Spies are cool. They run around in their expensive cars and tuxedos, stealing Top Secret files, and diffusing bombs. Bad guys are brought down with stylish karate and Kung fu, and they always remain undercover, even after such a cacophony of events.
False.
Lora knew all too well that the Hollywood depiction of a spy was unrealistic. Even the title "spy" was unusual in the trade. The same way law enforcement officers do not like the term "cop", those in the business hated the term "spy". It seemed so juvenile, like an oversimplification of a very difficult job. Everyone had their own preferred titles: undercover, insider, operative, agent, mole. Each title with its own shadowy meaning. Lora preferred to remain untitled. She had a job, and she was good at it. Trying to define what she did beyond that was a waste of time. The assignments were simple to understand, just not always easy to accomplish. While movie spies ran about blowing things up and drinking, Lora did the real work, seduction.
Money is powerful, but everyone has some. A man can be paid to keep a secret or provide a service, but as soon as someone comes around with a better offer, he will take it. Fighting with opposition can quickly become expensive. Satisfy a man with a beautiful redhead like Lora, and you not only provide ample payment for a task, but if documented, a fail safe alternative as well. Money moves mountains, but lust and blackmail can crumble them to dust.
Lora was naturally adept at her job, but was provided with extensive training by the quiet organization that recruited her. Getting a man in bed was easy, especially for someone with her looks. Her wavy red locks framed her softly featured face, and her beautiful emerald eyes were capable of melting a soul. Her breasts were slightly larger than her slim build's proportions, and her hourglass figure made any outfit stunning, including the red silk dress that adorned her lightly tanned frame that night. With an open back and sides, she felt very exposed, not at all remedied by the high cut in the skirt riding up past her hip. The material barely covered her round breasts and left any eye upon her the craving to brush the silk aside.
The click-clack of Lora's heels echoed in the hallway of the mansion she was visiting. Pictures of the family were scattered along the walls, a loving wife standing beside her professionally dressed husband, their grown son standing between them with a Harvard polo and the family terrier in his arms. The perfect American family, she thought, except for the part where I am here. The man was a politician, running for a major office in the capital, and Lora had received a call from her handler, so here she was. At the end of the hall was an office and as instructed, she walked quietly in.
Lora was surprised to see a woman standing next to a large ornate desk, the same woman from the pictures in the hallway. Anyone else would begin to panic and try to think of an excuse for a woman of her caliber being in this house, but Lora learned long ago that those she worked for always had every detail set to plan. Instead, see smiled and held out her hand in greeting.
"My name is Lora," she said with a polite smile.
The woman shook her hand, "Hello, Lora. I'm Denise. This is all terribly awkward isn't it."
"No need to feel uncomfortable," Lora replied, "I'm was sent to help."
Denise shifted uneasily, "I'm sure you know about my husbands political race," she looked up to see Lora's polite nod, "and I was contacted by your... Organization and told that his work is important to you."
"It is. Certain policies and actions the senator supports would help our cause greatly," Lora told her.
"What exactly is that?" Denise asked, "Your cause?"
Lora shrugged a bit, "It's all rather boringly complicated, but I can assure you, it is all about making the world a better place. But first he needs to win this election."
Denise nodded, "Yes, his platform and allies are strong, but he has been having trouble pushing those ideas in public. His confidence is shaky, and the stress of running this campaign isn't helping him at all."
"And that is where I come in," Lora said factually, "I can help build his confidence, but I need your approval. Helping him deliver his message won't do him or us any good if his wife is in the background resenting him."
"Oh that's no problem, dear," Denise replied, "he needs more than I can offer. I just want him to get a win. He's fought for so long for his beliefs, and he deserves to have a well earned victory."
Lora smiled, "Then it's time I meet him."
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As Lora followed Denise through the house, she took a mental inventory of her surrounding. You can tell a lot about someone by the way their house is adorned, and this was no different. Nearly all the pictures were of their family, and not just staged studio photos, but those of them camping at the lake and of them wearing silly hats at Disney world: real family moments. The few that were not, painted an even clearer picture. The man with a hospital staff, holding a giant check, and one with him surrounded by a team of middle schoolers holding a trophy. Lora had met other politicians, and most were very self centered. You could find pictures of them with rich CEOs and retired presidents. They tended to brag about their wealthy friends and connections, but this man only wanted to show off his family and community.
They stepped into the kitchen and found Denise's husband pulling a bottle of water from the fridge, a folded binder in his other hand. Lora looked him over for the first real time and immediately determined that his pictured did not give him credit. He was in amazing shape for his age, with firm features and a sharp jaw. The fainted flecks of gray accented his otherwise jet black hair, and Lora assumed that those didn't exist before his campaign had started.
"Honey, this is Lora," Denise said, grabbing his attention, "She from those people that called."
He looked up from his binder and almost dropped his water when his eyes caught their first glimpse of the brazenly dressed redhead standing in his kitchen. "My name is Michael," he stammered, setting his binder down to shake her hand.
"Nice to meet you, sir," Lora responded, "Your wife is lovely. We were just talking about your campaign and how I can help."
"I'll leave you to it," Denise said, stepping out.
Michael could not help himself from looking Lora over again, "So I've been told you could help with some... radical campaign methodology?"
Lora stepped toward him and moved his binder down the counter top. With ease, she lifted herself and sat on the marble island in front of him, crossing her legs. The material slid up her thigh a bit while she talked, "My role is simple. I'm here to build your personal confidence, but I don't use power poses and motivational catchphrases. I let you draw out that inner power yourself."
He gulped trying to resist the urge to touch her lightly bronzed thighs, "How exactly do I accomplish that?"
She reached forward and took his hands, placing them on her bare leg, "By taking what you want. I am yours. Until this campaign is over, or until you don't need me. I'll stay here at your home and do what you ask. Anything you ask."
