There it was. A very nice little castle, typical for the Swedish architecture of the late 18th century. A narrow turn through a magnificent gate of wrought iron, brought me onto the driveway. My Aston ran smoothly as ever on the carefully maintained gravel road. Oaks, probably older than the castle itself stood in silent attention on both sides as I covered the last hundred meters. The oaks gave way, the castle presented itself beyond a circular gravel plane, in the centre of which a fountain played merrily in the golden light of the late evening midsummer sun.
The car left to a waiter, the bowtie corrected and tuxedo causally buttoned, I entered the wide stairs to the splendid lair of Doctor Will Ainberg. The glamour of his parties and the generosity he always showed his guests would have been reason enough to attend, but I was there on business.
A vodka martini in my hand, made surveying the situation seem more pleasurable than it had sounded when I was offered the job. Lots of gentlemen from the local business life as well as celebrity wannabe politicians, displayed an exposé of more or less well fitting tuxedos. A few serious looking men in uniforms had joined from the navy base just up the coast. All this black and white splendour passed completely unnoticed on my part, as I skilfully browsed the evening gowns for their contents. A pity to be here for shop.
My mission was simple. Mingle my way through the crowd, sneak up the stairs to Dr Ainbergs office. There I would outsmart the security system, pick the lock of his safe and get my hands on some very engraving evidence that Dr Ainberg was involved with a group of international terrorists. My predecessor on the post died from some nasty placed bullets, second after he had told my employer about the contracts that were to be signed this very night.
Giving the eye to some of the more magnificent women, I slowly made my way though the crowd. I knew that Dr Ainbergs office was three floors up, probably guarded. Wasting no time I made contact with a delightful chaperon. This self confident brunette was almost wearing a red gown, you know the sort that masters the art of leaving very little for your fantasy and sending your fantasy into a heavy overtime work session at the same time. She definitely had a purpose with her attendance this night, and obviously she found me fit for the task.
Exchanging those heart racing glances was very satisfying on a personal level, but I was here on business and didn’t want to take any chances. Trying hard not to be too indiscreet, but still obvious for all the guarding gorillas in rented tuxedos, I slipped my arm around her waist and headed for the stairs.
The Brunette at hand made it hard to keep the mind at the work at hand, but I’m known for my devotion and went into action. Reaching the third floor, I glanced down the corridor, noticing the gorilla indicating the door I was after. Sweeping the lady of her feet, carrying her in my arms, I smiled at the gorilla and slipped into an open door that lead me to the library.
Well inside I gently lowered her to the floor, placing her with her back against a ladder. The ladder was running on wheels along the bookshelves on the eastern wall and reached more than 15 feet up.
Kissing her lightly, nibbling her ear I purposely placed her hands above her head, crossed, resting on one of the steps. Teasing her gentle skin, down her neck, along the delicate line of her soft shoulders, I reached into my pocket, producing a length of clothesline. In no time at all her wrists were firmly tied to the ladder step above her. She breathed heavily, her body shook in an anticipating shiver. Kneeling I traced the high cut that started on her left hip and teasingly run down the full length of her exquisite leg. Seconds later her legs where spread, ankles tied to the sides of the ladder. She wasn’t going anywhere and she was really enjoying the thought.
Fighting to keep my mind on the job, I traced her legs upwards reaching for her panties. She gasped as I found out she wasn’t wearing any. Rats. And exactly how was I supposed to gag her?
Excusing myself I left her for a second, looking into the corridor, asking the gorilla to give me a hand. Hesitating he tried to choose his option. On one hand he was supposed to guard the door, on the other hand he was curious as to why I wanted his help, having brought that brunette into the library and all. My taste in women being impeccable, him being no more than a man, the outcome was given.
As he walked into the library, his eyes immediately fell on the arousing sight of my bound friend. I had all the time in the world to move up behind him, reach for my Walter PPK and hit him on his head. He helpfully went down, landing on his back in front of me. Quickly I gave him an injection that would keep him sleeping for the next 24 hours… Hey, I only tie women up…
Moving quickly I took his handkerchief from his breast pocket, folding it to a nice wad that I placed between the brunettes luscious lips. I would have preferred her panties, but sometimes you can’t be too picky… A piece of tape sealed my lovely victims mouth, keeping her gag in. My fingers noticed that she was shaved, save a nice little something, as I kissed her through her gag. Moaning she let me know she wished I had been off duty. But I wasn’t.
The door to Dr Ainbergs office was locked and guarded by an alarm. Both where fairly sophisticated and I wasted nearly 30 seconds before I could close the door from the inside. In a fragment of second my eyes went from the great heavy English looking desk, via the large bar with its six high leather clad chairs, to the magnificent baroque painting that hung straight out from the wall, revealing a polished steel safe door. What caught my trained eye in this short instant was the smoke and the sparkling fire of a fuse, rapidly shortening, bringing fire to a small dynamite charge, pushed into the demolished lock of the safe.
Realising I had encountered competition from someone who was not too careful about papers, I threw myself forward, flew over the desk in one giant leap and grabbed the dynamite, throwing it behind the solid looking bar. As I touched down on a fairly expensive Asian carpet, I caught a glimpse of movement in the wink of my eye. A gorgeous blond covered in black leather desperately tried to fly over the bar. Just as she was in the air, the dynamite went off, providing her with more speed than she asked for. To my surprise she covered quite a few feet before she landed heavily and with an embarrassing lack of grace in a heap on the floor. For a few seconds all was quiet in the room. From below the loud music went on. Nothing happened.
