049. Club
Title: Bella Fiore
Fandom: Captain Scarlet
Characters: Blue, Symphony, others mentioned
Prompt: 049. Club
Word Count: 2, 893
Rating: NC-17 … all the way ;)
Summary: Sometimes there is a very fine line between business and pleasure
Author's Notes: I guess this is set pre-series, or at least before Symphony cut her hair.
There are several references to Sue Stanhope’s ‘gangster trilogy’, and Anton Carlotti is borrowed from ‘Dead Ringer’ (by her & Chris Bishop).
Chicago, Illinois
“Is everything to your liking, Mr Svenson?”
“Yes, quite satisfactory” Captain Blue, in character, allowed a ghost of a smile and took a sip of martini.
He glanced around; casually taking in the stage, plush velvet booths, other patrons, scantily clad waitresses, all bathed in cool neon blue lighting and the aura of seediness no amount of money and exquisite taste could eradicate.
“I am glad,” Anton Carlotti slipped into the booth beside him “The Fiore is my pride and joy. They said it would never thrive, too expensive, men want to go somewhere cheap. ”
Blue nodded; though he knew Carlotti made enough running a crime syndicate for the earnings of his club not to truly matter. He had even managed to survive as WPCG Commander Fraser had swept through Chicago busting various lesser syndicates. Thrive even, as Carlotti simply swallowed up their assets as his own. His prowess had rivalled that of Patrick Donaghue’s, when he had headed up The Syndicate of New York.
“But you proved them wrong.” Blue noted
“Indeed I did,” Carlotti gave a short laugh, and drained the last of his whiskey on the rocks.
“You’re a shrewd business man.”
“Maybe so,” Carlotti shrugged “but we’ll talk business later. Don’t you worry, just relax. The girls are going to start another set soon.”
Blue took another sip, as Carlotti departed. He knew it was necessary for his cover to drink, but he was still in the job. So he managed to give the impression of drinking a lot whilst remaining relatively sober; it was a skill he’d perfected in the WAS, having discovered in Harvard he was a lousy drunk. The alcohol burnt down through his gullet, and the club seemed soften its focus. The blurring made things a little more bearable; but he still had a job to do.
He took a more generous swig, as if it would sober him up, rather than the orthodox opposite effect. Svenson was generally a controlled man, but obviously an op in these surrounding involved certain … distractions.
~oo0oo~
Cloudbase - three days previous
“You will be there to negotiate the shipment,” Colonel White had stated “draw out the discussion until you reach fifty thousand, that’s as much as we can allow for this operation.”
Blue nodded. When it came to covert operations and espionage he was possibly the most experience of the captains; and for once being born in the wealthy Svenson financier dynasty was going to work in his favour, by way of providing a cover of sorts.
“That should allow enough time for you to acquire the transmitter…” White continued, as an image of the transmitter in question, a simple grooved golden bar which looked rather like a fountain pen, was projected on to the plasma screen. “And transfer it to Captain Magenta.”
Blue gave his colleague a smile. Magenta was their resident electronics expert, and had been a key player in the criminal underworld himself, such insider knowledge was a great asset.
“I’m kinda looking forward this is,” Magenta grinned “It’ll be like old times, catching up with some old friends.”
Magenta had taken a particular interest in this operation, as it would involve bringing down his rival and usurper of The Syndicate. Despite having proved his loyalty a hundred times over in the previous months he still felt a need go that extra way to confirm he was on the level.
“You hung out with strippers?” Ochre asked, grin too mischievous for anyone to think that an innocent question.
“They prefer to be called ‘exotic dancers’,” Magenta smirked “but wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Gentlemen,” White gently scolded “any questions?”
“You’ll be there, before I arrive?” Blue asked.
“Sure, no problem.” Magenta smiled easily.
~oo0oo~
After an hour drinking with Carlotti, with no sign of Magenta, Blue felt concern start to prickle in him. They had been joined by one of the dancers. An oriental girl who couldn’t have been a day over nineteen, in a slip of red bikini. She was seated at Carlotti’s thigh, and he was too enthralled with her to notice Blue’s ‘excuse me’.
Blue took his spectrum communicator, which had been made to look like a standard if sophisticated cell phone, from his pocket. The buzzing vibration died down and his flicked it open. To reveal a text message from Ochre, who was outside, serving as field commander. Quite how he had wrangled that Blue didn’t know or especially care.
