Spy Games

Chapter 5

Mrs. Bancroft continued to hire a different maid every month.

Huan followed Gertrude. Mrs. B said she chose a girl from Hong Kong so I could practice my Mandarin. But when I first laid eyes on the five foot nothing, eighty-five-pound college student I knew my mentor had a sense of humor. She was at least two hundred pounds lighter than her predecessor and had the smallest Ass and boobs on any girl I’ve ever been intimate with.

Although Huan spoke perfectly acceptable English, the ground rules for this challenge were that I had to seduce her in Chinese. Which turned out to be a no brainer. An eighteen-year-old girl, away from home for the first time, craved to converse with somebody in her native tongue. My tongue craved to explore the cutest little Pussy a man could legally lick. I got her to scream “Oh Buddha, I’m coming” with her balanced backwards on my shoulders, and she was so light I could remain standing, drop her tight miniature snatch down to cock level and exercise my arms while exorcising her virginity… nightly… for an entire month.

Irene, who followed Huan, might have been the oddest and easiest of them all. She had a congenital birth defect in which her clitoris and tonsils swapped positions. The girl could give herself an Orgasm by gargling. We spent the great majority of our time together with my cock down her throat. While I found my month with Irene extremely enjoyable, it wasn’t the most productive use of my time. I certainly didn’t need that much practice receiving blow jobs.

Mrs. B always scheduled a week off between the different maids. If one girl left on a Sunday, the next didn’t show up until the following Saturday. She used this down time to personally fine tune my skills and make sure I hadn’t picked up any bad habits.

Irene left shortly after my one-year anniversary as Mrs. B’s ward. By this time, my continued success in quickly and efficiently wooing every woman she brought into the house changed our now infrequent lessons together. Since I already knew how to conquer and then pleasure a woman, my next goal was extracting information from her.

That particular night, we were working on my stamina.

“The longer you can keep a woman talking while simultaneously on the edge of Orgasm, the more likely she will divulge something she normally wouldn’t,” Mrs. B told me as I prepared to mount her from behind.

“Quite often the first time you make Love to a woman will be a frantic, tear your clothes off, drop to the floor and rush towards climax situation. But, if you have the time to develop the relationship, you may come to the point where a friendly fuck is appropriate.”

“A friendly fuck?”

“Imagine two good friends having a casual conversation while intimately enjoying each other’s bodies.”

“Like we’re doing now?” I asked as I gently slid several of my inches into her slippery slit.

“Oh, my goodness yes. Exactly like that. But take it slow. I want this to last at least an hour. Now what should we talk about?”

“Tell me about our next maid.”

“An excellent subject. Her name is Jasmine, and her situation will be slightly different than the others.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Well, at thirty-two, she will be the oldest lady I’ve employed and the first one hired based solely on her profession. She is a sommelier.

“Isn’t that the guy who wears a striped shirt and rows a boat in Venice?” I asked.

“No, my naïve young prince, that would be a gondolier. A sommelier is a well-educated wine steward. A person who has spent years studying which wines pair well with different meals.”

“She’s going to teach me about wine?”

“As much as she can in a month. We only have her until she finds a permanent place to live. And I’m afraid you and I will have to do the cooking and cleaning. Your lessons are her rent.”

“Does that mean I don’t have to seduce her?”

“You don’t have to, but I hope you will. I’m sure there are many things she can teach you besides how to intelligently order a glass of Merlot.”

While my cock spent the next hour slowly bringing Mrs. B to a boil, I held off my own eruption by wondering what it was a wine steward could teach me besides how to order a bottle of cabernet.

***

There was a lot more to being a spy than learning how to separate a woman from her inhibitions and deep held secrets. While Mrs. B changed maids every month to ensure I was continually challenged in the bedroom, she was also keen on giving me the skills to perform as a basic field agent. In that respect, I rotated through the more traditional internships every three or four months. When the resident Company expert on surveillance techniques was convinced I could follow somebody without being noticed, Mrs. B signed me up for parachuting lessons… giving me strict instructions to not kill myself.

I bring this up because the entire southeast of England is usually socked in with fog in the morning. Which meant that I jumped out of perfectly good airplanes in the early afternoon… which meant I got to sleep late in the mornings… which was extremely convenient since Jasmine worked in a high-end restaurant that stayed open until midnight.

