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|  | World Domination Guide | | Rated:
13+ | | A selection of Short Stories taken from the other life of Acme | | by: Acme ![View acme's Portfolio. [Offline / Private]](http://imgs.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/costumicons/ps-icon-eyes3-40.gif "View acme's Portfolio. [Offline / Private]") ![Email User: acme [Offline / Private]](http://imgs.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/mail-off.gif "Email User: acme [Offline / Private]") | Avg Rating:   (8) |
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| Item Size: 12 Entries
Created: 8:47am on 02-25-2008
Modified: 5:36pm on 08-02-2009 | |
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Entry #569873, added on 02-25-08 @ 9:00 am EST.
[Entry Access Restriction] None.
Title:
Return of the Red Hot Woman
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I couldn't stop my palms from sweating. It had been six months since I'd last seen the most beautiful (and deadly) woman in the world. Now she was on her way home, having secured the 'Dali Package' from the Spanish in 'Mission: Melty-Clock'.
The Clown kept rolling her eyes at me as I continuously plumped cushions and turned up all the little plug-in-air-freshener's to 'Max'. So I gave her the 'stone-faced-arch-eyebrow' look and she wandered off to check on the Dow Jones; leaving me with the impossible decision of whether to stand authoritatively behind the leather winged chair, or lay slouched, at manly ease, across the beanbags.
It was as I wrestled against the static of my cape, which had got caught up in a bean bag zipper, that she chose to walk in.
"Struth, Acme! What the flippin', sock-boiling-girdle-gran, do you think you're doin'?"
I'd forgotten quite how Australian she was. Forgotten how badly she swore, or rather, couldn't swear. Forgotten how blond, tall, lean, blond, athletic, tanned, blond, Amazonian, and blond she was.
As I tried to surreptitiously remove the cape and flatten down my errant curls, I took in the full glory that was KittyKat. She stood a whole foot taller than me at 6'3", and looked like the progeny of a goddess. Something along the lines that a really good research scientist could clone if he merged the DNA of Brit Eckland, Bo Derek and Jane Fonda with Ursula Andress and hoped for the best.
"Well, are you gonna' stare at me all day, or debrief me, you noodle-headed-wingbat!"
"...briefs.." I gulped, trying to pretend that I didn't squeak. "Phillip!" I shouted and one of the Henchmen came trotting in with his Kalashnikov all shiny, and muscles rippling.
"My word that's a - "
" - No bad puns, or innuendo's, please." I interrupted. "I do have a Lair to run, you know."
Both KittyKat and Phillip looked a little deflated so, benevolent boss that I am, I gave in. "Have Agent KittyKat fully debriefed."
"Fully, sire!" He licked his top lip and swallowed before continuing. "I'm sure she'll be most co-operative, sire."
"Oh, I'll bend over backwards to give you what you need. You won't have to pump me hard for information."
"I might have to be hard! I might have to strip away layers - "
" - Phillip -"
" - of counter intelligence that could mislead us."
"Right, then. Off you go," I motioned to them, "KittyKat join me in the garden for dinner at 8. Wear something..."
"...'Wear something', what?"
"Just wear something. You'll catch your death wondering around like that."
Once they had left I realized that our reunion could have gone much smoother. I'd try harder tonight. Oysters, lobster, a bottle of Bollinger. I would put some extra wax on the mustache and try that new Tommy Hillfiger that I still hadn't opened from the Secret Santa. Oh, yes - my little Antipodean dream-girl would be treated to undiluted loving like she had never known!
As if reading my mind, The Clown had re-entered the room with the Stock Market reports.
"She does know that she's your girlfriend, don't she?" she asked, hesitantly. In her smoky, southern drawl.
"Off course she does!"
"Only she does seem very friendly with all those other spies; Mr Bonde, Mr Dexter, Mr Oligivey, Mr Fu - "
"It is her job! Honestly, when I think of the things that poor girl has to do just further my vision, and you go around questioning her loyalty. Well, it's not on, is it? You don't see her come in and say 'Gudaye, mate! Why have you left some clown in charge of the finances, but?'"
"I'm jest saying that I know you're a bit-of-an-ole-romantic-type, and maybe she don't know that she's your special girl. She mayn't be pickin' up on the whole chivalrous thang, is all."
"I know what this is really about," I sighed and placed a comforting, and definitley, brotherly, hand on The Clown's shoulder. I was quite taken aback when she howled with laughter and clutched her stomach, fighting past tears for breath.
"Oh, sire! You kill me, you really KILL me. Never see 'em coming..." she snorted and muttered as she laughed her way out of the room, flip-chart wobbling.
Some time later:
The warm, jasmine scented breeze encouraged the Chinese lanterns to dance on the veranda - casting candle-lit reflections in the black mirrored ripples of the Ornamental Fish Pond. I cradled a small brandy glass of Dr Pepper and swirled it gently, gazing out, over the little red-wooden bridge at my 'gator, Snappy, as he played with a stray Henchman. I was so lost in thought that I hadn't noticed that KittyKat had stood by my side, until the delicate smell of soap and skin overpowered the rest of nature around me.
I turned and smiled into her crystal blue gaze. Her hair was pulled into a loose knot, revealing the graceful curve of her neck and the moon breathed it's alabaster coolness into the smooth skin of her shoulders. My eyes traveled down her spine, lost into the rounds of her hips and along the fabric of her dress that had the happy task of covering her long, toned legs. She belched.
"Bloomin' flip! That Dr Pepper's as gassy as a three-day corpse, in a peat bog, full of pig manure!"
"My dear," I tried valiantly to rekindle the mood, "Let us dine and you can tell me all about your adventures and the time you spent torn away from me."
We sat and she re-counted the dangerous adventures of an angel forced into hell.
"Mr Bonde was flippin' HUGE! I swear, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. We took turns to walk out of the water in slow motion, and then we were thrown together in deadly plots, and then there was this time with him and his friend - "
"But, darling. You don't need to dwell on such horrors, anymore. You are home with me and the 'Dali Package' is secure, so we can implement Phase II of Mission: Melty-Clock..."
"...Ah."
"Ah?"
"Yes; Ah." She patted my hand in a horrifying, non-romantic way. "Sorry, mate! Got sloshed on Martinis and ended up loosing more than my underwear at Texas Hold 'em. Gotta go back into the field and get it back. I'm not a long streak of urine, like you, poncing about in a volcanic lair - gotta be out there, where ALL the action is, eh?"
She nudged me with an elegant elbow and made a lewd gesture about what fun field work could be, and then she was up: out of her chair and skipping along to the heli-pad leaving me grasping my hair as I collapsed onto worn knees and cried out to the heavens over the blade's roar.
"Platoon?" asked The Clown, when the chopper had gone.
"Yeah," I sighed. "It seemed appropriate. She's still my girlfriend though - until she tells me otherwise."
"Sure," nodded The Clown, "sure."
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