Marseilles, Southern France
March 2075
Apartment Complex
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Beyond the bustling capital, Paris, Marseilles was left behind in many ways. Economically, politically, and socially. Following the fourth corporate war and the collapse of international shipping, the city suffered a severe economic recession. Inflation soared, irregular migration from around the Mediterranean Sea increased and the "Datakrash" exasperated the decline of the high-tech sector. One of the few thriving sectors of the economy was in the medical field which was flush with work patching up scores of civilians impacted by the rising violence in the city.
Gangs, terrorist groups and niche private military contractors operated in the area with almost complete impunity. To top it off, smuggler gangs made good use of the inactive and derelict port infrastructure for their own illicit business operations. Life in that region of France was a daily struggle for survival.
For terrorist groups like the infamous "Le Collectif" the Seventh Republic was a cruel joke of what a true democratic France used to be. Highly organized, disciplined and motivated, their goal was nothing less than the destruction of the Seventh Republic and an end to corporate rule in "Eurotheatre." By any means necessary.
The sounds of cheers could be heard in the mega-building apartment complex near the Orange Velodrome stadium, where a football match was taking place. In the night sky, the stadium was lit up like a Christmas tree, and judging from her living room window, the game was a close one. At 28 years old, Bridgette had made a name for herself as an up-and-coming fixer with a real talent for languages. French, Spanish, Catalan, and Arabic, she had a firm grasp of certain dialects within languages, no need for fancy translation algorithms. She was the type of woman who, if she chose to, could rise up the ranks of any corporate mega firm. But that wasn't her. She had one life to live, and she had decided to devote herself to the cause she most believed in. For her, freedom was more important than the cushy life of corpo slave.
"Luis is fast asleep. What time are we heading to this meeting... Bridgette?" Her husband, Paolo, was a merc veteran of the decade-long Sahel conflict. He was uneasy about his wife's activities with this group, especially since they had welcomed their first child. Bridgette had been good at keeping the terrorists at arm's length.
"We? We are not heading anywhere. Paolo, I can handle myself." Bridgette replied for the final time. She turned to face him. Judging by his body language, he wasn't taking that for an answer.
"Bridgette!"
"No, Paolo! I'm going alone." She tried to squelch the argument she knew was coming. Bridgette walked into the bathroom and checked her makeup in the mirror while Paolo made a big deal about her going alone. With natural blonde hair cut short, creamy white skin, honey brown eyes, full lips, and an ample bosom, Bridgette was a 10 out of 10 on the hottie scale. Paolo adored her, but when she took these types of crazy risks, it always led to arguments between them. Having served in a private security firm for almost seven years in North Africa, he knew the dangers of street life. Bridgette was no damsel in distress either. Growing up in Marseille, she had been around the block enough times to spot dangers from a mile away. She was also pretty handy with a pistol and a knife.
"You know how dangerous these people are. I'm not letting you go alone, no chance!" Paolo was standing in the doorway, worry written all over his face.
She turned to face him. "Their commandant was very clear that I go alone. It's just a simple exchange. I know what I am doing." Bridgette walked past him, took a knee, and slipped her pistol into her boot's concealed holster.
"At least let me arrange a shadow. I have an associate I can call–"
Bridgette interrupted him, "No! Absolutely not, Paolo!" She cupped his face in her hands. "If they catch someone tailing me, they will kill us both. Paolo, I will be fine." She kissed him passionately, trying to smother his anxiety and fear with her lips. He was scared for her, but she could handle herself, and he had to come to terms with that. She grabbed the package and made her way out of the apartment.
The drive over to the meet-up was uneventful. Bridgette made sure to traverse multiple routes to ensure she wasn't being followed. At the time, Le Collectif was operating out of several locations, one of them being a derelict warehouse turned rave club on the west side of the city. As she pulled into the semi-lit car park and killed the engine, Bridgette checked her surroundings. Electric dance music emanated from the main building. Aside from the bouncers at the front managing the line of party-goers, a group of men (unarmed) stood around smoking cigarettes and drinking near the back entrances. Cameras were fixed at multiple points. So far so good. No one had followed her, by car at least. She grabbed the package and exited the vehicle.
The line was long, but Bridgette didn't plan on waiting her turn. She walked past the would-be party-goers to the front with the case in hand. Each raver was wearing Mime make-up and stylish matching outfits per the fashion of the day for parties like this. Say what you want about the French, but even in the worst of times, they never lose their fashion sense.
"Hey, what the hell!" one girl in a rather skimpy skirt and top complained.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" another patron whined.
"Funny, I could've sworn Mimes were supposed to be silent!" she snapped back at the spoiled brats.
As she approached the door, the bouncer stuck his hand out to stop her. "Hold on chica, you know there's a line right behind you?" He was tall, with tanned cappuccino skin, thick muscles, and short-cropped black hair. For whatever reason, Bridgette had always had a weakness for strapping Latino men. Something about the ascent really turned her on.