Mrs. B worked out an arrangement with Jasmine’s employer. If she promised we would eat there at least twice a week, they would let me dress up as a wine steward and shadow Jasmine after we finished our meals.

Even though Jasmine was a good-looking woman with a slim, enticing figure, I wasn’t looking forward to following her around like an obedient poodle while she talked well-heeled customers into buying expensive bottles of wine. How hard could it be? White wine with poultry and fish, Red with steak and pasta. Offer them the £200 bottle and be satisfied if they chose a £15 glass.

And then I got to see Jasmine in action.

Our first table was a forty something gentleman in a business suit seated with a pretty redhead at least fifteen years his junior. Her low-cut cocktail dress proved that the freckles, possessed by many girls with her coloring, covered not only her face and arms, but also the entirety of her chest and ample bosom.

The waitress had just taken their dinner order, showed it to Jasmine and continued to the kitchen. That was our cue.

“Before we approach,” Jasmine said to me, “it’s important to know who we are serving.”

“We need to know their names?”

“Yes, that’s a start. Their reservation is in the name of a Mr. David Knight; made by his secretary. According to the waitress, his companion’s name is Emma. We don’t know their relationship to each other, but we can make a few assumptions.

“You notice that they are sitting adjacent to each other and not on opposite sides of the table. That suggests this is a social meal and not a business dinner.

“He is well dressed for a day at the office and seems comfortable in his suit. She, on the other hand, did not wear that low cut dress to the office and, from the way she keeps fidgeting with her strap, Emma is not used to being in such a formal environment. Also, judging from the style, the dress is a least five years old and maybe more. Good chance she doesn’t have the income to keep up with the latest fashion.

“Neither of them is wearing a wedding ring. He is too young to be her father and, while she could be his niece, I’m leaning towards mistress or girlfriend. I haven’t seen any physical contact yet. They weren’t holding hands when they walked in and haven’t touched since we’ve been observing them, so this could be their first date.

“Considering that the lowest priced entrée on the menu is £70, I’d bet he is a successful executive experiencing a midlife crisis. He’s either just recently divorced or experimenting with his first extramarital affair.”

“And the lady?” I asked.

“Emma’s a good-looking girl who, although out of her element, is willing to use her beauty to climb a couple rungs up the economic ladder. She may be looking for a rich husband or just an introduction into his social circle. Either way, although she is more interested in his what’s in his wallet than in his briefs, she’s smart enough to know that the path to the former is through the latter.”

“You got all that without talking to them?” I asked.

“Maybe. Or I might be full of shit. Let’s go find out.”

Jasmine handed me a tray which held six small glasses of wine — three red and three white — and led me to the couple in question. My job was to carry the tray and keep my mouth shut.

“Good evening Mr. Knight. My name is Jasmine, your sommelier, and the handsome young man behind me is my promising assistant. Our job is to assist you in your wine selection and do anything else we can to make your evening memorable.

“I see that the lady has chosen the always popular coconut shrimp as an appetizer and our delectable chicken marsala for her entre. Those are two of my favorites but don’t take my word for it. Just last week, Princess Joana of Lichtenstein ordered the exact same combination and raved about it.”

With those words, the nervous girl in the ill-fitting cocktail dress immediately turned into a lady who was accustomed to being the center of high society attention. She raised her chin, straightened her back and, in doing so, gave those fortunate enough to pass by a grand view of her freckle covered breasts.

“So, let’s pick the perfect wine to compliment your excellent choice.”

That was my cue. Prior to this I was stationed several feet behind Jasmine. Now it was time to stand next to her with the wine laden tray turned so the three glasses of white wine were easily accessible.

“My first recommendation is a humble but popular Riesling grown where the Mosel and Rhine rivers intersect to join their fertile waters. It is a delicate wine with an endearing sweetness that many find alluring.”

Jasmine handed Emma the miniature glass and waited as she took a sip.

“Very nice,” Emma said, “but maybe just a bit too sweet for my tastes.”

“Yes, I thought that might be the case. May I suggest something slightly more sophisticated? This Chateau Barnyarde harkens from the mountains of Auvergne. It has been known to tastefully tease the palate on the way down with a remarkably delightful ending.”

