Secret Agent Man

Excerpt

Catherine's fingers slid over her slick skin, bringing herself to intense heights of pleasure.

"Oh yeah," she moaned.

The sound echoed through her empty apartment.

A duck quacked signaling that she had an instant message, but she didn't stop to read it. Her eyes were blurred with her impending orgasm.

With one more flick of her wrist, her fingers brushed over her core, sending the pulses of her orgasm through her body. Within moments, she collapsed backwards against her chair. She quickly cleaned herself up and retied the sash of her robe. Her heart continued to pound, her breath came in gasps, and a light sheen of sweat coated her entire body.

It was really hot in her apartment.

She was about to get up and adjust the thermostat when she remembered the instant message.

SecretAgentMan001: Was it as good for you as it was for me?

Cat laughed, it was a funny sound considering that her body was still pulsing with aftershocks. She tried to think like a vixen and composed her response appropriately.

PussyCat6969: Mmm, but I wish it was your cock.

She chuckled to herself, knowing that she'd never be able to say something like that in person. That was the beauty of the on-line relationship she'd developed with SecretAgentMan001.

SecretAgentMan001: I wish I could watch you pleasure yourself. Hear the noises you make when you come.

He'd been making comments like that more lately. Was he serious about wanting to meet? To have a real sexual relationship? She wasn't really sure if she was up for that. Her fingers hesitated over her keyboard, unsure of an appropriate answer.

SecretAgentMan001: Are you still there, Cat?

He started calling her Cat, too. Did he know more about her than she was letting on? Or was he just shortening her screen name? Or was she just completely paranoid?

PussyCat6969: I'm still here. Still recovering from playtime.

She wondered if he was laughing.

SecretAgentMan001: Go to bed now, PussyCat69. I'll "see" you tomorrow. Take care of that sweet pussy of yours for me.

PussyCat6969: G'night.

She clicked off of the Instant Message program, but rather than going to bed like he suggested, she did the same thing that she'd been doing every night for the past few years. She pulled up her search program and started looking for her father.

Sam sagged backwards in his plush office chair, his pants still unzipped, his cock hanging limp.

Two weeks ago he'd decided that the best way to find out what she was up to was to get information directly from the horses mouth.

He never in a million years believed that he would've started a quasi-sexual relationship with Cat. And now, he was completely whipped having never met the woman before in his life.

Just as he was putting himself back together, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he said, hoping he didn't look as guilty as he felt.

"Sir, we've got another hit on Kenneth Mason. It's from the same source. Sir, uh, she's getting closer."

Sam O'Neill looked up from his computer to the unfortunate assistant who was forced to bring him this news. The scrawny guy was terrified. Sam couldn't help but wonder how this guy got picked to walk into the lion's den. His reputation around here was getting far too out of hand. Kenneth said he should project a tough demeanor, but Sam was afraid he'd crossed the line between tough and scary a long time ago.

"Thank you," he said, dismissing the assistant with a wave of his hand. He half expected to see a trail of smoke behind the man, he left the office so quickly.

Sam sat back in his chair and removed a thick file from the locked bottom drawer of his deck. He didn't really need any information from the file, he knew it backwards and forwards, but the contents intrigued him. He opened the folder and pulled out a picture.

Catherine Mason. Kenneth Mason's daughter. His virtual sex kitten.

He put down the folder to study the picture more closely. Not that he didn't already have it memorized, but Kenneth always said you couldn't know too much about you opponent.

The picture was only a few weeks old, at most. It was taken by one of Sam's surveillance teams with a telephoto lens when she'd been leaving the bar below her apartment. She wore low cut jeans and a red tank top. As she waved her arm up over her head at someone in the bar, her shirt had lifted up, showing her sculpted abs and a gold ring shining in her belly button.

He knew they shouldn't, but his eyes kept wandering back to the expanse of skin between her shirt and jeans.

Her arms were toned and shown off to advantage in the tank top she wore. She carried a gym bag, giving credence to the fact that she was well muscled and it wasn't just a trick of the camera.

Long brown hair blew out behind her giving the impression that she was moving quickly. Sam knew that she had brown eyes. He knew her social security number, her blood type, and how much money she had in her bank account. A simple phone call and he could find out what she had for lunch today.

"What are you about Catherine?"

He stroked his thick finger down the photo wondering what it would feel like to touch her in person.

Sitting back in his chair, he wondered what she could be up to.

The only thing he didn't know about Catherine Mason was why, after twenty-seven years, she was suddenly looking for her father.