Bridgette reached into her jacket pocket and produced a poker card. "Can you point me to the managers?" The card depicted a sexy woman in Joker makeup and see-through clothes. Written on the bottom was the autograph of a very famous soccer player. She had been instructed by her client to give the card to the guy out front.
The burly man smiled and pocketed the prized object. "Buen, upstairs. The lobby on the 3rd floor."
He stepped aside, and Bridgette walked through the sliding door past the small lobby into the main area. The electronic music was obscenely loud, so much so that she could feel the vibrations throughout her entire body. The dance floor was overflowing with ravers all in Mime make-up and white stripe shirts moving to the beat. Alternating lights overhead were giving her a migraine. Walking past the sea of people crowding the bar, she caught a glimpse of the clientele seated near the booths.
Aside from the regular patrons, Mercs and fixers congregated in spaces like these to conduct business. It was safer to hide in plain sight, especially in Marseille. Bridgette made her way up the stairs, past all of the horny couples making out and onto the third floor. The third floor's lobby above was much cleaner and quieter, although she could still feel the music vibrating the floor through her boots. Men and women of various sorts were drinking, smoking, and talking amongst themselves. As she looked around, a bearded Black man wearing trainers and a black t-shirt showcasing his massive biceps stepped in front of her.
"Bridgette?" he asked.
"Yes?"
"You wait in da lobby, de boss will be wit you shortly." He spoke in English with a Caribbean accent.
She nodded and sat down at the bar two seats away from a man and woman deep in conversation. From the look of them, they were professional mercenaries or contractors. Both of them were sporting noticeable combat implants and prosthetic arms. The bartender had just finished making their cocktails when he turned his attention to Bridgette.
"Hello, ma'am, what would you like?" He was young, dark, and handsome with slick-back blonde hair and various dragon tattoos on his left arm. His eyes were a copper color, clearly optical implants.
"Gin & tonic, please."
"Ah, gin & tonic, how very English of you. Coming right up." With that, he got to work.
Bridgette looked over her shoulder as the bartender prepared her drink, and she spotted an unlikely character. Lucas Greene, an infamous assassin for hire. Standing at 6'1 with blonde hair done up in a fashionable man bun and glasses, he was known in the French underworld for his incredible skill and vast connections. He was dressed in a form-fitting suit with a white shirt, cappuccino brown vest, and a blue tie. The man took a seat in a nearby lounge chair and lit up a fancy cigar. Multiple screens around the room were broadcasting local and international news, which no one was paying attention to.
"Here you are, Madame." The bartender slid the glass her way.
"Merci. And your name?" She took a sip of the liquor, hoping it would calm her nerves.
"Call me Jacob." He smiled.
"The man to my right. Monsieur Greene. Does he frequent this establishment often?" Bridgette asked, taking another sip of her gin.
"From time to time. We receive clients from all over." He said, "This is a place of pleasure and fine company."
"Of course." She drained her glass. "Another one, S'il vous plait." Please.
"Certainly." Jacob filled up another glass, while Bridgette ran her fingers over the briefcase. She thought back to her early childhood in the countryside, how her family had struggled under crushing and usurious debt to keep their land only to have everything they worked hard for taken from them. The rage, like thick bile, rose within her.
"Here you are, M'lady." Jacob passed her another gin and tonic.
"Merci." She drank greedily this time, trying desperately to blunt emotional pain.
"Miss?" A voice coming from behind startled her out of her thoughts. She turned to see the Black man standing to her right side.
"De boss will see you now." He gestured to follow him. Bridgette gulped the last of gin & tonic and proceeded to follow the Brit down the hallway. Any doubts she had were left behind at the counter.
_____________________________
Fort-de-France, Martinique,
Caribbean Sea
September 2093
Apartment Complex
____________________________
Morning sex is the best, in my opinion.
"Oh! Fuck! Ah! Haha!" Bridgette laughed in ecstasy as I held her up by her hips. Her arms and legs were wrapped around my waist and shoulders as I fucked her. It had been a few days since I arrived on the island to catch up with Ms. Bridgette. Officially, I was on vacation. Unofficially, I was here to effectuate a meeting with a terrorist organization known as "The Collective." The objective was an exchange for information on certain elements of the global underworld. The buxom blonde woman I was busy plowing was my go-between for the meet-up. Since we had a couple hours before then, why not enjoy ourselves?
"Ah! Mmmnphf!" I leaned forward to kiss her, her ample cleavage pressing up against my chest. Ms. Bridgette was incredibly hot for her age.
Here we were in the middle of her high-rise apartment living room on the ninth floor, going at it like rabbits. The early morning light was shining on us through the massive windows as I was pumping my cock in and out of her. She held onto me. Her large tits bounced up and down with each thrust. A few days ago, when I confronted her about her ties to the terrorist group, she had tried to kill me, fearing I was there to arrest her (I'm not entirely sure why). Not even a few minutes later, we ended up naked in bed together. She was 20 years my senior, with the radiance and beauty of someone much younger.