A smile spread across Emma’s lips as she tasted the second glass. “Yes, that is much more to my liking.”

“Excellent. We’re headed in the right direction. But before your final decision, I have one additional selection that may satisfy you. This last wine is an incestuous mixture of several grapes from one of France’s premier vineyards. You might find it somewhat pretentious at first sip, but trust me, once you’ve had a glass, you’ll be tempted to take the bottle home and enjoy it in the privacy of your bedroom.”

I don’t know if it was the wine or Jasmine’s description but, after her first sip, Emma’s face flushed, and her nipples visibly hardened under her dress.

“Oh yes,” she gushed. “This is definitely the wine for me.”

Having pleased the woman, Jasmine turned to her date.

“Mr. Knight, I believe you are starting with oysters on the half shell and will enjoy a steak cooked rare for your main course. I must commend you on such a virile choice. Not many men appreciate the raw pleasures of such a feast. Unless I’ve misjudged you, I think you would appreciate a bold red to match both your meal and your lifestyle.”

I was trying so hard to not stare at Emma’s tits, I nearly forgot my role… which was to rotate the tray, so the three glasses of red were readily available, and stand still, like I was nothing more than an autonomous side table.

“This first selection is an honest, trustworthy Bordeaux. It is nearly transparent in both appearance and taste. Despite its dark color, if you hold it up to the light of day, you can see right through it. This wine keeps no secrets, there are no hidden ingredients… what you see is what you get.”

Knight picked up the sample glass, sniffed it with his rather large nose and took a swallow.

“Not quite my style,” he said, putting the glass aside. “What else do you have to offer.”

Taking the second sample of red from my tray, Jasmine continued.

“I recommend this wine as an appetite enhancer. It is from the Italian region of Umbria and has been known to increase a man’s desire. I’ve heard it said that each sip makes a man ravenous for more. Even for those who don’t normally eat a hearty meal, a glass of this Merlot makes you crave every delectable morsel set out in front of you.”

The man did the sniff and taste thing again.

“I’ll agree that it’s a tasty wine,” he said, “but I’ve never had a problem building up an appetite at the dinner table… or elsewhere for that matter. Let’s see what’s behind door number three.”

Jasmine gingerly took the last glass from my tray. Unlike the other five, this sample was served in a cut crystal shot glass. Before placing it in front of Mr. Knight, she took a glance around the room, as if making sure nobody else was watching, then she carefully placed the glass in front of the man.

“This particular wine is normally sequestered in our members only reserve,” she said in a conspiratory whisper. “Even though it may resemble a Cab Sav, we in the business refer to it as a predatory wine. It springs from a hidden vineyard in the Transylvanian foothills. Deep roots penetrate an unforgiving mantle and ravage the fertile soil beneath to take whatever they need to thrive. The result is a powerful, almost sinful taste which, according to legend, rivals that of the freshly drawn blood of a virgin. I must warn you Mr. Knight, this may be the most addictive vintage in all of London. Once you experience it, you will never settle for anything less.”

Knight lifted the glass with reverence, breathed in its aroma and then tipped it to his lips. This time he didn’t gulp down the contents. He took a sip and let it swirl in his mouth before swallowing.

“Now that my dear, is a powerful glass of wine,” he said. “I’ll have a bottle… and bring a bottle of the preferred white for the lady as well.”

“Very good sir. We will make it so.” Jasmine returned the sample glasses to my tray, and we withdrew.

“Holy crap,” I said when we got to a lonely corner of the bar. “I didn’t know wine was so complicated. How the hell am I going to learn all that in a month?”

“You’re not. And you don’t have to. All you really need to know about wine is what you like, and we can figure that out in a couple of weeks.”

“But what about pairing the wine with the food?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Sure.” If she only knew.

“I don’t pair wine with food. I pair wine with people.”

“If that’s the case, why did you need to know what Knight and his date ordered?”

“I didn’t.”

“So why did you make such a big deal over her chicken and his steak?”

“They expected it. They wanted the show. When you spend more on a meal than most people’s monthly rent, you expect results?”

“Results? From an overpriced dinner and bottle of wine?”

