Spy Games
Chapter 3
Barbara, our next maid, was a nineteen-year-old college student doing a study abroad thing in English literature. She had "future librarian" written all over her, complete with the hair bun, horn rimmed glasses and conservative blouse buttoned to the neck.
Mrs. B stuck to her word and didn't interfere with my myriad attempts to break through Barbara's Victorian beliefs of chastity before marriage. I spent three weeks stumbling around until I found the right combination of words and deeds to get her in the mood for romance. It was a painful process of trial and error, but when I finally got her hair down, glasses off and blouse unbuttoned, the transition was astonishing.
Once Barbara experienced her first cock induced orgasm, she shelved her collected works of Chaucer and started an intense analysis of the Kama Sutra, using me as her study partner. And 'using' was the operative term. In her mind, my sole purpose in life was that of a blood supply for the ten inches of meat hanging between my legs. In our lone week of sexual congress, we progressed through the first forty pages of her Hindu instruction manual, which included a sixty-minute review of the Magic Mountain and Pretzel Dip positions the morning of her departure.
Unlike my experience with Amanda, no tears were shed when Barbara moved out... from either of us. I'd gotten everything I needed from her and there was no doubt in my mind that, when she got back to the States, she would go through an entire college fraternity before she got to the end of her Sanskrit sex guide.
***
With the maid's quarters temporarily empty, Mrs. B usually took me out for dinner rather than cooking in. On one particular night -- instead of the upscale restaurants she usually preferred -- she took me to a night spot popular with the young single professional crowd. We got a table with a good view of the bar, I ordered a beer, and Mrs. B opted for a martini.
"Tell me how you did it," Mrs. B asked when the waitress left to fetch our drink order.
"Ma'am?"
"Tell me how you finally talked Barbara into your bed. What was your strategy?"
"It uh... I wouldn't call it a strategy per se. I just kept trying different things until, well, you know. Things just sort of fell into place."
"So, you didn't come up with a killer line or the perfect gift?"
"No ma'am."
"And you didn't accidently touch her a certain way? A lingering handshake or brotherly hug?"
"Not that I know of... but whatever I did, it worked."
"So, you have absolutely no idea how you transformed a shy bookworm into an aggressive bedroom bimbo... which means you got absolutely nothing out of the experience."
'Except for a week of mind-boggling sex,
'
I thought, but was smart enough not to say.
"Look out over this bar," Mrs. B told me. "What do you see?"
"A bunch of people eating, drinking, and having fun?"
"That's the eighteen-year-old boy talking. An experienced field agent would say he sees a target rich environment."
"Like in a war?"
"The longest fought war in the history of mankind. Everybody here is fighting for supremacy over the others. The men want to hook up with the sexiest, most beautiful woman in the room and the women are looking for a smart, powerful, handsome man.
"Now take another look around and point out the leading lady. The girl of every man's wet dreams."
I wasn't sure where this conversation was leading but Mrs. B was buying the drinks, so I played along.
"The tall blonde in the corner," I said after a survey of the crowd. "Blue dress, shoulder length hair, sparkly earrings." And sufficient cleavage to hide a small dog
.
"I would have chosen the brunette sitting with her, but let's continue. Take another look and pick out the alpha male... the smart, powerful, handsome man all the women secretly want in their beds tonight."
I again scanned the crowd. Twice. Nobody stood out. Sure, there were several men that I considered butt ugly due to obvious facial flaws. And the three hundred pounder stuffing bar food down his throat was also off the short list. But I didn't have a clue who the women would find attractive. I was just about to make a wild ass guess when Mrs. B said...
"Let me give you a hint. He's sitting at our table."
"Me?"
"Yes, my young prince. You. And I don't say that to inflate your ego. The fact that you have a handsome face and desirable body will be both help and hinder in your future line of work. Field agents generally want to blend in with the local populace. They want to be just another face in the crowd. You, unfortunately, have the face of a movie star, one that a woman will not soon forget.
"However, the advantages should be obvious. When the mission is to charm a woman into giving us something we need, your unforgettable face will serve us well."
"Okay, if I'm so damn good looking, why did it take me three weeks to get Barbara out of her clothes and into the sack?"
"Just because you possess the tools doesn't mean you know how to use them. Owning a paint brush and easel doesn't make you a Picasso. A hammer in your work belt doesn't automatically turn you into a carpenter..."
"Okay, I get it. You're going to teach me how to use my supposedly amazing, good looks to attract girls. But you said they want more than a pretty face. You said they also want a smart and powerful man. I'm neither of those."
"I disagree. Just like beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so is intelligence and power. Despite your lack of formal education, you are probably smarter than any other man in this room. And although you aren't the CEO of a corporation or a high-ranking politician, you have power of personality. That is what I plan to develop these next few months."
"Nice speech Mrs. B. But you're still talking to the guy who took three weeks to seduce a closeted nymphomaniac."
