Surveillance Ambush

Sinead was slightly in panic mode, though not enough that she was hitting ‘fight or flight’ or anything like that. Marc had led her down the bar and had ordered them both drinks before offering her a hand so that she could sit up on an available stool in a ladylike manner. That wasn’t the problem - she was actually pretty happy with how he’d been offering her his arm or hand to help her in and out of the car or chairs because she was still highly cognizant of the fact that she wasn’t wearing any fucking panties or even a thong.

No, her panic was coming from inside. She’d already been approached twice by men, good-looking ones who seemed to have their shit together and the confidence to come up to her at a bar without using a lame pickup line, and each time Marc had deftly rebuffed them. And each time he did it, she felt a twinge in her traitorous pussy. She hadn’t known what to do, or think, in the car when he put his hand on her thigh. It had felt fucking good, but it had also been so weirdly possessive in her mind and she wasn’t his. She didn’t belong to him. They weren’t in a relationship. This was a business deal.

But when he turned away the other men who were interested in her, and when he stood next to her and rested his hand on her arm, or softly touched the inside curve of her knee as they continued their rambling conversation from the dinner table, she felt… fucking butterflies. In her pussy.

God, I’m messed up, she thought to herself.

Marc was talking about shoes - he knew more about men’s and women’s shoes than she would ever care to - when she spotted Victor entering the bar. Seeing the look on her face, Marc leaned in. “Just keep the conversation going,” he said quietly to her, his hand sliding fully onto her bare knees for a moment. “Everything will be fine.”

Sinead nodded and asked him whether fashion was actually different in France, or if it was just a myth about Paris, and he grinned and started to ramble again. Sinead could tell, keeping her eyes trained on Marc and using her peripherals to try and track Victor, that Marc was only answering the question in such a long-winded way because they were trying to stay low-key.

Victor came down the length of the bar, stopping just on the other side of Marc, and called an order to the bartender who approached. There was no way the bartender actually heard what he said, but Victor was a regular so they knew what he wanted anyway. As he was waiting for his drink, Victor looked around and glanced to the side, frowning for a moment and then raising an eyebrow as he made eye contact with Sinead.

“Excuse me,” he said, tapping Marc on the shoulder. “Wasn’t I just sitting next to you at George?”

Marc turned and did a very passable double-take as he looked at Victor, then broke into a grin. “Oui, yes, I believe you were,” he chuckled. “What are the chances that we would come to the same bar for a nightcap?”

“Wild,” Victor chuckled himself.

“My apologies,” Marc said, and offered Victor his hand. “My name is Marc Fornier, and this is my companion Sinead.”

“Victor Berisha,” Victor introduced himself, shaking Marc’s hand strongly and then Sinead’s as well. “I assume you enjoyed old George’s as much as I did?”

“Lovely as always,” Marc nodded. “What did you think, ma chère?”

“The food was fantastic,” Sinead said, trying to keep up with the fact that Marc had just introduced her to the subject of her surveillance. And had called her his ‘companion,’ which sounded to Sinead an awful lot like she was an escort. He couldn’t have just gone with ‘girlfriend’ or ‘date?’

“I adore the food at George,” Victor said. “Probably too much. And the ambience suits me as well, at least for dinner. I’ll admit, I probably spend a bit too much time there.”

The two men bantered for a moment, and Sinead tuned out for a moment as it all screamed ‘rich guy things’ to her. It gave her a moment to parse what exactly was going on. This had gone from a passive surveillance operation, albeit off-book, to an active undercover operation. Still off-book. Marc had given his real name, and her real name if only her first, which made ‘undercover’ sort of a misnomer. But now she needed to find and play a part. She needed to be the ‘companion’ of Marc, whatever that meant. What did that mean?

A man like Marc would be with a woman who could hold her own in conversation. Smart, intelligent. Probably well educated. Sinead could cover two of the three since her college degree wasn’t exactly the top-end of anything and she’d been middle of the road for the class. By the time she’d been graduating she already knew she wanted to join the ****, so schooling had felt less necessary. Marc would also be with someone who matched him in terms of temperament and flirting though.

Sinead took a breath and then shifted in her seat, taking Marc’s hand in her own. He glanced at her and smiled, but she almost missed it as she felt that goddamn buttplug inside her again.

She jumped in and quickly found that Marc was deftly leading Victor around by the nose conversationally. They talked about real estate and investing, and international travel. Victor had travelled almost as extensively as Marc, though had less interesting stories. Sinead learned more about Marc than she had even when she’d run a background check on him before arresting him - she learned he was an adventure diver, scuba diving old wrecks in the Caribbean and the Mediterranean. The men compared notes on Michelin-star restaurants they’d visited. Victor liked Scotch, but prided himself on trying to drink the local liquor of whatever country he travelled to - Marc was a moderate wine snob, though Sinead got the impression he just liked wine as his drink of choice, rather than being a snob about it in general.

The more they talked, the more Sinead felt comfortable falling into her role. Absorbing information about both men, feeding into the conversation to keep it flowing. Keeping them talking.

More drinks were bought, and Sinead found herself… happy. She was having fun. And she was getting what she wanted. She glanced at Marc, who made eye contact with her for a moment and she saw that fucking smile in his eyes and for the first time, she didn’t want to hit him for it.

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