The Hottest Fire Ch 02

Chapter 2.

Debrief

It was only when she turned to lead him down the hallway that he became aware the fishnet stockings she wore were actually an entire body stocking, right on down to the sleeves, which ended with starched white cuffs at her wrists. Aside from the ridiculously undersized white apron that barely covered her front, the see-through fishnet catsuit was the only article of clothing she wore. As she led him down the hallway he was able to appreciate the undulations of her ass-cheeks and the litheness of her petit form; the wide white drawstrings of the apron wound about a slender waist, the fishnet material garment was cut low enough to display a well muscled back. A stray lock of brown hair curled tantalizingly along the back of a long, slim neck, well-formed legs deliciously sculpted by the heels she wore reached from her perfectly round ass all the way down to the floor. Mademoiselle paused at an open doorway, cleared her throat and announced his arrival to the occupant within.

“

Monsieur Ludlow c’est arrive

,” she announced in a voice that tinkled like a crystal chandelier.

A gruff voice emanated from within. “Ludlow? Is he here? Show him in! Show him in!” Mademoiselle waved him toward the doorway. As he passed by her to enter a well-appointed parlour Ludlow studied the young woman’s face. Green eyes spaced wide apart met his, bright red lips slightly parted seemed almost about to speak. Her open mouth and tongue almost seemed to be a succulent piece of fresh fruit. He hungered to taste it. She answered his gaze with the slightest arching of an eyebrow.

Sir Kilby rose from an enormous armchair by the fireplace to greet Ludlow. A burly fellow, Sir Kilby was an anachronistic throwback to the days of Empire, Queen and Country. Complete with waxed handlebar moustache and monocle, he wore a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches that featured a military device on the lapel; his tie was the regimental colours of the Coldstream Guard.

Everything about Sir Kilby, even the very room itself, radiated Old School. From the wallpaper to the smell of rum-soaked pipe tobacco to the framed print of

The Defence of Rourke’s Drift

over the mantelpiece; the well-appointed parlour was a study in Victorian decor. Anybody who didn’t know any better would assume Sir Kilby was a card-carrying member of the most connected Old Boys Clubs in town. It was all a part of the camouflage the Organization was so deeply embedded within.

“Ludlow, old man!” Sir Reece grasped his elbows and clasped him on the back. “Good to see you at last!” His happiness and enthusiasm were genuine; Sir K, as he was known within the Organization, projected an almost youthful fervour that was almost infectious. And of course he showed the natural joy that came with the relief felt by a leader whose most trusted man has returned safely from battle. Sir K held Ludlow out at an arm’s length and inspected him.

“Good God, man, you look a sight!” Ludlow knew he looked like shit warmed up. “We’ll get a brandy into you, and then a bit of a clean up before your debrief, what?”

“That’d be great, Sir K.”

“A nasty business, the way things went in the end there. A very nasty business,” Sir K said as he handed Ludlow a bulb glass and poured him a generous measure of golden-brown liquid.

“Sometimes it turns out that way,” Ludlow said briefly. He hadn’t yet thawed out enough to comment at length.

They seated themselves in the overstuffed armchairs and Sir K lifted his glass in toast. “To absent comrades,” he said briefly.

“Absent comrades,” Ludlow replied. He took a deep draught of the liquor and savoured the burning sensation as it seemed to pierce his very being all the way down to his heart.

“A bite to eat, old boy?” Sir K took care of his troops with all the care and concern of a Regimental Sergeant Major, which of course was the rank he retired from the Army with. A wave of his hand and the French maid appeared, bearing a covered tray. “Ah, Gabrielle has read my mind, it seems,” Sir K declared. Ludlow wondered if she could read his.

You know she bloody well reads every dirty thought you’re having, you dirty sod you.

Gabrielle uncovered the tray, revealing roasted chicken nestled on a bed of rice. Enough to satisfy his hunger for now, Ludlow thought as he surveyed the rounded tops of a nice pair of tits, quite visible above her apron as Gabrielle leaned before him. Ludlow hardly waited for Sir K to indicate for him to eat, he practically inhaled the food. The roast bird melted in his mouth as the meal seemed to evaporate before him in an instant.

“Gabrielle will see you to a hot bath, and then when you’re comfortable we’ll proceed with the debriefing.” The French maid appeared at the doorway at the mention of her name. “Gabrielle, see our fellow Ludlow here to the bath . . .”

“

Apres-mois, monsieur . . .

” she said, leading him to a bathroom down the hallway. Following her down the hall, Ludlow was able to appreciate the way the fishnet material set off the curves of her hips. Once in the bathroom, Ludlow practically drooled at the sight of her fantastic ass from a new vantage point as she bent over to draw the hot bath.

Gabrielle stood aside with her hands over the front of her tiny white apron. Ludlow removed his coat and she took it, held it folded over her arms and remained standing in place. When Ludlow finally realized that she wasn’t about to leave the room he shrugged and continued to undress. Gabrielle took all of his clothing until finally he was down to his undershorts, which she also took as he skived them off. A slight grimace expressed her disdain at the condition of his soiled clothing. Before she turned to leave the room her eyes casually wandered down his naked form; an eyebrow arched as she shamelessly eyeballed his cock.

Ludlow closed his eyes as he lowered himself into the soothing hot water. The heat penetrated his sore, stiff muscles, relaxed him where he’d been wound like a coiled spring for days. Wisps of steam vapour curled up around his head. He totally submerged himself to wash the grit and oil from his scalp. He scrubbed his face, wiped the muck from the corners of his eyes, and then surfaced. Eyes still closed he was startled to feel a hand on his as he reached for the soap. He opened his eyes to see Gabrielle, kneeling on the bathmat beside the tub.

