Chapter 7: Double Duty Under the Table
The silence after the G650 landed was absolute. Skyler moved through customs on autopilot, the thick envelope of cash a lead weight in her carry-on. She didn’t sleep for two days. She watched the news channels in her sterile corporate apartment, waiting for a fragment about a body falling from the sky.Nothing appeared. The world absorbed Farah’s disappearance without a ripple, and that silence was louder than her screams.
Miranda found her on the third day, sitting in the dim kitchenette staring at a blank tablet screen. “They’re talking about you in the suite,” Miranda said, her voice devoid of its usual teasing lilt.She placed a cup of black coffee on the table.“The Vance girl.She lasted. She’s got the coldest cunt in the fleet.”
Skyler looked up. Miranda’s green eyes were assessing, clinical. “I can still taste her,” Skyler whispered, the words raw.“Good,” Miranda said, sitting opposite her.“That’s the taste of your survival. That’s the taste of your next payment.You think that envelope was for the fuck? It was for the watching.For not flinching. Now you’re an asset with proven nerve.” She leaned forward.“We have a new assignment. A Dutch shipping magnate and a German industrialist.Pieter and Klaus. It’s a standard service flight, but these men… they like to seal deals in a particular way.”
“Another game?” Skyler asked, her voice hollow.
“A transaction,” Miranda corrected.“A very physical one. We are the amenity that closes the contract.You’ll follow my lead.Exactly.Can you do that? Or is that pretty little head still full of clouds and ghosts?”
The challenge in Miranda’s voice cut through the numbness. It was an anchor line thrown into her swirling void. Skyler straightened her spine, feeling the ghost of Farah’s terror recede beneath a colder, sharper purpose. “I can do it.”
“Then shower. You smell like regret and billionaire spunk,” Miranda said, a faint, sharp smile returning to her lips. “We meet Pieter and Klaus in two hours.”
The new jet was all cold modernity, polished steel and white leather. Pieter Van Dijk was in his fifties, broad-shouldered with a florid face and eyes the color of a winter sea. Klaus Bauer was older, leaner, a knife-blade of a man with silver hair and impassive, calculating eyes. They sat opposite each other at a conference table bolted to the jet floor, holographic displays glowing between them with complex schematics of port authorities and tariffs.
“The Indonesian regulatory body remains the stumbling block, Klaus,” Pieter said, his English accented but precise. “Your proposed grease is insufficient.”
“My grease is precise,” Klaus countered, his fingers steepled. “It is your infrastructure that is bloated. The efficiency loss is here.” He pointed a bony finger at a stream of data.The negotiation was a slow, tense tango of numbers and implied threats. Miranda moved through the cabin like smoke, pouring aged jenever for Pieter, a mineral water for Klaus.She caught Skyler’s eye and gave a single, almost imperceptible nod. It was time.Without a word, both women lowered themselves from view. The rich carpet was dense under Skyler’s knees.The world beneath the table was a forest of legs in tailored wool. Miranda, facing her from under Klaus’s side, held her gaze and mouthed, Slow. Steady.Skyler’s hands went to Pieter’s belt. The leather was heavy, the clasp cool.He didn’t pause his sentence. “…which is why the surcharge cannot be absorbed, my friend.” She unfastened the buckle, popped the button of his trousers, and slowly drew down the zipper.The bulge beneath his cotton boxers was already substantial.
She nuzzled it through the fabric, inhaling the scent of starched linen and clean male skin. Then she hooked her fingers into the waistband and freed his cock. It was thick and heavy, veins standing in relief, the head already flushed and wet. Pieter shifted in his seat, granting her better access, but his voice never faltered. “The alternative is a re-route through Suez, but your people in Cairo…”
Skyler opened her mouth and took him in. The salt-and-skin taste filled her senses. She swirled her tongue around the broad corona, then slid down his shaft, letting her throat relax. Above her, Pieter’s breathing hitched for a fraction of a second. “…are notoriously unreliable,” he finished, a slight rasp entering his tone.
She established a rhythm, one hand cradling his balls, the other bracing on his thigh. She sucked him deep, pulled back to lavish attention on the frenulum, then plunged down again. His hand settled on the crown of her head, not forcing, but guiding the pace, his fingers tangling in her blonde hair.Klaus was speaking now, his voice tighter. “My people are efficient because they are incentivized. Your port masters are lazy.”
From the corner of her eye, Skyler saw Miranda’s head moving in Klaus’s lap, her cheek hollowed with effort. A soft, wet click echoed Skyler’s own motions. The cabin was filled with the dual, muffled sounds of cocks sliding in and out of hungry mouths, a lewd counterpoint to the dry financial debate.
“Then we incentivize them,” Pieter said, his hips giving a slight, involuntary thrust that Skyler accommodated effortlessly.She hummed, sending vibrations along his length. His fingers tightened in her hair.“A joint discretionary fund. Monitored by my man in Jakarta.”
“Audited by my woman in Berlin,” Klaus countered, his words beginning to strain. He groaned, a low, guttural sound he tried to mask as a cough.“Ja. Agreed.”
Skyler felt Pieter’s cock swell and pulse against her tongue. His thighs tensed.“The split.Sixty-forty,” he gritted out, his diplomatic cadence crumbling.
“Fifty-five, forty-five,” Klaus gasped, his own control shattering.
Pieter’s hand clamped hard on Skyler’s skull, holding her down as he erupted. “Done.” Hot, bitter cum jetted down her throat in thick spurts. She swallowed convulsively, milking him with her lips and tongue until he was spent, his body slumping back into the leather seat with a heavy sigh.
A moment later, Klaus let out a choked-off curse in German.Miranda emerged first, wiping a trace of moisture from her chin with the back of her hand. Skyler followed, licking her lips clean, ensuring Pieter’s softening cock was tucked neatly back into his trousers before she zipped him up.
Both men were breathing heavily, their earlier tension dissolved into a sated, weary calm. The holographic displays cast a soft glow on their flushed faces.Miranda stood, smoothing her uniform skirt. Skyler did the same, her knees aching pleasantly from the carpet.“Gentlemen,” Miranda said, her voice smooth as honey. “Could we interest you in dessert? We have a ’65 Armagnac that would pair beautifully with the chocolate torte.”
Pieter looked at Klaus, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face. He extended a hand across the table.Klaus took it, giving a firm, final shake.
“Dessert would be excellent,” Pieter said, his eyes, clear and cold once more, drifting over Skyler as she adjusted her apron. “Well done.”