"Ah! Fuck! Max! Nnggh!" Her orgasm approached its crescendo. She kissed me passionately and greedily as I kept drilling her insides. I picked up the pace and force of my thrusts.
"Ah, NGrnnggr!" Her body tensed and spasmed as the wave of pleasure came crashing down on her. I winced as her finger dug into the skin on my back. The vice grip of her vaginal walls grew tighter. She was practically milking the cum out of me.
"Fuck!" was all I could utter. I kept thrusting until my balls were spent, coating every nook and cranny of her womb with hot sperm.
"AHH! Ah! Ah! Fuck," she exclaimed, resting her head on my shoulder, panting hard.
"Hahaha, yeah, that's the spirit. I think that young rocker girl is making a comeback," I teased.
"Oh, somehow I doubt that." She smiled, exhausted, her eyes glowing in the early morning light. I kissed her while carefully putting her down on the sofa and took a seat next to her. We had spent last night planning for the meet-up later today.
"You should rest. The meeting will be in a few hours," I said. I just hoped their leader would be willing to engage in a deal. From what I have heard about the group, they tended to be ideologically rigid, almost unwilling to compromise. Of course, I didn't plan to take 'no' for an answer.
Bridgette sat upright on the couch. "Well, don't get your hopes up. They have their own priorities and concerns. I don't see them giving a fuck about anybody else's problems other than their own."
"For a member of the group, you don't exactly care for them, do you?" I turned to face her. She was staring out the window deep in thought, her knees curled up to her chest.
"It's not like that, I- uh,"
I suddenly felt a pair of whiskers brush up against the base of my foot. I looked down to see Caesar sniffing around the floor. He looked up at me. His thick orange and white fur made him look more rotund than he actually was. I reached a hand over to pet him on the head.
"You worked to secure a weapons deal on their behalf. You must see something in them that's good."
She sighed and said, "Sometimes I wondered if it was all I had to look forward to."
"What do you mean?"
"Losing everything and anything, my parents worked their hardest to hold onto the family farm. When I was young, all I wanted to do was become an actress and live in the big city. Farming is hard work. I wanted a more glamorous life, I guess. But now, I would have given anything for the 'soft' living of the countryside." She smiled a grief-stricken smile. The smile of a woman who understood life couldn't care less about your dignity or whether you starved. It was less painful to grieve loss when you smiled and endured it. I knew that smile. I saw that smile on a thousand faces back home.
"What happened?" I asked. Caesar jumped onto the arm of the couch and walked along the spine toward Bridgette.
She reached a hand up and scratched the cat behind the ears. "The seeds that my parents used to grow crops were patented. We couldn't store our own seeds. Every season we had to buy them directly from the MegaCorps. Eventually, we fell into debt. We had to sell the farm to them, piece by piece. In the end, there was nothing left. The company consolidated the land. We were kicked out. My parents moved us to Marseille. Growing up there was tough with criminals looking to shake you down. You had to learn to survive with what you have. When I left France, my family stayed behind. They're still in Marseille."
This history was painful for her, more than she was willing to admit. I leaned forward and kissed her on the shoulder, my hand rubbing her back. "I'll make us some coffee. We can mix it with whiskey and talk shit about other people."
She laughed and said, "Thank you, Max."
________________________________
Marseilles, Southern France
March 2075
Rave Club, Le Collectif Meetup
________________________________
"You wait in here." The man instructed Bridgette as the door slid open.
The small lounge was gorgeous with two beige couches and an ornate wooden table. Various plants and flowers were embedded in the walls. Some hung from the ceiling. A holographic projector on the table was broadcasting an overview of the football match taking place in the stadium. Bridgette could tell the room was soundproof which gave her some peace of mind. The sweet lavender aroma ambient in the room was pleasant. She placed the case on the wooden table and sat down, contemplating the consequences of her decision. About a minute or two later, the door opened, revealing a woman about the same age as herself.
"Bridgette, yes? My apologies for the delay." She said.
Bridgette rose from her seat and reached out to shake her hand. "It's no problem." The woman before her was an inch taller than her. She had shoulder-length black hair, a muscular build, and a wonderful smile. Judging by her ascent, she assumed that the woman must have been of Arab descent. Perhaps Lebanese?
"I'm Sandrine. It's wonderful to meet you, Bridgette. Please have a seat." She gestured toward the couch. As Bridgette took her seat, Sandrine poured both of them some tea.
"As you requested, this information should get close to your targets. The building schematics show key weak points in their security architecture. From there, you will have to find a way to exploit those weak points." Bridgette opened the case to show the data shard inside. Valuable intelligence on the whereabouts and security details of highly important commissioners in the European defense agency.
Sandrine passed her a cup of tea on a tray, which she accepted. "Thank you."
