Agent
Copyright© 2026 by MicaMeesha
Chapter 9
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 9 - After the events described in 'Justice', she takes on a new identity and a new role in uncovering criminals
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction
I heard back from the Agency, they had done a deep dive on Victor, and it seems he didn’t exist five years ago. So, very interesting. Their suggestion was that he perhaps went through some form of witness protection. They believed that if he worked for one of the agencies, there would be some kind of marker, but then there was no marker against mine, so he could be anyone. One thing for certain was that he wasn’t actually Victor. Intriguing, but was he a danger, was he a risk to me, and more importantly, was he a risk to my mission? The Agency said that they would investigate further.
Ali had told me that he wanted me to consider running his plant sales empire. On the one hand it would get me much closer to the core; on the other hand it could keep me isolated and on the periphery of his main dealings, and it was those that I wanted to get closer to. On the other other hand, it would give me a source of foreign funding should I need it in the future, assuming that I didn’t declare it to the agency. It was a difficult decision, but I was minded to say yes, but not yet; it had to be on my terms.
I showered and put on a simple sun frock; it was orange with green piped edging, quite garish, but then, that would distract focus from me, so that suited me. My doorbell rang, taking me out of my introspection. It was Victor.
“Hello, Victor, would you like a cup of tea?” I asked him, guessing he actually wanted more.
“Yes, that would be nice,” he answered cheerily.
“Well, come in then and shut the door behind you.” I don’t stand on ceremony, not for Victor, not for anyone.
I went into the kitchen and decided I would do the good stuff. I had been about to make a pot of tea for myself when the doorbell rang, so I might as well let Victor have some of my Oolong loose leaf too. As the kettle was boiling, I poured hot water from the tap into my teapot to warm it and let it stand whilst the kettle did its thing. As the kettle boiled, I emptied my teapot of the hot water that had warmed it and added three spoons of oolong and then added the boiled water from the kettle. Lid on, cosy on, and then bone china cups and saucers from the cupboard.
Milk into a jug and sugar into a bowl. All on a tray.
“Come on, let’s sit in the conservatory,” I said to Victor, who had simply hovered watching me.
“Oops, I forgot the strainer,” I said. I wanted to give Victor some time alone in my conservatory. I would check the camera later and see if he had done something whilst he was alone. I had a suspicion that he might. I took my time getting the strainer.
“Ah, here it is”, telling Victor that I was on my way back.
I poured two teas, added milk to mine and left Victor to add whatever he wanted to his. He added both milk and sugar.
“How are you then, Victor?”
“Oh, I am fine, Liz, thank you; I just thought that some of your wonderful hospitality might be on offer.”
So, he wanted a shag; I had decided that I wouldn’t. Not until I knew more about him and what I could trust and what I could not. I ignored his advance.
“I will usually be able to find time for a cup of tea with you, Victor,” I said. “Now, this friend of yours, the policeman, who is so interested in my neighbour Ali, does he have any more accusations of misdeeds that you would care to share?”
“Oh, no, I don’t think so; I haven’t spoken to him since I told you.”
“So, has your police friend asked you to spy on my neighbour, or perhaps put cameras up that can record his movements? It all sounds very odd.”
“Cameras? What a notion.”
“They do that, you know. I had a friend once who had a load of rozzers set up in her front bedroom for a few days so they could monitor a house opposite that they thought was manufacturing drugs.”
“Wow, and was the house opposite making drugs?”
“Lord no, they were making porn films, all legally.”
He laughed, “Typical, trust the fuzz to get the wrong end of the wrong stick.” He sipped his tea.
“Tell me, Victor, ten years ago I was an accountant in Birmingham, happily married to my husband. What were you doing ten years ago? It must have been very different.” I wanted to keep chipping away at his story of days gone by to see if I could find any errors.
“I was knees deep in my specialist engineering company; I hadn’t planned on selling it yet.”
“Wow, long days, I bet. Your wife, was she part of the setup?”
“Oh no, I wasn’t married, except to my company, and yes, the days were long.”
“Did you say that you made parts for F1 teams?”
“Yes, MacLaren amongst others.”
“Did you go to any of the Grands Prix? Then, that must have been so exciting. I went to one at Castle Donnington once, so very loud.”
“Yes, I went to a few; I don’t think I went to Donnington, though. Silverstone, yes.” The agency could go back through archive footage and see if they could find him in the background anywhere. It would help confirm his story if they could.
“Wow, so exciting! What bits did you make?”
“Mostly steering and suspension bits, made from tungsten and to an exacting tolerance. But that was all a very long time ago; it all blurs together, you know. I guess it must be the same for you; all the accounts must merge into each other.”
“Oh no, Victor, I remember them all very clearly; perhaps that is just my accountant’s brain.”
He looked at me and then sipped at his tea. “Any plans for your future yet, Liz?” he asked.
“Not really anything concrete, a few irons warming in fires.”
“Oh, anything you care to share?”
“Oh, no, not at this stage.”
“Fair enough, would you care for a little private delight?”
“Not today, Victor. No, I think I have been a little too forward in some areas, so I am keeping myself to myself. More tea?”
