CHAPTER 1

 

Samantha busied herself restocking the hotel room's mini-bar, ensuring that she bent over sufficiently low for her short black maid's skirt to ride high up her toned thighs encased in dark tights, wiggling a little as she worked. Although her back was to him, she could sense the eyes of the Bulgarian man, who was ostensibly reading the paper as he lay on the hotel bed, devouring her. She had been working undercover for several days now in this expensive Bulgarian hotel and she knew she must put her all into these few moments in order that the plan might work. Otherwise she might have to toil away as a maid for weeks to come before he might again book into this his favourite hotel to give her another such opportunity.

"Ooh," she gave a mock theatrical sigh as she dropped a cloth and stooped lower to pick it up, being careful to thrust out her bottom in a tight curve. Sometimes, she thought, it was good to be able to act the tart in a safe and secure environment such as this. A fit size 10 she had easily attracted the attention of men for most of her twenty six, nearly twenty seven, years, from her dark shoulder length hair framing a gorgeous heart-shaped face to her firm 36B boobs and shapely bottom. Normally she would politely, icily or even violently, depending on her mood, put them in their place; she already had a longish-term partner, Mitch. But it was something else to be able let her hair down a bit and to be paid decent wages by MI6 to do so.

"Why so glum? A girl as beautiful as you shouldn't ever be glum." The man's voice had a foreign accent but was deep and cultured. Even though the chat-up line was boringly old, it was music to her ears. He had begun to nibble. Now a lot depended on her next move.

"Oh, sorry Sir, I didn't mean to disturb you. It's just that sometimes my mind wanders, I wonder what else there is in life besides this," she sighed, standing to face him with a brief smile, brushing aside a strand of hair from her chiselled face and wiping down the outside of the fridge to maintain the impression of a dutiful maid. And the man, Sergo, was indeed just as handsome as the photos of him she had studied in his file over the last few days. No, she could put up with his company whilst she sufficiently infiltrated and fed back information on his illicit businesses. But she reminded herself not to let her guard down; she knew he could be ruthless. "Not that I don't appreciate this job of course," she added as if anxious about speaking out to a customer against her employers. "I used to work in finance, in London but wanted to see the world, not just England, and travel, maybe have a bit of adventure and excitement," she repeated her cover story." But of course everything's about money isn't it ....so ...I mustn't complain, this is a good job and I'll do it well until I've got enough saved to maybe move on to...."

"Loyalty is good - but sometimes different options can present themselves when one least expects it. Do you have to go - right now? Is anyone expecting you?"

"Well, this is the last room on my rota but I ought to get back to the other girls," she wanted to avoid the impression of throwing herself at him and deliberately didn't put much enthusiasm in her voice. Yet by twisting a few arms she had painstakingly ensured that she was due to clean his room last; and her only date would be with her mobile to say that she'd made contact with her quarry.

"Then stay for a while, I can help you find maybe more rewarding work, I'll send up for an evening meal, I've nothing else to do that cannot easily be cancelled, " his suave voice oozed confidence almost brooking no refusal. "I've got brochures here in my case which I can find, with totally different career opportunities; I run quite a big organisation."

Samantha realised that she might not be able to avoid going the whole hog on this mission - working under covers for Queen & Country - ' as they jokingly called it back at her MI6 headquarters by the Thames. But then again it might not be too unpleasant on this occasion. Her target was outwardly charming and although she found him slightly sleazy in an Eastern European way, he looked quite clean. He was at least miles better than some of the virtual animals who had forced themselves on her in previous missions in the desert and Korea; she shuddered at the recollections. Yet this would be the first time she had deliberately set out to seduce someone in the line of duty but ... what the heck - this was her job.

"No, you mustn't cancel things on my behalf - and I shouldn't really..." she pretended to hesitate, looking at him shyly through her hand.

"But please do," his smile was boyish, charming as he smoothed his thin moustache. "Hear what I have to propose over dinner, my organisation's always on the lookout for bright, intelligent people as you appear to be. Then make up your mind. Chew it over and let me know tomorrow or something. No pressure." Samantha knew that it was make or break; she knew enough about him to know that if she wasn't in with him today, she never would be - he would have moved on to the many other female opportunities.

"I don't even know your name?" she sounded coy.

"My name's Costello, Costello Kerchov," Sergo lied, using one of his aliases from the file and the name he had booked in under. "And yours?"