"Well, let's see what we have here." Sandrine slid the data shard into her neural port. Her eyes glowed blue as her implants processed the data.
"That intel was difficult to obtain. Whatever you are planning, I hope you have thought it through." Bridgette said, taking sips of her tea.
"Despite our reputation among the public, our people are thorough. There are no cowboys or cowgirls in our organization." Sandrine's eyes ceased to glow, returning to their natural honey brown color as she extracted the data shard from her neural port. "It's curious to me that you would agree to help us in our mission." The woman smiled.
"Brokering information is good business," Bridgette said, flatly.
"Yes, but you put yourself at great risk. You could have made easier money in illegal imports." Sandrine took a sip from her cup and asked, "So, Bridgette, why help us?"
"I want a meeting with your commandant. I have a proposition for him."
"Oh, would you care to explain your proposition?"
"No, it is for his ears only."
Sandrine smiled, thinking carefully about her response. "The collective has many friends even in high places. I am sure he will give you a fair hearing. I'll see to it that the meeting is set up."
Bridgette drained her cup and rose to her feet. "Thank you, I will be expecting your call."
As she made her way to the door, Sandrine spoke up as if remembering something important. "Oh and Bridgette, before you leave, I wanted to assure you that our group takes no offense to your husband's actions."
She froze for a second, terrified. "W-what, do you mean?"
Sandrine's sweet but sinister smile was unnerving. She looked at the blonde from her position on the couch. "Well, I figured you didn't know. Your husband had you shadowed by a 'ghost.' One of our agents discovered him ten minutes ago and escorted him from the club. That's why I was late to this meeting. It's absolutely adorable. Your husband must love you very much. But, if it happens again..." She left the threat hanging in the air.
Bridgette's heart was pounding in her ears, and her palms started to sweat. Sandrine added, "I so detest ghosts. I'm sure you will agree it's much more pleasant not having them around."
All she could do in that moment was nod her agreement, the fear threatening to overwhelm her. The raven-haired goddess went back to sipping her tea as Bridgette walked out of the room. She was going to have a serious talk with her husband.
_____________________________
Fort-de-France, Martinique
Abandoned Mall,
September 2093
7:02 pm
____________________________
"You're sure this is the place?" I asked my companion as we exited our vehicle. Here we were, standing in front of an abandoned shopping mall. The place looked like it hadn't serviced a single customer in decades. The mall was five stories high with a circular build. Glass windows were mostly intact, and the parking lot was empty except for useless junk and the occasional broken-down car. The neighborhood wasn't the friendliest, yet there were no visible security cameras, at least none that I could see.
"Where did you think we would be meeting?" Bridgette retorted.
"Don't they usually gather in nightclubs and beer halls?" I turned to look at her. She was wearing blue jeans and a black T-shirt with the name of a band, "Crimson Reign," written on the front. I meant to ask her about their music, but now wasn't the time for that.
"In France, way back when. But things have changed. Let's go. We don't want to be late." Bridgette began walking toward the derelict building. I followed close behind, keeping my wits about me.
The inside of the mall was a mess. There were piles of junk along the doorway, which made it difficult to even enter the damn building. The place was dark, with the only source of light coming from the few sky windows above. I could imagine a time when a place like this would have been buzzing with people walking around, window shopping, talking with each other, or gathering at the food court for a bite. Scores of posters for products that probably don't even exist anymore adorned the walls. Broken glass littered the floors in certain areas. The mall was a reminder of better times when people could actually be carefree. When young people looked toward the future with assurance, they would live decent lives.
Bridgette led me up the stairs to the third floor and down toward what looked to be an administrative office. The windows were tinted, allowing enough light inside without offering any visibility. The entrance, a pair of metal doors, was emblazoned with corporate logos, none of which I recognized. When she approached the door, a scanner popped out from the wall and started scanning us both. It startled me for a second, but Bridgette seemed to expect it. The pulse of blue light shifted back and forth until the process was complete. Once it was done, the scanner popped back into position in the wall, and the doors automatically swung open. Two men were waiting by the door. Both of them looked us over.
"You, Bridgette?" The man on the left asked in a deep, raspy voice. He was lazily smoking a cigarette, bored out of his mind. He wore joggers and a white shirt padded with an armored vest. The other guy was younger. He had a holstered pistol on his side. Both of them had serious combat implants. Something about their demeanor told me these guys weren't ordinary street thugs.
"We're here for Sandrine," she replied.
"Aren't we all? Alright, follow me. The name's Leon. That scrawny kid is Mickey. Welcome to our home away from home." He said, somewhat sarcastically.
The two men led us into their base of operations, so to speak. Office spaces that were designed for administrative work were repurposed. Crates of hardware and supplies were stacked upon each other. We followed the two men past rooms filled with large servers connected to netrunner chairs, soundproof gun ranges, and automated robots building makeshift weapons. The facility was a covert operating base for their activities. It wasn't even the only one they had on the island, according to the intelligence. We came to what I suspect was once a large employee lounge. The room was overflowing with various plants embedded in the walls above a luxurious bed and an Asian triple-bowl fountain. A glass table with several cushioned chairs was set up on the other end.