“Of course. If all they wanted was to fill their bellies, they would have called out for pizza. The people who come to a high-end place like this do it with a goal in mind. A businessman trying to seal a deal. A lobbyist buying a politician’s vote. A lad proposing to his girlfriend. Or, in this case, a man wanting to get laid.”

“And you think drinking the right wine will help Knight get into Emma’s knickers?”

“When we’re done with them, I can almost guarantee it.”

“We’re going back to their table?”

“Someone has to open the bottles and pour their wine.”

Sure enough, not two minutes later I’m following Jasmine’s exquisite Ass back to Mr. Knight’s table, carrying a tray with two wine glasses, two bottles of wine, a bottle opener and what appears to be a cup of ice cream.

Jasmine makes a big deal of showing both Knight and Emma the bottle of white wine. She opens it in front of them, lets them inspect the cork and then pours a small amount into Emma’s glass. But, instead of placing it in front of the customer, she puts the glass back on my tray. Then she goes through the same routine with Knight’s super expensive bottle of red wine. After this ridiculous ritual is complete, I’m holding two opened bottles of wine, two partially filled glasses and wondering why she won’t give them their wine and what the hell the ice cream is for.

Knight looked like he was thinking the same as I and raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

“Bear with me for just another minute,” Jasmine said, “and I’ll let you continue your evening.

“I am convinced that your wine choices are a perfect match for your selected meals, but since you will be drinking completely different vintages tonight, I must ensure the two blend well with each other. This works best if you slide your chairs closer together.”

The couple looked as confused as me but were soon sitting thigh to thigh. Once positioned to her liking, Jasmine took the glass of white from my tray, handed it to the lady and said…

“Don’t sip it yet. Place the glass up to your mouth and barely dampen your lips with the wine.”

Emma complied.

“Now sir,” Jasmine said to Knight. “Press your lips against hers.”

Which he hesitantly did.

“I know you’re not a fan of white wine, but does the taste on her lips please you? Will you be able to spend the evening with lips such as those?”

Knight smiled for the first time. “I look forward to it.”

Next, Jasmine placed what I thought was a cup of ice cream between them and handed each a tiny spoon.

“Take a small bite of this sherbet to cleanse your lips before we continue.”

Knight immediately took a bite and swallowed while Emma, getting into the act, used the spoon to rub a thin layer of sherbet onto her lips and then seductively licked them clean.

“Excellent. Now we must repeat the process to ensure the lady is not offended by the gentleman’s choice of beverage.”

Jasmine handed the glass of red wine to Knight who both wetted and whetted his lips. The subsequent kiss was significantly longer than their first.

“Yes,” Emma said when asked. “I can definitely get used to kissing those lips.”

After a repeat of the cleansing exercise, she instructed them to both take a healthy sip of their selected wines.

“Don’t swallow, not yet. Let the wine explore your palate. Swirl it around to infuse your tongue. Only when you are completely comfortable with your selection should you slowly let it slip down your throat.”

Both of them rolled their heads in an exaggerated motion as they let the wine coat the insides of their mouths. Knight gulped his down first, followed by Emma, who transformed the simple act of swallowing into an overt act of seduction.

“Now my friends,” Jasmine said, “it is time to for the two wines to meet. Press your lips together, open your mouths, let your tongues dance as they explore the wine infused palate of your companion. This is the only way to ensure you have made the correct choices for the evening.”

Knight and Emma were still making out like long lost lovers on a moonlit beach when Jasmine led me back to the bar.

***

I thoroughly enjoyed observing Jasmine’s wine powered version of match making for the rest of that first evening and several more thereafter. In the process, I even learned a little bit about wine. But, after two weeks of watching couples leave the restaurant so turned on that they probably made it during the taxi ride home, my nineteen-year-old hormones started reminded me that I was doing without.

Even though I shared a flat with two extremely Hot women. Mrs. B refused to let me in her bedroom, or even her blouse, when the guest room was occupied… and Jasmine ignored every verbal and non-verbal “come hither” signal I sent her way. Sure, I could have popped down to the pub and, with my skill set, be in arms of a naked woman before I finished my first pint. And I considered doing just that when it occurred to me that I was more concerned about not being able to woo Jasmine than going through another fortnight without spreading my seed.