Ebb Tide Ch. 04b


*Editing magic performed by KJ24 and Shyqash, plus contributions by the regular gang of brigands and neer-do-wells*

*Riptide: a strong tidal flow of water within estuaries and other enclosed tidal areas.*

*This tale is an espionage fantasy under assault by reality*

*The ‘hero’ of this tale might be considered a Libertarian, though the label means nothing to him. He is not completely sane by some people’s definition of the term*

*A List of the Principal Characters is provided at the end of the chapter*

{It isn’t having what you want, it’s wanting what you have}


Sara Patel was walking beside me, suddenly pensive.

“I never get dropped off in front of my house for security reasons … people are out to kill me,” I explained patiently. Right now, Sara needed a rational, if extreme, reason why she was about to jump over a concrete block fence into my back yard. I offered her my hands as a stirrup.

“Stay on top of the wall. I’ll go all the way over first, then take you down from your perch. Trust me.”

She did. She’d decided I’m an honest guy. When I say I’ll catch you, I’ll catch you. If I say I’m going to kick your ass, make plans to stay in the hospital for a bit.

Up she went. I was immediately behind her. I didn’t leap down into my backyard until my eyes were fully adjusted. There were no visible surprises, so I was down and ready to catch Sara in a few seconds. She wiggled on the edge, hesitating, until I gently took her by her thighs and lifted her off. Her hands went first on the top of my head, then dropped to my shoulders before settling on the triceps until her feet touched the ground.

“You’re strong,” she gulped.

“You are light,” I grinned. My grin was a concession to her fears. This wasn’t the first time I had been required to act more ‘human’, as my therapist in the Navy put it. Even if I normally felt blasé, sometimes other people needed some comfort.

It was the whole ‘good lie / bad truth’ ordeal that people went through a thousand times a day. I was different because I did it on purpose, not by rote.

“You are a nice guy … if a bit odd,” she smiled back.

“Follow me, stepping where I step and no alarms will go off in the house,” I advised. “That beeping will freak Dabney out.”

“Oh … okay. You’re cautious as well.”

“Thanks, that’s better than being nice, or odd.”

“Oh … sorry,” she bit her lower lip. I led her through the back yard, past the tarp I left down for the occasional unwanted guest and punched in the security code. As I opened the back door, I heard the front door open. I stepped in, ushered Sara inside, then made sure the screen and security door were secure. Funny how that works: the best way to negate a door’s utility is to leave it ajar.

“Dabney, were in the back,” I called out from the kitchen; the hall was too narrow for a three person encounter. Dabney had heard the low beep which indicated someone was ‘accessing’ a door, forgotten what the back door sounded like and opened the front door without looking at the TV monitor to see who was there. She had suggested she should earn a spanking whenever she made that mistake. I suspected duplicity.

Dabney came rushing to the back, saw Sara and put an extra flounce in her step before going into my arms. She wrapped her arms around my neck, but before we kissed, I put a finger on her lips.


“Shut and double-clicked,” she beamed as if making sure the deadbolt was engaged was a decision to be celebrated. I kissed her anyway. I’m not made of iron and there is a certain rush associated with a successful mission which leads to an active libido.

That, and Dabney was wearing a tight, white cotton t-shirt, no bra, bare-feet and hip-hugger jeans. Dabney was still needy, even if more confident around Sara.

“How did it go?” she asked eagerly.

“Everything is clear,” I warned her. “That is all that ever needs to be said on the matter.” No, it apparently wasn’t. Not if you are a woman (except for female warriors – female warriors knew their craft). Operational security and ‘need to know’ meant nothing to far too many of the people currently in my life.

“Sara, how did it go?”

I swatted Dabney’s backside for that.

“Sara, what do you know about it?” I quizzed her while looking into Dabney’s eyes.

“I showed up, didn’t like my room and went back to the Wynn,” she reiterated her cover story.

“Just tell me everyone is okay,” Dabney pouted pleasingly.

“I didn’t leave the Venetian alone,” she happily related. “Honestly, I was scared to death, but everything worked out just like Vance said it would.”

I groaned.

“Keep into account, we all did something which could result in severe criminal prosecutions if things ever come to light. Even in the ‘Best Case’ scenario, an obsessive, sadistic billionaire knows the names of some people he is going to make pay for what happened to him.”

Dabney paled and Sara gulped.

“Did you hurt him badly?” Escort Çankaya Dabney pressed up against me.

