Paris.
City of Light...and L'Amour.
The Parisian night stretched out above the city like a velvet canvas, shimmering with the golden glow of streetlights and the soft hum of life below. The city of love was alive, its streets winding like veins filled with the pulse of romance and intrigue.
The hotel, La Luminère Étoilée, was a masterpiece of opulence nestled in the heart of Paris. The architecture in and outside was a symphony of luxury—high ceilings adorned with intricate molding, walls painted in muted golds and creams, and furniture that blended modern minimalism with antique elegance.
It was in the middle of one of the massage rooms of the extravagant yet elegant spa of the grand hotel that we find ourselves within.
The walls of the room were adorned with a mural painting of the French countryside. The air smelled faintly of lavender and vanilla from the smell of fresh cut flowers coming from a nearby bowl full of warm massage oil, a subtle reminder of the hotel's commitment to indulgence.
Gwen Deering lay on her stomach, the plush massage bed cradling her fatigued body. The Parisian hotel's massage parlor was dimly lit, casting a warm glow over the room. She had a towel wrapped securely around her torso, but her legs and back were exposed to the cool air. Her mission had been long and arduous, testing every ounce of her strength and cunning. Now, all she wanted was a moment of respite, a chance to unwind.
A favorite thing about this job she liked was that in any hotel she stayed at during any missions she had in France, particularly Paris, was that the international agency she worked for as a seductress spy and assassin that was publicly known as SLEET paid for all the expenses...including the spa and the full body massage packages.
So of course, here she was, between missions, enjoying the benefits of being on SLEET's payroll.
She couldn't wait to see which lucky duck it was of the hotel staff's trained masseur and masseuse line that would be coming in soon to work their magic on her...and she also couldn't wait to possibly work her magic on them as well.
Gwen Deering, also known by her codenames "Agent 12" and "Spectress", was a seductress at heart and a femme fatale by nature.
She was the kind of woman you'd want to have on your side, and the last person you'd want as an enemy.
The kind that would leave you wondering if last night really happened or it was a strange dream, while wondering why you didn't bother to ask her for her phone number, or where your car keys had gone and why the police are knocking on your locked hotel room door. It would depend on what kind of person you were and what her interest in you was about besides a bout of hot sex.
The massage room and spa were by far her favorite place in the Hotel.
It was exclusive and private...and completely soundproof.
It was the perfect place for a quiet massage, and other things involving two or more people and a comfortable bed.
She would know, as She'd had more than just full body massages in these rooms during her past visits.
Being a promiscuous bisexual, she'd had many cute men, and occasionally women, perform their services as masseuses on her...and occasionally if her nymphomaniac nature found them appealing, paid them extra to perform 'special attention' to the special parts of her body. Sometimes she could count on her beauty, her sex appeal and a few honey laced words from her lips to seduce men and women into her clutches for some fun time...other times, she used a combination of her wiles and her hypnotic stare ability to entrance them into bed with her.
Girls just want to have fun, and Gwen was no exception, she wasn't an all work and no play kind of girl...and she did love a good round or two in the sack.
But truthfully, all her sexual liaisons on and off the job were always only a means to an end to accomplish her mission, 'fast food' relationships that passed in the night, a way to get her fix and pass time...but never really leaving her fully satisfied.
Not like she was whenever she was with Shadow Knight.
Ah...Shadow Knight.
She knew him personally as Kagae Kishi, wealthy billionaire philanthropist...and secretly the 'Dark Avenger' metahuman vigilante of Lunar city who was the terror of the underworld.
Her childhood friend.
Her on again, off again partner.
She had been with many men and women around the globe in her job as part of the organization that protected and defended World Security, but it was Shadow Knight and the man behind the mask who had taken her heart.
She had been told by the French commander of the French chapter of SLEET that due to the upcoming crisis involving SLEET's enemy, FEIND, in Europe, all available Spectre Agents were assigned to investigate and deal with all FEIND plots happening in Europe...and she had been assigned to work once again with Agent 12.
