Ready for the best sexy, kinky, campy spy story being written? Here is Chapter 1

Writing a sexy, kinky spy story is what I do to keep the voices in my head busy. Just kidding, I think. Life has been its usual process of things coming at you from left field, blindsiding you when you least expect and jumping out from around a corner at you when you were having a perfectly fine day otherwise. And while all that is going on, we continue developing and becoming more of who we are (or more of who we let ourselves become).

I have returned to writing but this time, it’s serious. I am serious. I have a plan. An idea. No other form of therapy available that is working. Enough free time on my hands that thinking up ways for life to become even MORE complicated makes no sense unless I am doing all those mental gymnastics for a good story involving someone ELSE’S life. Most important and critical here is that I finally got my hands on the right tools to get the job done. I purchased an amazing writer’s software called Plottr and it is the definition of a game changer for me and… well, here we are with one murder mystery novella outlined (and writing a murder mystery is like trying to learn calculus in mental pain. You are making the puzzle, not solving one) and while I am working on that, i am at least half of ACT 1 and 15 chapters into a very silly, sexy, campy spy story that will have LOTS of fun and kinky sex scenes with each and every villainess I can dream up. Oh the things we are going to do to you… LOL

Below is the opening scene of the spy novel. The names aren’t the actual character names (maybe? I am using them as placeholders but I kinda like the names so I may keep them) and some of the chapters are written out of order. I won’t post all of them here but I will occasionally post a fun section for your entertainment. Your feedback as an audience is always appreciated. Let’s begin!

Chapter 1 – If you see teeth on a shark, it isn’t a smile you are looking at.

He could feel his asshole pucker tight like a man spending his first night in prison with a cellmate named Happy. He glanced at the other players around the poker table trying to read their faces and body language. He knew that fatigue had to be setting in by now and he was looking for any clues about what they might be holding in their hands. He had to win this game or he would go back to HQ as a failure before he even started his career as an agent. It was his first assignment and all he had to do was get the mark to interact with him and he would use his charm would carry him the rest of the way. No one told him that he would have to play a high stakes card game with her.

And they definitely tell him that she was as sharp as she was stunning. She reminded him of a switchblade. Petite, graceful, beautiful to look at and hiding the ability to become a silent force of death and dismemberment with one simple trigger to release it. No one told him any of these things. And it didn’t escape him that the situation remained the fault of his sporting nature and absolute confidence in his svengali effect on women that prevented him from asking.

If she didn’t kill him, the humiliation back at HQ for failing his first mission, and bombing his career coming out of the gate, would. “I am an idiot” he thought to himself as he closed his eyes for a moment and considered his potential future career prospects. Personal fitness training or multi-level marketing of women’s beauty products seemed like realistic possibilities under the circumstances. He opened his eyes and searched for the drink server. He ordered a bottle of water when he really wanted a whiskey neat. Poker was not his strongest game and he couldn’t afford avoidable mistakes. His professional status hanging over his head like Damocles sword was handicapping enough.

He was uncomfortable. Sitting here for too long with this much internal tension was taking its toll. He clenched his foot and released it to try and chase a nasty cramp away before it started. There were only three of them left at the table now. The man sitting to his right looked young and old at the same time. His t-shirt and jeans made him look young but when you were up close, you couldn’t avoid seeing the the lines beginning to etch into his face. Laugh lines cut deep into the corner of his eyes where his sun exposed skin would turn from a tan into leather in a few years. He had hands like croquet mallets with scars and thickened skin from old abrasions around the knuckles. His fingers that were meaty and thick like a brick layer would have but the fingernails were unexpectedly smooth and manicured. Cocksure puzzled about the contradictions of his hands and what it revealed about him. Whatever this man did for a living required the powerful use of those brick layer hands but it wasn’t rough equipment or crude work from the nearly perfect condition of his fingernails. This was clearly someone who did his best work hands on, in person and probably with a determined silence. He cleared his throat and turned his cards face down on the table, waiting. He reminded Cocksure of Captain Ballsack back at HQ. That wasn’t his name but it was what everyone called him when he couldn’t hear them. They had the same level of crude, hardened, domineering personality that radiated out from them like the aggressiveness of a wild boar would dominate an open clearing in the jungle. Unlike Captain Ballsack though, this guy just looked hardened, and mostly desperate.

