The Safehouse

Natasha roared down the road, her foot heavy on the gas pedal. "I'm going to take you to the safe house, so you can unload your baggage and get some rest. You'll attend a briefing after you sleep," she said.

She kept checking the rearview mirror of the sports car. After a few minutes, she exclaimed, "Shit! We've got a tail." She downshifted and powered around a corner. Arnold looked out the back window and saw a black Mercedes about two cars back suddenly accelerate to keep up.

Natasha took a quick left into a narrow alley, punching down on the gas pedal when she saw the alley was clear. Arnold was pressed hard into the seat as the small speedster hurtled down the passage, too shocked to say anything. She swerved slightly, knocking over several garbage cans. Checking the back window again, he saw the black car slow a little before barreling through the obstruction. As the car approached the next street, she slowed the car somewhat, looking furiously left and right. Then she sped up again, driving straight across the street to the next alley. A delivery truck driver honked his horn, swerving hard to just barely miss the tiny car.

As Arnold continued to watch behind, the Mercedes came out of the alley to get clipped by a passing taxicab. The collision slowed, but didn't stop, its progress. The sports car lurched to the side as Natasha turned hard left. After only a second or two, she made another hard turn, this time to the right. Arnold was thrown from side to side by the drastic maneuvers; he let out a yelp. After another block, Natasha took a left. Through the back window, Arnold could not see the black sedan.

"I think we might have lost them," he said anxiously. The car chase had rattled his nerves. Natasha drove for another fifteen minutes, continually checking behind them, before she was satisfied that the tail was gone.

"Here we are, Arnold. Safe and sound," she said confidently, as she pulled up in front of a small, rundown apartment building. Arnold got out and retrieved his bags from the trunk. Natasha took his carry-on bag and led the way into the foyer of the apartment. She pushed a button on the security phone, and waited.

The speaker emitted a distorted voice speaking what Arnold thought was probably Russian. Natasha replied in Russian as well. Soon, the door clicked and she pushed her way in. Arnold followed close behind her.

Now that he was out of immediate danger, he took time to look at his host. She wore a tight green sweater and knee-length green striped skirt. Her legs were bare and shapely, and her nice ass moved deliciously from side to side as she walked. He especially liked the view when they went up the two flights of stairs.

Finally she knocked in a complex pattern on a door near the top of the stairway. A few moments passed before Arnold heard the sound of sliding bolts and clicking locks. The door swung inward, and a tall thick man stood in the doorway, smoking a cigarette. He looked Arnold and Natasha up and down several times before letting them into the apartment.