Rogue Element

Suluang was glad that he’d given in. He lay back on the crisp linen sheets in the cool, darkened room. The woman’s body was exquisite. She was young, with breasts that strained against the thin fabric of her dress. Her waist was narrow and her legs long and straight. He really should talk to his uncle about including more such delicious items on the menu. What a find she was. He’d been sleeping with her, when the opportunity presented itself, for some time now. He doubted that he’d ever slept with such a beautiful woman before. And she had a dirty mind. The woman looked like an angel, but fucked like a whore.

Elizabeth smiled at the man lying on the bed. It wasn’t her real name, of course. She wore names, identities, like masks. When she was done with this assignment, she’d write the name on a piece of paper and throw it in the bin. The ritual helped clear her mind so she could adopt a new mask the next time it was needed.

No matter what the assignment, Elizabeth loved sex. Indeed, the more the better. She didn’t care who the man was as long as he was healthy, preferably not fat, and had a decent-sized organ. And not necessarily in that order, she thought. In the lexicon of modern neuroses, Elizabeth was a sex addict. She knew what her body demanded, and she satisfied that demand at every opportunity. She’d never suffered the indignity of having to fake an orgasm, no matter who she happened to be in bed with. She couldn’t understand women having problems reaching that glorious plateau. It was so easy for her. She often wondered if men had the same attitude to fucking that she did. It would be an interesting thesis — she’d certainly enjoy researching it.

Choosing a wardrobe had been difficult for this job. Ultimately, she’d settled on a range of cotton sundresses. They were cheap but, with the right colour and length of hemline, could be very sexy. She liked the ones with buttons down the front best of all. She could keep them buttoned to the collar at work. Afterwards, the buttons could be undone to the appropriate depth. And when the sun was just so in the sky, the cotton fabric hid nothing while covering everything.

Elizabeth leaned against the side table, one of her long brown legs parting the sky-blue dress to her thigh. She undid the buttons at her chest, her golden skin glowing. She hadn’t even started and already she could see that the general was ready for her. This man was too easy. The dress fell from her shoulders, crumpling at her feet. The general swallowed dryly.

He was hard when she lifted the sheet to straddle him. Suluang felt the cool fabric of her panties against the heat of his skin. His excitement thrilled her and she sensed her own wetness.

Elizabeth rode him. The general’s thrusts felt good. She moved on him, positioning her body for the most pleasure. And then, like an engine on a cold morning, her orgasm began to catch, the pleasure exploding in a ball of light and heat between her legs. She tried to keep the feeling going forever. But inevitably its power subsided and she was left with the man beneath her, spent, useless.

Suluang looked up at her with a smile on his lips, the usual triumphant smile most men wore afterwards. It said, ‘Yeah, baby, I’m good.’ Elizabeth didn’t mind that. Leaving the man confident in his prowess was part of her power. Elizabeth smiled back and slid off, reaching for her Marlboros on the bedside table. She walked towards the bathroom, through the sun, in a swirl of grey-blue smoke. Suluang marvelled at the highlights that flashed blue-black in her hair. The woman disappeared behind the closed bathroom door. He heard the tap running in the bath. Ah, bubbles, he thought.

Suluang closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the pillow. He thought that he could probably become quite attached to this woman, even though she was perhaps only just half his age. And only a waitress. How could she afford a room in such an expensive hotel? he wondered. Maybe his uncle was also receiving ‘favours’. He shouldn’t allow himself to get so attached.

A small click that came from another world distracted him, made him open his eyes.

He looked into the small black hole of a silencer attached to a Glock. He shifted focus to the pale green eyes behind it. He noted that, with only one ear, the man’s head appeared lopsided. Suluang wondered how he’d lost it. The gun made the sound of a cork coming out of a champagne bottle. At the instant the bullet smashed into his skull, Suluang’s mind registered blinding pain before closing down forever.

Vince had fired into the target’s mouth, up into the brain. He’d resisted the temptation to follow his first shot with one more round. Two shots to the head. Once ingrained, SAS training was hard to overcome. This was not to look like a professional hit. With the man’s brains all over the bed head, he didn’t need to check the carotid artery but did so anyway, out of a sense of professionalism. There was no pulse.