MAGENTA COMPROMISED. SWITCHING TO PLAN B. STAND BY
What the hell was plan B?
At that point the lights went down as the incessant heady drum beat picked up.
“Showtime.” Carlotti laughed, as the drumbeats resonated through every surface.
Three girls appeared on The Fiore’s stage. A brunette in emerald green, another in purple, and on the end closest to their table.
Oh dear God
Symphony Angel strutted on to the stage. Then stood poised, feet shoulder width apart, in the skimpiest bikini he had ever seen, scraps of shimmering amber fabric. It took all his will not to simply stare at her long exposed legs; they seemed to stretch up for ever up from impossibly high dainty stilettos. He managed to look up at her face, framed by ringlets piled up atop her head, and she smirked at him. Clearly revelling in this power she held, utterly unashamed.
Every guy in the room must have thought she was smiling for them, but he knew better.
“Oh, so that’s your type,” Carlotti said “she’s new, haven’t seen her here before, I’ll get her to come over after the set.”
“That’d be great,” Blue said on instinct, though he could barely speak at all.
Symphony raised her arms, allowing her pert breasts to rise, then began to flick her hips in time with the pounding beat. She turned her back to the audience, grasped the pole, and in fluid movement arched her back and wrapped her left leg around the pole.
“Yes, she is rather stunning.” Carlotti commented.
Blue knew how easy it would be for him to loose focus. Seeing her, his girlfriend for Christ sake, up on the stage gyrating like that; then he realised this must be ‘plan B’. Yeah trust Ochre to come with that. It was obvious though. Blue had snagged the transmitter almost half an hour before. The minute Carlotti left the floor they would notice it was missing, and he would need to be searched there so as to be eliminated as a suspect. So Blue would have to hand over the transmitter to Symphony.
Was anyone even looking at the other girls in the room? Blue wondered, as Symphony twirled and flexed. He knew that she was just doing her job, an experienced agent dealing with espionage; and yet, as she dipped back to reveal a flash of inner thigh he couldn’t help imaging running his hand along it, right up to the edge of her bikini briefs, then ... stop it!
Their eyes met across the smoky neon room, and she gave him a genuine smile; of understanding, reassurance, whatever it was it comforted him. And he was able to focus; his desire for her dulling to an ache rather than roaring throb he had experienced as she let down her hair.
~oo0oo~
The roar of applause brought him back, the song was over. He joined in with genuine enthusiasm, finding his hands clammy and hot. Symphony walked off stage, head held high, and for some reason he found himself relieved that she had only danced and not stripped.
“I think we could well have a new star here tonight,” Carlotti smirked “she will go far,”
Blue smiled, at the irony really. Indeed Symphony would go far, back to Cloudbase, once the op was over and the Chicago syndicate had lost several million in the process.
Carlotti beckoned her over, and Symphony approached. Blue marvelled at those heels again, wondering how she could walk in them. She seemed so much taller, with her hair loose and settled around her shoulders.
“You wanted to see me?” she purred in that sultry voice of her, with eyes only for Blue.
He tried desperately to compose himself. It was so obvious that he wanted her, and that they would be obliged to flirt, but he knew it couldn’t go further … at least not right then. The anticipation making his desire even sharper.
“Mr Svenson would like a dance,” Carlotti told her “you know what to do, treat him well, he is a big spender.”
“Is that so?” she said, eyes darkening a little as she gave a genuine smile.
“Yeah, sure” Blue replied
The music started up again, a tune he vaguely recognised; electronic beat coursing in time to the pulse of the strobe lighting.
“Then I will.” She stepped forward, for once towering over him.
“Play nicely.” Carlotti winked, then left them.
~oo0oo~
“You know the rules,” she said. More a statement than question.
For a moment he thought fraternisation, on base, how easily and flagrantly it was flouted. Then realised she meant regarding the dance; where he could and couldn’t touch.
He was going to have to touch her. He wanted to touch her.
“Yeah.” He said. Blue did know the rules; though he’d never really cared for strip clubs, with their gratuitous excess and anonymity.
“Good,” she pulled off her bikini top, straddling his lap. He really should have expected that, but hadn’t, it made his breath catch.
“Where did you learn to … to do this.” He whispered.
“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.” She smirked, hips swivelling to the beat.
