The assignment was simple. I had to get copies of secret material from the enemy's side, by whatever means necessary. As an agent for the Secret Service I had done it several times before. It made me feel a bit devious of course but I kept telling myself that it was for the good of my country and I just got on with it.
To be honest I enjoyed at times. Well actually, I had really enjoyed the last two or three assignments. All very handsome Middle Eastern operatives. Arabs had never been my thing in the past, but I found that in a professional capacity I was distant enough from them to enjoy the physical closeness, if that makes any sense.
Because yes, as you might guess, sex is often a lure in my profession. I had never been one for one night stands but the thrill of luring these foreign men into fraternising with the infidel enemy was exciting. And a blond, blue eyed young woman was pretty good bait for these guys.
I had never actually had to go through with having sex with anyone in the name of my country though, thank God. I always proclaimed to be prepared to, but if it really came down to it I don't know. Fortunately it wasn't something that was officially required in these politically correct times, although we all knew that in practice your career would be shattered if you blew an operation just because you refused to have sex with someone.
I think the only thing worse would be blowing an operation because you were having sex with someone even if you didn't need to. I must admit I'd been tempted to on my last assignment, because he really was gorgeous, but the thought of cocking up (pardon the pun!) kept me on the straight and narrow.
This latest assignment was different from my latest Middle Eastern ones though. The target was Pakistani for a start and wasn't an agent but rather a prominent political figure. I was to meet him at a party at the High Commission. It was a rather glamorous affair and I was wearing a ball gown with a deep décolletage. I had been introduced to the target, a very attractive man called Hamid, as well as his wife whose face was hidden behind a burqa.
I tried to catch him off guard without his wife around several times but he never seemed to pay much attention to me. Towards the end of the evening I was getting desperate so I resorted to the oldest trick in the book. Sneaking up behind Hamid I feigned him pushing into me and spilt my glass of champagne down my chest. The liquid trickled down my breasts and slowly wet the front of my dress.
"Oh I beg your pardon" he said in flawless English. He eyes fell to my bosom and I could see him hesitate. After lingering just a little bit too long with his gaze on my chest he looked me in the eye. He was just about to speak when his wife's arm suddenly came between us. She came out of thin air because I made sure she was nowhere to be seen before I made my move.
"Oh clumsy" she said and whisked me away. Her English had a heavy Pakistani accent. She dragged me to the bathroom and did a remarkably good job of quickly washing and drying my chest and dress. "Better" she said when she finished. Her touch was light and she let the hand towel linger on the top of my breasts. All I could see was her eyes but they were beautiful and I'm sure they were smiling.
"Thank you. My name is Amanda." I held out my hand.
She took it and replied "Hasna. Sorry English no good."
"Oh don't worry. You hardly need to speak with eyes as beautiful as yours." She looked down bashfully.
"Go back party" she said and shooed me off. The rest of the party was uneventful and Hasna stayed by Hamid's side all night. I was a spectacular failure for me so in a last ditch attempt to get closer to Hamid I pulled Hasna to the side as they were leaving.
"Thank you for helping me out earlier. How can I return the favour?" Hasna turned to Hamid and a quick exchange followed. Although trained in several languages I couldn't follow, they must have been speaking some dialect. Eventually Hamid turned to me.
"My wife would be very grateful if you could accompany her shopping. She'd love to take advantage of the shopping here in London."
"No problem at all, I'm a great shopper" I said truthfully. We arranged to meet in Knightsbridge the following day.
I was waiting at a café when the limousine pulled up to the kerb. Hamid and Hasna stepped out.
We exchanged greetings and Hamid explained "Thank you for taking your time to assist my wife. She noticed yesterday that you are about the same size and as our dress code prevents her from trying clothes on in public she asks if you are willing to do that for her."
"Certainly, I'd love being a model." Hamid then disappointed me by explaining that he had an urgent meeting and would not be accompanying us.
We took of in the direction of Harrods for starters. I told Hasna where the different departments were and we set off. I modelled a few different garments and Hasna bought a couple but I could tell she was looking for something she couldn't find.
"What are you looking for Hasna?"
"Lingerie." I did a double take then looked her in the eye. I could see she was serious.
"OK, the lingerie department is on the seventh floor." She took me by the hand and set off for the lift.
Hasna picked out a few matching bra and knickers sets for me to try on. Her tastes were obvious, the sexier the better. I started with the most conservative but still felt rather naked when I modelled them for Hasna. She never spoke much, just indicating with her hands when she wanted me to twirl around etc. Still it never felt really uncomfortable because her eyes were smiling the whole time. I was actually starting to enjoy myself. Eventually Hasna bought a couple of the more minimal items and then took me by the hand to the lifts again.
"More sexy" she said.
"You want more sexy lingerie? Hmm let me think, I'm not sure where to go."
"Ann Summers."
