The Spy

The Spy

The man crossed the street in a hurry. Enrique was following him from a prudent distance to avoid being seen. The man was around fifty years old; he had short gray hair and was wearing a gray coat, same color trousers, a white shirt and a dark tie. He was carrying a small case. He did not seem to suspect that Enrique was following him.

Everything had started a few minutes earlier, at night o’clock in the morning, when the man left his house. It was a cold winter day in the city. At that moment, he arrived at number 476 of Montevideo Street, in downtown, and rang the bell of the entry phone. The door was opened and he entered.

Enrique headed to the door and when he reached the entry phone he noticed that the building had a ground floor and other three floors. Three departments per floor totaled twelve departments. Each floor had the departments numbered with the letters A, B and C. He tried the old trick of pressing all buttons, but it did not work. Several people answered, but none of them pressed the alarm bell.

Then, he could only wait on the street at the mercy of cold. Ten minutes later, an old man of about eighty years old came near the door. Enrique made as if to open the door with the wrong key and the man kindly opened to let him in. They headed to the elevator, the man descended in the second floor and Enrique continued to the third. He had prepared the act beforehand.

He neither had luck on the departments of the third floor, nor on the three departments of the second. But a very pretty woman of around twenty eight years old opened the door of department A on the first floor. Her clear blue eyes marveled Enrique, the dimples on her cheeks amazed him and her dark curly hair almost paralyzed him. She was only wearing a see-through white blouse, nothing else underneath, and a very short white skirt, exposing her gorgeous legs. He looked at her upside down, missing no detail. She met the description he had received by cell phone just half an hour ago. The girl asked what he wanted and Enrique finally came round to answer.

“Oh, excuse me, I just wanted to tell you I come on behalf of the janitor of the building. I have to verify your gas connection. It’ll only take me a minute; I have a gas meter that will inform in just a few seconds if everything is all right.”

The girl let him in and he saw him, sitting on one of the living room coaches. He was reading a book and did not even bother to raise his eyes. If he was hiding something, he was doing it very well. She told Enrique to do whatever he had to and sat next to the man. And they waited for him to finish his task, hugging each other.

Enrique was “checking” the kitchen and he could see them from there. He was not looking at her, but she seemed glad with his visit. He stared at them, every stroke, every look, at the point of memorizing all details. He then observed how the man introduced his hand in the outer pocket of his bag and took out some papers. Enrique was very interested in what the man was about to do with the papers, when he said something to her ear. She went to the kitchen with annoyed face. Enrique grabbed the meter and pretended to be measuring the gas. She approached and smiled to him.

“Do you need help?” she asked, suggestively.

“I’m almost done,” answered Enrique.  But he could not avoid looking at her; she was such a beautiful girl. He could admire her body, almost perfect, her tempting curves, and the terse skin, which he imagined soft and scented.

She moved too close to him, until her face was almost touching his. She laid a shaking hand on his chest and with the other she threatened to unbutton her blouse. Enrique knew that there was nothing but the girl’s skin under the blouse. One button, two, three, finally the blouse was on the kitchen floor. She placed her voluminous body on him in a sensual way. Enrique forgot all worldly things and began to sweat. He put the meter on the kitchen furniture and began to caress her back with both hands. The girl fixed her blue eyes on him and enraptured him completely. He moved her backwards to touch her breasts. They were voluminous, soft but firm, a delicacy. She was turned on and seemed willing to do anything.

Without letting her go, more and more excited, he tried to kiss her in the mouth. It lasted less than a second. However, it was enough for Enrique to realize what was going on. She could not avoid resisting to the kiss for just a second; it was a delicate, but all the same important reluctance. Enrique abruptly pushed her away, throwing her to the floor, took out the gun from his pocket and headed to the living room. The man was gone. He searched the entire apartment, but he was nowhere to be found. His face betrayed his frustration. He remembered he had been warned that something like that could happen. He felt wrong.

When he calmed down he found the girl sitting on the couch where she had been sitting with the man. Enrique would have gladly killed her right there. Instead, he called somebody on the phone.

“Hello, boss, bad news. He ran away again.”

Enrique listened to everything his boss said, with resignation. Finally he hung up the phone.

He looked at the girl. She was so beautiful and still not wearing the blouse. He sat next to her and tried to kiss her again. That time, she offered no resistance, not for a second.

Translated by Flavia Marcos and Natalia Riera: Rima Traducciones

Escribo, tomo fotografías artísticas y analizo música clásica y rock, literatura, historia medieval y me atrevo con las noticias de Argentina y del mundo.

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