“

Permittez-mois, monsieur,

” she said simply, and in a business-like manner proceeded to scrub his head, his neck and chest. She indicated for him to stand, then continued to scrub him down, paying an inordinate amount of attention to the crack of his ass. Ludlow revealed in the feel of tiny hands wandering over his body. She washed his balls and stroked his dick with a fistful of suds until it was hard, poking out in front of him like a wooden pole.

Ludlow thoroughly enjoyed the marvellous sensations of her soapy wet hand, moving slick and fast over his rock-hard dick, when quite abruptly and without completing the handjob she quit her attentions and moved on to scrub his legs. Finally she rinsed him off and indicated for him to leave the tub. In a state of sheer consternation Ludlow indicated his erection, sticking straight out before him like a wooden spar on a sailing ship. Gabrielle regarded his thick, stiff pole, then looked into his eyes. With a silent Gallic shrug she reached for a bottle of body lotion, squirting a generous glob into her right palm before addressing herself to the task of stroking him off.

The handful of cold lotion sent thrills through his system as she curled her fingers around his shaft. With the combination of slick lotion and her hand applying just the right amount of pressure as it raced up and down his slippery length, it took but a few strokes for Ludlow to come; he must have ejaculated a gallon of cum his first spurt alone. Ludlow felt both orgasmic pleasure in the head of his dick as well as an incredible release of tension. He weakened in the knees and had to put his hands on the tiled surface of the walls to hold himself up as thick, gooey white jets shot out of his swollen cock, puddling up at his feet in the bottom of the tub.

Throughout the entire affair Gabrielle maintained a studied air of detachment, as if stroking a man off were no more involved than selecting a ripe piece of fruit at the greengrocer’s. She washed her hands under the tap, then soaped his dick and rinsed him off once more. She held out a thick, fluffy towel for him as he stepped out of the tub, patted him down and then abruptly left the room.

Ludlow inspected himself in the mirror. It was obvious the razor on the side of the sink was for him to use, so he lathered up and proceeded to shave off the better part of a week’s worth of stubble. Gabrielle returned with a fresh suit of clothes. Ludlow knew without asking they were all his size; the Organization always took care of the little details. He donned the crisp, white shirt – it could have been tailored for him. A grey birdseye suit done in the latest Savoy Row style, Gabrielle assisted him into his coat sleeves then knotted his tie, all the while making little comments,

Vous est tres beaux, monsieur, tres genereux.

He continued to wonder about her origins as his trained ear struggled to discern the traces of an accent through her near-perfect French.

Voila!

she announced, as she completed knotting his tie with a pat of her hand on his chest. Ludlow thanked her with a brief kiss on the forehead, to which she closed her wide-set green eyes and dipped a slight curtsy in acknowledgement.

Sir K was waiting for him in the parlour. “Ah, there you are. I must say, you look a damn sight better, Ludlow. More like your old self, I should say. Shall we get on with the debrief, then?”

* * *

“Very well, then,” Sir K harrumphed as the debrief drew to a conclusion. “Now I’d like to take the opportunity to properly introduce you to one of your fellow operators.”

“Gabrielle?” Ludlow asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No, no, Gabrielle’s a trainee still. She’s in from our Rio de Janeiro branch.” Ludlow should have known – the accent was Portuguese; Brazilian Portuguese. Sir K went on, “I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce Miss Jenny to you.”

Ludlow looked up to see a beautiful woman enter the room, a magnificent creature with silky shoulder length blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. She wore nothing but a chemise of the thinnest gossamer and a pair of grey silk stockings that ended on her thighs in a thick band of lace. A pair of stiletto-heeled black pumps completed her brief ensemble.

“Miss Jenny has been running the little safehouse operation we have here for the past six months,” Sir K explained. “She’s been operating under the guise of madam of a house of ill repute.” Jenny smiled sweetly at this. “Your arrival conveniently allows us to perpetuate this cover.

False modesty was not a trait of the Organization’s members; agents who often spent extended periods of time working in close quarters, whose very lives were in each other’s hands, gradually assumed an attitude of complete openness with one another about the tiniest facet of their lives. Indeed, Jenny’s lingerie was quite appropriate given the cover she needed to maintain.

“Hello, Mr. Ludlow,” she said in a sweet voice that tinkled like a bell. “This is such an honour. Sir K tells me you’re one of our most

hardened

veterans.” She smiled, wordlessly inviting Ludlow to inspect her practically naked body. Her full breasts poked out like a pair of torpedoes, capped by wide pink nipples. A long strand of pearls hanging between her generous breasts drew the flimsy see-through material close and accentuated her taut nipples. A hard, flat belly was testament to the state of physical fitness all of the Organization’s operators kept themselves in. The lacy tops of the stockings on her shapely thighs drew attention to her nether-hair; close cropped and shaven into a diminutive triangle. Her crotch was shaven quite bald, as smooth as a peach. The briefest glimpse of slit was visible below her golden curls.

Jenny held out a hand and Ludlow rose to take it. Given his fellow agent’s total lack of modesty Ludlow made no attempt to conceal his own state of arousal.

“And now,” Sir K went on, “Jenny would like to assist you in a little, ah,

post-mission decompression

,” Sir K said with a broad smile. Jenny smiled sweetly at this. “You two young people go on, now. Enjoy your time off, Ludlow, you’ve certainly earned it.”