The Room

In the beginning was the darkness and the darkness filled the room. A wind from the air conditioning blew gently through that space. A woman then said, "Let there be light;" and, lo, there was light. This then was the morning of the first day.

The light, actually a bank of four spot lights, shone down from the void above onto the floor below illuminating the single structure. They also illuminated a shield and the sword, star and hammer & sickle that adorned it. The shield was a familiar badge and was hung prominently on the wall facing the structure: the shield awoke the ghost of a memory: a memory that came from an earlier time. There was a scroll below the shield: a scroll with gold Cyrillic lettering embossed upon it; lettering that spelled out the words:

Комите

́

т

Γ

осуда

́

рственной безопа

́

сности.

Those familiar with the Russian language would translate this as:

Committee for State Security

or more simply as the three ominous letters

KGB

.

The structure was a simple one, just a steel St Andrew's cross set in the centre of the room. There were four rings set into the structure, four steel rings that could slide up and down in slots. An ominous structure facing an ominous shield in an ominous room. The room seemed big due to the lighting and the fact that floor, walls and ceiling were all painted light-absorbing matt black. It seemed huge, although it was scarcely twenty feet square. It was a

Special Interview Room

.

The equally black cross was adorned with the body of a naked American girl who looked to be in her early twenties. The body was, needless to say, very much alive and was held by four furry and padded cuffs: one around each ankle and one around each wrist. The cuffs were clipped onto each ring so that the girl was crucified after the manner of the patron saint of the Scots. She had lost count of the time that she had hung naked in the darkness of that cool room. Half an hour? An Hour? She guessed that this was what they meant by the term "Softening up".

When the spotlights clicked on it had taken a minute or two for her eyes to adjust, when they did she recognised the anachronism hanging on the wall in front of her.

"You have got to be kidding me!" She called out in disbelief.

She heard footsteps clatter on the metal floor. Clack! - Clack! - Clack! Slowly, threateningly they approached from somewhere behind her. Clack! - Clack! - Clack! Suddenly another spotlight flared into life dazzling her all over again.

Then came the voice: a woman's voice with the slight accent that matched the Cyrillic lettering.

"Yesterday, upon the stair..."

It was a young voice, a quiet one, a gentle one.

" ...I saw a girl who wasn't there."

Clack! - Clack! - Clack! The footsteps came closer.

"She wasn't there again today..."

There was breathing behind her.

" ...I think she's from the CIA."

Clack! - Clack! - Clack! The footsteps were close now.

Clack! - Clack! - Clack! Now they were in front of her. She opened her eyes again and saw a woman dressed in a uniform skirt and jacket. They were a khaki-brown colour but with gold buttons and rich blue shoulder boards complete with the three small stars of a senior lieutenant. The lieutenant carried a riding crop.

The women's eyes met under the dazzling lights and the KGB officer spoke «Привет американский леди.» Which sounded like "Privyet Amyerikanskayi Lyedi."

The prisoner thought for a short time: her Russian was more than a little rusty: "Greetings American Lady." The very idea.

"Hallo Russian bitch!" She snapped. "When you gonna let me go?"

The woman, the KGB Officer smiled. "That is not a request that I can grant." The voice was soft and gentle. Then, boot heels clacking, she walked slowly around the prisoner, looking at her and taking stock of every detail. She returned to the front, standing between the cross and the coat of arms.

The woman on the cross was quite attractive: long, straightish, chestnut hair that just reached down to her B-cup breasts. The Russian slowly extended a hand and gently felt the weight of one. The American girl glared with displeasure at this violation, but remained silent. Next the Russian gently ran a finger around the prisoner's coral-pink areola. The finger was gentle as it traced the circle. To her amazement, the American girl felt her nipple harden and poke forward like the rubber on the end of a pencil.

"Nice!" The KGB officer muttered.

"Fuck you!" Spat the American.

The other woman chuckled. "That request, I can grant!"

The glare was icy, but the Russian officer ignored it. The girl with the chestnut hair and perky tits looked to be in her early twenties but had a nice figure: narrow waist and hips in proportion with her bosom. Quite a catch.

"I suppose you are going to torture me!" The girl snapped.

The Russian smiled as if she was enjoying the exchange. "Would you like me too?"

The American looked as if she had been slapped. "What? No, of cause not! I wouldn't talk anyway!"

Again the throaty chuckle. "Sorry, I assumed that it was your thing: I know how some of you people are into BDSM. But if that is not what you want, then we will have to find something else to pass the time." The Smile was open and friendly. "Besides, torture is silly and no good for getting information... Too unreliable... Only used by incompetent amateurs who do not know what they are doing! We gave it up in the 1950's: far too unreliable."

The brown-haired girl glared at her. "What do you want and why are you holding me here?"

"Don't you remember? You were caught where you should not have been, opening draws and reading other peoples files."

The American tugged at her bonds, grimacing when they did not give. "I demand to see the American Ambassador!"

The Russian chuckled again. "He's in next cell."

Again the girl looked as if she had been slapped.

"WHAT??"

The woman laughed. "I was joking... Funny, yes?"

"No!" The girl snapped back and was rewarded with a brief shrug.

The woman took a step closer and stared at the girl who stared back. She tried to gauge just how old the lieutenant was. Her skin was pale, smooth and flawless, her ash-blonde hair was done in a thick plait that hung down past her shoulder blades but left enough loose to form a long, carefully brushed fringe from under which stared a pair of pale, ice-blue eyes. Eighteen? Twenty-eight? Thirty-eight? She had absolutely no idea.

