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The Honey Trap by Jane Risdon – a very short story.
I love the world of espionage and crime, it’s what I read and write.
The Honey Trap (c) Jane Risdon 2012
They flirted in the bar, drinking, and chatting, until the music stopped and the bartender shook his head. No more drinks.
Taking the hint they moved towards the revolving doors about to make for the bright city lights and another hotel bar, when his young companion shook her head and whispered her suggestion.
Why not go upstairs to her friend’s room and have some more drinks? Luckily her friend was away for a few days and she had the key, what did he think?
He thought it was a great idea. She thought he was too drunk to go much further anyway, and the prospect of getting the almond-eyed beauty into bed was more than he could resist, she was sure.
He nodded and followed her to the elevator.
She pressed the button for the tenth floor, snuggling up to him, nibbling his ear, whispering suggestive things in a husky voice full of promise.
She knew he couldn’t believe his luck.
His meeting with the Ministry of Trade representatives had gone well, and they decided to go for dinner at the Majestic Hotel a few blocks away. At dinner he and his colleagues were introduced to several young ladies, beautiful, and fluent in English.
A little reward for getting the Eastern Europeans to sign the contracts with little or no hassle, they all assumed.
She had made it clear that she fancied him from the start and they were soon alone, the others having returned to their hotels with companions of their own no doubt.
He had hoped she would want to spend the night with him, it had been on his mind all night.
They reached her friend’s room and she opened the door and put the light on, kicking off her stilettos and heading for the hotel fridge, as he put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door, and took his jacket off, placing his extra-large briefcase on the floor near the bed.
He moved behind her, kissed her neck and her smooth soft brown shoulders, taking in her musky scent and running his hands over her hips and thighs. She turned to kiss him and soon they were heading for the bed.
However, before things went any further she headed for the bathroom.
He quickly and silently moved around the room, checking the drawers, the cupboard, and looking under the bed and behind the pictures, and lamp fittings. The Cold War might be over, he thought, but he knew a ‘Honey Trap,’ when he saw one.
He found nothing, surprisingly, which worried him more than if he had found a hidden camera and microphone.
After a while she returned, all smiles, and full of enthusiasm, and before long they were having sex which, although he was enjoying himself as much as his partner, didn’t stop him from keeping one eye on the bedroom door.
He was sure that her controllers would be rushing in before long, ready for the ‘Blackmail’ pitch.
Therefore he had to work fast.
He turned her onto her stomach and she squealed with anticipation. Running his hands over her back and shoulders he leaned towards her and nuzzled her neck.
She lifted her head to meet his lips as he quickly took the scarf he had hidden under the pillows, and expertly wrapped it around her neck. At first she seemed surprised and then, thinking it was all part of the game, smiled wantonly at him.
After all, it was her job to please him.
Suddenly he began to squeeze tighter and tighter. As she began to choke somewhere in her oxygen-starved brain it dawned on her that this wasn’t a game after all.
By then it was too late. The last thing she saw was his laughing face gazing at her as she died.
He rose quickly, pulling on surgical gloves.
Then he placed her body on the floor as he removed the sheets and pillowcases, putting them in his large briefcase, along with the wine glass he had used.
He took her body into the bathroom and placed her in the bath where he washed her, and her hair. After she was dry he took her back into the bedroom and laid her on the stripped bed, arranging her in his favourite pose.
He cleaned the bathroom, and with a last glance round the hotel room, checking he had left no trace of himself, he silently let himself out of the room and made his way down the back stairs where his driver waited for him.
He felt a sense of relief and elation as they drove away, sure in the knowledge that this was another ‘situation,’ which would go unreported by the authorities.
After all, she was their agent, and her job had been to involve him, the Second Secretary at the British Mission, in what has always been known as ‘A Honey trap,’ so they could blackmail him into working for them.
Well, he was too good for them, he thought as he settled back in his seat.
He had been in his post for years, working all around the world, and allowing himself to be drawn into their so-called ‘delicate situations,’ and yet he had never been caught.
He enjoyed his work and loved to tease the enemy.
He knew his little calling card would be recognised, but what could they do? Admit they had planned to compromise a British diplomat who just happened to eliminate their ‘Bee,’ before they could act – he didn’t think so.
Next month he was being posted to Tel Aviv. He heard the women there were beautiful and knew how to handle themselves.
They all had to do a stint in the Army. The challenge thrilled him. He couldn’t wait.
All photos where indicated (c) Jane Risdon 2013 All Rights Reserved.
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