time to support us. He insisted my mother finish school to become a nurse. When I three my grandmother, my mother's mother, came to live with us and take care of me. She kept me in line, a strict disciplinarian and had me speaking several languages and quoting Baudelaire by the time I was six. She was an incredible woman. Sadly, she died when I was ten."

"I'm so sorry."

"Thank you. She will always hold a very special place in my heart. That's when things started becoming...complicated. I didn't do well left to my own devices. I made a lot of trouble in school and started running with a bad crowd. My parents were killed in a car crash when I was fourteen."

"That's so awful," I am literally fighting back tears. This poor man has had such tragedy in his life, and I've never had so much in common with someone.

He's just like me.

"At the time I wasn't very bothered by it. I barely saw my parents. By that time my mother was working nonstop at the hospital, even more than my father. They'd made some bad investments and were working as much as they could to pay them down. Things continued in the same way for a few years. Then at sixteen, I was arrested."

"Arrested? What for?"

"I used an illegal ID to get into a bar and picked a fight with a man. Like I said, bad crowd," he pauses and puts down the knife he's using to cut carrots, closing his eyes as pain streaks across his face, "I beat him so hard I nearly killed him."

I can't help myself, I need to comfort him. I slowly make my way around the island and approach him, putting my left hand on his back and wrapping my fingertips around his right arm. He sets the knife down and slowly turns his head. There is so much torment behind those icy blue eyes as he says, "I hope I'm not frightening you with all of this. That's the last thing I want. I just want you to know me, all of me."

"No you're not, Alex. You remind me...so much of myself when I was younger. I was angry all the time with everyone and everything. I was insecure and ashamed of who I was. I didn't want to be ordinary, to fade into the background. I didn't-"

"You couldn't be ordinary if you tried, Madison," with that he turns me around, pressing my back hard against the island and he's devouring my mouth in a deep kiss. His hands are exploring my body, diving into the back of my jeans and under my shirt, running over my breasts. Suddenly he pulls away again, breathless, "Stop. We have to stop."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing at all," his hand is softly caressing my face, "I want it to be...perfect."

Apparently he's made plans that I've not been privy to, "Want

what

to be perfect? Clearly you've made some assumptions about what's going to happen between us."

A devilish smile crosses his face, "

If

something were to happen between us. I want it to be perfect. I could just take you if you'd prefer. You're my prisoner, after all. Nothing has to be with your consent. ...But I want it to be." I am beaming on the inside, but just slightly smiling on the outside. He can't know how happy that just made me to hear. And how turned on!

"Now sit back down and drink some wine. I'll finish cooking and telling my story. This is where things start looking up, " he motions me back to the stool, "So, this man from the bar, shows up a year and a half later to visit me in prison. And he says to me, 'We're going to drop all charges against you. And you are going to come work for us.' I had no idea what that meant, but I wasn't going to say no to being released. Despite my criminal tendencies, prison was not very becoming of me. So I agreed. After many years of education, training and being on teams for various assignments, I became an agent. And the rest of the details are need-to-know, but I'm sure there will be some here and there that I can share."

"Well, that's quite a story, Alex. I appreciate you sharing it with me," I take a large sip of wine and immediately blush as he smiles at me that way that he does whenever he has a comment to make about my swallowing. But he stays silent.

He puts the lamb and carrots in the oven, pours us both more wine and leads me to the large sectional sofa in the living room that faces the massive fireplace. I sit while he lights it, anticipating more kissing.

Please!