"Okay, so you are a Ruskie... But KGB? That was disbanded a quarter of a century ago: so why the play acting?" The girl tugged at her bonds again and when they still did not give, she shouted: "Nnnggg!!" in exasperation.

"Tell me, CIA lady, what were you looking for? Who knows? I might even help you to find it." The Russian said quietly as she unbuttoned her jacket, removed it and hung it on the end of the "X" frame.

The American stared at the figure that was revealed for the first time. The C-cup breasts, the wide hips, the small waist. It was impossible to even guess her age, but the whole package screamed "cougar".

She removed her tie and draped it over the jacket. "That is better!" She said with a smile. "I'm comfortable now - are you?"

The girl shrieked in exasperation and rattled her bonds again. "Ah! I'll take that as a 'no', shall I?"

The smile was becoming annoying.

Why doesn't she beat me with that riding crop and get it over with?

The American girl thought.

The KGB woman placed her riding crop on the floor, then rolled up the sleeves of her shirt revealing even more flawless creamy flesh. The CIA woman's brown eyes flicked back to the face.

God, there's not a single line or wrinkle! She's beautiful.

Suddenly she felt warm. Was that why the Russian had removed her jacket?

She realised that the KGB officer was more than just looking at her... She was being appraised: valued almost. "Look, please let me go: I won't say anything, honest. We're both in the same business, we're both professionals: we're just on opposite sides, that's all. The Cold War ended the year I was born and I bet you're no older."

The blonde chuckled but said nothing. Instead she leaned forward and whispered into the brunette's ear. "I was same age as you are now when the KGB was disbanded."

Then she nibbled the ear taking the American by surprise. She tried to pull away. "Wait! Are you a dyke?"

«Дa, лесбиянка.» (

"Da, Lyesbiyanka"

)The blonde chuckled again and kissed the pretty pink ear playfully

Yes I'm a lesbian.

The words had enough weight to cause her to gasp as she translated

Why am I not surprised?

"Well I'm not, so let me go!" The brunette squealed.

Instead, the Russian stepped back, picked up her riding crop and gently pushed the leather flap between the girls legs and rubbed it against her pussy lips. Outraged, the brunette stared back, her mouth open and her brown eyes wide.

The blonde slowly withdrew the crop and looked at it. The leather was wet. She smiled revealing a perfect set of beautiful, even and pearl-white teeth. She licked the end of the crop. "Exquisite! But tell me, if you are not gay, why is your pussy so wet, my dear?" She purred.

The American suddenly blushed a bright red but said nothing: instead she closed her eyes in an attempt to hold back her tears...

The Russian woman watched her for a few seconds before continuing in a soft. Gentle tone. "We do not need to beat or torture you. We do not even need to interrogate you as we already know everything about you."

The Russian paused to let this statement sink in before continuing. "You are Jacquelyn F. Cox, of 3195 Dog Hill Lane, Barnard, KS 67418. Your mother's maiden name is Bailey and you are work in the CIA's Langley Headquarters as an Assistant File Clerk. However, like most low ranking administrators, you have delusions of being a field officer." The Russian woman rattled off. "See! I do know just about everything about you that there is to know - even that purple is your favourite colour and you were born on June 30, 1989 making you 26 years old . Oh and that you were caught making out with another girl in a closet during your eighteenth birthday party."

The girl suddenly seemed to slump letting her wrists support her light weight as she began to sob. "I was curious, that's all... I just wondered what was going on here and the office door was unlocked. Who are you?"

The woman smiled even though the girl still had her eyes clamped shut and was sobbing quietly. "I am former KGB Senior Lieutenant Anna Aleksandrovna Volkova. I am more than twice your age...! I am also the woman who gave instructions for the door to be left unlocked!"

She dropped to her knees and gently began to lick more of the juices that were trickling from Jacquelyn's exposed pussy. Her tongue slipped between the folds of the girl's corral-pink labia them, as she reached around and jerked the slender hips against her face, she forced its probing tip into the tight little vagina.

The brunette gasped and eased her thighs apart as much as she could. She had lost the battle of wills and knew it. The sobs died away and were replaced by little yelps of surprise and then pleasure. Suddenly there was a single squeal as the muscular tongue began to explore her little clitty. The yelps became louder and closer together until her body shook as she was expertly brought to a sudden powerful orgasm.

Anna stood and gently hugged her before kissing her tenderly. As Jacquelyn tasted her own pussy secretions on the blonde woman's mouth, she sighed and relaxed into the Russian's arms.

Do I really taste like that?

She wondered. The girl could feel the woman's larger breasts pressing into her own and could smell her expensive and heady perfume.

"See?" The blonde purred seductively. "After a quarter of a century, my uniform still fits perfectly." Her tone changed to a persuasive one. " Jacquelyn, the CIA will have you arrested as a traitor, so there is no going back. Why don't you come and work for me? I can find a position for you in my organisation. I already know just how I can use you and who knows? You might even get to see more of me on a regular basis."

Jacquelyn closed her eyes, her mind in a turmoil, drom the name she knew that this woman was head of a global Business Empire that was worth more than many countries. She thought, but not for long. There was only one answer possible...

"Yes please!" The brunette moaned her agreement although she completely missed the double meanings contained within that very persuasive job offer.