The Librarian
This is a departure. I'm not sure where it will be posted. I may get roasted by some new readers instead of the regulars in Loving Wives. So here goes. Two parts; bear me(heh, heh) you'll find the Librarian, I promise.
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He was working in Venezuela. His cover was a G. E. service rep, working at the PDVSA, out of Caracas. That was his cover.
Actually, he worked for the Company. That's right, every body knows who that is. But it was a good cover, or so he thought. No one outside the Agency knew who he really was. Except for his wife. And that's where the problem began.
His name is Michael Starne. His cover was 'Peter Trees'. He was one of the C.I.A.'s best. 42 years old. Ex-Army Ranger sniper, excellent shot, with both long arm and pistol.
6 Feet 2 inches tall, 210 lbs (but after 4 weeks down here, probably closer to 200 lbs. now) Married, 21 years to Lorelei, one child-Samantha age 19. Lovely wife, Lorelei.
So I thought.
This was to be his last field assignment. The retirement papers were already in place, and he would tell his wife went he returned in about a week.
His assignment went almost text-book good and he was tying up the loose ends. Pretty soon, the agency would have the goods on the Venezuelan government's secret source of oil distribution through out the Caribbean, Central and South America, and the world. He let his guard down just a little and went out with two of the oil company's engineers for a drink.
He never let someone else order or get his drinks. He was careful about that. Basic field-craft from the 'farm'. He sat with his back to a wall, not obviously, but with some flair, saying he wanted to have a good look at the senoritas and their legs on their way to the ladies room. He volunteered to get the drinks, and even bought two rounds. After all, he was the 'rich Americano', wasn't he?
But it was all a mirage. He had no control over the scenario. The two engineers had been coerced to have him kidnapped. After about five rounds, the last two purchased by and picked up by 'Peter' himself, one of the 'local lovelies' came over and started vamping the three guys. 'Peter' watched with amusement, thinking of his wonderful,'faithful' wife at home. She eventually got to 'Peter' and draped herself around him, licking his neck and ear.
He blushed and started to remove her arms when he felt a sharp prick in his neck, behind his ear. He had only time enough to disentangle himself and the last words he heard were from Ramon, one of the local engineers, saying,"What's wrong, my friend? You don't look so......".
Then his head hit the table, and darkness.
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The rest of the story, from 'Peter's' perspective.
"Ohh, my head."
I slowly regained consciousness. I was in a small cell, no other word for it. A one by one window, high up on the wall, let in the dying sun. Also rain, birds, rats, insects, and anything else that would fit. Rats were crawling over me, millipedes were scuttling around.
('I'll bet some of them are poisonous, too,' I thought.)
There was nothing else in the room. Down in the corner, someone had scooped out an 8"deep,1 foot around depression. If you got close enough, you knew why. And by close enough, I mean anywhere in the room.
And it was hot, and humid.
'Seems like someone forgot to turn on the A/C. ......... Or it's broken', I mused. I went to sit up and realized I was hand cuffed.
I shook my head to clear it and heard the door rattle and then open. I was slightly shocked to see a tallish guy of oriental descent enter with a soft leather valise at his side. He looked at me and smirked.
I got a bad feeling. The Chinese guy's presence confirmed my suspicions. Venezuela was dealing with the Chi-Coms, to market their oil. The bills of sale, receipts, bills of lading, shipping manifests and the clandestine phone calls out of and into the country from Peking were confirmed. I was glad I had gotten all my evidence out to Langley a few days ago. But it looked like they had blown my cover.
"So, Mr. TREES is it? But we know better, don't we?" He turned to the guy in the doorway, holding an AK-47, and told him to take to take me to the interrogation room.
'Pablo' came and grabbed me, jerked me upright, and dragged me out into the corridor.
Training 101 from the farm: 'Don't let them know what kind of shape you were in. Let them think you were still fucked up and weak.' Wasn't too hard, 'cause I was still kind of groggy, so I let him drag me down the hallway and around a corner. He opened a door and almost threw me into a small room, with a metal table, bolted to the floor and an aluminum chair behind it, with an identical one facing it. He led me to the one on the far side and forced me to sit. I let my face smack the table to encourage the ruse, and help snap me out of my funk.
It was virtually identical to the cell I had been in, except the floor was paved and the window had glass in it. Also, no 'air-freshener' in the corner. A small fan was doing it's best to circulate the fetid air (and losing).
'Uncle Ho', as I thought of him, came in and took the other seat. He pulled out a small lap top, turned it on and started on me.
"What do you know, Mr. Trees? Where are all the files and paperwork you have acquired in the last four weeks? Who is your contact? Tell us, Mr. Trees and I'll see to it that you can leave here ....in a short time. Other wise, this will continue."
He turned the laptop around and hit 'play', starting a DVD running. There on the screen, was my lovely wife, Lorelei, laying naked in OUR bed with some fuck stick pounding her into the mattress while she screamed 'YES, YES, MAKE ME COME AGAIN!! OH, MY FUCKING GOD!!!'. This went on for a good twelve minutes or so as she orgasm-ed at least three times. They finally finished with a loud moan, and rolled apart.