“This is not a conversation we will ever have. If Kip is smart, he’ll keep his mouth shut too,” I cautioned.

“Well … are you okay?” Dabney addressed Sara.

“Scared … yes … I don’t know,” she reached for my elbow. I untangled my left arm from Dabney and put it around Sara’s waist.

“Sara came home with me because we both need to de-stress after tonight’s activities,” I told Dabney while studying Sara. Sara stiffened.

“‘De-stress’?” Dabney smirked to me. “Is my baby hard?” she said as she worked a hand down my side.

“I want some Sara-time,” I winked. “We shared a moment.”

“Poo,” Dabney playfully pursed her lips. “First you sent me home, then you two got to do the fun stuff, and now you two get to have even more fun time without me.”

“If you start behaving, Sara might need more company tonight.”

“I’ve never been with a woman before,” Sara gulped once more. Plenty of twenty-something women (excepting Dabney in current company) said that. They vocally denied it while privately wondering what it was like. A person’s pulse rarely lies.

That was why I normally preferred thirty to forty year olds who hung out in Cougar Bars. They had those sort of issues resolved. If they wanted to involve their sister, sister-in-law, or a good friend, I was up for it. I was in it for the sex, not any sort of moral judgment. I did my part erotically.

And I didn’t need alcohol to get me in the mood, so only drank water at an unknown person’s house. Paranoid? I had zero episodes doing things I could only vaguely remember or regretted, so I could live with the distinction.

“We did good, right?” Sara pressed into me. I leaned in, kissed her, complete with my tongue touching her teeth, lips and tongue.

“‘We’ didn’t do anything,” I reminded her. I’d be repeating that mantra for the next few hours – no doubt.

“Oh,” she smiled.

“Let’s go ‘not do anything’ in the bedroom,” Dabney led the way. I slipped my hand from Sara’s waist to her ass to mover her in front of me. Sara’s head kept switching as she tried to watch the two of us.

Compared to the ‘comfortable’ size of the kitchen and the narrow hall, the open space of my bedroom surprised and pleased her. Honestly, I had envisioned it as the only room guests would be spending any time in, back a whole week ago when I was a confirmed bachelor.

My windbreaker went on one of the wall hooks I’d set aside for bathrobes. I’d put up one set of four … and now it wasn’t enough … and I only had two roommates. Dabney deviated toward the top of the bed, indicating her permission for a Sara-Vance First Act. Sara, adrift again, turned fully toward me.

“Vance?” she worried. I put a finger to her lips.

‘Do it – don’t talk about it,’ I mouthed. I could see the fear in her eyes. It was the fear of the unknown, of possible failure and of having a thousand ideas swirling around in your head, but not being able to grasp a single one as you felt yourself drowning in a sea of indecision. I kissed her very lightly on the lips.

After I took off my gray t-shirt, I took her right hand, uncurled her trembling fist into an open palm, then placed it over my heart. She looked flummoxed. I pumped as much warmth into my smile as I could manage. Sara began to glow as the peaceful rhythm of my heart began to be transmitted by our contact. I wasn’t afraid, so why should she?

I took my time. My left hand touched her collarbone, then languidly finger walked up her slender neck to the crux of her jaw and ear, concluding with a massage of her earlobe between forefinger and thumb.

“Aaahhh,” she emoted.

Sara was bright, energetic and creative in her own way. She shifted through her mental chaos, made a decision and stepped up her game. On her tiptoes, she propelled her body up until she kissed me. I gave a bit of tongue, she reciprocated with her left hand reaching for the back of my head and her fingers weaving into my hair.

The proximity barrier had been breached. Both my hands went down, cupped each small, tight butt cheek and then pulled her up my body. I got a little, audible gasp within the confines of our French kiss as she rose. I kept going until she was a half-head above me, looking down. Her inexperience was obvious, so I had to move my hands from her ass to her thighs to clue her into to wrapping her calves behind my back, locking me in.

When we broke the kiss, she was radiant in her smile, pleased with how things were progressing. I tricked her by missing her lips and ending up on her chin. We reconnected with her lower lip. then I began exploring the corners of her lips, cheeks, jawline and finally, back to that earlobe. Her feline rumble was all the indication I needed in order to know I was on the right track.

More kisses fell upon her neck, under her chin and to the other side … until that earlobe was also lavished with equal ardor. Us tumbling back Çankaya Escort onto the bed, even with her on top of me, clearly caught Sara off-guard.