"You two wait here. The boss will be in shortly." Leon said as he closed the door.
"This is nice. Your friend must have quite the green thumb."
Bridgette took a seat at the table. "Forget the plants," she was agitated. "I just hope you know what you are doing." She sighed.
I sat down next to her, concerned. "You seem upset. What's eating at you?"
She closed her eyes and massaged her temples. "Whatever deal you make with her, it will come at a price. Sometimes it's better to walk away."
I grabbed her hand. "It's okay. It's not just me in this."
"How touching."
The voice seemed to come out of nowhere, such that it startled both of us. It was very unusual that someone could sneak up on me.
We turned to see an older woman standing in the doorway. She was gorgeous with shoulder-length greying hair, a curvy figure, and pearly white teeth forming a smile. She wore black novawear pants, combat boots, and a maroon shirt with a vest. She walked into the room. The door slid closed behind her. I stood to greet her with an outstretched hand.
"Sandrine, I presume? It's nice to meet you. Thanks for making the time." I shook her hand.
"Ah, such manners! You must be Max. The feeling is mutual. Any friend of Bridgette is a friend to us as well." She said, "Please sit down. I will bring us some tea."
Bridgette seemed anxious. Something had her spooked. A look from Sandrine or a tone of voice, perhaps? Sandrine brought over a kettle on a tray.
"It's been quite a while since I've seen you in person, Bridgette. You must visit us more often." Sandrine was friendly enough. Bridgette smiled, but I could tell she was fearful of this woman. I got the sense there was more in her words than she let on. Sandrine served me a cup of green mint tea. I accepted and took a sip. It was an interesting blend of mint, ginger, and cinnamon.
"Sandrine, I am here representing an outfit operating in the Gulf. We are a security contracting company for some of the up-and-coming raft cities," I said, making my pitch. "Security on the open seas is a very important issue. As you can imagine, we are always on the lookout for mutually beneficial partnerships. There are certain connections your organization has that are valuable to our firm. Of course, we have the means of compensating your group in multiple ways to your satisfaction."
"Mmhmm." She nodded, sipping her tea, bemused. I felt like I was being toyed with.
Something was off with this woman. I decided to be more direct. "W-what's going on here?"
Sandrine's smile widened. "Max, do you know how Bridgette and I first met?" She asked.
"I'm guessing over tea?" I shrugged.
Sandrine stood up from her chair and walked the length of the table to Bridgette. "We contracted her services in obtaining sensitive information on certain members of the European government. She delivered for us, handsomely."
She placed her hand on Bridgette's shoulders. "We paid her for work. However, Bridgette requested a meeting with our commandant. She had a proposition for him."
"Sandrine, is this really necessary?" Bridgette said in a hushed tone. She was distressed.
"Well, if you don't want me to tell him, how about you tell him yourself?"
I was getting frustrated. "Is any of this relevant? Sandrine, this deal could prove lucrative for both of our organization–"
"Yes!" Sandrine interrupted, "It is very relevant. Bridgette, we're waiting."
She sighed, "I arranged a meeting with their leader. I asked them to assassinate the Biotechnica regional board."
"Mmm, not just the board members," Sandrine added. "I believe your words were 'and all of their secretaries and mistresses! Kill all of them.'"
That's not all. Sandrine's outfit used the data they had acquired to assassinate five delegates of the French assembly, two senior officers in the European defense department, and eight members of the Eurobank board. Dozens were killed in bombings and cyberspace attacks that hit the upper echelon of the European establishment. The crackdown was severe. Several cities were placed under martial law. Eventually the cell was tracked back to Marseille, and GIGN (Special Anti-Terrorist Police Squad) was sent with orders to shoot the terrorists on site. From what I heard, sections of the city became a war zone.
Bridgette was silent, remorseful. It was clear that Sandrine was delighting in the drama of it all. "How is this at all relevant?" I was no stranger to acts of vengeance. These things happen all the time back in the republic.
"Max, Max, Max," Sandrine sauntered over to me, so close I could see she had a chest implant nestled above her bosom. "Your boss would sooner see the edge of my blade than have anything to do with us. We fight for a future where the gangs of thugs that fill the ranks of your little club don't exist." Her smile was laced with venom. "A future where we all can prosper, even you."
"Ma'am, I assure you our organization is no gang of thugs. We are security professionals of a different sort than you're used to." She was getting bored of the discussion.
"Well, this was fun. My man will see you two out."
She started to walk toward the door when I stood up and grabbed her arm. "Wait, t–"
In a flash, she spun around, pinned me by my arm, and smashed my head against the glass table, causing it to crack from the force. Bridgette stood up, alarmed, and tried to calm her down. "No! Sandrine, please!"