“Try me”
“Nah, a girl’s gotta have some mystery about her.” She leant closer, so close he could feel the heat of her body through his clothes, licking her lip slightly, aware of his arousal “hmm I might, later, if you’re a good boy.”
“Did I ever mention you’re very handsome?”
“You’re just say that,” he teased “part of the contract.”
She turned, and for a moment he thought she was offended. Then she pushed apart his knees, slipping down between his legs, grinding with the rhythm and against his groin.
For Blue it almost became a determined effort even to simply breath, slow and sharp, as his every thought was consumed. He could think of nothing but her body and the way it moved before him. He reached out and ran his fingers along her spine, feeling her shiver beneath his touch. That was fine, by the rules.
Turning her back had allowed him a slight reprieve, part of his conscious mind was still on the job. He realised that he would have to wait until after the dance to give her the transmitter; as there would be too difficult for her to hide it before then. He just had to survive the dance.
She stood up, allowing him a great view of her barely concealed ass, turned on her heels to face him. He was in no doubt that she ached for him too, as much as he did for her. Symphony shimmed back up his body, allowing her breasts to brush against his thighs as she did so. She placed her hands on his shoulders. His hands gently cupped her ass. They moved together, unaware of the music, their movements echoing the familiar love making.
Symphony arched backwards, her breasts silhouetted against the neon lights of the club.
Blue bit his lip, until he began to taste blood.
He never wanted to dance to end, but knew it had to. The small functioning part of his brain dredged up the word; transmitter.
“Turn around,” he said
She did as instructed, sitting on his lap, back to him, and immediately he realised they had a problem.
Wearing only a skimpy pair of bikini bottoms didn’t allow for anywhere to hide the transmitter on her person … he flushed hot for even considering his first thought, which was at once completely inappropriate and yet obscenely erotic.
Instead Symphony found a solution, as he palmed her the transmitter. She allowing her hand to be briefly enfolded in his. Then put her hair up into a messy bun, slipping the transmitter in to hold the knot in place.
He rested his hands on her hips, allowed his thumbs to tail along her pelvic bone; dropped a kiss on the now exposed nape of her neck, making her gasp with unfeigned pleasure.
The music pounded to a crescendo, then stopped. It was over.
~oo0oo~
Blue stepped inside the disguised Spectrum surveillance van, slumping down in the passenger seat. Magenta and Symphony were in the back, talking animatedly together, on a high from ‘mission accomplished’.
“Hey Blue,” Ochre put down his over sized cup of coffee to go “how’d it go?”
Blue took a generous swig from the water bottle down by his feet, not caring who else had drunk from it, before speaking.
“Carlotti accepted the offer for forty nine thousand,” he smiled and considered dumping the water over his head, cold shower style “And as you know we have the transmitter”
“Awesome, great job!”
Blue had thought perhaps his colleague would question the odd sum of money, but what grateful not to need to explain. In admin terms the extra thousand could be written of as expenses; but of course Blue knew the truth.
~oo0oo~
After the dance Carlotti had approached, clapping slowly.
“Bravo, you shall do well here, bella.”
“Yeah, thanks” Symphony replied, dazed but still standing up. Blue wouldn’t have attempted to walk at that point.
Then he remembered his role, and felt he should provide a suitable conclusion. So reached into his pocket, the right, containing a small wallet which held the notes with which he would be bargaining later.
Blue pulled out a crisp thousand dollar bill, and tucked it into the strap of Symphony’s bikini bottoms.
“Buy yourself something pretty,” he said, casually letting his hand linger a little.
“Sure I will,” she smiled then left. He watched until she was out of sight.
~oo0oo~
“Did he search you?” Ochre asked, bringing Blue from his reverie.
“Uh yeah,” a certain guilt prickled in Blue, and he decided to replace the money with his own funds “but obviously never found anything.”
“Course not … I better update colonel then.”
Blue nodded, and stepped through to the back of the truck.
“… thought we’d have to scope him up and carrying him home in a bucket.”
He heard Magenta roar with laughter
“Damn and I missed it! … oh hey Ads.”
“Ochre said you’d been compromised.” Blue got to the point, unreasonably jealous that Symphony was bestowing attention of someone else, having a laugh at his expense.
