Liz Brooke

You pull up into the garage of your safehouse, and enter into the house proper. The lights are already on, and sitting on the couch, sipping on some fine wine, is none other than the femme fatale Liz Brooke.

“So we meet again, Mr. Bond,” she says, twirling a lock of her hair.

She doesn’t use your real name because she doesn’t know it, just as how you know that Liz isn’t her real name either. It makes your real identities that much harder to compromise.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon again after that little disaster in the Alps,” you say.

“Mmm, entirely your fault,” she says. “Here, take a glass. It helps clear the mind, not that yours needs any assistance.”

You take a seat and accept the wine, sipping it slowly as she looks around the room.

“So what is it this time, exactly? Poor Mr. Bond can’t even get a simple USB back from some idiot in the film industry, and so goes calling for help? Do I have to teach you exfiltration 101?”

“Yes, ‘poor Mr. Bond’ couldn’t figure out how to penetrate a vault that’s been a target of our organization for almost a dozen years, which today is still as impregnable as it was a decade ago. I’m sure you’ve got all the answers.”

“Not exactly a run of the mill mission, is this,” Liz muses. “Anything more I should know about the case before we start planning things out?”

“I’m sure you’ve received the data dump. There are details related to the larger assignment I’m part of that you’re not privy to,” you say. “But that’ll be revealed should it ever need be. It’s a touch more classified than the typical top secret, for your eyes only stuff.”

“Oh, fancy you as a big-shot now, eh?” Liz remarks, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one sitting around without an active case, waiting for her dashing friend to give her reason for existence.”

“Mhm,” she says, polishing off her glass. She pours herself a little more from the bottle. The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence as you both sip some more of your drinks.

“So, you want to talk business tonight?” you ask.

“Business?” Liz says. “I was thinking we could have a little more fun before the bullets start flying.”

She leans forwards, letting her dark brown hair frame two very significantly sized orbs that seem to be jutting out towards you. There was never any doubt in your mind that the two of you could pick up right where you left off back on the continent.

“That seems like a plan,” you say. The ideas in your head could use a couple more hours to stew and cohere, and what Liz has in mind could be just the thing for you.

“Well, I’ll be waiting for you then,” Liz says, heading towards the bedroom. You can’t help but stare at her hot round ass as it sways towards the doorway.