Tatiana

It was a quiet Saturday night. No client, for a change. Sly and I had gone out to dinner on one of the occasional "dates" I insist on and which he has reluctantly come to enjoy. We were just sitting around his apartment, talking business when abruptly seemingly out of nowhere he said, "Yo, Princess, you ever heard of some book character called James Bond?"

I tried desperately to stifle my amazement. I know Sly dislikes being reminded of the wide gulf between us as far as formal education goes. But I couldn't help myself this time.

"Jesus, Sly, everybody knows James Bond, the fictional British superspy. Ian Fleming created him. Fleming had worked in naval intelligence in Britain during World War II. He wrote eleven hugely popular novels about Bond. There've since been something like twenty-five movies based on the character, with a combined gross worth in the neighborhood of eight billion dollars."

"Well fuck you, Princess. Not all of us have taken waddyacallem 'English Lit' courses in college! Some of us have had to make a living."

I bit my tongue.

"Sorry, Sly. It's just that he's so famous. Sexy as hell, too, at least based on the guys that have played him in the movies. Sean Connery was the first and the best, for my money."

"Yeah, well, okay. Some of us didn't have the time to watch old movies."

After a moment he smiled. "Sexy, hunh? Y'know, you can be a real girlie girl sometimes, Babe."

I decided to cut my losses and let that one ride. Anyway, I was glad to see his smile. Sly's really a good guy under his tough, streetwise, and cynical exterior, but big and rough as he is, he's got a male ego that's easily punctured. Guys and their egos. Still, I didn't want to hurt him. He's been good to me ever since we teamed up.

Yeah, unlikely as it sounds, we're a team. We sell sex. Well, I suppose to be precise, we sell me. Part time, anyway: I've got a regular day job with a law firm in the city. In my nighttime profession Sly's my agent. He finds clients for me and protects me in what is a potentially very rough world. For all that he mocked and still mocks my upper-class upbringing, he's come to respect me as a person, and not just because of my sexual abilities and earning power. He accepts me as a co-equal partner in our little enterprise. Not easy for him. For most of his life women were disposable commodities, not people. It took a while for him to come around. I'm rather proud that I've earned his rarely given respect.

"Anyway, Sly," I said, getting down to business, "I assume you've got a client for us that has something to do with James Bond?"

"Yeah, Babe, I do. Kind of a nerdy guy, wants to pretend that he's this Bond guy. Says he wants a beautiful and mysterious woman to play the role with him. Ya think you can do it?"

I raised my chin and threw my shoulders back and looked as mysterious as I could and put on my best Russian accent.

"Natasha cannot reveal all her secrets, Darling. Lest I must kill you."

He ogled my uplifted breasts and smiled. "Great. You'll do. Here's the deal...."

A week later I was sitting at the Blackjack table in a big casino not far from the city. No, unfortunately not the Monte Carlo in Monaco as I had originally suggested, but elegant enough for the purpose. I was dressed in a slinky off-the-shoulder cocktail dress with lots of cleavage and a nice slit up the side to show off my long stocking-clad legs. My hair was black and coiffed in an elegant updo. Oh yes, and I was winning with the cards, too. I was up a few hundred.

A rather plain and somewhat pudgy man in a rented tux sat down next to me. I recognized him from the description Sly had given me, but as part of my role I ignored him. He signaled the dealer and placed a $50 chip in the bet box. The dealer dealt him two cards. He took a quick surreptitious look at them. He smiled conspiratorially at me. I smiled back.

"Double down," he said, and added another chip to the original. He took another card. He looked at it and threw it down in disgust. The dealer collected his chips.

And so it went for several more hands. I won a few and he mostly lost. He was getting frustrated, so I thought I'd better intervene.

"Perhaps you need to let the cards cool down a bit," I said to him. "Would you care to buy me a drink?"

He recovered his cool and smiled at me.

"Delighted". He looked at me hopefully. "The name's Bond," he said. After a pause, he added "James Bond."

"Tatiana," I said, smiling. "Tatiana Romanova".

We collected our chips (mostly mine by then) and headed for the bar.

He didn't ask what I wanted. James Bond was in charge.

"Two martinis," he told the bartender, "Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it's ice-cold, then add a large, thin slice of lemon peel."

The bartender took his eyes off me for the first time and looked at 'James'.

"Oh 'Vespers', eh?" he said with a smile.