“Oh there was just this guy, from the old days,” Magenta began “and he seemed to vaguely recognise me. It was all pretty brief, but as you can imagine it wouldn’t have been so great for me to stick around and them to figure out who I was, or rather am. Especially as Carlotti knows me.” Magenta shrugged “To be honest that was Ochre’s call … y’know, what with him being the psychotically paranoid old worry wart we know and tolerate.”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d got shot.” Ochre pointed out.
“Of course not, dear” Magenta rolled his eyes. “Anyway it all worked out for the best. You wouldn’t catch me doing that ‘plan B’, it aint that kinda club for a start. ”
Symphony giggled, then locked eyes with Blue. The feelings he’d had as she’d danced, only a recent memory, flared again. She gave him a coquettish smile, then turned back to Magenta.
“Pat,” she asked “would you mind riding up front.”
“Ah you’re kidding! I’ve just suffered through three hours of Rick in full blown ‘Ochre mode’; he’d drive a lesser man stark raving mad at times.”
“Well it’s not exactly a strawberry festival working with you either, Padraig.”
“Oh sure it is, you just can’t admit you love me really.”
Blue smiled. For months there had been a distinct degree of antagonism between Ochre and Magenta, the former cop and mobster respectively. Eventually this had evolved into a solid friendship and working partnership, but retained a surface level of mockery. Many people found it quite disconcerting; but the other captains had leant to roll with it.
“We’re heading out,” Ochre announced “twenty minutes to the airfield, then we’ll be back home in time for breakfast.”
“So, if you wouldn’t mind.” Blue prompted.
Magenta looked from her to Blue, back again, then enlightenment dawned on him “oh … right.”
He graciously offered Blue his seat “have fun kids, don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
“Well that hardly leaves a lot of options.” Ochre pointed out
“No less than anyone’d get from you.” Magenta retorted
~oo0oo~
“Only twenty minutes,” Symphony said slowly unbuttoning her coat “what a shame.”
“You’d be amazed what I can do in twenty minutes.” Blue whispered. Between the radio being on and their bickering Ochre and Magenta wouldn’t overhear.
“I was gonna get changed on the plane.” She said, by way of explanation for the fact she was still wearing the bikini.
“That sounds a good idea,” Blue leant close a kissed her. Savouring the feeling of her being close once again. “but I’ve got an even better one …”
Fandom: Captain Scarlet
Characters: Blue, Symphony, others mentioned
Prompt: 049. Club
Word Count: 2, 893
Rating: NC-17 … all the way ;)
Summary: Sometimes there is a very fine line between business and pleasure
Author's Notes: I guess this is set pre-series, or at least before Symphony cut her hair.
There are several references to Sue Stanhope’s ‘gangster trilogy’, and Anton Carlotti is borrowed from ‘Dead Ringer’ (by her & Chris Bishop).
Chicago, Illinois
“Is everything to your liking, Mr Svenson?”
“Yes, quite satisfactory” Captain Blue, in character, allowed a ghost of a smile and took a sip of martini.
He glanced around; casually taking in the stage, plush velvet booths, other patrons, scantily clad waitresses, all bathed in cool neon blue lighting and the aura of seediness no amount of money and exquisite taste could eradicate.
“I am glad,” Anton Carlotti slipped into the booth beside him “The Fiore is my pride and joy. They said it would never thrive, too expensive, men want to go somewhere cheap. ”
Blue nodded; though he knew Carlotti made enough running a crime syndicate for the earnings of his club not to truly matter. He had even managed to survive as WPCG Commander Fraser had swept through Chicago busting various lesser syndicates. Thrive even, as Carlotti simply swallowed up their assets as his own. His prowess had rivalled that of Patrick Donaghue’s, when he had headed up The Syndicate of New York.
“But you proved them wrong.” Blue noted
“Indeed I did,” Carlotti gave a short laugh, and drained the last of his whiskey on the rocks.
“You’re a shrewd business man.”
“Maybe so,” Carlotti shrugged “but we’ll talk business later. Don’t you worry, just relax. The girls are going to start another set soon.”
Blue took another sip, as Carlotti departed. He knew it was necessary for his cover to drink, but he was still in the job. So he managed to give the impression of drinking a lot whilst remaining relatively sober; it was a skill he’d perfected in the WAS, having discovered in Harvard he was a lousy drunk. The alcohol burnt down through his gullet, and the club seemed soften its focus. The blurring made things a little more bearable; but he still had a job to do.
