A Calling Card

Early the next morning James Bond dropped off the roll of film from the clock at a camera shop, and by offering a considerable some of money, was able to persuade the owner to develop the pictures in an hour. When he returned to his hotel suite with a large envelope bulging with eight-by-ten glossies, he reviewed the series of shots. The pictures showed a smallish, young looking man dressed in a dark suit and black shirt moving in and out of frame. Selecting one photograph that had a perfect view of the intruder's face, he placed his cigarette case over the face and traced around the edges of the case with a pen. Then, using a pair of scissors, he cut out the area, about a quarter of an inch inside the lines. Finally, he placed the picture inside the case.

Next, he went looking for Tatiana Romanov.

It was too early for the cabaret where she worked to be open, and besides, he wanted to avoid making contact there unless absolutely necessary. But he remembered from the case file back at headquarters that a couple of times a week she sunbathed on the public beach that bordered the private beach of Lamarque's walled compound. Maybe Bond would get lucky and find Tatiana there this morning.

He got lucky.

When he parked his rented car on the asphalt next to the beach and scanned the people down below with his folding binoculars, there was Tatiana and another woman lying close together on a large beach towel. Pulling off his black boat shoes and rolling up the cuffs of his white duck pants, he headed down the expanse of sand by the ocean. He circled around so that he would approach Tatiana from the side, not from behind, giving her ample opportunity to see him approaching. When he was within twelve feet of the two women, he stopped to take the cigarette out of the inside pocket of his blue blazer and lit up a cigarette, all the while staring at Tatiana. She stared back and when he resumed his stroll, she called out to him, "Can I bum a cigarette?"

Yes! Bond thought. Good girl. Squatting down next to Tatiana, he again took out the case and asked her companion if she would care for one as well. The statuesque brunette was topless, which was fairly common in the southern part of France and 007 tried not to stare. She nodded yes, so Bond placed two cigarettes between his lips, lit them, and passed one to each of the women. Again, he had reason to mentally bless his old flame for inviting him to join them.

The three made small talk, and at one point Bond looked back over his shoulder at a small, white wooden shack that sold drinks and snacks. He asked if they would like something to drink and Monique, the brunette, jumped up and said, "I'll go," holding out her hand for the money.

Bond watched the woman's shapely ass as she trudged up the slope to the snack-stand. Quickly, he opened the case and lifted the rack of cigarettes to reveal the photograph. "Have you ever seen this man?"

"Sure." The dislike was evident in Tatania's voice. "That's Raoul Godeau. He's connected with Lamarque. Sometimes he comes into the cabaret where Monique and I work. A real creep."

"Any idea where I can find him?"

"He runs a martial arts school on the Rue Peltier. Near the Monoprix store," she answered just as Monique returned with three bottles of 3 Monts beer.

When Monique distributed the brews, Bond again tried (unsuccessful) not to stare at the brunette's bare breasts as they dangled before his eyes. When she offered him his change and was told to keep it, she chuckled, "I have no where to put the money." She stood there proudly before him, in just a pair of bikini bottoms. Taking a large swig of beer, she shoved the bottle into the sand and ran down to wade in the water.

"Oh, James," Tatania looked over towards Bond, "I miss you so much."

"I know. I miss you as well," he answered. And then, he had an idea. "Turn over on your stomach and I will apply some suntan lotion."

Chewing on her lower lip, she eagerly complied, flipping over onto her belly, her face resting on her crossed arms. Bond un-did the clasp of her top, pushing the ends out of the way, and squeezed out a glob of the thick, white cream between her shoulder blades. With both hands, he spread the skin protection all over her back and sides, gradually working his way lower. She closed her eyes and moaned under the touch that she had missed so much.

He put more cream onto the back of her thighs, kneading and massaging her upper legs as he smeared the sunblock over her limbs. Then, glancing around to make sure no one was staring at them, he slid his flattened hand along the inside of her thigh up to the juncture of her legs. She moaned again when the tips of his fingers poked against her crotch. Feeling his fingers slide under the elastic leg band of her bikini bottoms, she rotated her hips, grinding her groin into the beach towel.

He found that she was already moist, and with the tips of two fingers he pushed the lips of her pussy apart and slid his digits inside her. He heard her groan out his name. Working his hand back and forth, he finger-fucked the tall blonde as she lay there on the public beach. Tatania tried to stifle her moans, but she was finding it increasingly difficult as her lover pushed her ever closer to an orgasm. She kept her eyes tightly shut, trying to block out the reality of where she was as her hips began instinctively to buck. Whispering his name over and over again, she writhed against the ground.

Placing his free hand on the small of her back to control her movements, Bond worked his two fingers in and out of Tatania's sopping wet pussy. Bond rotated his wrist, churning up the creamy juices of her vagina.

Suddenly her whole body went tense, except for her pelvis, which jerked spastically. She gritted her teeth, trying not to scream as her lover gave her a manual orgasm.

Collapsing weakly, she opened her eyes and looked back at Bond, "Oh, James, I soooo miss you."

