MANICHAEAN
02-21-2014, 04:24 AM
James Bond. The Honey Trap.
The Monaco Casino was full that evening, and at the main table sat a tall, green-eyed blonde, long hair swept back from Slavonic features and viewed appreciatively by the Englishman seated opposite.
"You are so kind sir, to offer to cover my bet. I regret the inconvenience. May I ask your name?"
"Bond."
"James Bond," he said softly, exhaling cigarette smoke through nostrils, (not flared as such), but more akin the triangular ends of a Mercedes twin exhausts. Small hairs quivered at the edges from unknown depths, like thin black ribbons attached to a fan.
"And your name?" he asked.
"Elena Nikitishna Augustina Christianovna," she replied.
Bond laughed with head full back. Pulsating twin pillars of tonsil cartilage were exposed for her viewing, set against the crimson backdrop of his throat.
"That's a mouthful" he said reverting to a smile.
"Not as much as I've just observed!" she noted to herself.
He knew it was a honey trap, but had been in this situation before. It was then not quite destiny that resulted in her coming up to his room for a night-cap. They were both a little drunk from the champagne, but in that perceptive way acknowledged the fact.
Emerging from the bathroom and divesting himself of his fluffy robe, he stood naked
before her. The training at Moscow Centre kicked in and she critically observed an inverted truncated umbilical cord of a belly button that would have done credit to a navy bosuns half hitch, set in an aperture the size of a silver dollar. Of his other physical attributes of some note was a manhood constantly seeking magnetic north.
He was an unorthodox, (one might almost say) an "esoteric" lover, as he attempted to undress her, first with his teeth, failing which he reverted to Plan B and tried to use his feet. There was however, a lack of dexterity and finesse in these manoeuvres, due to the size of his big toes that proved incapable of prising off even her shoes, let alone unfastening her bra or removing her unmentionables.
"All that hard training for gymnastics in Mother Russia," she thought.
"All that devotion to hone my body to perfection and I get this!"
By now he was getting cramp in his right lower leg, which he attempted to relieve by stretching it out straight.
"Help, help," he screamed.
Swiftly biting down on his ear lobe and inserting a finger into his groin, she distracted him enough to get his circulation going and the pain from the cramp relieved.
"Oh Elena Nikitishna Augustina Christianovna, how can I ever repay you?" he gasped.
"Well Mr Bond, come to think of it, there is something you might be able to help me with."
The Monaco Casino was full that evening, and at the main table sat a tall, green-eyed blonde, long hair swept back from Slavonic features and viewed appreciatively by the Englishman seated opposite.
"You are so kind sir, to offer to cover my bet. I regret the inconvenience. May I ask your name?"
"Bond."
"James Bond," he said softly, exhaling cigarette smoke through nostrils, (not flared as such), but more akin the triangular ends of a Mercedes twin exhausts. Small hairs quivered at the edges from unknown depths, like thin black ribbons attached to a fan.
"And your name?" he asked.
"Elena Nikitishna Augustina Christianovna," she replied.
Bond laughed with head full back. Pulsating twin pillars of tonsil cartilage were exposed for her viewing, set against the crimson backdrop of his throat.
"That's a mouthful" he said reverting to a smile.
"Not as much as I've just observed!" she noted to herself.
He knew it was a honey trap, but had been in this situation before. It was then not quite destiny that resulted in her coming up to his room for a night-cap. They were both a little drunk from the champagne, but in that perceptive way acknowledged the fact.
Emerging from the bathroom and divesting himself of his fluffy robe, he stood naked
before her. The training at Moscow Centre kicked in and she critically observed an inverted truncated umbilical cord of a belly button that would have done credit to a navy bosuns half hitch, set in an aperture the size of a silver dollar. Of his other physical attributes of some note was a manhood constantly seeking magnetic north.
He was an unorthodox, (one might almost say) an "esoteric" lover, as he attempted to undress her, first with his teeth, failing which he reverted to Plan B and tried to use his feet. There was however, a lack of dexterity and finesse in these manoeuvres, due to the size of his big toes that proved incapable of prising off even her shoes, let alone unfastening her bra or removing her unmentionables.
"All that hard training for gymnastics in Mother Russia," she thought.
"All that devotion to hone my body to perfection and I get this!"
By now he was getting cramp in his right lower leg, which he attempted to relieve by stretching it out straight.
"Help, help," he screamed.
Swiftly biting down on his ear lobe and inserting a finger into his groin, she distracted him enough to get his circulation going and the pain from the cramp relieved.
"Oh Elena Nikitishna Augustina Christianovna, how can I ever repay you?" he gasped.
"Well Mr Bond, come to think of it, there is something you might be able to help me with."