Cocksure let his gaze follow the other man’s to the woman between them, his target, Shark Week. He was ready for anything but cute. Sexy, hot, femme fatale, or girl next door, or slutty or dangerous? He could have kept his cool and maintained his focus with any of them. But fluffy bunny cute with a professional name of “shark week?” and looking like HER? No one warned him and he wondered what they could have said if he had even asked. Trying to decide if he wanted to date her or restrain her for his own safety kept interrupting his better card playing strategies.

Her strawberry blonde hair was fine and straight, and fell on both sides of her face like opened, velvet curtains for a dramatic stage presentation. She was a fair skinned Kazakh with naturally strawberry blonde hair.  Whatever it was, since she was the prize, this ensured Cocksure was even more determined to get his target.  He had never been with a Kazakh woman before and was looking forward to adding this one to his collection of exotic women.

Shark Week reached forward to scoop her winnings to her, and for the first time that evening, she smiled broadly and set him back on his heels with surprise. Her smile exposed a front, gold capped tooth that was engraved like an ace of diamonds and encrusted with a tiny diamond. The diamond encrusted gold cap caught and reflected the light, winking mockingly at the most recent losers at the table. He tried not to stare at that tooth but his eyes, no matter where he looked, his gaze kept returning to it.

Once she had cleared the table of her winnings, she she let out a sigh and arched her back and stretched. Her sweater was cashmere. Feminine, bright yellow and soft, and now with the buttons straining across her tits revealing a lacy, white bra peeking through. She looked like any cute girl that every schoolboy in the 4th grade had a crush on. But, then her smile would flash that engraved diamond encrusted gold cap, and suddenly you knew what it must be like to discover a smiling shark in front of you. And just like that shark exposing his teeth, you also knew were as good as dead in the water because those teeth on display were more of a mocking laugh than a welcoming smile. Cocksure took another sip of his water and wished it were whiskey, while turning his attention to the cards being shuffled and dealt for the next hand.

“Hey Boy Scout, what do you say we up the ante a little and make the game more exciting?” Shark Week looked Cocksure in the eye and held him in place with the kind of gaze that dared him to chicken out and say no.

The other man at the table stood up to leave and said nervously, “I’m out.”

“Hey, buddy boy,” Shark Week said without breaking eye contact with Cocksure. She produced a knife out of seemingly thin air and stabbed the pile of money between the other man’s hands, causing him to freeze in place. After a long pause, she finally turned her gaze to her hench-femmes who were standing in shadows behind him. They stepped in silently and close enough to him that their breasts pressed into his arms while they appeared to push something hard and metallic into the back of his rib cage as a warning. His immediate submission with a sour face and hesitance to say more of what was on his mind confirmed that there was more and spoke directly to him. “You barely tipped your server, you stingy bastard. You can leave what you have left as their tip and an apology for being such a cheap asshole.

”When the man started to protest, Shark Week nodded her chin at the two women who than a finger pointing into his back. They escorted the man out and Shark Week returned her attention to her remaining card game player.

“What do you say, Boy Scout? Are you coming, or going?” Card Shark licked her lips while she gave Cocksure a warm and inviting smile as she snapped her perfectly manicured fingers for a drink. Her other hand pulled the elegant, mother of pearl handled switchblade out of the table and put it out of sight again. He could feel a tingling traveling down into his groin like electricity. He wasn’t sure if it was arousal or fear or both but whatever it was, all of his senses were alive and awake now.

“Sure,” Cocksure said in his most confident voice as he reached down to adjust his pants, “I’m 100% in. What are we talking here?”

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