He took a more generous swig, as if it would sober him up, rather than the orthodox opposite effect. Svenson was generally a controlled man, but obviously an op in these surrounding involved certain … distractions.
~oo0oo~
Cloudbase - three days previous
“You will be there to negotiate the shipment,” Colonel White had stated “draw out the discussion until you reach fifty thousand, that’s as much as we can allow for this operation.”
Blue nodded. When it came to covert operations and espionage he was possibly the most experience of the captains; and for once being born in the wealthy Svenson financier dynasty was going to work in his favour, by way of providing a cover of sorts.
“That should allow enough time for you to acquire the transmitter…” White continued, as an image of the transmitter in question, a simple grooved golden bar which looked rather like a fountain pen, was projected on to the plasma screen. “And transfer it to Captain Magenta.”
Blue gave his colleague a smile. Magenta was their resident electronics expert, and had been a key player in the criminal underworld himself, such insider knowledge was a great asset.
“I’m kinda looking forward this is,” Magenta grinned “It’ll be like old times, catching up with some old friends.”
Magenta had taken a particular interest in this operation, as it would involve bringing down his rival and usurper of The Syndicate. Despite having proved his loyalty a hundred times over in the previous months he still felt a need go that extra way to confirm he was on the level.
“You hung out with strippers?” Ochre asked, grin too mischievous for anyone to think that an innocent question.
“They prefer to be called ‘exotic dancers’,” Magenta smirked “but wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Gentlemen,” White gently scolded “any questions?”
“You’ll be there, before I arrive?” Blue asked.
“Sure, no problem.” Magenta smiled easily.
~oo0oo~
After an hour drinking with Carlotti, with no sign of Magenta, Blue felt concern start to prickle in him. They had been joined by one of the dancers. An oriental girl who couldn’t have been a day over nineteen, in a slip of red bikini. She was seated at Carlotti’s thigh, and he was too enthralled with her to notice Blue’s ‘excuse me’.
Blue took his spectrum communicator, which had been made to look like a standard if sophisticated cell phone, from his pocket. The buzzing vibration died down and his flicked it open. To reveal a text message from Ochre, who was outside, serving as field commander. Quite how he had wrangled that Blue didn’t know or especially care.
MAGENTA COMPROMISED. SWITCHING TO PLAN B. STAND BY
What the hell was plan B?
At that point the lights went down as the incessant heady drum beat picked up.
“Showtime.” Carlotti laughed, as the drumbeats resonated through every surface.
Three girls appeared on The Fiore’s stage. A brunette in emerald green, another in purple, and on the end closest to their table.
Oh dear God
Symphony Angel strutted on to the stage. Then stood poised, feet shoulder width apart, in the skimpiest bikini he had ever seen, scraps of shimmering amber fabric. It took all his will not to simply stare at her long exposed legs; they seemed to stretch up for ever up from impossibly high dainty stilettos. He managed to look up at her face, framed by ringlets piled up atop her head, and she smirked at him. Clearly revelling in this power she held, utterly unashamed.
Every guy in the room must have thought she was smiling for them, but he knew better.
“Oh, so that’s your type,” Carlotti said “she’s new, haven’t seen her here before, I’ll get her to come over after the set.”
“That’d be great,” Blue said on instinct, though he could barely speak at all.
Symphony raised her arms, allowing her pert breasts to rise, then began to flick her hips in time with the pounding beat. She turned her back to the audience, grasped the pole, and in fluid movement arched her back and wrapped her left leg around the pole.
“Yes, she is rather stunning.” Carlotti commented.
Blue knew how easy it would be for him to loose focus. Seeing her, his girlfriend for Christ sake, up on the stage gyrating like that; then he realised this must be ‘plan B’. Yeah trust Ochre to come with that. It was obvious though. Blue had snagged the transmitter almost half an hour before. The minute Carlotti left the floor they would notice it was missing, and he would need to be searched there so as to be eliminated as a suspect. So Blue would have to hand over the transmitter to Symphony.
Was anyone even looking at the other girls in the room? Blue wondered, as Symphony twirled and flexed. He knew that she was just doing her job, an experienced agent dealing with espionage; and yet, as she dipped back to reveal a flash of inner thigh he couldn’t help imaging running his hand along it, right up to the edge of her bikini briefs, then ... stop it!