"You dare put your hands on me!" She snarled.
"Fffuuckkking! Eh, answer the phone, Sandrine," I said through gritted teeth. My head was pounding from the impact.
"What ar–" Sandrine was interrupted by a call from one of her associates. She held me in that position while speaking in what I assumed was Arabic. As the conversation went on, her eyes went wide and she started grinding her teeth. After ending the call, Sandrine turned her attention to me.
"I am guessing you lost something very important. Am I right?" I chuckled as she became enraged. She squeezed my arm tighter. I winced. Muscle boosters had become much more potent over the years.
"Max, what's going on?" Bridgette asked, her eyes darting from Sandrine to me.
Sandrine turned to look at her. "It seems your boyfriend's little gang of thugs has stolen a very precious item from me. I should chop you into pieces and feed you to the fucking sharks!"
"Haha, let's see. Hijacking an underwater–grunt–cargo vessel? That's a highly sophisticated operation, not something a 'gang of thugs' can pull off easily. Wouldn't you agree, Sandrine?" I smiled.
The door slid open and one of her men walked in. He was tall with jet-black curly hair, jacked with muscle, and chromed up like a tank. He was slightly startled by the situation before him but quickly regained his composure. "Sandrine, we have a situation."
He continued speaking in rapid French to Sandrine. The two of them went back and forth at a quick pace. Something was off besides the stunt my group pulled in the sea. Eventually, Sandrine got frustrated and dismissed him with some colorful language as far as I could tell. The man nodded and turned to leave, but not before making eye contact with me. I got the sense I would be seeing him again in a very bad way.
The door closed. Sandrine turned her attention back to me. "Yes, I would have to agree." She let go of my arm, and I slowly got off the table. Sandrine walked around the table and took a seat.
"So, you want to make a deal. I'm listening." She said, staring daggers at me. My headache was subsiding by that point. Bridgette tentatively sat back down.
"Information, your connections to the global underworld. That's what we want."
"Oh, is that all?" Sandrine raised an eyebrow, incredulous.
"Among other things," I winked at her. For the first time, I could sense some self-doubt in her demeanor. Her face portrayed fear just briefly. I was getting somewhere. "Think of it as an ongoing mutual exchange. You scratch our backs and we scratch yours."
Sandrine looked at Bridgette for a moment before returning to me. "Whose back am I scratching?"
"Hayes Company, security contracting firm. You're no stranger to working with mercenaries, are you?" I smiled.
She smirked. "We will play it by ear, but–" Sandrine rose from her chair, placed both hands on the table, and leaned forward menacingly, "–that package you stole, I want it sent back to me within the week."
I kept my cool and nodded. "Understood, my men will make that happen."
"Excellent, we have a deal."
I felt some of the tension dissipate. Bridgette began to relax. "Well, it's done. Thank you, Sandrine, truly. I think it's time we should be taking our leave."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Sandrine said, wagging her finger. "Not so fast." Sandrine proceeded to remove her vest, walking around the table.
"Um," My eyes followed her fingertips as she gripped her shirt and slowly lifted it over her head. The smooth skin of her toned stomach led up to her ample chest. She was wearing a cocoa brown lacy bra, which was pretty erotic. She tossed the shirt to the floor and reached behind to unhook her bra, letting it fall to the floor in front of me.
"Sandrine–" Bridgette started to say.
I finished her thought. "What are you doing?"
She came closer to me, her ample breasts swaying from the motion. "What do you think I'm doing?" She said as she quickly climbed onto my lap and straddled my hips. I grabbed her waist to keep her from rocking the chair too much. That left me, eye level with her massive tits, my cock hardening in my shorts in response. This chick is nuts. First she wants to kill me, now she wants to fuck. Why does that sound familiar?
"Hey! Get off of him, bitch!" Bridgette was not having any of it. I was surprised. Hearing Bridgette curse was unusual.
Sandrine smiled at her. "My, my, don't tell me you're 'robbing the cradle.' Hahaha!"
Bridgette dashed forward and yanked Sandrine's head back by her hair. "That's none of your business, whore." I was taken aback by how quickly that escalated.
"Whoa, Bridgette, calm down." I tried to deescalate the situation.
Sandrine seemed more annoyed than anything else. "Ouch! There she is–" she said, before grabbing Bridgette's arm and squeezing hard. Bridgette cried out in pain, letting go of Sandrine's hair, "–the vengeful little sprite I met all those years ago."
"Alright, that's enough!" I said. Sandrine let go of Bridgette's arm to steady herself as I rose from the chair. I lifted Sandrine up by the hips and threw her onto my right shoulder.
"Oh. Wow, so strong," Sandrine commented in her sultry voice.
"Shut it!" I smacked her ass hard enough for Sandrine to yelp before emitting a subtle moan.