"Samantha, Samantha Bond," she spoke the truth. She hadn't operated in this area before and shouldn't be known. "But ...Mr Kerchov, I must just text my work colleagues... so they don't worry. I don't -I don't normally do this sort of thing," she kept the shy uncertainty in her soft voice.

"Yes, I too have to text the office, defer a non-essential meeting, but more importantly, order us dinner," he smiled disarmingly.

Whilst Sergo was busy first with his mobile and then on the hotel phone masterfully choosing and ordering dinner she got busy on her mobile to the girl's name in her address book - which was in reality an MI6 number. They would then know that the game was on. It felt strange for her not to have to worry about hiding her gun. She had deliberately left it behind, concealed behind an air vent in her room in the hotel's staff quarters. She could grab it tomorrow and take it with her but couldn't take a chance on letting it be found here with her in this room, especially as she had guessed that she might end up wearing very little.

The lobster and wine were both expensive as were the job brochures which he had shown her. The company name of Kerchov International showed his smiling face as owner and a woman, Datcha Servo, as Manager. Samantha guessed that most of the information she needed would be with the woman, Sergo's lover - and possibly a bisexual too - at least that was the conclusion of the briefing papers in the file. But the initial way in was through the man she was with now. The company details purported to be all to do with executive job opportunities around the world.

 

When his hand brushed hers as they clinked glasses she didn't pull away.

"Oooh, mmm, we shouldn't .... but ooh, you're so... mmm," Samantha breathed in between his kisses as Sergo began to unbutton her white blouse, a finger gently sliding up and down the cleavage between her orbs, stroking over her bra against the hard indentures of her ripe nipples. His other hand slid down her skirt to the mounds of her bottom, pressing her against him so that she could feel his male hardness through his expensive trousers. She had to admit that it wasn't all unpleasant. Business and pleasure mixed together she decided. "Oooh, Mr Kerchov... Let me shower first, I've been working all day," she eased away and threw him a wide-eyed look over her shoulder, then an impish grin.

"And when you come out it will be just Costello and Samantha, no formality, with the night ahead of us to er firm up on your future," he smiled as she closed the bathroom door.

 

"Ooh! She gasped in shock when the shower cubicle opened five minutes later and she had to stop her instinctive automatic self-defence reaction of dropping to a kung-fu fighting position and smashing the glass panel into his face.

Sergo stood there, naked, dark matted hair on his muscled chest and sporting only a huge erection. She blushed in spite of herself, crossing her hands modestly over her bare breasts as lather streamed off her shining curves.

"Perhaps I can assist?" he breathed closing the cubicle door on them both. She tilted her face up to him as his hands cupped her slippery bottom.

 

Sergo could hardly believe his luck at this particular catch; a seriously beautiful English girl who would be ideal for his organisation - but of more immediate concern, his for the night to enjoy. She was pretty enough to be a film star or a model and had the poise, looking quite sophisticated too - obviously just roughing it as a hotel maid he decided. But she was definitely up for it, probably a bit lonely in a foreign country, not like some of the shy little virgins he had encountered. He knew that he was quite attractive to women, especially with his charm and power and she certainly seemed to have fallen for the brochure promising so much. She would soon learn - the hard way. But tonight was for pleasure - certainly his.

As he pushed against her under the shower, feeling the hard tips of her breasts against him, she parted her thighs a little so that his erection slid over the lips of her sex. She licked her lips, obviously eager, the light of promise and expectation in her big eyes. Their bodies were pressed tightly together under the hissing jet, his hands grasping the firm cheeks of her buttocks as he plunged his mouth on hers, pillaging. She was alive in his arms. He had to have her there and then; there was no time for finesse.

Reaching down he adjusted the angle of his penis, bending his knees slight and then thrust straight up into her tight succulence. She was gorgeous.

"Haaaghhm," she gasped in his ear as he penetrated her without warning, her nails like talons on his shoulders before she accepted him and relaxed. His place was to dominate a woman, conquer her, that was the order of things and this one seemed to accept that. She felt so good around him, like warm honey as he began urgently screwing her against the shower wall and her hips also began working with him, she was panting. Her hands were now tight on his buttocks pulling him in deeper if that were possible, oh yes she was good.

He began to pump harder, his toes curling with his approaching orgasm. He could sense that hers was close too, but he couldn't wait - why should he. Anyway, he always reckoned that women secretly liked it rough. He could easily dismiss their objections as conscience. Tightly gripping each cheek of her bottom he rammed even further into her just as his tongue did through her open lips. She was his - literally.