Their eyes met across the smoky neon room, and she gave him a genuine smile; of understanding, reassurance, whatever it was it comforted him. And he was able to focus; his desire for her dulling to an ache rather than roaring throb he had experienced as she let down her hair.
~oo0oo~
The roar of applause brought him back, the song was over. He joined in with genuine enthusiasm, finding his hands clammy and hot. Symphony walked off stage, head held high, and for some reason he found himself relieved that she had only danced and not stripped.
“I think we could well have a new star here tonight,” Carlotti smirked “she will go far,”
Blue smiled, at the irony really. Indeed Symphony would go far, back to Cloudbase, once the op was over and the Chicago syndicate had lost several million in the process.
Carlotti beckoned her over, and Symphony approached. Blue marvelled at those heels again, wondering how she could walk in them. She seemed so much taller, with her hair loose and settled around her shoulders.
“You wanted to see me?” she purred in that sultry voice of her, with eyes only for Blue.
He tried desperately to compose himself. It was so obvious that he wanted her, and that they would be obliged to flirt, but he knew it couldn’t go further … at least not right then. The anticipation making his desire even sharper.
“Mr Svenson would like a dance,” Carlotti told her “you know what to do, treat him well, he is a big spender.”
“Is that so?” she said, eyes darkening a little as she gave a genuine smile.
“Yeah, sure” Blue replied
The music started up again, a tune he vaguely recognised; electronic beat coursing in time to the pulse of the strobe lighting.
“Then I will.” She stepped forward, for once towering over him.
“Play nicely.” Carlotti winked, then left them.
~oo0oo~
“You know the rules,” she said. More a statement than question.
For a moment he thought fraternisation, on base, how easily and flagrantly it was flouted. Then realised she meant regarding the dance; where he could and couldn’t touch.
He was going to have to touch her. He wanted to touch her.
“Yeah.” He said. Blue did know the rules; though he’d never really cared for strip clubs, with their gratuitous excess and anonymity.
“Good,” she pulled off her bikini top, straddling his lap. He really should have expected that, but hadn’t, it made his breath catch.
“Where did you learn to … to do this.” He whispered.
“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.” She smirked, hips swivelling to the beat.
“Try me”
“Nah, a girl’s gotta have some mystery about her.” She leant closer, so close he could feel the heat of her body through his clothes, licking her lip slightly, aware of his arousal “hmm I might, later, if you’re a good boy.”
“Did I ever mention you’re very handsome?”
“You’re just say that,” he teased “part of the contract.”
She turned, and for a moment he thought she was offended. Then she pushed apart his knees, slipping down between his legs, grinding with the rhythm and against his groin.
For Blue it almost became a determined effort even to simply breath, slow and sharp, as his every thought was consumed. He could think of nothing but her body and the way it moved before him. He reached out and ran his fingers along her spine, feeling her shiver beneath his touch. That was fine, by the rules.
Turning her back had allowed him a slight reprieve, part of his conscious mind was still on the job. He realised that he would have to wait until after the dance to give her the transmitter; as there would be too difficult for her to hide it before then. He just had to survive the dance.
She stood up, allowing him a great view of her barely concealed ass, turned on her heels to face him. He was in no doubt that she ached for him too, as much as he did for her. Symphony shimmed back up his body, allowing her breasts to brush against his thighs as she did so. She placed her hands on his shoulders. His hands gently cupped her ass. They moved together, unaware of the music, their movements echoing the familiar love making.
Symphony arched backwards, her breasts silhouetted against the neon lights of the club.
Blue bit his lip, until he began to taste blood.
He never wanted to dance to end, but knew it had to. The small functioning part of his brain dredged up the word; transmitter.
“Turn around,” he said
She did as instructed, sitting on his lap, back to him, and immediately he realised they had a problem.
Wearing only a skimpy pair of bikini bottoms didn’t allow for anywhere to hide the transmitter on her person … he flushed hot for even considering his first thought, which was at once completely inappropriate and yet obscenely erotic.
Instead Symphony found a solution, as he palmed her the transmitter. She allowing her hand to be briefly enfolded in his. Then put her hair up into a messy bun, slipping the transmitter in to hold the knot in place.
He rested his hands on her hips, allowed his thumbs to tail along her pelvic bone; dropped a kiss on the now exposed nape of her neck, making her gasp with unfeigned pleasure.
The music pounded to a crescendo, then stopped. It was over.
