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Solo Mission: A Lesbian Spy Story


 

by Ava Sterling
















Text copyright © 2019 Ava Sterling

All Rights Reserved

 

This book is licensed for personal enjoyment only and is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, places, or events is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the author’s written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews. The people depicted on the cover are models, not related to any of the characters or actions, and don’t necessarily endorse or condone the book’s contents. Individuals pictured are used for illustrative purposes only. The materials are only intended for adult readers over the age of eighteen. It contains language and sexual situations that could be deemed graphic and/or offensive by some. All situations are fantasy based. The author does not necessarily advocate behavior based on the happenings in this book. All characters portrayed are eighteen years or older.

 





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It was her turn to speak. Pearla set down her purse on the seat of her chair and made her way up to the microphone. She’d trained herself long ago to look up at the far end of the building to avoid the camera lights, which could be quite blinding when they all went off at once. The raised stage was a nice touch. It wasn’t her idea–she had her PR manager to thank for that, among other things–and she never would’ve thought to place it inside her home. The east wing of her home, anyway.

The woman already standing at the podium beamed. “Before Ms. Bantham speaks to us, I just want everyone to know just how intricate she’s been to the entire process of making this new distribution center possible. People with disabilities or who otherwise don’t feel comfortable or able to work more traditional jobs now can find employment and get back on their feet.”

She motioned for Pearla to step in closer. “Normally when we work with a sponsor or benefactor, we enjoy their contribution mostly through monetary means, but Ms. Bantham has worked with us every step of the way, from design, to implementation, to funding–as much as her busy schedule will allow, of course. We want to thank her for her generous donations and welcome her to any project we have in the future. Ladies and gentlemen, Pearla Bantham.”

Pearla smiled and stepped into the now-empty spot in front of the mic. The sound equipment seemed a touch overkill, but as her PR manager had predicted, some news outlets showed for the event. Pearla would’ve preferred to leave the media out of it, but she couldn’t exactly kick them out. That would’ve neatly turned a positive story into a negative one.

Pearla smoothly surveyed the crowd. “I’d like to thank the Workers Society of Crest Westborough for making this evening possible. They’re the real heroes here, as I only joined the scene for this project, while they’re on the front lines of our community every workday. Please turn any attention and focus to the company for their fine non-profit work. I’m honored to have been a part of it. Thank you.”

She knew they all expected more, but that was all they were getting. She was never one for speeches, and even being on stage for that long made her crave a martini. Preferably one with an olive in it. She took the first of the two steps from the stage carefully so she wouldn’t trip. The dress she wore had an impressive slit running up the side, which helped mobility, but it never hurt to be cautious.

The stage may have been someone else’s idea, but the dress was all hers. She had a bit of an exhibitionist side to her, and despite her philanthropy, she’d been known to show a bit of her wild side. Perhaps that’s why a few more news outlets were represented than normal at these type of quiet events. They likely hoped to catch a photogenic glimpse of part of her bare thigh or a snippet of her suggestive language. Sometimes, she gave them something to talk about on purpose.

She received many smiles and head nods as she passed by groups of people, but nobody stepped out of their circles to talk to her quite yet. That being the case, she continued to the bar and ordered her drink. The bartender had on a sharp tuxedo with the bowtie at an impeccable angle. She was always impressed when a man knew how to dress well. But he wasn’t the only person she had her eye on.

A woman ghosted behind several circles of people, moving across the room. She carried a notepad in one hand and a pen in another. At one point, she tapped a man on the shoulder and jotted something down in her notepad when he spoke. Pearla was too far out of earshot to hear what was being said, but the woman scribbled furiously, like she might miss something if she didn’t write fast enough.

She was a curious creature, so intent on her notes that a strand of blonde hair kept coming loose and falling in front of her face. Every so often, she’d tuck it behind her ear in an adorable way, but it always found a way to come undone again. Pearla wouldn’t mind making more than her hairdo come undone. The stranger probably hadn’t been with a woman before, as Pearla often found. For some reason, Pearla had a knack for finding women who had only been with men, or as Pearla liked to call: inexperienced.

“May I ask you a few questions, Ms. Bantham?”

The voice carried over Pearla’s shoulder, and at the angle she was, she had to turn completely around to see who was speaking. A man with a notepad stood in front of her. The way he kept buttoning and unbuttoning his jacket made her think he was nervous. He seemed to have a bit of trouble with the buttoning part, as the edges of his jacket barely covered his stomach. He probably had purchased the jacket some years ago and was too stubborn to buy a new one in a larger size.

“Sure, go ahead,” Pearla said as she wrapped up her first sip. She might need a few more before the short interview was done.

“All right.” He blinked a few times, almost as if he wasn’t used to a pretty woman saying yes to him. After flipping to a fresh page in his notebook, he began. “Clearly you’ve done a wonderful job with the fundraiser. I was wondering what project you have in mind next.”


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