Over the evening the girls were chatted up many times my many men. Bianca, used to being the target of such advances, flirted adeptly, refusing all offers and not allowing anyone to separate her from Claire.
Claire, still angry at Danny, enjoyed the attention although she was slightly annoyed at Bianca’s over-protectiveness.
In any case the girls didn’t have to buy themselves a drink all evening and got gradually drunker and drunker as time wore on.
Eventually Bianca found herself being seduced by a man she liked, a handsome C-list up-and-coming TV presenter. She decided that she’d like to go home with him to fuck but she knew she couldn’t leave a half-drunk Claire by herself in a bar.
Claire was having fun and didn’t really want to leave but Bianca managed to persuade her to leave and even found a licensed taxi with a female driver to take her home.
“See you later, Claire, and remember — don’t talk to any strange men!” Bianca giggled happily as she walked off to her flat, arm-in-arm with her newfound friend, who had already slipped a hand up her dress to finger her pussy.
Bianca sat in the back of the cab and decided, in a drunken way, that she needed to text Danny to tell him that she loved him.
She looked for her phone in her handbag but couldn’t find it.
“Wait!” she said to the driver who was just about to pull away. “I’ve left my phone in the bar. I need to go back and get it,” she explained as she jumped out the cab and back in.
She got to the bottom of the stairs and walked back into the bar, still rummaging in her handbag, before suddenly finding her phone tucked under her purse. She let out a huge sigh of relief. Thank goodness for that!
She was just turning to go when a man approached her and put his hand on her arm urgently.
“Please, help me. It’s just possible you could save my life!”
The man who was clinging onto her arm was middle-aged, balding, short and plump with unsightly acne. Claire hadn’t noticed him earlier but then most of the men who had chatted her up had been of the confident sort and generally more attractive.
“What do you mean?” she asked, startled, leaning in towards him to hear him over the loud music.
“I need your help. My name is Fiddle, Con Fiddle. I work for MI5,” he said importantly.
“Really?” Claire looked him up and down. He was wearing a yellow polo shirt, his stomach bulging unpleasantly over his jeans. She loved watching Spooks and other such spy series and Con didn’t really look much like a spy.
“Don’t be fooled by my disguise. Here, look at this,” he answered holding out a card.
Claire inspected it carefully, wary of Bianca’s warning. It was a normal business card but it had ‘MI5’ and a circular crest emblazoned over the top with a grainy picture of Con, his name and the title ‘Senior Field Officer’ underneath.
Claire looked up. “Is this real? It’s not even laminated,” she complained.
Con raised an eyebrow enigmatically. “That’s so that I can eat it if ever get captured by the enemy.”
“Oh!” Claire gasped, impressed.
“What’s your name?” Con asked.
“I’m Claire Bell.”
“Good. Claire, I need your help. I wouldn’t normally involve a civilian in Her Majesty’s business but I don’t have any choice. I chose you because you look honest and brave. Am I right?”
Claire stood up a touch straighter, pushing her magnificent breasts out even further.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, her eyes wide with excitement.
Con held her hand and pulled her to a table in the corner, sitting down close next to her. “Let me explain,” he said into her ear. “I’m on an undercover counter-terrorist operation. I wouldn’t normally frequent a bar like this but I’m under observation right now by a cell of terrorists who think I’m a rich arms dealer and are here right now, checking me out before they approach me. I was due to meet a female operative here tonight and pick her up as if I were an international playboy just to confirm my cover. After all why would a beautiful young babe want me unless I were filthy rich?”
Claire shuffled even closer to him as he put an arm around her to pull her nearer.
He continued. “Unfortunately the contact has had an unforeseen accident on the way here and can’t make it. All the other female operatives on call tonight are too ugly for a wealthy playboy to be interested in. But it’s imperative the terrorists think I’m a prosperous weapons dealer, out on the town to meet a beautiful young woman with lax sexual morals and big tits. And that’s why I need you.”
Claire was captivated. “What do you want me to do?”
“Claire, I need you to pretend that you’re amazingly attracted to me and to be my girlfriend for the night. I know that in my disguise I’m not that striking but I need you to pretend that I’m the most gorgeous man you’ve ever met. Can you do this for me?”
“Well I have actually got some acting experience so I’m sure I could but I’m scared!” Claire replied.
“It’s OK. You’re in no danger. The terrorists won’t care that I’ve picked up a beautiful young woman in a bar for filthy casual sex. They just want to make sure that I really am a dissolute arms dealer and everyone knows arms dealers are always surrounded by lovely young women. Please, Claire. It won’t take long.”
Claire took a deep breath. She felt quite sober now. She nodded. “What do I have to do?”
Con smiled. “Thanks. You’ve probably saved my life and the lives of many others. All you need to do is do what any horny girlfriend would do.”
He looked up and around the crowded bar. “They could be watching right now. Come here,” he said, pulling her mouth down to his for a kiss.
Claire was startled at first but closed her eyes and did her best to kiss him back. She tried to ignore his onion-smelling breath and allowed him to slide his tongue into her mouth.
When he reached up to squeeze her right breast, she jumped but then relaxed and allowed him to grope her enormous boobs and pinch her nipples through her t-shirt. She had to act naturally.