“Eeep!” she squeaked. I kept exploring her neck, her face, those sensitive earlobes with my lips as my guides while her moans and accelerated heartbeat were my erotic landmarks.

It was important to keep Sara on the cusp of sensitivity overload. If she worried about any one thing too much, she might tumble back into self-doubt, or concern over our audience of one. My strategy had my mouth being my point of focus for her attention while my hands orchestrated the movements of her body.

I pulled her body up mine, then by taking her hips, pushed her back down. On the eleventh stroke, she took over and began dry-humping me of her own volition. Having trained in underwater demolition and done intestinal surgery in a pretentious pothole, slipping my left hand between us and single-handedly unbuttoning her shirt was child’s play. Doing it so as not to spook her merely upped the game to a High School Musical.

After that, it was the simple teenage act of my other hand slipping up her back and unhooking her bra. Now her breasts were accessible without the necessity of rubbing the materially roughly over her aroused teats. Undone and shirt open, it only took six assists on her humping to put a dark chocolate nipple and swollen, equally dusky areola into my mouth.

“OH! {How did he get my breast in his mouth?} … Ooooohhhh … {he has MY breast in his mouth and is giving it wonderful tongue action} … Aaaaahhhh … {and now he’s adding just the right amount of suction} … oh yesssss,” Sara ended up purring.

Providing a little bit of shifting her hips back and forth and Sara again got the hint; she began rubbing her body all over mine. She even took the initiative in giving me her other breast. She didn’t give me a single hiccup when I maneuvered her hips up so I could begin pulling her panties down from under her skirt. If the other sensations from farther down bothered her, she gave no sign.

That was Dabney courteously taking off my shoes, socks, pants and underwear and finishing up with a few quick (and utterly unnecessary) hand strokes followed by a brief blow-job and the application of a prophylactic. Sure, I could have handled this on my own. By taking care of it, Dabney was easing along the moment when she could finally join in ~ after at least one Sara-orgasm and one of mine.

Sara would have to be well sated – otherwise she might start judging herself physically against Dabney and that would be completely unfair and unwise. Dabney was an (ex) elite sex professional after all, while Sara was a dedicated engineer.

By twisting Sara’s hips sideways in my lap and having her pull up her knees, I was able to pull her panties all the way off and discard them in a visible, cavalier fashion. It was a bit of showmanship the sexual novice got off on and it was playful enough to remind her this was fun for both of us.

“Hey!” …as her panties went flying. “Hey!” …again, as I rolled us over and her under me. “Oh – hey,” she murmured in a demur fashion as I placed my cock unerringly at the entrance to her love channel. I gave her a second to take in her circumstances, then began working my way in.

My left arm was on the bed, underneath her shoulder, with my hand cupping her shoulder and keeping her upper body in place. I was about to do some plowing. My right arm had snaked down and pressed her left leg up so that my hand had a strong grasp on her left buttock. Her right leg was splayed out to her side, leaving her pelvis wide open.

With a combination of my hip rotations, twisting her hips and coming at her vagina with erratic thrusts, I quickly had Sara in an ecstatic, erotic mental fog. She was panting, shaking and losing bodily control. I was pretty sure this was her first non auto-induced orgasm.

I could have had mercy. I opted to power thru instead and pressed Sara into an orgasmic fugue ~ unlike anything she could have even put a name to before tonight. She arched, screamed, cried and shouted until she shook the rafters before her body gave out and she collapsed beneath me.

I rolled us over so that Sara was on top, her head on my chest looking toward the new closet. I began alternating taking each hand and placing ephemeral kisses, licks and sucking lightly on each fingertip. By her stirring, I knew she was conscious, but still blissfully past all caring.

“Sara,” Dabney curled up beside us and brushed some sweaty hair off our sated East Asian’s face, “how was it?”

“I … wuv … you …twwu,” Sara slurred happily.

Mission accomplished.


I had four calls I needed to deal with when I woke up. I discarded all the other ones which came from various news agencies and law firms who wanted my time and attention. I was being sued – no surprises there. I’d killed a few folks. They’d been armed and aiming at me, or someone else, so the criminal’s cases Çankaya Escort Bayan were dead in the water.

These legal threats were of a civil nature, also utter bullshit as I had acted in clearly defined legal boundaries, but were meant to bury me in the Nevada Civil Court system for the next few years, courtesy of Lloyd Pharris. The answer to that problem wasn’t even a point of concern.