~oo0oo~
Blue stepped inside the disguised Spectrum surveillance van, slumping down in the passenger seat. Magenta and Symphony were in the back, talking animatedly together, on a high from ‘mission accomplished’.
“Hey Blue,” Ochre put down his over sized cup of coffee to go “how’d it go?”
Blue took a generous swig from the water bottle down by his feet, not caring who else had drunk from it, before speaking.
“Carlotti accepted the offer for forty nine thousand,” he smiled and considered dumping the water over his head, cold shower style “And as you know we have the transmitter”
“Awesome, great job!”
Blue had thought perhaps his colleague would question the odd sum of money, but what grateful not to need to explain. In admin terms the extra thousand could be written of as expenses; but of course Blue knew the truth.
~oo0oo~
After the dance Carlotti had approached, clapping slowly.
“Bravo, you shall do well here, bella.”
“Yeah, thanks” Symphony replied, dazed but still standing up. Blue wouldn’t have attempted to walk at that point.
Then he remembered his role, and felt he should provide a suitable conclusion. So reached into his pocket, the right, containing a small wallet which held the notes with which he would be bargaining later.
Blue pulled out a crisp thousand dollar bill, and tucked it into the strap of Symphony’s bikini bottoms.
“Buy yourself something pretty,” he said, casually letting his hand linger a little.
“Sure I will,” she smiled then left. He watched until she was out of sight.
~oo0oo~
“Did he search you?” Ochre asked, bringing Blue from his reverie.
“Uh yeah,” a certain guilt prickled in Blue, and he decided to replace the money with his own funds “but obviously never found anything.”
“Course not … I better update colonel then.”
Blue nodded, and stepped through to the back of the truck.
“… thought we’d have to scope him up and carrying him home in a bucket.”
He heard Magenta roar with laughter
“Damn and I missed it! … oh hey Ads.”
“Ochre said you’d been compromised.” Blue got to the point, unreasonably jealous that Symphony was bestowing attention of someone else, having a laugh at his expense.
“Oh there was just this guy, from the old days,” Magenta began “and he seemed to vaguely recognise me. It was all pretty brief, but as you can imagine it wouldn’t have been so great for me to stick around and them to figure out who I was, or rather am. Especially as Carlotti knows me.” Magenta shrugged “To be honest that was Ochre’s call … y’know, what with him being the psychotically paranoid old worry wart we know and tolerate.”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d got shot.” Ochre pointed out.
“Of course not, dear” Magenta rolled his eyes. “Anyway it all worked out for the best. You wouldn’t catch me doing that ‘plan B’, it aint that kinda club for a start. ”
Symphony giggled, then locked eyes with Blue. The feelings he’d had as she’d danced, only a recent memory, flared again. She gave him a coquettish smile, then turned back to Magenta.
“Pat,” she asked “would you mind riding up front.”
“Ah you’re kidding! I’ve just suffered through three hours of Rick in full blown ‘Ochre mode’; he’d drive a lesser man stark raving mad at times.”
“Well it’s not exactly a strawberry festival working with you either, Padraig.”
“Oh sure it is, you just can’t admit you love me really.”
Blue smiled. For months there had been a distinct degree of antagonism between Ochre and Magenta, the former cop and mobster respectively. Eventually this had evolved into a solid friendship and working partnership, but retained a surface level of mockery. Many people found it quite disconcerting; but the other captains had leant to roll with it.
“We’re heading out,” Ochre announced “twenty minutes to the airfield, then we’ll be back home in time for breakfast.”
“So, if you wouldn’t mind.” Blue prompted.
Magenta looked from her to Blue, back again, then enlightenment dawned on him “oh … right.”
He graciously offered Blue his seat “have fun kids, don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
“Well that hardly leaves a lot of options.” Ochre pointed out
“No less than anyone’d get from you.” Magenta retorted
~oo0oo~
“Only twenty minutes,” Symphony said slowly unbuttoning her coat “what a shame.”
“You’d be amazed what I can do in twenty minutes.” Blue whispered. Between the radio being on and their bickering Ochre and Magenta wouldn’t overhear.
“I was gonna get changed on the plane.” She said, by way of explanation for the fact she was still wearing the bikini.
“That sounds a good idea,” Blue leant close a kissed her. Savouring the feeling of her being close once again. “but I’ve got an even better one …”