He declined, and soon after he left, his desires unsated. I checked my phone and watched the security camera video playback. He had indeed poked something down the back of my sofa. Interesting. I went and looked and found a small, innocuous-looking box. Some kind of audio monitor, I supposed. I had to think of somewhere interesting I could put it. In my garage for now until I could think of something better. I would get the gardeners in; time for another sweep. Just who was Victor really, and what was he?
Ali came round and rang my doorbell.
“I don’t trust him,” Ali said.
“Who?” I asked.
“That man who came round, the man opposite.”
“Oh, we just had tea, is all, and he said he used to have an engineering firm but sold it. All very boring.”
“Maybe, but I really don’t trust him at all. Did he ask anything about me?”
“No, not really; he asked if I had any work plans yet. I just said no. I don’t like people knowing my business.”
“Wise. Have you thought about my proposition?”
“A little. If, and it is a big if, I were to take you up, I would want, as well as my foreign salary, a small salary paying in the UK so I could appear correct and proper to the revenue in the UK.”
“No problem.”
“I would set up a small company and work as a self-employed contractor. That gives me more scope.”
“Okay. You are warming to the idea then?”
“Let’s say I am not entirely ruling it out.”
“Okay, I want to show you something. Do you have some time?”
“Yes, let me get my coat.”
I grabbed my coat and my small handbag with my usual contents, tampon, cash, credit card, tissues, and phone; followed him out; and locked the door.
“Where are we going?”
“I followed some of your advice; I want to show you that I listen to you.”
We drove across to Bradford and to an old mill-type building. He got out of the car and moved a piece of metal fencing that blocked the way in. He drove in and then to an old loading bay. The place was long deserted; junk and scrap littered the grounds, and graffiti covered the walls. Inside was a caravan, the sort that they use in mobile home parks, but it was an old one.
“I had girls that worked from here.” He pulled the door open; I looked inside.
It was dingy, and I could see that there were three bedrooms. A kitchen full of disgustingly dirty pots and a chemical toilet.
“Jesus, this is gross. If I were a man wanting a shag, I would run a mile.”
“Liz, the kind of men that use these girls don’t care about the where; they would fuck in a back alley if that was all that was available.”
“God, it is disgusting.”
“Let’s leave.”
We went back out to the car and headed off to the outskirts, not far from the cemetery. He parked in the street and got out. I followed him. We walked a few houses down and then went up to the front door of one, which he opened.
I followed him in. There was the unmistakable sound of sex coming from the first room we passed. The house was clean, with no dirty pans in the back kitchen room, just two young girls sitting on a settee.
“Quiet ladies,” he said, “just a quick visit. Just the one customer?”
One of the girls nodded. Ali turned and ushered me out. Once we were outside, he turned to me.
“Better? No? They just pay me rent; it is quite high, but their conditions are better. I have now done this with ten houses all in different areas. All in areas of mostly rented houses, they will not stand out to the neighbours. If they don’t keep it clean, they will be evicted. What do you think?”
It was what I had suggested so I couldn’t complain
“Jesus, Ali, that is miles better than that disgusting mobile home.”
“It is early days; we will have to see how it works out. But as you said, it is just rental income; I have nothing to do with any business they conduct in there.”
“You have to ensure that you cannot be shown to know that they are running prostitution from there.”
“Okay. It is managed by a company I own; I don’t directly manage the houses.”
“So you have now abandoned those old mobile home facilities; you don’t have any of them anymore?”
“No, none. It is early days, and I don’t know if it will work. If not, then the girls can go back to mobile homes; I get more money that way.”
“Yes, more money, but more risk; this seems much cleaner. The girls can even register at a local health centre too.”
“That is up to them; I have nothing to do with them.”
“Do you supply them with drugs? I had heard that many working girls are addicts.”
“Not mine. My people may sell them, but none are allowed to use them.”
“I heard that someone was found in the Lidgett Green beck with his feet cut off.”
“He must have been skimming his boss, I guess. In the businesses that I am in, we cannot be seen to be soft. The softest I would get is to not exact retribution on their family.”
“Okay. Is that it? Is that what you wanted to show me?”
“Yes, what else could you want to see?”
“I need to know what I am letting myself in for if I am going to work for you. What risks am I exposing myself to? Drugs?”
“Maybe.”
“If, and we are still saying if, if I take on your sites, there can be absolutely no illegal activities there. No drugs selling, no girls working from there. The only iffy thing would be cash sales and adding a grand on top of what the customer pays.”
“Of course. I have people that grow or manufacture for me. There are a lot of abandoned buildings; they are easy to convert. A lot of pubs closed down and are not used. They make great growing opportunities or even laboratories for me, plus there are many old abandoned buildings that no one ever checks over. I have no need for your plant showrooms.”
“One thing you need to be able to do is show legitimate businesses that can support your standard of living, that are all separated by a country mile from any illegal cash income.”
“No worries on that score. I have now around twenty-five barbershops; all are cash only, all keep books, and all obviously have fewer actual customers than the books show. They are mine; I take income from them. I also have some fried chicken and also some pizza shops; again, all cash, again owned by me and legal. Everything is declared. I also run some private hire firms, again legitimate, fully registered and legal.”
“Those are a lot of things that you need to keep an eye on, Ali.”
“Yes, that is why I want someone I can trust to look after my new venture. You, I trust. There are things I told you in the early days that would have interested the authorities; they have shown no interest, which tells me that you haven’t been sharing things with people you shouldn’t.”
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