Then action returned as the blonde moaned and tired to move. Stunned as she was, me overpowering her was like stealing candy from a child. Sitting on her back, twisting her arms behind her I rapidly went through the paces of making a new business aquitence.
"Good evening my dear! I’m John Writer. I prefer not to kill you". I said.
"I can live with that", she grunted.
Looking for something to tie her with, slightly to my surprise, I noticed a nice pile of chains and padlocks on a chair in front of the desk. Praising Will Ainberg as a gentleman host I dragged the blond with me and reached for a nice little chain. I wrapped it around her slender wrists, just like I would have done with a rope. But, since the possibility occurred, I traded the final knot for a padlock. Click!
Unable to help myself I let my hands reach around her narrow waist. This had to be highlighted. Another piece of chain soon encircled her waist, locked on her belly and went trough her legs, serving as both a crotch rope and an anchor point for her wrist chain. In less time than is usually acquired to order a vodka martini, I had wrapped chains around all of the gorgeous blonde. Her legs at several points, her elbows, chest and… well not even Ainbergs generosity had provided more chains so I had to call it a day.
Next the safe. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out the key that my colleague had managed to smuggle out. How ever I didn’t have to try it to realise that my blond competitor had ruined the lock when she had drilled to fit the dynamite. The key was to no use.
"Dynamite", I sighed. "Ever heard of picking a lock?"
"Boring. But if you are sissy enough to try, feel free to use one of my hairpins".
I did. I ran my fingers through her hair, enjoying the touch. The golden locks felt like silk and smelled lovely. Temptation crossed my path, but I remembered my boy scout creed and went back to work. I picked the two hairpins I could find and returned to the safe. Due to the damage done it took me well over a minute to get everything right and swing the door open. On top of a nice little pile of papers, was a red jewel shrine. I picked it up and opened it, bringing a magnificent diamond necklace into sight.
"Your target I believe?"
I placed the shrine on the desk, where she could see it. Then I returned to the safe, glancing the papers. Finding the contracts and other documents needed to send Will Ainberg away for a life time was easy. I tucked them in my pocket and went over to the chained blond.
"Nice meeting you. If you are free tomorrow, please burglar by my place".
"Funny… Know what? I didn’t think a man like you would leave a girl like me for Ainbergs gorillas to find", she replied.
"It’s strictly business. Nice ensemble though…"
I threw a hairpin an the floor in front of her and made for the door. Listening carefully I opened slowly and slipped out into the corridor. The last thing I saw was the blond falling over on her side, probably trying to get her hairpin back. Some women think of nothing but their looks.
On top of things again, I strolled down the corridor. As I passed the door to the library I couldn’t help but hearing the muffled moans from my brunette shepard. Since I was in a really good mood I decided to pay her some courtesy. She turned her head and looked at me as I walked up to her. Her eyes were large with anticipation and her moves quite inviting. I pressed my body against hers in a tight hug. My lips explored her neck and my hands caressed her belly and Venus mound. Being an attentive gentleman I soon had her gasping on the edge of relief. Oh what a lovely state to be left helpless in.
"Thank you for your exquisite cooperation dear. Unfortunately I have to go. But since you have been so helpful of course I’d like to help you. Why don’t I send someone up to entertain you? What would you prefer? An officer in white uniform? A millionaire in black tie?"
Somehow she didn’t look thrilled. She breathed heavily through her nostrils, moving her hips desperately. Her eyes met mine in a mute begging prey. She seemed to want something else, but at the same time a little afraid…
"Maybe", I said in realisation, "maybe you would rather have me send one of the gorgeous women up?"
She nodded slightly and lowered her eyes.
"It’s OK. At least that way we will be sure your rescuer will not turn to the gorilla here. No woman would have that bad taste…"
Her eyes raised again, meeting mine in a shy smile.
"Don’t worry. As you have experienced I have the perfect taste in women."
Smiling I left her panting, resisting my impulse to bring her home. Careful not to be to overconfident with the documents in my pocket, I didn’t spend more time then decency required to find the ample rescuer who’s lucky night this would be. A set of long legs, a broad smile and two mischievous blue eyes made me sure I had found the woman whom I’d rather bring home then send to the library. Being in the best of moods I stuck to my plan and whispered the magic secret to the blonde in question. She smiled, kissed me, tried to unnoticed slip her cell phone into my pocket and ran up the stairs. I looked at the battery indicator and made a note to have champagne and ropes at hand as the phone I got was likely to ring within twelve hours.
Satisfied with my achievements, I left the party. Tipping the waiter I asked him to stay put. I wanted to walk the few hundred meters to the parking myself. The Swedish summer night was warm and fairly bright considering it was just past midnight. The air felt fresh and was light to breathe. Life was good.
I reached the parking lot, walked up to my Aston Martin and slipped in. As I tried to put the key into the ignition, I found the keyhole jammed. I took a closer look and realised that the problem was a hairpin stuck in the lock. Smiling I tried for fun to turn it, and of course it turned easily starting the engine. As the headlights went on I caught a glimpse of a black clad figure, ducking into the dark shades under the trees.
I love my work.
23.12.08