The codename for Shadow Knight given to him when he started working as a part time SLEET agent when he wasn't busy defending his crime ridden hometown of Lunar City.
He had been expected to arrive in the city two hours ago, but he wasn't at the hotel when she arrived.
So to pass the time until he arrived, and to relax from her previous mission, she had elected to have a massage.
She wondered where he was, what he had been up to since the last time they had seen each other and couldn't wait to meet up with him again.
They worked so well together...especially in bed.
All excited thoughts she had about seeing and working with Shadow Knight again quickly faded when she remembered she been waiting upon this bed for her assigned masseuse or masseur to come in and perform a massage on her tired and sore body for a while now, and she began to tap her right hands fingers upon the mattress in a bored manner.
She really didn't like to be kept waiting...especially not for what was certainly not a waiting period of 10 minutes as had been promised to her when she had been led into this room by one of the aids and told to wash up and get herself ready for her massage.
It had been 90 minutes since that time.
The door creaked open, and she heard someone enter the room.
"It's about time!" Gwen scolded, not bothering to turn around to see who it was that was finally here to massage her, "I've been lying here waiting for my massage for almost an hour and a half. It's very rude to keep a woman waiting! But what the hell. Better late than never. Can you start with my calves please, my muscles are killing me there."
The masseuse or masseur didn't answer her, but she heard footsteps as they approached the massage bed.
She felt a pair of strong yet gentle hands covered in massaging oil settle onto her calves. Their touch was firm yet gentle, the fingers kneading into her muscles with practiced precision. Gwen sighed softly, a contented smile curling her lips. The mystery masseur or masseuse's hands worked their way up her legs, applying just enough pressure to relieve the tension that had settled into her thighs and glutes.
"A gentle but firm touch is never enough..." a voice murmured from behind her in a French accent, low and velvety smooth.
It was a male voice.
Gwen's eyes widened in surprise, then they fluttered closed, savoring the sensation.
"Never enough for what?" she asked slyly, recognizing the voice despite the French accent he was currently using, but choosing to play along, feigning obliviousness. It was more fun that way.
"...To truly satisfy a beautiful woman like yourself," he replied, his tone dripping with seduction.
"That depends on the touch, and who is doing the touching," Gwen said with a smirk, biting her lower lip as she felt a shiver of arousal course through her body. His hands moved higher, stroking her back in slow, deliberate motions that sent waves of pleasure rippling through her skin.
"I mean...Your touch is satisfying me; it's REALLY satisfying me. It's making all those sore places feel...amazing!" she admitted, her voice taking on a husky edge.
"I'm glad to hear that" the masseur said to her, "Forgive me for being so forward, but I must say...you're quite beautiful. In fact, I'd be lying if I didn't say you're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes on...and my hands upon."
"Thank you. That's very sweet of you to say..." Gwen said, taking the complement, while shivering in arousal "even if it's just words meant for securing a sizeable tip for yourself."
"Scouts honor madame, I assure you.'" the masseur's voice assured her of his sincerity as he did her sides next.
"Madame?" Gwen scoffed, "So formal. Just call me Gwen, sweetie. 'Madame' makes me feel like an old schoolmarm. Besides...I'm not married."
"Sorry...Mademoiselle Gwen" the masseur apologized.
"That's...kind of better..." Gwen sighed with abandon, "but really, just Gwen will do nicely mister."
"Are you alone?" the masseur asked, his hands now working their magic on her shoulders.
"I'm supposed to meet my partner here," Gwen began, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin at the base of her neck. "I haven't seen him in a while, but he's running late. He's always..." she gasped when the 'masseuse' suddenly slid his hand between her legs, pressing firmly against her wet mound, his thumb rubbing circles over her clit.
"Oh! Mmmm. He's always...Sticking his hand... I mean, his nose, in places he shouldn't. Getting into trouble. Leaving me waiting on him...I don't know why I put up with him." Gwen finished, her voice trembling with desire.
"Maybe because you love him?" the masseur asked cheekily.
