Author's note: This story picks up the tale of best-selling author Vince Flynn's super-agent character, Mitch Rapp. At the conclusion of Consent to Kill, Mitch has suffered terrible personal tragedy. This story fills in the blanks with a bit of what might have happened to Mitch in the gap between Flynn's novels. If you're a fan of Mr.Flynn's excellent work, or even if you're not, you may enjoy this erotic side-story.
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The Silver City wasn't a typical venue for Mitch Rapp. Even in his younger, single days, when he had opportunities to fraternize with the men of the Special Forces community, he rarely joined the guys at the local gentleman's club. Had had been in dozens over the years, socially, and while working various ops. But he was here for different reasons this time.
Since Anna was murdered months before, Mitch had delved himself into the deepest, darkest emotional place he could be. Even worse than the loss of his high school sweetheart, the loss of his wife and unborn child left a gaping hole in his heart, and in his life. He didn't care for much of anything these days. Only the rage he felt for justice and redemption kept him from looking for reasons to live. He had punished the people that took his wife from him, and even learned that Anna's heart could channel through him, but he would never live the life he had dreamed of with her.
He spent most of his time now travelling to obscure places. He was rarely in communication with Langley, just enough that they knew he was still alive. He had reverted back to his covert operative ways...disappearing into his surroundings, changing identities, and never staying in the same place too long. Some days he worked out furiously, letting his temper fuel his exercise. Other days, he didn't move from whatever bed he claimed the previous night. Occasionally though, he would seek the beauty of the female form at a strip club.
This night, he was cleaned up, well dressed, and in a familiar city along his extended road trip. He pulled his silver Audi into the valet, and locked his pistol and paddle holster in the custom made lockbox in the center console. He hated to be without it, but strippers would probably freak out at the discovery of a sidearm. As he stepped through the door, he remembered why he liked the place. It was upscale, and as classy as this type of business gets. Well decorated, with enough light to see that it was clean, but dark enough to keep a little privacy. After paying his cover, the leggy blonde at the front desk started to offer to find him a seat. But she was interrupted by two of the dancers entering the reception area.
"Hey Sweetie," greeted one of the dancers, "Are you all alone?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Well, follow me," she instructed. "We'll take good care of you."
Finding a seat against the wall of a larger room, Mitch was as comfortable as he could be in such a place. He was seated at a small table for two, with his back to the wall. It was one of the darkest areas in the room, about 20 feet from the main stage. The place was about half full, mostly of men. But there were a few women mixed in as well, including a larger group of about ten people. They appeared to be having a great time, talking and laughing loudly, and probably spending a lot of money since they had the attention of quite a few of the dancers.
There were plenty of dancers around, though. One on the center stage, one on each of two small platforms on either side of the room, and at least a dozen more scattered about the room. After getting his drink from the waitress, he was greeted by several dancers offering lapdances. But he was just settling in, and politely refused for several minutes, until his second round was on its way. Just as the waitress swapped his empty glass for a full one, a lovely brunette stopped in her tracks in front of him. He looked up to see piercing green eyes, and immediately he thought of Anna. As she stepped closer, he shook the thought from his head, and instead to a long look at this women from head to toe. She was tanned and extremely fit; she wore only a dark blue halter top dress that barely covered her. Looking down the length of her smooth muscular legs, which were flattered by her platform high heels, he immediately pegged her for a runner.
She smiled and said, "Mind if I join you?"
"Please."
As she turned sideways, Mitch could see that her dress was completely backless except for the tight skirt covering her ass. She sat down across his lap, and leaned in close to his ear.
"That was quite a look. Did you like what you saw?"
"Very much so. You're in incredible shape."
"Thank you," she affectionately replied. She moved his hand to her leg, and pressed hers into his chest. "Mmm. You're in pretty good shape yourself."
"Yeah, well, I try." Mitch dismissed the compliment as standard operating procedure, especially for a girl whose job it was to make men feel like they had a chance with her.
"I'm Veronica."
"Mitch."
"Mitch, why are you here all by yourself?"
"Just on a business trip."
"Well, you mind if I keep you company for a while?"
"I would love that." Mitch was looking into her green eyes again. Now that she was so close, he could see a few faint freckles on her cheeks and nose. His mind raced, and he reminded himself that this woman didn't look anything like Anna. But he was only human. And his body wanted her in his arms.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, and brought his attention back to reality.
"Oh, sorry," he mumbled, "I just uh....You have great legs. Are you a runner?"
"Yeah. I work out a lot too," she responded, and started easing off his lap.
Just then Mitch noticed that one song ended, and as another started, the DJ was yelling some nonsense into the microphone.
"Why don't I dance for you, and you can see some more," Veronica stood up in front of him, still leaning over with her hands on his chest.
"Absolutely," was all he could muster.
As Veronica started the erotic swaying of her hips that were the trademark of her art, Mitch followed her movement and took a big gulp of his drink. She stepped between his legs, and moved his knees apart with her hands, forcing him to slide down in his chair a bit. She slowly turned around, swaying her ass side to side, and then set her but down on his lap.
Mitch couldn't decide what to pay attention to. Her ass still swayed, and she ground each cheek into his groin. He figured it would only be a minute before she felt his bulge grinding back into her. But he was also mesmerized by her completely bare back. She had flawless skin, and sculpted shoulders that signaled she frequented the weight room. She leaned back into him, resting her shoulders on his chest, and laid her head on his shoulder. She turned her head and breathed into his ear.
"You are amazing," he told her. And he meant it. She was writhing her body on top of his, and this woman's touch lit a fire inside him. He was no rookie in a strip club, but he was already incredibly turned on, and she still had her dress on.
She slowly sat up, driving her ass into his groin. She raised her arms slowly over her head, gathering her dark hair, revealing her long neck. With one hand she undid the clasp of her halter top, and then slowly leaned back onto him. Holding her dress to her chest with one hand, she wrapped the other around his head, and made sure he was watching.
He looked down the length of her body on top of him, and she peeled her dress down, exposing her round breasts. They were perfect. Fake. But perfect. And Mitch didn't care. Her nipples stood atop perfect little areolas, pointing at the ceiling. He fought the urge to bring his hands up her sides. She sat up again, slid her dress down to her ankles, and bent over. Her g-string covered ass a mere inches from his face, Mitch sat up a bit to take it all in. She turned around, pushed on his chest until he sat back in his chair, and then rubbed her hands down his chest and abdomen.
Leaning in close, she whispered, "Mmm...real pecs. I love a man with real muscles."
She then eased one knee in on either side of him, straddling his lap. She worked one hand between the buttons of his shirt, again feeling for his pecs, and then placed the fingers of both her hands into the front of his pants, clutching at this belt. Mitch tensed in reaction, but he was quickly distracted as she straightened her arms, squeezing her breasts together between them. Her hands reached for back of his chair, and she leaned in, smothering his face between her breasts. She smelled incredible, and for a brief moment, Mitch was lost in another world. The only thing on his mind was the soft smooth flesh that was grinding into him. This feminine form was so different, and so far removed, from his dark and violent life.