A shadow fell across the couple and Bond looked up to see Monique standing over them, water dripping from her hair and bare boobs. "Want to rub suntan lotion on me, Mister Norris?" she teased. Or maybe she was not teasing.

"Nothing would give me more pleasure," he said, genuinely sorry that he could not stay. "But I have a little business matter to attend to."

As he stood up, the topless brunette said that it was nice to have met him. And she extended her right hand. He hesitated, but finally accepted the proffered hand. Stepping up closer to him, she lifted his hand to her face and took his glistening fingers into her mouth, sucking them clean of Tatania's pussy juices while staring into his eyes.

***** ***** *****

It was not difficult to find the martial arts school that Raoul Godeau ran. Bond slowly walked inside the large room, dominated by the thick rubber mats spread over the hardwood floor, the mats side-to-side and head-to-foot, a parquet of padding. A dozen or so people, paired off in twos, all wearing the white Judo-Gi uniforms, practiced moves and throws and holds. Godeau, also dressed in the tightly woven cotton outfit and a black belt wrapped around his waist, moved from one pair to another, guiding and instructing them. He was wearing his black, horn-rim glasses. Sitting down on a bench attached to a wall, 007 watched for a few moments, and then, to draw attention to himself, he tapped repeatedly on the large manila envelope containing the photographs.

Spinning around to seek the source of the noise, Godeau paused, thinking this might be the Englishman that everyone was so interested in. "What can I do for you, Monsieur?"

"I come to see you because I have a problem," Bond answered. "Despite how respectable my hotel might be, I still suffer from pilferers."

"Pilferers?" Godeau repeated.

"Yes, people who break into my hotel and attempt to make off with my valuables."

"What do you want me to do about it?" the Sensei of the dojo asked with an obvious air of contempt.

"Well, I thought perhaps you might be able to teach me some judo," Bond answered, slowly walking over towards the mats, "so that I could deal with these fellows."

"It is not something that can be learned overnight," Godeau replied, "But I may be able to teach you a trick or two.... If you would, step on the mat, please."

When Bond started to comply, Godeau stopped him, telling him to remove his shoes first. After sliding off his boat shoes, 007 stepped up to close to Godeau, invading his 'personal space' and towering over the much smaller man, asking, "Would you call this a fair match?"

The French instructor laughed, stepping back from Bond and saying, "Size and muscle are of no account in the gentle art of Judo, Monsieur."

Like a bolt of lightning, Godeau flashed forward, shoved on Bond's shoulders while kicking his ankles out from under him. Bond hit the mat with a loud thud. Made louder by 007's commando training. The first thing that is taught in hand-to-hand combat is how to take a fall. As 007 was flipped into the air and descended towards the ground, he extended his arms to smack the ground with his opened hands, trying to hit the ground before the ground hit him, dissipating some of the energy.

Pretending to be physically stunned and emotionally surprised, Bond looked up at Godeau and said, "Yes, that's the sort of thing I'd like to be able to do."

"Good," Godeau replied, peeling off his glasses and handing them to a student. "Here is another useful trick I could show you."

Bond slowly got to his feet and immediately had Godeau step into him, grab his right arm, spin, and duck, flipping 007 over his shoulder onto the mats.

"That's splendid," Bond said, crawling up on his hands and knees but not standing. "Exactly the sort of thing I had in mind."

Godeau stood over Bond, prepared to toss him around like a rag doll until the Englishman fled with his tail tucked between his legs. 007 was groping around on the floor, like he was dazed and uncertain. When he finally did start to stand up straight, he suddenly reached out to grab Godeau's bare ankles and standing quickly while pulling as hard as he could, he sent Godeau flipping through the air, heels-over-head, to land hard on his face and stomach. When he started to get to his feet, Bond stepped forward, grabbed the lapels of the Frenchman's uwagi, and snatched him to his feet. "Sorry, old man, was that against the rules?"

In response, Godeau again tried to flip Bond over his shoulder as he had earlier, but 007pulled his wrist free of the Frenchman's hands to grab him around the throat by his forearm against Godeau's windpipe and pulling him into this body. "Uh, huh... naughty, naughty."

Godeau tried desperately to pull away, and, following the fundamental principle of Judo - when the enemy pulls, you push. When he pushes, you pull. Bond pushed, hard. His thrust, amplified by Godeau's own efforts to pull away, sent him crashing into the wall.

Now both men had dropped pretenses. They stood warily in a crouched stance, arms extended. When Godeau tried to 'rush' Bond, gripping his upper arms, 007 quickly grabbed Godeau's lapels, planted his right foot into the Frenchman's midsection, and fell backwards, extending his leg as his shoulder touched the mats and pulling his arms over his head.

Like a mis-guided missile, Godeau flew threw the air to crash onto the mats.

The students looked at each other in confusion as Bond stepped back to the bench to retrieve the envelope. "Would you be so kind as to deliver this to your boss for me?"

He dropped it onto the chest of the supine Godeau and calmly strolled from the Dojo.