Bridgette sighed with relief, "Thanks, Max. I, Wait! What are you–Hey!" I grabbed Bridgette by the legs and hoisted her over my left shoulder. "Max let me down!" She beat on my back with her balled fist while Sandrine just laughed.
I walked over to the bed at the other end of the room. "Okay," I said, before dropping both ladies onto the bed. Sandrine laughed in surprise as she landed on the mattress. Bridgette wasn't so amused.
"Both of you are going to chill the fuck out!" The two of them were quite the pair. Like a bunch of bickering children. Technically, my job was to arrange the deal. Since that was done, there wouldn't be any harm in having some fun. I unbuttoned my short-sleeve shirt. Sandrine's eyes darted up to my bulky, muscled chest and down to the sharp ripples of my abs.
Bridgette rose up onto her elbows. I climbed on top of her and leaned in to kiss her while I raised her shirt over her head. She yelped in surprise as I fondled her right breast through her pink lacy bra. With my free hand, I reached behind her and unhooked her bra. After a few seconds, her eyes darted to Sandrine, who was on her side watching us, and then back to me.
"W-what's happening right now?" she asked.
Sandrine giggled. "Isn't it obvious?" She placed her foot up against my groin, rubbing the outline of my cock with her clothed foot. "He wants to take us both at once," she said, biting her bottom lip.
My attention shifted to her. I grabbed her foot, pulled her closer to me, and removed her boots. Climbing on top of her, she ran her finger on my biceps as we kissed her. Our tongues danced. Her fingers explored the muscles of my back while I squeeze her tits with abandon. I had come to perceive a difference between the two. With Bridgette, I had to be careful not to be too rough, but with Sandrine, she seemed to relish the rough treatment.
"Mmmnphf," she moaned as I tweaked her diamond-hard pink nipples and unzipped her pants. With one yank, I pulled her pants off and launched them into the air, revealing a pair of erotic chocolate brown crotch-less lace panties. It was incredibly sexy how the color complimented her skin, but it also left a question in my mind.
"Sandrine," I raised an eyebrow, "were you expecting to get laid tonight? Did you have other plans?"
She looked at me with a sheepish smile. "I haven't the slightest clue as to what you're talking about."
"Slut!" Bridgette wasn't buying it, and neither was I. She stared at Sandrine incredulously.
"So says the sagging cougar sacking up with someone half her age," Sandrine retorted. I could feel the tension building up between those two of them. My TBI (Texas Bureau of Investigation) deescalation training kicked in at that moment.
"Tranquillo, ladies." I dropped my cargo shorts and underwear to the ground. Both women turned their attention to my thickening, veiny 10-inch anaconda. Sandrine was stunned silly. I could hear her breathing change in real time. Unconsciously, she moved her hand down to her panties.
"Oooh, my goodness!" Sandrine was hypnotized.
Bridgette cut in, "Don't get any ideas."
"Why, Bridgette, are you afraid I'll steal him from you?" Sandrine replied in mock surprise.
"As if you could," the blonde retorted.
I laughed to myself. These two were too precious. While Bridgette was distracted, I leaned over and fondled both of her breasts, nibbling on her nipples. She moaned. The feisty cougar started to relax. I took the opportunity to unzip her jeans and remove them. My fingers wormed their way into her panties and massaged her clit. Sandrine was playing with herself slowly while she watched us go at it. After a minute or two, I brought her jeans down her legs and tossed them.
"Max," Sandrine said, crawling toward me. Her eyes were fixed on my cock. Bridgette watched as Sandrine grabbed my dick and started jerking it. "Ah, it's so heavy."
Her hands were delicate, not as soft as Bridgette's hand, but she had skills. The buxom blonde rose to her knees and swiped my cock away from Sandrine's greedy palms. "Yes, it is." She proceeded to take my rod in her mouth, sucking it with vigor. Sandrine made a beeline for my balls, massaging each one at a time with her lips. I felt her fingers tracing the muscles of my abs as she pleasured my sack. The sight of these two mature women, on hands and knees, feasting on my manhood was beyond anything I could imagine. I reached a hand behind Bridgette's hair, guiding her further down the length of my shaft.
Sandrine released my right testicle, panting softly. "Even his balls are heavy." She said as she continued to massage my nuts in her hands. I reached a meaty hand out and grabbed a chunk of Sandrine's fat ass and swatted her cheeks a few times, causing her bubble butt to jiggle wildly.
"Ah!" Sandrine moaned with delight.
Bridgette released my thick wand from her mouth. I lay down on the bed, maneuvered her hips over my face, and started eating her out. She twitched and moaned as I made a meal out of her insides. At the same time, I felt Sandrine's hands grip my cock. She lined it up to her entrance and started pumping her hips on my cock, trying to accommodate my size. Her vaginal walls were so hot and tight around my rod, I could already feel my nuts start to tingle.