'James' looked confused.

"Yes, yes, of course," he said. "Vespers. That's what I meant."

No Sean Connery or Daniel Craig, this one.

We retired to a small table with our drinks. I tried mine. It was really good.

"So, Tatiana," he said in a low voice, "I know what brings you here. You're working for Smurfs, aren't you? Don't deny it."

I bit my tongue.

Back in character, I looked around, as if afraid of being overheard.

"Yes," I said in as conspiratorial a voice as I could manage. I leaned in close to give him a good look at my cleavage. "We at SMERSH have had you in our sights for some time, now. Does it not concern you that I've been sent here to seduce and kill you?"

I love role-playing. It's a fun part of my job.

"Many have tried, Tatiana my sweet. Yet here I sit with you." He was trying his best to look supremely self-confident, but I could see in his eyes that he was desperately hoping I'd follow his lead. Hey, I'm a professional. I know how to weave fantasies for clients. I get well paid for this stuff and I'm good at it. So, I didn't miss a beat.

"You are not afraid, then?"

"No. Others have tried, though none so beautiful as you. I accept your challenge." I assumed he was thinking of the fictional James Bond's vaunted abilities to disarm his female enemies through his bedroom expertise. Based on my own experience with guys I never really did believe that stuff, but I'd sure be willing to try it. I didn't think this guy was up to that standard, but you never know.

I smiled at him and then turned and ignoring him, rose and headed out of the bar. He followed. The slinky dress and its side slit let me give him quite a show along the way. I led him up to the room in the hotel part of the casino that I had booked as part of the arrangement.

It was a nice room with a very large king-sized bed with a big mirror behind it. The lighting was soft and discrete.

As soon as the door was closed, I took out the little pistol that Sly had provided and turned to him.

"You foolish man," I said. "I had expected more of the fabled James Bond. Trapped by a woman. They told me it was your Achilles heel, but I didn't believe it."

His eyes got large when he saw the pistol. I'm not sure what he had expected, but the one Sly had provided was quite real. Not loaded, though, as he had assured me numerous times.

'James', though, was quick to recover and with a visible effort re-assumed his fictional Personna.

"Oh Tatiana," he said. "That one so lovely could be so cruel. But perhaps you would grant me one last request?"

"I might," I said. "What is it?"

"Only a kiss."

"Only a kiss?"

"Just that."

"So be it. And then I must kill you."

I smiled at him and reached up to him and slowly slipped off his tuxedo jacket and casually let it drop to the floor. I didn't miss the quick dart of his eyes to it as he contemplated the rental fee. I pouted my lips expectantly. He seemed taken aback for a second but then put his hands on my hips. I enjoyed watching him struggle to stay in character. He leaned forward. Our lips met. I reached behind his head with my free hand and pulled him into me. The kiss got deeper. I pressed my hips against his, my breasts against his chest. I felt his hands fumbling at the zipper on the back of my dress.

"James," I said breathlessly, "I don't care. SMERSH be damned. Take me. Take me now!"

I reached up to untie his bow tie, which turned out to be a clip-on. Nonetheless I made a bit of a ceremony of unclipping it while he figured out my zipper and unzipped my dress. I stepped away from him and gave a little shrug and the top of the dress obediently fell forward to reveal my black lace bra. I casually dropped the gun onto the floor and reached up and behind my head to release my long hair and let it fall. A quick twitch of my head let it splay out on my shoulders.

His breath was coming fast by now. Hell, I was getting pretty hot myself. Stripping for guys is really erotic for me when I have the chance to do it right.

He put his arms around me and backed me toward the bed. Unfortunately, he hadn't given me a chance to get out of the slinky dress, so my legs got caught and I fell backward. As luck would have it, though, we were close enough to the bed that I mostly landed on it, 'James' on top of me.

He started to apologize. I couldn't let him get out of character, though, so I rolled him over and kissed him again while I unbuttoned his shirt. He didn't have an undershirt on, so when his chest was exposed, I started a chain of wet kisses heading downward. I undid his pants and pulled them off. His undershorts were nicely tented.

I stood up, then, and finally was able to step out of the dress. I stood at the foot of the bed in stockings, heels, panties, and bra, and watched his eyes sweeping over me. From the growing lump in his shorts, he approved.

Slowly, never letting go of his eyes with my own, I undid my bra and slipped off the panties. I left the stockings and heels on, though. Guys like that.

