Maria turns the tables on you.

"Fair enough." Replies Maria. She slowly approaches you. You lick your dry lips in anticipation, you were going to get a good up close look... She reaches forward and unbuttons the top button of your shirt.

"Wait a minute!" You object, "Your clothes not mine!"

A crooked naughty smile as she looks up at you mischievously, "I don't recall that being specified in the rules. Besides, I guarantee you you'll like my version better." As her left hand undoes your second and third button her right reaches up, her fingers comb through your hair. It then traces down the side of your head. She clasps the top edge of your ear between her finger and thumb and gently traces along its edge down to your hypersensitive ear lobe. Another shiver up your back. This isn't what you had in mind but you liked where this was going. This would be fun too, you think, and you were still holding all the cards. You had the answers they wanted and they had nothing but "sexual persuasion" to offer you. And besides, at the end of the day you were an innocent American citizen so they would eventually have to let you go once the truth came to light no matter what happened here. You decide to just play up your role as a British super agent and enjoy the experience.

"Ahem." You clear your throat, "Your version will be just fine."

"Good." She says. She continues down, unfastening buttons. At the bottom she grabs the sides of your shirt with both hand and pulls it up to untuck it. The bottom of the shirt running up over your awakening manhood in the process. She finishes the last button then removes your cuff links. She stops a moment to look you over, her eyes pausing approvingly in a few spots. She calmly walks around behind you, her hand tracing around your body as she does so. You feel her fingers reach round to grab the lapel of your shirt. Slowly she takes it up across your pecs and over your shoulders before pulling it down and off your arms. You see your shirt tossed over to the table. You still wear a tight undershirt on your torso.

Feeling her hands, and occasionally finger nails, beginning to rub lightly up and down your back you hear her sultry voice, "I'd say that answer was worth it. Okay, next question. Have you been been in the city longer than 6 months?"

"No." You lie.

You feel her fingers trickle down to your waist and playfully trace along the edge of your trousers before you hear a disappointed sound. "Ohh, I suppose each shoe and sock counts as a seperate answer."

You are torn. You were enjoying yourself but you knew this interview could be brought to an end at any moment. Also your primal lizard brain was screaming 'Go! Go! Go!'

Your impatience getting the better of you, "They all count as one!" You kick off your shoes and bend over to remove your socks. Her hands clasp your ass as you do so. You take a bit of time here, letting her get a good feel. This is just too good! Tossing your socks to the table you stand back up, excited for the next question.

"My, you are an impatient one." A long moment passes, her hands now stroking your arms. "Are you really an MI6 Agent?"

You'd been denying this for the past few hours but for your bluff to work you had to play along. "Yes. Yes I am an MI6 Agent." You answer. You suppress a dumb grin and wait eagerly for your next reward.

"I'm so glad you said that." You hear her say.

"You are?" You respond, confused.

"Yeah. I mean now that we have you recorded saying that anything we've done or will do will be justified."

"You're recording this?" You ask as your nervousness rises.

"Yes, of course. That's two answers by the way, but we'll get back to that." She continues standing behind you as she talks, "You see, had you not said that and you were just some innocent guy we pulled off the street we would have been in big trouble. But now that you've admitted to that we get to own your ass for at least a few months, whether you are guilty or innocent."

"But...what about everything else I said before..." You stammer.

"It's funny. These hidden recording devices are so finicky. It's pretty common to lose whole portions of these interviews." She traces her fingers down the spine of your back. "But don't worry Mr. S.I.S., we'll get to the truth in the end."

'Oh fuck!' you think to yourself. You had figured out earlier that Maria was probably the psychological specialist of the group. Why the hell did you decide to try to go toe to toe with her in a bluffing contest? Davis, you should have chosen Davis. Or just stuck with the truth. Now you were truly in a world of shit.