Did you see the pilot of the new USA Network series, “Covert Operations?
In this fab new series, CIA officer, Annie Walker, gets her first assignment: secure intel from a Russian spy.
In my Spice novel, SPIES, LIES & NAKED THIGHS, Special Agent, Breezy Malone, a sex agent for the FBI, also has a rendezvous with a Russian spy to get intel. Here’s an excerpt:
The Russian looks into my eyes. Curious. Puzzled. What does he see? A sex kitten? Or a TA special agent doing her job? Does he care? I doubt it. Sex is addictive, I’ve discovered, and cuts across intelligence. He isn’t the first informant I’ve known to risk blowing his cover to satisfy his perverted cravings.
“You weren’t at the bar,” I protest, keeping my voice light, hiding the ambivalent pleasure I felt being crushed up against the bare chest of the one-eyed Jack. I experienced an intimacy with him I could never expect to find in badinage with a target.
“I got tired of waiting for you,” he says, speaking in Russian. I understand him, though my Russian is merely adequate. “Where were you?”
I purr, he smiles, hiding his anger behind the cold mask of his face. “I was delayed by the street parade,” I tell him, jiggling the handcuffs at my waist and tantalizing him with the promise of naughty games. I had no problem finding his hotel room. Every Russian informant I’ve dealt with checks in under the name Ivan Ivanovich. John Smith.
“What’s important is, you’re here now.” He slides his hand up and down my body, frisking me.
“Why the pat down, Ivan?” I coo in his ear. “Don’t trust me?”
“I like my pussy clean. No microphones. No wires.”
“Satisfied?” I notice his dull gray shirt, no tie, dark jacket. Typical spy attire. He pulls out my Glock and stuffs it into his jacket. Disarming me wasn’t part of our agreement. I try not to appear nervous.
“How can I be sure I can trust you?” he asks. “You have no creds.”
TA agents don’t carry a gold badge and credentials like regular agents. I’m not sanctioned by the U.S. government like “the Gs,” special surveillance groups from the Bureau that keep track of the movements of people under suspicion. If I’m caught, it’s up to me to get a signal to my handler to ask for help.
“You were informed through the usual channels I’d be your contact.” I give him my code name, Gemini Blonde.
His face lights up. “You’re a blonde under that wig?”
I smile. “Top and bottom.”
His eyes widen though his face is lined with tension. From what I can see, he’s one nervous informant. Crushed cigarettes lying in a saucer. A bottle of vodka half-finished. I have no doubt he can hardly wait to get his hands on me.
His mischievous smile widens. “I had a bet with myself you’d show up.”
“Who won?” I look around for anything unusual, like a tiny red light indicating a camera. All I see is a bland brown and cream décor, double bed, round table and chairs, small white lamps, and a scary modernist orange painting hanging over the bed. The over-worked AC barely moves the humid air around.
“I did.” He lights up another cigarette, drawing the smoke into his lungs, then blowing it out slowly. “I always do.”
“Always, Ivan?” I say in my sexiest voice, though I’m sweating in my dark angel armor-corset, pulling in my waist so tight I can only take short breaths. A shiny, studded mistress leather bracer protects my right forearm and bracelet coils of black leather snake around my other arm. Rings decorated with medieval motifs of chains and flowers and cheap gemstones adorn my fingers. Pointy rhinestone studs on my collar dare him to get close enough to kiss me.
I smile. If he wants to bad enough, he’ll find a way. What he doesn’t know is my choker also contains a sensitive microphone hooked up to a sophisticated comms system embedded in the rhinestone studded collar to capture every word of intel that spills out of him. I hid the receiver in a planter in the bar and a cell phone tower relays the signal back to the field agents listening on the other end in a nearby parked van. The agents can monitor and neutralize intel gathered as well as sexual goings-on. I hope they’ve got plenty of coffee. This could turn out to be a tense and wildly erotic all-night session. A cyber ménage à trois.
“You must have a drink with me,” says the Russian, pouring vodka into a glass chilled with square ice cubes. “Before we get down to business.”
He hands me the vodka while his dark eyes rivet on the bare skin exposed above my thigh-high boots. I swear I see him salivating at the thought of nibbling on me.
“I prefer martinis.” Wiggling my shoulders, I reach inside the squatty glass and slide my fingers around a big ice cube. Wet and cold. “But I can use the ice to cool off.”
The Russian licks his lips with his fat tongue, watching me glide the slippery ice down my neck to the swell of my breasts, leaving a shiny wet trail on my skin before dipping the ice cube into my cleavage. I shiver. The ice is cold, yet sensuous. The effect is so refreshing I let out a low groan. That heats up his excitement.
Panting, saliva glistens in the corner of his mouth, Ivan puts out his cigarette, clenches his fists, then unclenches them. He’s hot, but I’m just warming up.
Find out what happens next when Breezy puts that ice cube to good use in SPIES, LIES & NAKED THIGHS
Don’t forget to check out “Covert Operations” on the USA Network.
It’s a fast-paced, exciting show with Piper Perabo as Annie Walker and an excellent supporting cast.
Especially fun to watch is former CIA special operative, Auggie Anderson. According to USA official website, “Auggie (Christopher Gorham), who is blinded during a mission. He is now heading up the tech ops department within the DPD. Auggie understands the intricacies of the massive bureaucracy of the CIA in a way that few others do.”
See you soon with more fun spy stuff!