Shane Kiefer is a smart, shrewd, tough, old son-of-a-bitch. He did not rise to become the Eastern European Director of covert operations for the CIA without all of the above, plus he was a stone cold killer when the need arouse. When he retired from the CIA, he set himself up in the business of advising companies of the ways to protect their personnel and trade secrets from the rogue countries and companies that populate our world. In addition, he provided the personnel to protect the company employees, either in the United States, or overseas.
Odessa Security Consultants was born in August of 1986. Carefully, step by step, Shane built the reputation of his company. Many of his client companies thought that he had the ability to read the minds of kidnappers, or other thugs. Of course, it was nothing like that. If National Security intercepted a phone message about an attempt to kidnap an executive, Shane would receive a message describing the threat in detail. Or, his knowledge of the current events in an area would warn him that certain security adjustment were in order to protect his clients.
Shane was getting old. For a lot of reasons, he was determined to make sure that Odessa would be in good hands when he stepped down. When still in the CIA he had trained an agent. At the time, he had been awed by the combination of talents this person could bring to bear to be the right person, in the right place to secure hard information, or to stop an enemy covert mission from succeeding. Most of all, she was a most deceiving person. What you saw was most decidedly not what you got. She was average height, with brown hair, and a pretty face which she could hide, or highlight as the need arose. She had a photographic mind, that was lightning quick. In an instant she could change from being the sweet girl next door to being brutal, a stone cold killer, like himself. Shane laughed to himself, "Takes one to know one."
A week later, a woman wearing a black pin stripped suit, carrying an attaché briefcase stopped briefly in front of Odessa's National headquarters. Stubbing out a cigarette, she looked the building over with the experienced eye of a person that could break into any building, anywhere. "Shane has done well for himself," she mused.
"Vicky Brown, long time no see. What have you been up to?'
"Cut the shit Shane. Before you would have sent me that letter offering employment, you would have gone over everything that I have done in the last ten years. Right?"
"Got me there. I see that you still can come on softly and with tact when the occasion presents itself."
They both laughed. "Martini?"
"Yes, you still remember what I drink?"
"Vicky, I know the brand of your bra and panties, as well as you are a tampon girl, not a Kotex girl.
"Sexual harassment, and I have not even been hired yet."
"It's part of the job description. See section 122, subsection 7B. The President will present her naked body for the Chairman of the Board to use as he sees fit at least once a month."
"I thought that there would be better perks then that. Only once a month?"
"Vicky. Down to business. What I want to do is bring you on board as another consultant. I will assign you for three months to each of the six offices. It will give you time to determine what you think of the existing personnel, and to study our present clients. As you go along, if you find any areas where we are not providing the absolutely best protection to them, let me know.
When that process is completed, I will promote you to be the next president of Odessa. When that time comes, you will be completely in control, with the authority to reorganize the organization, personnel, and procedures in any way you see fit. I know that the world of security has progressed by leaps and bounds since I was in the saddle at CIA. Odessa needs an infusion of new ideas, and intelligence. Here is an employment contract spelling out everything that I have proposed. Your starting salary will be $225,000.00.
When you become the President, your salary will be raised to $350,000.00, plus the perks of full use of a Mercedes of your choice, and the company plane."
"I can't find section 122, subsection 7 B? But, the rest is just fine. CIA knows that I am here, and I have the go ahead to start as soon as you want me to."
"You first office will be in White Plains, New York. Lets go get something to eat, and adjourn to my in-town condo. I will fill you in the specifics about that office."
During the meal, Vicky mused to herself, "Which of my role woman will I be in bed with Shane tonight. Shall I be the tender friend? Should I be the sex starved woman, or should I be the hard fucking slut/whore? How will Shane react to me as my play unfolds?"
Shane, for his part, was reciting to her the background of the personnel at the White Plains office. Who had been with National Security, CIA, or Navel Intelligence. Also, who had covert experience, either with CIA, or as a SEAL. Both knew that Vicky would remember every detail.
A few minutes after ten, they arrived at Shane's condo. Without fanfare they undressed. Seeing Shane's trim, well muscled body Vicky intoned, "You must work out a lot, Shane?"
"Three hours, three times a week."
With a laugh to go along with her teasing him Vicky said, "Really different seeing you as something other then a rotund, serious faced, spook."
Both knew that Shane Kiefer had never been rotund. Vicky was surprised at how tender, and considerate a lover Shane was. By the time he entered her, she was not playing a roll. She was the roll of a sex starved woman. Like a violin, Shane played her to perfection. Her voice in orgasm had a beauty, a raw sexual beauty of a woman being taken to the heights of orgasm, and held there for minutes on end. It was not often that Vicky let her guard down, and let all her emotions be savored by another human being, but tonight was such a night.
The slut/whore in her emerged when Shane entered her the second time. Putting her knees next to her head, she said, loud and clear, "Fuck me Shane. Fuck me hard."
He rode her hard and fast, until they both cum. At seven AM, Vicky woke up. She played with Shane's limp cock. As he woke up and ye old cock got hard, playfully she said, "Fuck Mister?"
Vicky's time in the various offices ended in a year and a half. In each office, there had been a lot of whispers about the demure female that had joined the staff. Shane had not provided her background to the local managers. Some treated her as a secretarial staff person, while others thought that they would try to get into her pants. No one, not one, treated her as the seasoned, undercover, Spook professional that she was. Over the years, a lot of professional spies had made that same mistake. Several were now six feet under ground because of it.
May 14, 2001 at 0900 hours, exactly, the phone rang in every office. When all the managers were on line for a conference call, Shane Kiefer informed them that one Ms. Vicky Brown was the President, and Chief Executive Officer of Odessa, with total control over the company. Ms. Brown will have a meeting in each of your offices during the next two weeks. She will present to you changes in positions and procedures. A detailed fax of meeting dates, and other information will arrive in your offices shortly.
Sitting listening to some of the comments made to Shane by the managers, Vicky smiled as she thought, "Cynical hard ass bastards all think that I have fucked my way through the glass ceiling."
May 22, 2001 at 0600 hours, Vicky walked up the stairs of the company Raytheon Beechjet 400A. Flying it single pilot was Bob Lemke. Vicky had gone over his qualifications. He was her age at forty-one. He was a retired Naval aviator who had flown "Tomcats." And he had been a "Top Gun" and "Top Gun" instructor. Shane had commented that there was not a better fighter pilot in the world. Odessa was paying him $130,000.00 a year with a guaranteed retirement of $100,000.00 per year for life. He was worth it. Odessa used their own aircraft with Bob flying it for clients that wanted the very best. The Odessa Beechjet was outfitted with the very latest anti-missile and radar avoidance systems.
With the press of a button, a "Sidewinder" missile could be deployed to take out hostile aircraft. Shane had pulled some strings to get his hands on that.
Vicky, who had a Lear Jet 24 type rating, ask Bob if she could sit right seat.
Bob's eyes met hers. He knew that she was the new Boss. For a couple seconds he measured her. "How did she get to where she is? She must be qualified, because Shane does not suffer fools for a second. Wonder if she fucks? Nice looking."
Ya, sure. You have any flying experience?"
"My father was a United captain. He wanted me to fly for United, so he bought an Aztec when I was in high school. By the time I was in College, he owned a time share in a Lear 24. I have six thousand hours, of which twenty two hundred are in Lears. I am type rated in a Lear 24."
"This is a lot easier to fly then a Lear. You want to do the take off?"
.... There is more of this story ...