"B-Baiser!" Sandrine cursed, biting her bottom lip. She continued grinding her hips down on my rod while Bridgette took in sharp breaths as she was being devoured. I pressed my fingers into the soft skin of her ass cheeks and delivered several hard swats.
"Ahhh!" The blonde milf yelped and quivered from the spanking. Her whimpers and moans of delight were music to my ears. Meanwhile, Sandrine had finally managed to stuff all ten inches in her guts.
"Ha ha, Triomphe!" she gushed. And began riding me. Sandrine bounced up and down on my dick, relishing the feeling of being filled to capacity. Once she was comfortable, she picked up the pace, hopping on my dick like a horny slut half her age. She gyrated hips around, trying to cram more of my cock inside of her. "Ah! Bridgette, you should bring him around more often."
"Not, Ah! Going to–Nng, happen!" Bridgette responded, trying desperately to stave off her orgasm. I could sense the muscles of her lower back twitch. I reached up to tweak one of her nipples, twisting them ever so slightly. She pushed my hand down. The sensations were too much for her to take. She was close, but so was I. Sandrine's insides had a vice grip on my wand.
I patted Bridgette on the ass, grabbed her hips, and pushed her onto all fours. Sandrine was in heaven, lost in the sensations until I grabbed and swung her around onto her back. She laughed and ran her fingers down my pecks. I pulled out and rotated her by her hips such that she was lying on her stomach, her butt propped up in the air. I knelt behind and took the opportunity to land a couple of hard smacks on her fat ass.
THWAP! THWAP! THWAP!
"AHHH!" she wailed and shot an angered look at me over her shoulder.
"That's for smashing my head against the glass," I said as I lined my cock up to her opening and reentered her. She gasped at my sudden invasion.
"Oh, you're going to teach me a lesson, big boy?" she said, wiggling her ass.
I pulled out slowly and then quickly slammed back into her. She twitched and grunted as I started fucking her as deep as I could. Her ass-cheeks bounced widely from the brute force. Now, Bridgette was in the position of watching her friend getting split in half. The buxom blonde was entranced with the live sex show before her eyes.
"Ah! OH! Ffuckk!" Sandrine cried. Her insides pulsed around my cock. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back just enough to be felt. She laughed and snorted as I picked up the pace of thrusts. The muscles of her body tensed up. Her breathing caught in her chest as the waves of orgasmic pleasure washed over her. My balls were boiling when I felt the hot drops of liquids on my thigh.
"AHH!!" Sandrine erupted, squirting vaginal fluids on the bedsheets. Even then, I kept fucking her. My balls were on fire. I had to decide quickly. In or out.
Fuck it! I slammed my cock back into her one last time before I fired my rifle and painted her insides white with my sperm.
"Fucking shit!" I yelled. The spurts of cum rocketed out my dick so fast it stung a bit. Sandrine just lay there, panting hard, trying to recover her stamina. After several seconds, I withdrew from her and sat upright, stretching my arms over my head. I looked over to Bridgette.
A strange expression was on her face. Her eyes portrayed a mix of arousal and jealousy. "Watching us fuck turned you on?" I asked, taking sensual delight in seeing her flustered.
"What?! No!" she said, blushing pink.
"Liar," I replied. Sandrine giggled.
Crawling onto the bed, I grabbed her ankles and slowly brought her to the edge of the bed. My cock was already thickening as I reached down and squeezed both her enormous tits together, licking and sucking on both nipples at once. She ran her fingers through my hair and explored the muscles of my back. In a relatively short time, my cock was at full mast. I grabbed my wand and gently slid it into her drenched pussy, filling her up.
"Ah!" She moaned from deep within. I held her by the hips and started fucking her in a tabletop position (one of my favorite positions). Her spherical melons shook from the impact along with the bed. It was a delight to see her in ecstasy. Bridgette gripped the bedsheets in her fists as I drilled her faster and deeper than ever before. Her eyes were glued on my muscular, sculpted body.
"Nnmph, Ah! Fuck, Max!" Bridgette was close.
I reached down and grabbed her right breast, squeezing it as I adjusted the angle of my assault. I brought her legs close to her chest and continued to fuck her silly. Suddenly, Bridgette threw her hands around my neck and brought me in close, relishing the skin-on-skin contact. With each thrust, her inside contracted and pulsed around my cock, practically yanking the jizz out of my balls.
"AHH!" Bridgette dug her fingers into my back as she climaxed.
"Cono Carajo," I unloaded in her guts. We stayed there frozen for a couple of seconds before collapsing. Both of us were breathing hard from the exertion. I settled in between the two fair maidens, my balls thoroughly drained.
"Quite the show. I had a feeling this meeting would pique my interest. And I must say you two haven't disappointed." Sandrine said, running her fingertips over my sweat-soaked chest. I was exhausted, but before I passed out, there was one thing I needed to know. I took Sandrine's hand in mine, running my thumb over her knuckles.
I looked deep into her eyes. "Sandrine, what do you know about the Cabal?"
To be continued...
