Chapter 25

The bland individual sitting on the park bench next to the Iwo Jima Memorial in Arlington, VA was easily forgettable. His ability to blend into any situation without notice was the primary reason for his continued existence in this dog eat dog world.

For many decades he had gone under the name of Mister A. Patel. Of course, that was not his real name which was quite unpronounceable and of little consequence.

Currently, he was using a freshly issued passport on good paper and able to pass even detailed inspections by customs officials at all levels.

His recent change of operations from London to Washington, D.C. was dictated by his reluctance to satisfy the bloodlust by his handlers in Islamabad. They probably had him on a short leash because of his many incidents with his treatment of western females and his propensity to drink spirits against the teachings of the Koran.

His current passport had his name as plain old “Joe Brown”, born in Manchester and a citizen of the United Kingdom. His British accent fit his passport perfectly and it was only when he was speaking his native tongue that his hidden personality rose to the surface.

Mister Patel had taken the widow Montgomery and her daughter Margaret with him on his transfer of operations to the Great Satan. He had done his level best to train both mother and daughter in pleasuring his carnal needs with typical western female erotic natures. The mother who liked to be called “Dolly” was truly a seductive creature underneath the exterior of a prim and proper English lady. The daughter was at their first meeting still a virgin, but he soon rectified that disgraceful failure in her feminine character. Soon, the girl was humping happily using her God given female assets such as her pretty mouth, her tight and juicy cunt and her softly yielding buttocks that were like pillows in paradise when he spread them underneath his demanding groin.

He spanked them both in the nocturnal hours inspired by their fetish loving souls.

His employment at the translation bureau shared jointly by the State Department and the Defense Department was an eye opener to him. He was astonished at the lack of proper vetting by the governmental agencies that accepted him at face value thankful for his language capabilities and assuming that as their most valued ally, the UK, he was beyond reproach.

He worked in Middle Eastern section of the bureau and his familiarity with Farsi, Pashto and other languages of the region enabled him to rise through the ranks of translators with all agencies eager to use his services at every turn.

The innocuous Mister Brown did his best to blend into the background and avoided relationships with the other translators in the department. One exception was an Egyptian female called Sasha who was attracted by his humble attitude and his shy manner of speech that seldom confronted anyone about anything. She was quite attractive and well aware that most males were overwhelmed by her beauty and automatically assumed she was out of their league and unobtainable.

Of course, quite the opposite was true, and she had not been laid for almost eighteen months much to her dissatisfaction and infinite displeasure at her constant need for solo masturbation to compensate for her lack of cock.

Being a consummate seducer of females, Mister Patel could see through her exterior charm to the desperate needs hidden inside her luscious female body and he soon had her bending over his desk during coffee break with the door locked to keep it private. The sounds the Egyptian lady made in giving up her feminine core was music to his devious mind, and he knew he should introduce her to his female room mates sooner rather than later.

Sasha was the unofficial liaison with the Marine security guards that had the responsibility to keep the classified material safeguarded from unauthorized eyes. Of course, in the area of translation, they had no control over the translators who had a need to read the content in order to properly translate it into the language of the cleared personnel.

The fact that Mister Patel had a photographic memory made his job easy because he had no need to use a camera or other recording device to store the content until a later date of transmission to his handlers in Islamabad.

His contact of many years back home was a certain Mister Assad.

His name was of little consequence because Mister Patel knew it was probably an alias assumed according to protocol a long time ago.

The second time he tasted the prime body of Ms. Sasha was on a weekend when they were both working overtime to complete a lengthy document that was all hush hush and needed immediately. He knew it was not that vital after the first few pages but kept up the pretense of working hard for the greater good.

The Egyptian lady was dressed in tight blue jeans and fuck me high heels so he knew she was looking for dick and from the way she looked at him with her smoldering dark eyes he knew she needed him and his hardness probing her feminine depths as soon as they could find a bit of privacy away from the hidden cameras and the insidious watchers at their secret desks watching almost every corner of the building. The only exceptions to their prying eyes were the restrooms which were off-limits by federal regulations recently passed by some woke members of the house of representatives.

The lady’s room was their target location for an uninterrupted fuckfest because the stalls locked from the inside and he followed her inside right after their morning coffee break with his cock in full state of extension due to his memories of the tightness of her pretty pussy.