I knelt on the bed next to him. He reached up for me, but we rolled over so that he landed on top of me. I figured that this was it, he was about to take me forcibly to demonstrate his James Bond mastery of women. Well, okay, I was getting well paid to help him live his fantasy for an evening, so I relaxed and waited.

He surprised me. He slid down and I felt his warm breath on my exposed pussy. Oh, that was nice. He kissed me there, and I spread my legs a little to give him access. He nuzzled my pussy lips and slid his tongue between them. He licked my clitoris, sending shock waves through me. He took my clit between his lips and sucked gently on it. I moaned involuntarily.

"Oh God, James," I said quietly.

I could feel him smile in response. He raised his head and began moving upward on me, kissing as he went. He seemed in no rush, which I appreciated. I could sense that he was simply enjoying my body, exploring it and appreciating it like he might a piece of fine art or of great music. I was flattered.

I could feel the warmth of his cock as it traced a wet path of pre-cum on my belly. He took time to enjoy each of my breasts separately, licking, kissing, and gently sucking my nipples. I was breathing pretty heavily by then and well along on an endorphin high. He raised his head, and I looked down and saw his fully deployed cock. Oh my, I wanted to suck it. My mouth watered and I licked my lips. I could already feel its smooth head inexorably parting my lips and sliding into my mouth where I could explore its every ridge and contour with my tongue. I wanted to feel it swell as I sucked it and feel the throbbing of the big vein as his hot, thick semen rushed through it to shoot into my welcoming mouth to be swallowed and become a part of me.

He read my mind. Still bridging over me on his hands and knees he slowly advanced, his cock spreading my breasts as it passed. Then he raised up more and I slid down a little until his warm, wet cock was at the level of my mouth. I kissed its tip. I put my hands on his hips and pulled him down. His cock pressed against my lips. He waited. I pulled him further and he slipped easily into my mouth.

Oh Lord it felt good in there. He went in a few inches and stopped, giving me time to lick him and probe the slit at his tip with my tongue, tasting him.

He began to rise and fall, his cock probing in and out in my mouth. I sucked on him. Oh, I wanted his semen! I wanted to hear him groan with ecstasy as he came.

But he wasn't done with me yet. After a few more strokes he withdrew with an audible pop and slid down on me again. He replaced his cock in my suddenly-vacant mouth with his tongue, and I felt his warm member begin to press on my pussy, spreading my lips. I moaned around his tongue as his hips descended, slowly driving his swollen instrument into me. As before, there was no rush, no sense of urgency, just taking his time to thoroughly enjoy the pleasure my body was giving him. I responded with pleasure of my own.

He began to slowly pump me, in and out, gradually increasing the depth of his plunges until he had plumbed my most intimate depths, our groins pressed tightly together. I was gasping by then. He stayed deep in me but began to pump faster even as my hips involuntarily swayed and rose to meet him. At last he drove deeper than ever into me, and I felt his cock swell within me. His weight pressed me into the bed and held me steady as his cock, buried deep in me, began to pulsate and shoot his hot semen against my cervix and even into my womb. Again and again, I felt him spurt his seed until my vagina was full and overflowing with his bounteous gift. I moaned and my body responded. The old familiar fire started in my belly and spread to my breasts and my limbs until I shook and gasped and my vagina desperately clutched his throbbing member. I knew I was squirting and then the world went away for a long time.

When I came back, he was still on top of me, his slowly deflating cock still inside me. He smiled down at my glistening face. He still didn't look much like Sean Connery, but I couldn't care less at that point. The world was a warm and friendly place, full of good things.

"Now you can kill me," he said.

"You know I can't," I said. "I love you." As I said that line, which I had rehearsed earlier, I had to grudgingly admit to myself that were this real, I probably would have given it all up for him, at least while the warm glow lasted. Damn! What kind of professional was I?

"What will you do now?" he asked as he withdrew from me.

"I must go back to Russia," I said, with not entirely feigned regret. "But perhaps we will meet again, under kinder circumstances. Now you must go. Quickly, before my accomplices come. Hurry!"

No, I guess in reality he was not the James Bond of novels and movie actors, but like I said, you can never tell how things might turn out in bed. And I had the satisfaction of knowing that in his mind, at least, for a few hours he had played the role of James Bond as well as any of them.

God, I love this job.