So here we go, Ingrams & Associates 5. I tried to go a little more adventure with this one. It's also a bit darker than the other stories have been.
Strictly speaking, this should probably go into a different area on Lit, but since all the other Ingrams stories are in Loving Wives, and there IS a loving wife in this (actually very loving, which is unusual for one of my stories!), I elected to put it here. Get over it
J
Edited by NoneTheWiser. Welcome back sir!
As always, all chapters have been submitted at once.
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Chapter 1
April Carlisle ran up the steps to her walk up in Parkside, Washington DC. She was still marveling at the fact that she owned the three-story building, with a basement garage. Even though it had been less than eight months, it was already home, in every sense of the word.
She had a small garden in the back, enough for Max, her adopted black lab, to frolic in. Although 'frolic' was too strong a word. More like "fertilize". She'd learned that Max was prolific in his production of manure, and could fart like no dog - or human - she'd ever come across, when he was in the mood. And then look innocently at her as if to say, "Who, me?" It made her want to smile and also to open every window.
He was lolloping along next to her, trotting contentedly, sniffing the older trees along the road and constantly glancing at her, to make sure she was still in view. She was supposed to run with a leash, but April almost never did. She felt it was just wrong - Max would never bother anyone, and it gave him valuable sniffing time.
She stopped on the steps of the building, catching her breath and testing her heart rate via her FitBit. 120 beats per second. Not too bad for a 32-year-old woman, who didn't get to run as much as she wanted these days.
Work had been hard recently. While she was not on an active case right now, she was helping out by doing research for another case while also mentoring a new recruit, Morgan. Morgan was from San Diego, and he held promise.
Things were tense at work since the disappearance of one of Ingrams and Associates' top field agents, Desirea McGee, - a friend and co worker. Desirea had been working on a case involving the son of "Movie Mogul" (that's what everybody called him), who had studios in China. Mogul was looking to retire, and was grooming his son to replace him. However, his son had women-relationship problems, erectile dis-function and a host of other issues. His father had approached Ingrams to see what could be done and Desirea had been injected into his life as his principal assistant. It seemed like a very simple job - seduce the boy, show him that he was a man, build up his ego, and set him up for the new job.
But it proved to be anything but simple. First, Desirea had discovered he had a huge submissive streak, courtesy of his childhood nanny, who had not only been a tremendously bossy woman, but also given him his first sexual experience. As if that wasn't enough, she then discovered he had repressed transvestite tendencies. Her work was cut out for her.
Four weeks into the mission, Ingrams got a message from her saying she was going to take a trip with him, a mystery vacation in the family private jet. Then she just went radio silent. They couldn't trace her phone. They heard nothing from her for three weeks. Everyone was growing very concerned. The son had also vanished, the plane had not landed anywhere that Ingrams could find, and so - with reluctance - they'd handed it over to the FBI for further investigation.
April worked for a clandestine intervention agency, called Ingrams & Associates, named after their founder, CEO and original field agent, Jessica Ingrams. Ingrams was a private agency that went out of its way to not advertise and not have its business known. They were hired by large corporations, government agencies, and occasionally private individuals. They provided a truly niche service, offering covert assistance to high value individuals who had issues occurring in their lives that most people would seek counseling or treatment for. But Ingrams' clients, weren't people who would even admit they had a problem, let alone seek treatment for it. Some of their cases included a spy who had come in from deep cover and had emotional problems over what he'd been forced to do, but could never ask for help. When a Military Chief of Staff from a small second world country who was suddenly outed as being gay, and he had no where to turn, but still held the codes to the country's arsenals, it was Ingrams and Associates that was brought in. Sometimes it was more personal, like when a man's wife and close friends thought he'd enjoy some group sex and started without him, he learned - after he'd seen them el-flagrante - that he wasn't that keen on it.
Ingrams would research the target, deduce his or her situation and then embed one of their highly trained field agents into the situation, who would enter the target's life clandestinely, evaluate the issue at hand and then do whatever was necessary to help that person through their issue. Sometimes they could try to solve the issue, or they might just produce a way for the person to function and move forward.
Often the issue was relationship based - an ego bruise, confidence rattled, a relationship damaged beyond repair, and the field agent would do whatever it took to bring the situation back under control. There was often a sexual component to the work, and all Ingrams field agents knew that, accepted it, and did their damndest to be the very best at what they were.
April had often joked with her friend Megan that Ingrams Field Agents were a "cross between James Bond, Mae West and Sigmund Frued. With a dash of Jason Bourne, for sex appeal."
Ingrams had a large support team for their agents, and had internal groups for research, cover development and a room full of high tech gadgets that would make Q's eyes pop. As you'd expect for a group that often charged upwards of a million dollars per engagement for their services.
There was little love lost between Ingrams and the FBI, who tolerated their existence - barely. The FBI was more interested in the missing son than a missing agent of an agency that they would have shut down instantly if they could.
Everyone at Ingrams was on high alert, thinking of plans to find Desirea, and suggesting new approaches every day.
The entire company was on edge, and Jessica Ingrams was not helping things by getting annoyed with people over slight issues. Dermot, her right hand man, and the number two person at Ingrams, was spending a lot of time soothing ruffled ego's and reassuring people that 'they'd find her. By god.' His Scottish accent had come out far more in the last three weeks, indicating the stress he was under. Dermot was nearing sixty-five now, an older Scot with a shock of white hair and a perpetual white trimmed beard. He'd been in the US for years and word was he'd once been a psychologist at the CIA.
April felt useless. She was mentoring the new recruit as a favor for her friend Megan, who was running the training section after she had married. No running around, screwing the entire world for Megan any more. The company book was 3:1 that she'd be pregnant within two years.
As she sat on the steps of her house, watching Max 'check email', as she referred to his actions, when he was sniffing the same old locations, and then dropping his own scent, the door to the next building opened and she looked up into the smiling face of her neighbor, Kim McGhee.
Kim was an imposing tall red head, like April. Statuesque was the word. Kim was also a transgendered individual who had been assigned as a male at birth but who identified as a female, who made a living from doing female impersonation of famous celebrities. Kim's Cher was legendary. They'd met and bonded when April had first moved, in - Kim had inherited the place from her father and moved in when he died. They'd even ended up comparing blowjob technique one drunken evening, involving tequila and Baileys Irish Cream. Kim had declared that a superior blowjob was made up of three parts, "Knowledge and experience, enjoyment of the act, and the feelings for the person you are doing it to." April was taken aback, but then felt it necessary to keep her end up, and agreed, adding "how important it was to keep teeth out of the equation."
"Morning April. Nice day, for a change," said Kim, in her breathless southern drawl. Kim was raised in Knoxville, and it showed in her accent.
April grinned back at her. "Bit dressed up for a Sunday morning?" she inquired. It was true, Kim was wearing a sheath dress that showed off her figure and silicon touchups to fullest advantage.
Kim rolled her eyes. "Yeah, baby doll. There's a pride march later today. Gotta go fly the flag. Someone wants to tell me which toilet I can use again."
April laughed. Kim was more female at times than she was. There was no way anyone was going to mistake Kim for a man.
"Have a good one. Don't get arrested. They'll never know what to do with you," offered April, pushing herself up and looking round for Max.
"C'mon Max. Time for a shower."
Max came bounding up to the steps, and stopped to sniff at Kim, ever hopeful for a treat.
"Go on Max. Maybe later," said Kim, rubbing his head. Kim had twice dog sat for Max when April was on a case, and they were firm friends.
