Shop Talk

Oddly enough, Aphra was thinking, it was kind of good for me, too. Almost makes me see why so many other girls would want to screw with these penis-bearing males. She rolled on her side and reached out to tousel a thick handful of curly caramel hair, smile back into the wide blue eyes that were regarding her with a flattering air of wonder. Put it this way, she thought, I just wish everytime I had to get jam up and jelly tight with some breedin’ fool it was as easy to put up with as this one. You put in your day’s work, might as well be in attractive surroundings. And vice versa.

And work is what it was looking like. She affirmed that on her little trip to the can to slip into something more comfortable. No sooner turned on her top of the line TruthSeeker than it started telling her the tale. Which was that Old Blue Eyes here had been out there reading her trip like an old magazine in the dentist office. So he was a job now. Or at least she was his job, which was the same thing.

Still though. It wasn’t that creepy being in bed with this cat. Not only cute and real hose-monster once he got loose to it, but he was just so damn gorgeous. She could have done a photo album on his abs alone. His asshole was cute, for cryin’ out loud. Like a little pink chysanthemum. They were wasted on each other.

But the big thing was, and this was starting to really get up on its hind legs and worry her mind around. He was “in the life”. On somebody’s varsity somewhere, was her estimation. Possibly not unrelated to a recent hymie rat deserting the Big Ship. That was kind of exciting in itself.

She shared that with Townsend, like so many other things. She didn’t have anybody to talk to either. Her sex life was as empty and transient as his was. She also longed for some vague image of sitting around talking shop to somebody as good as herself (like there was any of that around), somebody you could go nuts in bed with, then giggle about the intricacies of turning folk out and selling their ass down. She was actually pretty good at snap risk-taking, too.

“Hey, look here, honkyshines. I kind of like your act. Makes me wanna come clean a little, you know. Tell you the tale.”

Townsend couldn’t wait to hear this one, pushed up to lean on one elbow and give her his undivided. As she made a performancde art masterpiece out of standing up, streching and padding towards the bathroom. “Soon as I get back.”

The door was still clicking shut when Townsend came up off the bed in a smooth uncoiling of long muscles. He had his gizmojo out of his pants pocket and the Men In Black spex out of his shirt in les than two seconds. And did what you do with super-expensive, over-designed dirty tricks like that: spied.

Her robe read null, but he caught the e-glow from a vase on the dresser. Lead glazed pottery: good thinking, SuperFreak. But soooooo last year. It wasn’t interesting anyway, now that his proximity let him cop full disclosure. It was about the same as what he had, purely feed read. So she was already onto him. He could bug it, and maybe even so she wouldn’t find it, but why bother? The big news was still over there in the bedstand drawer. He went back to the bed, watching numbers and indicators bounce around on the lenses, amber digitals superimposed over the dusky view of the room through the multi-coated dark glass.

Oh yeah, it read as a GPS, but that was a ruse his cadge-gadget was all over from go. Tracking. Very long range tracking. Augmented by satellite feed from… not familiar registry, but it didn’t matter. She was keeping tabs on somebody using a cloaked tracer he couldn’t have bought with five years pay. He sweated out the sponder tumbling the crypt, already hearing a muted toilet flush behind him. There it was! He pushed the fake Apple selector wheel twice and had glommed the target, co-ordinates and register. He was back in bed, the shades and iSpy under the bed in one catlike move, just as she came out and stood there with the light behind her. He locked his hands behind his head and laid back to stare at her with unfeigned pleasure and admiration.

When she quit posing and flicked the light off to come back to the thrashed, reeking bed, he said, “You were saying something about secrets and making a clean breast?”

“Clean breast? What you think I was in the bathroom for, honey?” She leaned over to place a thick purplish nipple in his mouth. “Taste clean from where you sitting?”

He gave it a noisy kiss and patted the bed beside him. “I’m all ears.”

She crawled up the bed on all fours, swishing her tail like a panther. Sliding down beside him, she grabbed a handful of very attentive genital. “All ears? That what you calling this business here?”

“I’m still holding that thought.”

“Yeah, well, see…” she paused, staring blankly at the meaty shaft in her hand. “You ever heard of Oracon?”

“Cleans clogged drains as it slays household pests?”

She shook his meat briskly enough to hurt a little, “Don’t play that shit. Like I said, it’s time for keepin’ real.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it. A think tank.” He paused just long enough for her to scowl slightly and continued. “it says here. Actually they’re pretty much the blue chip outfit in industrial espionage. Spooks R us.”

“No honey, case you didn’t notice, spooks B me. Both kinds.”

“And you decided to tell me this. Because high-grade professional snoops always have a deep-seated urge to blurt it out to whoever they’re fucking.”

She gave a full, titty-jiggling laugh at that. “Only when I’m in bed with a colleague,” she chortled. “Who’s about one second from getting kicked out of said bed.”

“Okay, you made me.”

“I sure did, sweetie. Got tired of waiting for you to put the make on me.”

‘OK, here we are. White spy and black spy, just like that cartoon. What now?”

“What now? We rap, niggah! We talk about the shit we pull. When was the last time you talked about that crap to anybody. Much less a woman?”

He’d been thinking that same thing three days before, hadn’t he? Pretty much same time he was socking it to that little cheerleader from Michigan or wherever. Hmmmm.

“Okay. You got it. You’re all over it like static cling. So where do we start? How about at the beginning? I think I got some issues there.”

“Issues, huh? Well, the beginning is always good. For openers, you know.”

“See I got into this because my old man was into it. He was like this star. Worked like CIA, Secret Service, DEA, you name it. I didn’t really think about doing anything else. Well, pro ball for awhile. Might have worked. Or might not have. I was practically recruited before I was out of high school.”

“Damn, child. What’s the chances. I got same kinda shit going on. Did, anyway. My mama wasn’t just a lefty, wasn’t just ‘radical’. She was like a Movement unto her own self. Fuck whitey in every aperture at once, you know? So I was learning about weapons and stashing shit and funny money and trailing drops right out of the crib. I was spyin’ before I was in high school. Used to pick up cops and sound them for information. Or let them make a move, then use it to twist them up. How you like these pictures of you with your hand up a thirteen year old’s skirt, Mister Pig? Wonder if they can print the whole thing in the newspaper or have to crop out the good stuff?”

“So you pioneered that whole ‘Bust A Diddler’ TV show? Out-predatored their asses?”

“Best you know it. I did my first industrial spy-by when I was seventeen. On my own hook, too. The Mom would’ve hit the fan if she knew I was whoring my talents out after capital instead of some righteous bullshit.” She lay back on the pillow, unconsciously mimicking his hands-behind-head posture, stared at the ceiling. “I cooked it up, walked in and sold it to some Ofay idiot wouldn’t a thought of it in a million years. And even yet, only reason he hired me for it was hopin’ it might snow in hell sometime and he’s get into my pants.”

“Man.” Townsend breathed. “Man, oh man. Know what, I’m going to hit the washroom a minute and sort this out in my head.”

She watched the way he sort of uncurled out of the bed, the clench of buttocks as he moved towards the bath. “This might shock you,” he said from the door. “But you’re not quite like my usual date.”

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