swedentickle
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- Joined
- Jan 21, 2002
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This is the first part of my first attempt on a story. Let me know if i should bother getting to the good part. It takes place in Moscow during the cold war. I picture my unfortunate heroine as a beatiful redhed with green eyes, about 175cm tal, with a fit but yet curved body. I would like to appologize for all and any spelling misstakes and general slaughter on the english language.
Moscow in the early eighties...
She looked back and noticed that the distance to her persuers was vanishing quickly. Thet where gainig at her step by step. "theese shoes were not made for running", she thought to herself as she kicked off her high heels and continued in her stockings.
Back at the KGB annual christmasparty, a few minutes ago, she had sensed the whole evening that something was not right. People had been treating her with a cold distance, that she was not used to. She had alwas been verry liked and popular since she infiltrated the organisation two years ago.¨
The beatyful young woman dashing down the hallway of the KGB hedquarter was the American special agent Shelly Parker. She was 28 years old and this was her first overseas assignment. I guess you could say that she was a bored rich girl, seeking thrills in an unusual way, but that wouldnt be the whole truth. Sure, she was an heiress of an oil empire and had more money than she could ever spend. And sure, she had allways been an adrenaline junkie, but she was also very intelligent. At the age of 24 she graduated with honors from Harward lawschool and the world seemed to be at her feet. The practice of law, however, seemed to be to dull for Shelly, who choosed to enter a special program that was offered to the best graduates every year. It was a subsection of the CIA, who trained elite agents. It was a two year, verry demanding training. Stress training, intelligencetests and physical training. The physical part was not really Shellys cup of tea. To tell the truth she was a bit lazy, but she had an iron will and by the end of the program her body was not only astonishing but also extremely fit. She had become a lethal weapon who spoke five languages and could kill with her bare hands. She felt invinsible, and since she was the best they had in the russian language, the choice was easy when they needed an infiltrator for th KGB. Having only done paperwork and filing for the agency Shelly gladly accepted. She became known to the russians as Larissa, and slowly and methodicly weezeled her way up in the hierarchy, so she could send home more valuable information.
What had happened? Shelly tried to go over everything that had went down the last weeks. She was sure she had been as careful as allways. How could they know? Her black eveningdress prevented her from running her best and she glided round a corner on her nyloned feet. She could hear them breathing now. When she had seen Juri, her supperior and Ana, her co worker, crossing the ballroom uppstairs, not in party clothes but in their uniforms, and with a cold expression of hate in their eyes, her instincts had told her to run. Now she was sure her instincts were right.
Shellys pulse raced, but she was enjoying this. She lived for kicks like this and she was confident to escape. Hell, she was the best! She was special agent Parker. The finest of the US intelligence.
She may very well have made it, had she not slipped. Partly due to the wine she had been drinking, partly to her shoeless nyloned feet. She stumbled and fell forward. When she sat up and shook the red hair away from her face, she was starring down the barrels of two guns.
I will continue this later.
Moscow in the early eighties...
She looked back and noticed that the distance to her persuers was vanishing quickly. Thet where gainig at her step by step. "theese shoes were not made for running", she thought to herself as she kicked off her high heels and continued in her stockings.
Back at the KGB annual christmasparty, a few minutes ago, she had sensed the whole evening that something was not right. People had been treating her with a cold distance, that she was not used to. She had alwas been verry liked and popular since she infiltrated the organisation two years ago.¨
The beatyful young woman dashing down the hallway of the KGB hedquarter was the American special agent Shelly Parker. She was 28 years old and this was her first overseas assignment. I guess you could say that she was a bored rich girl, seeking thrills in an unusual way, but that wouldnt be the whole truth. Sure, she was an heiress of an oil empire and had more money than she could ever spend. And sure, she had allways been an adrenaline junkie, but she was also very intelligent. At the age of 24 she graduated with honors from Harward lawschool and the world seemed to be at her feet. The practice of law, however, seemed to be to dull for Shelly, who choosed to enter a special program that was offered to the best graduates every year. It was a subsection of the CIA, who trained elite agents. It was a two year, verry demanding training. Stress training, intelligencetests and physical training. The physical part was not really Shellys cup of tea. To tell the truth she was a bit lazy, but she had an iron will and by the end of the program her body was not only astonishing but also extremely fit. She had become a lethal weapon who spoke five languages and could kill with her bare hands. She felt invinsible, and since she was the best they had in the russian language, the choice was easy when they needed an infiltrator for th KGB. Having only done paperwork and filing for the agency Shelly gladly accepted. She became known to the russians as Larissa, and slowly and methodicly weezeled her way up in the hierarchy, so she could send home more valuable information.
What had happened? Shelly tried to go over everything that had went down the last weeks. She was sure she had been as careful as allways. How could they know? Her black eveningdress prevented her from running her best and she glided round a corner on her nyloned feet. She could hear them breathing now. When she had seen Juri, her supperior and Ana, her co worker, crossing the ballroom uppstairs, not in party clothes but in their uniforms, and with a cold expression of hate in their eyes, her instincts had told her to run. Now she was sure her instincts were right.
Shellys pulse raced, but she was enjoying this. She lived for kicks like this and she was confident to escape. Hell, she was the best! She was special agent Parker. The finest of the US intelligence.
She may very well have made it, had she not slipped. Partly due to the wine she had been drinking, partly to her shoeless nyloned feet. She stumbled and fell forward. When she sat up and shook the red hair away from her face, she was starring down the barrels of two guns.
I will continue this later.
