Meeting Bill for the first

Poor dear, you must be dying to know how an innocent college going hooker like me became embroiled in this secret agent thing. Well, here comes that part of my story!

I was sixteen years old when I barged into Bill. The first time I laid my eyes on him, he was getting down from his blood red Ferrari right outside the café where I was engaged in having coffee. Well, his panache made it certain that he was loaded, loaded enough to tempt me into hopping on to his bed. I mean with all the experience that I had had with scores of men and women I cold make out very easily that this was a guy who actually owned that groovy Ferrari, he was not just a glorified driver. I mean I was no longer like some stupid country gall who falls for the man in car only to find few minutes later that the guy is a stupid driver who can pay only 5 bucks for all the fun he has had.

I immediately went into the works, gave him my most sultry look. To be sure of enticing him completely, I bent my chest strategically to let him have a glimpse of the deep cleavage dividing my ample bosom. He could not have missed the bait I had thrown; after all I had been so obvious. He came up to the counter, stood behind me…. I thought he would order coffee and then we could get into the small talk leading to me getting my hands on his greenbacks and him getting his gong beaten…

My Story from Begining

Ah, it is not your fault if you are wondering what the fuss is all about. I must introduce myself more thoroughly before I go on to describing my exploits as a secret agent. Call me Miss X (my real name is top secret). It has been ten years now since I have been working as a secret agent, the career has been quite a ride, dangerous but also enticingly subsumed of nymphomania.

Well, here is how I got into this secret agent business. Once I had been a college girl making do with the pocket money that my parents doled out to me. But for a profligate girl like me, the piffling pocket money was never enough. So when a classmate suggested that I should become a hooker to earn some extra dough on the side, I saw no harm in it. I was sleeping with lots of lousy farts anyway, so it made sense to make the buggers pay for the fun they were having with my gorgeous body.

Oh, did I forget to tell you that the friend who inspired me to take up whoring as a profession was a girl. Yeah, she was my classmate. A bisexual with voracious appetite. We made a team and soon our business was going great guns. Successful middle aged kept falling for our slutty ways and paying with their nose for it. Bankers, politicians, businessmen, wives of rich little farts, men or women, we served anyone who was ready to pay…..

Trapped by Communists

Her eyelids fluttered open. In the eerie glow drawing close to her neck she recognized the contours of a knife. She knew that in a moment her throat might be slit. There was no time to think. A basic instinct to survive took over.
Her right hand shot upwards taking the hand wielding the knife in a firm grip. She noticed the quick look of surprise in his eyes. She pushed him.
As he fell backwards, her leg connected with his lower abdomen, sending him tumbling over the table lying few feet away. He crashed to the ground and the table overturned with him, the things lying on it falling with an angry resonance.
As she jumped off the bed, myriad plastic tubes connected through needles to her arms, legs, shoulders and chest got wrenched off leaving in their wake, a piercing pain and streams of thick red blood. The pain made her scream, her voice sounded strange to her ears, not her voice at all. There were two other men in the room, they were shouting at her.
‘They are the hunters, I am the hunted,’ she thought, as adrenalin raced through her body.
Her right leg described a wide ark and caught one man on his nose. ‘She broke my nose,’ he cried as he fell.
Without losing a moment she turned on his companion, who was trying to grab her neck. She caught his hand and through his own momentum chucked him forward, banging his head against the steel cupboard and at the same time she gave his hand a sharp twist, breaking the bone. Clutching his broken arm, the man fell down. She placed her foot on his broken arm. He let out a wail of pain.
‘Why are you trying to kill me?’ she hissed, increasing the pressure from her leg on his broken arm.
‘We are here to save your life,’ he gasped, as he futilely attempted to extricate his broken arm. ‘You are bleeding all over. You will be dead in a minute.’She noticed the bandages on her body and the blood pouring from different spots. The bleeding was bad, she understood that. ‘Who did this to me? Where am I?’ she cried.