In this lethal game of chess, I was an object of unknown capabilities. Lloyd however, had to expose his pieces to get at me. Any judge who let any of these cases go to trial was clearly in Lloyd’s pocket. In my mind, they’d exited the cocoon which normally protected law and order because to attack such people was to invite anarchy and anarchy was bad.

No; by proving to be corrupt, they made themselves fair game. I wasn’t going to ‘murder’ them. No. The American Southwest had plenty of flora and fauna which was lethal in its own right. All I had to do was introduce the natives (killers) to the mobile compost heaps (people) and let nature take its course.

First message requiring a response:

“Hey Vance … this is Lorenz. Are you still coming over tomorrow around noon for the cookout? I’ve seen you’ve been … ah … caught up in other things.”

It was my old partner (for 2 ½ days with MedicWest) reminding me I had promised to show up so he could introduce me to his sister-in-law … who had some ‘friends’ who were probably girls as well. I had suggested I had two roommates I could bring (without mentioning they were ladies.)

Second message:

“I don’t like leaving messages. I will call you promptly at 7:00 a.m. We can make breakfast plans … oh, this is Jo … bye,” then she hung up.

I didn’t have to be even mildly acquainted with human psychology to realize the woman had issues. Still, it appeared I had promised her a date at The Lagoon Bar & Grill and standing her up wasn’t wise as she was the

killer in the city … and worked for the


Third message:

“Hello, Mr. Vardanyan – Vance. This is Kristoff Declan. Remember me? I’m in town with a few days off, saw you on the news and decided to give you a call and a ‘thank you’. Let me know if you want to chat some time. It’s been … years,” he laughed.

The ‘thank you’ had to do with something I’d done in the service years ago his mother and I weren’t supposed to talk about for another forty-three years. He was in town. Well fuck a duck … another ‘good news/bad news’ I could have lived without. On the plus side, he was someone from my distant past I actually wanted to see again, just not here and now.

Fourth message:

“Senior Chief Hospital Corpsman Vardanyan, it is good to see you are still alive,” a woman stated. I didn’t know that voice, but I knew she wasn’t so much happy to see I was still alive as happy someone beside her hadn’t killed me yet.

-Recall: I had said I had done bad things to horrible people who other people cared about? She was most likely one such person.

-Recall what I said about my service record being protected by the DOD and CIA … and I not trusting them 100%?

“This is Hai Jun Shao Xiao Xi Baozhai. It is unlike you to be both so open to the public (the shootout during my short tenure with MedicWest no doubt) and to be active on your native soil. I will be coming to your hometown soon; perhaps you and I can meet and catch up on old times. Until then.”

Hai Jun Shao Xiao Xi Baozhai wasn’t a Chinese person with a shit-ton of middle names. No. Hai Jun was the prefix for an officer in the Chinese People’s Liberation Army Navy (PLAN), Shao Xiao was the NATO equivalent of Lieutenant Commander/OF-3 and Xi Baozhai was the woman’s name. I didn’t recall the names of every individual who might be dumb enough to come gunning for me ~ only the names and pertinent data on the really nasty one’s ~ dedicated engines of destruction like Ms. Xi.

Fuck you very much, Bitch. My old SOG team had ‘retired’ her brother (and a few other unpleasant bastards) two years ago in Macau. It had been ‘unfortunate’ in that he was involved with the murder and cover up of said murder of an American researcher in Singapore. We tracked his ass back to Macau – he and his team … to the Venetian Macau of all places.

We returned the favor, staging the scene in the precise manner in which they had staged the ‘suicide’ of the dead American ~ to get the message across … to his bosses in Beijing … because in reality he and his team were covert agents for the People’s Republic of China’s Ministry of Security.

We didn’t stop there though – oh no. Using information we had gained from those gentlemen, we exited from existence a few prize Chinese hackers because we weren’t in the ‘tit for tat’ business. No … their professional intelligence people had killed a US civilian in a neutral country over a matter of civilian industrial espionage and that would not pass muster.

So, we killed two dozen of their intelligence people – the hackers worked covertly for the People’s Liberation Army, so they qualified – to send that salient point home: professionals don’t gak non-professionals over civilian crap. They had behaved like a criminal/terrorist syndicate and we had treated them as such – on their own home ground – fuck you very much. They got the message.

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