Chapter 8

It was so warm in the consulate visa office that she started to doze off much against her instinct to be ever alert in case of danger.

“Danny Doyle!”

She was startled into consciousness by the annoying repetition of her name almost directly in her ear.

The other clients were shaking their heads to show they were not this Danny person all looking at the single male visitor who was looking suspiciously quite guilty for no reason.

She raised her arm like a silly schoolgirl and managed to squeak out a single word, “Here!”

Danny did her best to shield her confusion but consoled herself with the thought that it was not the typical reaction of a trained covert agent.

She rose to her feet and made her way to the front of Mister Gallagher’s desk concentrating on blending into the background and keeping her features with a blank expression like a zombie in a horror flick on television.

“That’s me, sir, here is my passport. They told me to check into the consulate to register my presence for the exchange program.”

The annoying young man with the penchant to look up female skirts was obviously bored with his mechanical job of stamping visas and asking stupid questions that were demanded by a bureaucratic swamp of international tentacles.

“Danny? That is a strange name for a girl, isn’t it?”

She instantly disliked her contact despite his handsome appearance and smiled her best silly girl smile and rolled her fingers around a loose strand of hair in a suggestive way that bordered on a seductive invitation to check out her hidden goodies at the first opportunity.

My ma always wanted a boy, and she insisted on that name because she loved the tune.

The young man’s smirk was so irritating that she almost reached across the desk to chop his Adam’s apple into gurgling submission.

Instead, she allowed her hand to rest on the top of her right boob and rubbed it suggestively in a way that almost touched her sensitive nipple easily discerned under her thin blouse.

Mike looked at the girl in front of him.

He still had an erection from ogling the other girl wiggling on the chair because she definitely had forgotten her underwear or was one of those freethinkers that never wore them.

He looked again at the paper in front of him and reading the name Danny Doyle put a shit-eating grin on his mug that he tried his best to hide because he was in an official position in an American consulate. He stared into the bland face in front of him wondering if she was more interested in rug munching than in good old-fashioned dick.

Then, he decided to get it into high gear because there was still almost a half dozen clients waiting for his advice on their problem. This was the worst part of the job when he had to interact with the public with their stupid questions and their stupid attitudes that made him feel somewhat inadequate.

“All right, Miss Doyle, I see you are here on a student exchange visa. It is all properly stamped and all we must do is register you for emergency contact.”

Danny decided she better break the bad news to the fledging CIA undercover agent and pointed to the empty block for “aliases” and asked in an almost whisper, “Should I have put in my nickname here. I was called Gypsy 2 by my close friends back home.”

Mike Gallagher looked at her with a blank look on his face as his distracted brain accepted the fact that this was the operative he was running sent by the special department back home for covert insertions into foreign countries.

“Why, no, that is not necessary, Miss Doyle. We can just keep that to ourselves.”

He handed her a card from his inside pocket and told her, “This is my direct line if you have any need to contact me. Try to come in on Saturday night to the Marine bar and the drinks are on me. I must warn you to watch out for those Marines. The are all a bunch of horn toads and never leave a pretty face untouched.”

She took the card and gave him a good look at her nicely rounded ass as she rolled her hips swishing out the door.

It bothered her because she knew she was a much better agent than this boob could ever hope to be but she would have to be satisfied being under supervision of the more secretive DIA and not the 007 cowboys from the CIA. Still, she had to admit he was quite handsome, and she could easily picture his head bobbing under the blanket between her surrounding thighs giving her some homestyle licking like a proper little doggy.

She was aware of the Marine guard’s eyes following her ass across the lobby all the way to the front door and was glad she had worn the tight skirt that accentuated her ass shelf almost to a point of downright seductive chaos.

There was a light rain outside the consulate but she happily trudged on avoiding the puddles thankful that she had worn the more conservative business shoes instead of the fuck me high heels she had on at the visit to Moran’s bar.